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yournameoneverypage · 4 years ago

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Moon Over Miami

Anon request; Shawn Mendes x (y/n).

~3.1k

Warnings: Language.

~ * ~

You scowled at your overflowing carry on. You really didn’t want to bring something bigger, because that would mean baggage check and waiting at luggage carousels and that was just a headache waiting to happen.

Shawn was stretched across your bed on his back, tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it again. “(Y/n), it’s Miami and we’re only going to be there for four days,” he chuckled. “You do not need to pack so many clothes.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a boy; you don’t understand.”

“First off, I am not a boy. I am a man, and a very attractive one at that.”

You rolled your eyes. Even if you wholeheartedly agreed, you were not going to stroke his ego.

“At the very least, lose most of the makeup. You’ll just sweat it off anyway. And you know I like you better without all that gunk on your face.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t like, now does it?” you snarked.

He sat up and leaned back against the pillows at the headboard. “I just meant that you’re already so pretty, naturally.”

Shawn was always finding little ways to compliment you and, secretly, you loved it, even if it made you blush, even if it was hard to believe some days.

“Fine.” You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “You pack for me then.”

“Fine. I will.” He stood from the bed and poked your side. “So dramatic,” he teased, dancing his fingertips from ribcage to hip.

You gave him a small shove, and quickly moved out of tickling range (he knew where your most sensitive spots were). You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t stick it out unless you intend to use it,” he smirked.

“Ha! You wish,” you giggled.

~ * ~

You and Shawn.

It was...confusing.

You had first met him five months ago and had become a regular fixture in his life over the past three. You were friends, good friends. Good friends who spent a ridiculous amount of time together. Good friends who flirted. A lot.

There were feelings, definitely on your side, growing stronger every day you spent together, and you were starting to believe there were deeper feelings on his side as well.

Other than outright pressing your lips to his, and you had never really been that forward with anyone, you weren’t sure what to do to tip the scales from friendship and flirtation to more.

You could simply tell him you were falling for him and that you wanted to take your relationship to the next level, but that scared you even more than the thought of kissing him.

~ * ~

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn stood smugly beside you. Your bag was packed neatly, and you were happy with everything he chose (not that you would admit that to him), which showed you he knew you better than you thought he did. There was even enough room left over for accessories.

It shouldn’t have surprised you; he was pretty adept at packing, having been on tour so often.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you want to.”

Shawn laughed.

You only added two things, just to prove a point.

~ * ~

You may as well have been in Florida with only Brian and Connor for as often as Shawn had been around the first two days.

The trip had started out incredibly.

You took a redeye from LA to Miami. Shawn held your hand during takeoff and landing. It was your first time flying first class; you didn’t care that you slept through most of it.

Shawn had rented a 3-bedroom beachfront bungalow for the long weekend and had ordered a breakfast basket to be waiting for you when you got there. Everyone ate their fill of croissants and muffins and fresh fruit while you sipped your tea and coffee. Afterward you all agreed that a morning nap poolside sounded ideal.

Shawn claimed the double lounger for the two of you. You curled up beside him and he threw a light blanket over both his and your legs. You laid your head on his shoulder and were asleep within minutes.

When you opened your eyes again, after the best nap you may have ever had in your life thus far, Shawn was no longer beside you. You could see him just inside the back door, talking on his phone.

“Hey,” he announced, returning to the patio, after seeing that you, Brian, and Connor had all awoken. “I’m going to catch up with Camila. I’ll text you after lunch; see where you are.”

~ * ~

You didn’t see Shawn again that first day until you were making plans to spend the evening in South Beach for sunset drinks, dinner, and then a pub crawl for even more drinking.

The boys teased you for being such a lightweight. You were blissfully buzzed, which made it easier for you to let your inhibitions go. Shawn was more intoxicated than you were, which made it a lot easier for you to tug him onto the dance floor.

Flush against him while you moved together to the music, fingertips grazing bare skin, it was too easy to forget that you had been upset with him at all.

Spending all afternoon at the Bayside Market in the hot Miami sun, followed by a night of drinking and dancing into the very early hours of the morning had finally caught up with you. By the time you made it back to the bungalow, you were piggyback on Shawn, your sandals dangling from his fingers by the straps.

~ * ~

Day 2 began with three boys nursing hangovers much worse than yours. You did little things to annoy them, on purpose, which was, admittedly, not very nice of you. You knew they’d had enough when they decided to throw you in the pool. When Shawn reached out, laughing, to help you out, you pulled him in instead.

He chased you into one of the corners of the deep end, trapping you between the pool wall and his hard, wet chest, his arms on either side of you. You had to hold onto his biceps to keep yourself afloat, which, from the look in his eyes, was exactly how and where he wanted you.

Your heart was telling you to use this position to your advantage, finally tip those scales, and you might have if it had been the night before when you were a little drunk. Regretfully, you were sober and when you were sober you tended to overthink things. Now that you were sober, he was too close.

You ducked underwater, under his arm, and quickly pulled yourself out of the pool.

~ * ~

Once you were dry and dressed, you dragged Shawn, Connor, and Brian to Wynwood to go on a golf cart tour of the Walls. They had all been to Miami before, more than once, so they had put you in charge of the itinerary.

From Wynwood you made your way to Little Havana.

After a string of late afternoon texts from Camila, Shawn asked if she could join the four of you for dinner. He wanted you to meet her.

They tried their best to be inclusive throughout dinner, and Camila was certainly nice enough, but still you felt like the fifth wheel, the spare, most of the time.

After dinner, Shawn and Camila wandered off together. When it became clear that Shawn wouldn’t be returning to the house with the rest of you, your heart sank. You stewed in your hurt until it became anger.

You understood that Camila was one of Shawn’s best friends, and he hadn’t seen her for a while. You could forgive him for the day before, but this was supposed to be your trip. You, Brian, Connor, and Shawn. D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers. If all Shawn had wanted to do was hang out with Camila, why had he bothered to invite you at all? You held no grudge against or felt any ill will toward Camila. It wasn’t her fault that Shawn was being a clueless dick.

~ * ~

You were laying on your side, looking out the window of which you forgot to close the blinds. The moon reflected off the still water of the pool that you could see from your room.

You heard the quietest clearing of someone’s throat. You rolled over to see Shawn leaning against the frame of the doorway, bare chested, in soft gray pajama bottoms.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly. You couldn’t sleep either, even though you were exhausted.

You really didn’t want to spend the remainder of your time in Miami being angry with him. There were still two days left. You patted the mattress on the empty side of your bed. That was all the invitation he needed.

Shawn crawled into bed beside you, tugged on the open collar of the other half of his pajamas, and chuckled, “Thief.”

“It’s so soft, and it smells like you,” you whispered.

Shawn laid his head on your stomach and you instinctively started to run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently on his curls. You heard him sigh deeply, contentedly, and the next thing you remembered was waking up to the bright morning sun.

~ * ~

You smiled and stretched languidly. Shawn must have made his way back to his own room during the night sometime. You didn’t hear anyone else up and about yet. You decided to surprise the boys by making breakfast.

Brian and Connor stumbled into the kitchen, following the smell of sizzling bacon and strong coffee.

“Is Shawn still sleeping?” you asked.

Connor and Brian exchanged a look. Connor cleared his throat and said, “Shawn isn’t here.”

You didn’t even have to ask where he had gone. Returning to your room you retrieved your phone on the nightstand. You hadn’t bothered to check it when you woke up.

There was a group text from Shawn that read:

Grabbing a workout and then a quick breakfast with Camila. Be back soon.

Brian and Connor were nearly finished eating when Shawn returned, oblivious to what he was walking into. He grabbed a few slices of bacon and sat down to join them at the kitchen island.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

Brian and Connor shook their heads at him. “You can be such a prick sometimes,” Brian said. Both he and Connor then stood and left the room.

Confused, Shawn glanced around and suddenly it all made sense. “Shit,” he said to himself, under his breath.

~ * ~

Shawn stood in your bedroom doorway like he had the night before.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You refused to acknowledge him.

“I didn’t know you were going to make breakfast or I would have been back sooner.”

You wanted to bite at him that he shouldn’t have been gone at all.

You had just pulled on your swimsuit cover up when you turned to him. His eyes snapped from your ass to your eyes. You slipped on your sunglasses, grabbed your beach bag, and said, “Brian, Connor, and I will be on the beach, if you decide you want to join us.” You pushed past him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied.

~ * ~

You purposely chose to wear the smallest, sexiest bikini you had with you. It wasn’t one you yourself would have packed but since Shawn had been the one to pack your carry on he must have wanted to see you in it. The day you bought it was a day when you were feeling particularly confident in your body.

By the time Shawn made it down to the beach, he found you in conversation with two young men who weren’t Brian or Connor. You had removed your cover up and stood before them in your tiny white string bikini.

You were laughing at something one of them was saying. Shawn saw you reach out and briefly place your hand on his forearm.

Shawn was unprepared for the surge of violent irritation that nearly overtook him.

He saw you notice him. He bristled when you leaned in and said something in the other man's ear. He watched as you slid the temple tip of your sunglasses between your teeth. He saw you put your hand on your waist and slightly arch your back. He watched as you touched the small pendant of the necklace you were wearing and drew it away from the skin between your breasts.

Shawn hated the way the two men were looking at you. His stomach churned; his muscles tensed; his heart felt too tight in his chest. He couldn't take anymore.

Sidling up beside you, he wrapped his large hand around the nape of your neck, gently yet possessively.

“Oh, hi Shawn,” you said casually, shrugging out of his grip. “Meet my new friends, Chase and Evan.” You smiled at them, fluttering your eyelashes and biting softly on your lower lip.

“Boyfriend?” Chase asked.

“Oh no, Shawn and I are just friends.” You eased closer to Evan and reached out, meaning to touch the bracelet he was wearing, but before you could, Shawn grabbed your wrist.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he gritted through a fake smile, pulling you away.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. He did, immediately. He never had nor would he ever do anything to physically hurt you.

Brian and Connor, having seen more than enough, hurried toward you. They made you and Shawn take a step back.

“What the hell is going on?” Connor exclaimed.

“(Y/n) is being childish,” Shawn growled.

Maybe you were, but you were upset, goddamn it. “Me?! Look who’s talking! You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! You have no claim on me!”

“You’re both being childish!” bit Brian. “And you’re starting to cause a scene. Get over yourselves and fucking talk like adults. If you can’t, walk away,” he admonished.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and tugged frustratingly on his curls before storming off.

Brian gestured for Connor to stay with you and he followed after Shawn.

“Why did you have to antagonize him?” Connor questioned.

You glared at him. “This is not my fault. Of course you’re on his side.”

“I am on no one’s side. You’re both at fault, and you fucking know it. Yeah, he’s kind of been an asshole, but you didn’t have to flirt with those guys so brazenly right in front of him.” Connor’s voice softened. “You know how he feels about you, (y/n). You should apologize.”

You were thoroughly abashed but still feeling stubborn. You turned on Connor and said, “I will when he does.”

You put your cover up back on, slipped into your sandals, and grabbed your clutch which held your wallet, your eReader, and your phone. You trusted Connor to bring everything else back to the bungalow for you.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“For a walk. I need to be alone.”

~ * ~

The sun was going down when you returned to the house.

When you walked in the door, Shawn, who had been sitting on the edge of the ottoman, stood, and approached you cautiously. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You were starting to worry us,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry. I needed some time to cool off and to think.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” His relief was palpable. He stepped even closer to you. “I’m sorry. For how I acted and what I said on the beach. It’s inexcusable.”

“I am, too. I should never have purposely tried to upset you.” You unconsciously reached out and ran your fingertips along the V of Shawn’s t-shirt. “That was the first time we’ve ever fought... I didn’t like it.”

He covered your hand with his, flattening your palm against his heart, which you could feel was beating quite quickly. “Come and have dinner. It’s time to stop thinking and start talking.”

He smirked and began walking backward, hand still over yours.

It was that smirk that set your heart thumping. You followed, curiously, anxiously.

On the back patio was a romantic table set for two, surrounded by tea lights and lit candles.

“Shawn? What’s going on?” you asked, breathlessly.

He crossed to the table and pulled one of the chairs out for you. “Sit, Love. Eat.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?” He felt as if his heart might break.

“Too many butterflies.” You softly bit your bottom lip.

“Oh,” he breathed.

“Can we talk first?”

“Of course.”

You walked over to and sat down on the outdoor sectional.

Shawn dropped down beside you with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I’ve been, well, an asshole seems to be the overall consensus. I shouldn’t have ditched you to spend so much time with Camila.”

“I know you’re close,” you said, “and I know it had been awhile since you’d seen her. I tried to be understanding.”

“No,” he interrupted, “this is on me. This was supposed to be our trip. You, Brian, Connor, and me.”

“D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers,” you said in unison and you both laughed.

Shawn leaned closer you. “Do you want to know the truth?” he asked, as if it was the greatest secret he held, which, to him, it was. “She was talking me through my feelings for you.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “She made it very clear to me that I was ‘estúpido’ for spending time with her instead of the person I should be, for talking through my feelings with her instead of with the one I really needed to talk with.”

“You have feelings for me?” you breathed, feeling your entire body flush, not just your cheeks.

Shawn laughed softly and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “It’s not obvious? I was jealous of those other guys because I want to be the boyfriend. I want the right to call you mine... I’m falling in love with you, (y/n). Which is insane since we haven’t even kissed yet. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to; every time I see you I want to kiss you.”

Without warning, you pressed your lips to his. It took him not even a moment to respond, pulling you onto his lap and cupping your face. Kissing Shawn was even better than you had ever imagined it would be.

When finally you eased away from him, breathless, you confessed, “I’m falling in love with you too, Shawn. I want you to be mine. I want to be only yours.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want to?” he whispered, grinning happily.

“Over and over and over again,” you breathed.

His lips once more met yours. Your hands encircled the nape of his neck. Tender and unhurried turned deep and delicious.

Your lips left his with an audible ‘aʘa’ and you giggled. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Shawn’s answering laugh, rich and lightsome, was everything.

~ * ~

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

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fanficshiddles · 4 years ago

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What About Trust, Chapter 20

The following day when they headed round to Cleo’s parents house, she was excited to see them again and to introduce them to Loki. Loki was nervous again when they knocked on the door, but he didn’t let it show.

Her brother, Fraser, was going to be joining them too later as he was coming home for a few weeks. As he always often did.

As soon as her parents came to the door to greet them, Loki’s worries melted away. Instantly he could tell they were a warm and lovely couple.

‘You must be Loki, so nice to meet you!’ Cleo’s mum said as she pulled him into a hug. ‘Wow, you are tall.’

‘Come in, lad. Welcome to the family.’ Her dad greeted with a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder.

‘Thank you very much, it’s nice to meet you both. Now I can see where Cleo gets her good looks from.’ He smiled charmingly at her mum, making Cleo roll her eyes.

‘Yes, clearly from me.’ Her dad said with a smirk.

Cleo and Loki laughed, her mum elbowed him in the side. ‘Behave!��

Her mum got them all a drink and they sat down together in the living room. It wasn’t long at all before the questions started, as Cleo had expected.

How did they meet? Where did they go on their first date? Was it serious? Etc.

Loki was on the ball with every single one. Being truthful, but also impressing them.

‘I don’t know how I got so lucky to meet Cleo. But she is certainly one incredible being, especially to put up with me.’ He smiled at Cleo and squeezed her knee.

‘You seem like a very charming and polite young man. You’ve clearly been raised well.’ Her mum said. ‘Where are you from?’

Loki and Cleo shared a look.

‘Uhm, mum, dad. There is something about Loki that you need to know… So, you know The Avengers, the superheroes in America? That save the world?’

Her parents laughed. ‘We have heard of them, yes. Whether true or not, that’s another thing.’ Her dad said.

‘Well, it is true. Did you see the video of someone stopping a tree from falling in a park in Manchester?’ Cleo asked.

‘Yes, we did actually.’ Her mum nodded. ‘Probably that photoshop business again.’

‘Uhm… No, that was actually Loki as we were there. He’s a God, from Asgard. And he’s a Prince.’

Her parents looked at them both in disbelief at first.

Then her dad started laughing. ‘Oh, Cleo. Good joke. But we both know you don’t believe in them either.’

‘I didn’t. Until now, it’s true. He’s a God... Loki, show them.’ Cleo motioned to him.

‘Are you sure?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep.’ Cleo nodded.

Loki didn’t want to scare them. So he just did something small. He conjured up a simple vase in his hand, then he had it move across the room and he carefully placed it on a side table.

Her parents were wide eyed, they didn’t say anything at first.

‘He can do lots of things, mum… dad… but he’s not to be feared, I promise.’ Cleo said quickly.

‘That’s… incredible.’ Her mum then said after letting it sink in.

‘Would you be able to retrieve a golf ball that is stuck on the roof?’ Her dad asked.

‘Dad!’

‘What? It’s my favourite lucky ball.’ He said sadly.

‘Oh jesus.’ Cleo shook her head and ran a hand down her face.

Loki disappeared for a moment and then the next second he was back, with the golf ball in hand. ‘This one?’ He asked.

‘Bloody hell. That’s the one. Thank you!’ Her dad beamed happily as Loki handed it back to him.

‘I guess that could’ve been taken worse.’ Cleo grumbled.

Loki chuckled and put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

The questions then rattled off from her parents about Loki being a God, what he could and couldn’t do. Her dad already had a list of things that he needed help with from Loki. Loki obliged happily, since it took him mere seconds to do said jobs.

Cleo apologised to him quietly, but Loki said not to worry. He didn’t mind at all. He was just glad they took it so well.

‘Does this mean you’re a Goddess?’ Cleo’s mum asked her while Loki and her dad were upstairs, he was getting Loki to sort the shower.

‘No, mum.’ Cleo laughed and hugged her.

‘Well, I think he certainly sees you as one. The way he looks at you, his eyes are just so full of love. I can tell he thinks the world of you and is looking after you. I’ve never seen you so bright and happy either.’ She smiled and stroked her daughter’s hair.

‘Thanks mum. We love each other very much.’ Cleo smiled widely.

‘That’s all that matters.’

When Fraser arrived later in the afternoon, he did a double take at Loki.

‘Fraser, this is my boyfriend, Loki. Loki, this is Fraser.’ Cleo introduced.

‘Nice to meet you, Cleo has told me all about you.’ Loki said as he held his hand out. Fraser shook his hand cautiously, he recognised him but couldn’t think where or why, exactly.

‘Have we met before? You look oddly familiar…’ Fraser hummed. ‘Wait a minute, the Loki?’ He said in sudden realisation.

‘Let me talk with you a second.’ Cleo said as she grabbed Fraser’s arm and dragged him into the kitchen. ‘We’ll get more drinks!’ She called to Loki and her parents.

‘Right. You do recognise him, because… He is Loki, the God of mischief. Prince of Asgard. Yes, he did some bad stuff. But he’s not like that now, it’s a long story. Please don’t freak out or make him feel weird.’ She pleaded, expecting him to be furious that she hadn’t told him, especially since he lived nearby. Or just merely angry for the fact that she fact that she was dating Loki, who could be seen as dangerous.

But what he actually said wasn’t what she was expecting.

‘OH MY GOD! MY SISTER IS FUCKING A GOD!’ Fraser said excitedly.

‘Shhh shut up. Don’t be embarrassing.’ Cleo hissed at him.

‘Wait till I tell my mates that my sister is sleeping with a real-life God. Bloody hell I am going to be popular. Everyone has been raving about the people he saved in the park a few weeks back, I can’t believe I didn’t recognise him straight away.’ He boasted, grinning from ear to ear.

‘Don’t you DARE tell your friends that or I will get Loki to turn you into a frog!’ Cleo hissed.

Fraser’s face dropped and he looked worried. ‘Can… can he do that?’

‘Yep.’ Cleo nodded. ‘Well… I presume so. I mean, I guess? He is a magical God after all, so he probably can.’

Fraser gulped. ‘Ok, I won’t tell. But someone is bound to take a picture of you with him at some point.’

‘I know, I don’t really care about that. Just don’t be vulgar saying I’m fucking him.’ She said as she whacked him across the back of the head before taking the drinks through to the living room for everyone.

She was horrified when she went back through to find that her parents had already pulled out the baby pictures.

‘Oh god no.’ She cringed and put her hand over her face.

Loki was cooing and awing at her baby pictures. And laughing at some of the other ones when she was doing silly stuff as a child. They had heaps of stories to tell Loki, he loved them all.

‘Aww, love. Are you embarrassed?’ He teased and grabbed her, pulling her down onto his lap as her mum kept flicking through more pictures.

‘Of course I am. There better be pictures of you as a kid. Or, something. Whatever it is you Gods have.’ She grumbled in a huff.

But Loki just found her adorably cute when she was all huffy and he squeezed her tightly.

The evening went well. After a delicious dinner made by her dad, they all sat down again to talk. Everyone got along really well. Fraser kept fanboying over Loki, asking about his powers and what he could do. About being a God too and he also asked for a selfie to show off to his friends with. He was far too excited.

It was after ten when Cleo managed to get Loki to go to bed with her. He politely bid goodnight to her parents and brother before heading upstairs with Cleo.

Cleo snuggled in against Loki once they got into bed and put her arm over him. ‘Well, my parents love you. That was obvious!’

Loki trailed his fingers up and down her arm. ‘I’m glad. I adore them, they are wonderful. And your brother too.’

‘Sorry for his… over enthusiasm.’ She sighed.

‘No need to apologise, it’s flattering, in a way.’ He chuckled.

‘Well, thanks for putting up with him anyway.’ She smiled and squeezed him tightly. ‘And my parents, they can be a bit… uhm.’

‘Overly proud and loving of you?’ Loki grinned.

‘Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.’ She laughed.

‘They are lovely, both of them…’ He sighed softly and slid his fingers through her hair. ‘I do wish you’d been able to meet my parents, especially Frigga.’

Cleo leaned up a little and faced him, she stroked his cheek and leaned in to kiss him on the lips. ‘From what you’ve told me about her, I feel like I know her to an extent.’ She smiled softly.

Loki smiled too and cradled her head into the crook of his neck when she settled down against him again.

‘While it’s been nice here visiting home, I am looking forward to going to the Isle of Skye tomorrow, just the two of us.’ Cleo said as she closed her eyes and slowly started to drift off in his warm embrace.

‘Me too, darling. Me too.’

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #what about trust #Loki x OFC #Loki x original female character #fan fiction #fluffy Loki #Loki fic

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other��s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you��ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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fluxofthemouth · 2 years ago

Note

+ 🛑

send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours.

add + to reverse so receiver is the one cleaning blood off sender.

(This fits the prompt in spirit but there's no actual blood, here you go)

Duke Leto Atreides and Baron Vladimir Harkonnen have important business to discuss. The Baron did not object to the Duke bringing his son, Paul, to listen in on the meeting as education for his future as the head of the Atreides House. The Baron's own heir is not present. The adults have not commented on the matter, so neither has Paul.

The slow, leisurely game the Baron invited the Duke to is like golf. No one has told Paul whether Piter, the Baron's Mentat advisor, is primarily here to support the discussion or to support the game as a caddie. He has done far more of the latter, to be sure. Paul sees him watch the Duke, more than the Baron, for cues to speak. So far, Leto offers none, and he remains silent. He doesn't look at Paul at all, after he noticed early on that Paul seemed to have interest in observing him. He doesn't seem to like that, but Paul can hardly turn his situational awareness off.

At first, Piter served their game respectably and professionally, to the point of nearly blending into the background. But as the day progresses, the Baron grows comfortable. Now Vladimir deliberately lands a ball in a pond, and he laughs openly at Piter when he trots after it and rolls up his sleeves to fish it out. Vladimir, Paul, and Piter look discretely to Leto for his reaction to this. He has none; the Harkonnens are cruel and evil, and he already knew that, has already written them off as villains for it. Leto also knows who Piter is. Knows of things that he's done. If anything, Leto looks bored and impatient, like Vladimir is unfairly drawing out the time they have to spend together unpleasantly by picking on his own.

So Vladimir keeps doing it. Keeps using his position as player to make Piter do things that he can then laugh at.

And then he putts a ball into the rose bush. One of the big, angry thorny variants at the border of the course, planted there to deter trespassers.

This time, Piter actually looks at him in a wordless plea for mercy instead of going after the ball automatically. He finds none in Vladimir. Then none in Leto. But before he can go and get the ball, young Paul Atreides surprises everyone and walks over to the rose bush in his place. A storm has been brewing in Paul ever since Vladimir's first unchallenged move to humiliate Piter. Paul doesn't know the context, not like Leto does. But why do the adults put up with this? And at a business meeting! It's childish and inappropriate.

Piter's previous willingness to run after a ball without being prompted has unintentionally created a technical ambiguity around who is supposed to be retrieving them. It makes Vladimir look quite bad to deliberately hit a ball into a rose bush that the Duke's son then goes to fetch. The adults look a little stunned by the development. Leto tries calling out after Paul, but Paul ignores him. Once Paul gets to the rose bush, he can see that the ball isn't actually very hard to dislodge. He gets down on his hands and knees and pushes it out the other side with the long mallet that has croquet mallets and golf clubs in its ancestry. Then he jogs over to an opening in the fence and retrieves it. He returns to the adults, confident that he's made an important statement, though he's still deciding what it is. Piter is just standing there, wide-eyed and frozen. If he says or does anything, it could help the Nobles figure out how to pin this on him somehow. He won't look at Paul, or any of them. The Baron, who hasn't done much to notice or acknowledge Paul, takes the ball out of his hand gruffly. To Leto, he offers stiff, unhappy praise about how Leto is at least raising the next generation to be competent and to respect their elders. Leto just accepts the compliment coldly and beckons Paul back to his side.

The rest of the game progresses without incident. The Baron doesn't openly humiliate Piter anymore.

Piter doesn't make a point to seek out Paul again after that. But they do run into each other, and it's precisely as awkward as Piter had hoped to avoid. Neither of them know what to say, and then the silence drags out the misery of staring at each other across an uncomfortable memory.

Finally, Piter says, "I suppose your father talked to you about getting the ball unstuck from the roses?"

Paul nods.

Piter smiles sadly, remembering Leto's fundamental disinterest in his input. Leto's choice not to interfere with Vladimir's antics. He supposes he doesn't have to ask to know whether Leto commended or condemned Paul's choice. His smile is forced, but there's forgiveness in it. "Well, listen to your father," he says gently. "He will teach you how to be a Duke. I can take care of myself."

It's kinder and more generous than thanks, he thinks. And Nobles are easier for him to categorize when they can be hated. He gives a slight bow, then hurries on his way.

#paul is a kind and empathetic person who lives in a world that's set up as a garbage disposal for human happiness

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

What About Trust, Chapter 20

TITLE: What About Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 20 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki owns a bookshop on Midgard. He had to do something there to try and avoid getting any attention. But he’s not fond of having customers, is rather grumpy and guarded. But then he meets a bright, bubbly and trusting young woman who doesn’t recognise him. To his dismay, he finds himself becoming rather fond of the mortal. RATING: M

Her brother, Fraser, was going to be joining them too later as he was coming home for a few weeks. As he always often did.

As soon as her parents came to the door to greet them, Loki’s worries melted away. Instantly he could tell they were a warm and lovely couple.

‘You must be Loki, so nice to meet you!’ Cleo’s mum said as she pulled him into a hug. ‘Wow, you are tall.’

‘Come in, lad. Welcome to the family.’ Her dad greeted with a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder.

‘Thank you very much, it’s nice to meet you both. Now I can see where Cleo gets her good looks from.’ He smiled charmingly at her mum, making Cleo roll her eyes.

‘Yes, clearly from me.’ Her dad said with a smirk.

Cleo and Loki laughed, her mum elbowed him in the side. ‘Behave!’

Her mum got them all a drink and they sat down together in the living room. It wasn’t long at all before the questions started, as Cleo had expected.

How did they meet? Where did they go on their first date? Was it serious? Etc.

Loki was on the ball with every single one. Being truthful, but also impressing them.

‘I don’t know how I got so lucky to meet Cleo. But she is certainly one incredible being, especially to put up with me.’ He smiled at Cleo and squeezed her knee.

‘You seem like a very charming and polite young man. You’ve clearly been raised well.’ Her mum said. ‘Where are you from?’

Loki and Cleo shared a look.

‘Uhm, mum, dad. There is something about Loki that you need to know… So, you know The Avengers, the superheroes in America? That save the world?’

Her parents laughed. ‘We have heard of them, yes. Whether true or not, that’s another thing.’ Her dad said.

‘Well, it is true. Did you see the video of someone stopping a tree from falling in a park in Manchester?’ Cleo asked.

‘Yes, we did actually.’ Her mum nodded. ‘Probably that photoshop business again.’

‘Uhm… No, that was actually Loki as we were there. He’s a God, from Asgard. And he’s a Prince.’

Her parents looked at them both in disbelief at first.

Then her dad started laughing. ‘Oh, Cleo. Good joke. But we both know you don’t believe in them either.’

‘I didn’t. Until now, it’s true. He’s a God... Loki, show them.’ Cleo motioned to him.

‘Are you sure?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep.’ Cleo nodded.

Loki didn’t want to scare them. So he just did something small. He conjured up a simple vase in his hand, then he had it move across the room and he carefully placed it on a side table.

Her parents were wide eyed, they didn’t say anything at first.

‘He can do lots of things, mum… dad… but he’s not to be feared, I promise.’ Cleo said quickly.

‘That’s… incredible.’ Her mum then said after letting it sink in.

‘Would you be able to retrieve a golf ball that is stuck on the roof?’ Her dad asked.

‘Dad!’

‘What? It’s my favourite lucky ball.’ He said sadly.

‘Oh jesus.’ Cleo shook her head and ran a hand down her face.

Loki disappeared for a moment and then the next second he was back, with the golf ball in hand. ‘This one?’ He asked.

‘Bloody hell. That’s the one. Thank you!’ Her dad beamed happily as Loki handed it back to him.

‘I guess that could’ve been taken worse.’ Cleo grumbled.

Loki chuckled and put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

Cleo apologised to him quietly, but Loki said not to worry. He didn’t mind at all. He was just glad they took it so well.

‘Does this mean you’re a Goddess?’ Cleo’s mum asked her while Loki and her dad were upstairs, he was getting Loki to sort the shower.

‘No, mum.’ Cleo laughed and hugged her.

‘Thanks mum. We love each other very much.’ Cleo smiled widely.

‘That’s all that matters.’

When Fraser arrived later in the afternoon, he did a double take at Loki.

‘Fraser, this is my boyfriend, Loki. Loki, this is Fraser.’ Cleo introduced.

‘Nice to meet you, Cleo has told me all about you.’ Loki said as he held his hand out. Fraser shook his hand cautiously, he recognised him but couldn’t think where or why, exactly.

‘Have we met before? You look oddly familiar…’ Fraser hummed. ‘Wait a minute, the Loki?’ He said in sudden realisation.

‘Let me talk with you a second.’ Cleo said as she grabbed Fraser’s arm and dragged him into the kitchen. ‘We’ll get more drinks!’ She called to Loki and her parents.

But what he actually said wasn’t what she was expecting.

‘OH MY GOD! MY SISTER IS FUCKING A GOD!’ Fraser said excitedly.

‘Shhh shut up. Don’t be embarrassing.’ Cleo hissed at him.

‘Don’t you DARE tell your friends that or I will get Loki to turn you into a frog!’ Cleo hissed.

Fraser’s face dropped and he looked worried. ‘Can… can he do that?’

‘Yep.’ Cleo nodded. ‘Well… I presume so. I mean, I guess? He is a magical God after all, so he probably can.’

Fraser gulped. ‘Ok, I won’t tell. But someone is bound to take a picture of you with him at some point.’

She was horrified when she went back through to find that her parents had already pulled out the baby pictures.

‘Oh god no.’ She cringed and put her hand over her face.

Loki was cooing and awing at her baby pictures. And laughing at some of the other ones when she was doing silly stuff as a child. They had heaps of stories to tell Loki, he loved them all.

‘Aww, love. Are you embarrassed?’ He teased and grabbed her, pulling her down onto his lap as her mum kept flicking through more pictures.

‘Of course I am. There better be pictures of you as a kid. Or, something. Whatever it is you Gods have.’ She grumbled in a huff.

But Loki just found her adorably cute when she was all huffy and he squeezed her tightly.

It was after ten when Cleo managed to get Loki to go to bed with her. He politely bid goodnight to her parents and brother before heading upstairs with Cleo.

Cleo snuggled in against Loki once they got into bed and put her arm over him. ‘Well, my parents love you. That was obvious!’

Loki trailed his fingers up and down her arm. ‘I’m glad. I adore them, they are wonderful. And your brother too.’

‘Sorry for his… over enthusiasm.’ She sighed.

‘No need to apologise, it’s flattering, in a way.’ He chuckled.

‘Well, thanks for putting up with him anyway.’ She smiled and squeezed him tightly. ‘And my parents, they can be a bit… uhm.’

‘Overly proud and loving of you?’ Loki grinned.

‘Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.’ She laughed.

‘They are lovely, both of them…’ He sighed softly and slid his fingers through her hair. ‘I do wish you’d been able to meet my parents, especially Frigga.’

Cleo leaned up a little and faced him, she stroked his cheek and leaned in to kiss him on the lips. ‘From what you’ve told me about her, I feel like I know her to an extent.’ She smiled softly.

Loki smiled too and cradled her head into the crook of his neck when she settled down against him again.

‘Me too, darling. Me too.’

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #what about trust #chapter 20 #fanfischiddles

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blackjacktheboss · 5 years ago

Note

Helllo maybe fluff 17 or general 18 if you want?? That list was so good I don’t know what to choose lol

Percy has always been competitive. For as long as he can remember anything from a big basketball game to a round of classroom jeopardy has brought out both the best and worst in him, and just because he’s technically an adult doesn’t mean that’s changed. Which is why he’s so surprised that despite the fact that Annabeth has been kicking his ass at mini golf all night, all he cares about is the fact that he’s with her.

“Hey Jackson,” she calls in a way that makes his stomach do a somersault. “You gonna keep making doe eyes at me all night or you gonna mini golf?”

“These are baby seal eyes, first of all,” he corrects as he tees up his bright blue ball. “And I told you, my hamstring is feeling tight so it’s throwing my balance all off.”

Annabeth smiles as she leans on her putter. “Right, the hamstring. How could I forget.”

Percy sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he tries to gauge how much force to strike the ball with to get it over the various little hills that lead to the hole. He wiggles his hips back and forth a few times as he prepares to strike, but is interrupted by Annabeth laughing.

He turns around with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she says with a head tilt. “You’re just really cute.”

Percy feels his cheeks get hot and swallows hard. “Quiet on the course, please.”

Annabeth puts a finger to her lips, which are pulled into a closed mouth smile.

Again, Percy wiggles as he prepares himself. He exhales a deep breath, and swings at the ball, staying bent over as he watches the ball ping pong between mounds of turf. The ball begins its curve towards the hole, swirling around its mouth before being spat back out and coming to a stop off to the side.

“FUCK!” Percy shouts, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth as he notices the young family waiting behind them for a turn. “Sorry!”

“C’mon, Tiger,” Annabeth says, tugging Percy’s arm to retrieve their balls.

It’s another twenty minutes of getting absolutely destroyed and Percy has the time of his life. He has never felt so comfortable and at ease with another person, and as he watches Annabeth effortlessly sink a final hole in one and celebrate by raising her putter in the hair and declaring herself the world champion of mini golf, he thinks he might really be in love.

“Jealous, Jackson?” she teases as she approaches him, victorious.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate,” he blurts out, his face immediately getting hot as he realizes what he’s said.

Annabeth seems stunned for a moment, but it quickly melts away and is replaced by a satisfied smile. “Is that so?”

Percy bites his bottom lip and nods.

Annabeth takes a big step, landing her right in front of Percy. “So what do I get for winning?”

“Wh-- what do you want?” he asks, swallowing nervously.

Her lips are close enough to brush against his. “Guess.”

#quarantine content #writing prompt #pjo au #percabeth

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obx-snippets · 5 years ago

Text

Honey & Glass ❀ Kiara Carrera

Summary: After a night of caring for baby sea turtles, y/n’s only light in her life is Kiara Carrera. But being a Thornton is a heavy crown to bear along with all the expectations.

Warning: cursing, (I think that’s it, let me know)

word count: 4.5k

Pairing: Kiara Carrera x female!reader

Masterlist

a/n: this is my first Kie one shot so hopfully you enjoy! This fic is based off the song Little Miss Perfect. Stayed up till like 4 am writing this so I’m fried now. But leave feedback of your thoughts.

*^credits to owner^* ❀❀❀ The verdant hills of the country club golf course weren't as occupied this Sunday morning like it was on other days. The Camerons were scattered about, Rafe and Sarah arguing over a hole in one while Wheezie continually hit her ball until she made it into a nearby lake. Despite the distraction going on around them, the Thornton siblings were locked into their game. Standing atop a hill, Y/n was still as she lined up her wedged golf club with the small golf ball lying on the patch of grass. Topper stood just behind his sister, arms crossed over his blue polo clad chest. A smirk was playing on his lips as he watched his sister's eyes straining on the task at hand. She took the game all too seriously, and it was enjoyable to pester her whenever he had the chance.

Y/n was always known to be the perfect child out of the two. Her ponytails were always slicked back without so much as a stray hair escaping. Straight A's, straight forward, straight path, she doesn't cut corners. She made a point be on time and was even head of the student council at the Kook Academy. Unlike her sensitive turd of a brother who washes himself with girls affection and alcohol whenever he saw Sarah under John B's arm, she's never blacked out at a party. Not once. But even if she attended a party, it wouldn't be her taste considering she only ever jams to Paul McCartney.

Just when y/n was about to make the shot, Scarlet and Sarah wandered by, the blonde's friend passing her a disdainful look. That was the other thing about Y/n Thornton. She wasn't a wealthy Kook by birth. She was adopted when she was only two years old. And though they spoiled her rotten, she can't help but question what she did to get as far as she's gotten.

The scornful look didn't go unnoticed by Topper, and he spared her a glare. Scarlet mirrored his expression before she followed Sarah toward the lake to help Wheezie retrieve her golf ball.

Y/n knew they only hated her because she wasn't a true Kook, and she was blessed with a privileged family. She knew she had done nothing wrong but being little miss perfect wasn't always luxurious. Not when she was hiding a secret that would surely dishonor the family name laid upon her.

Unwinding the tension that built up in her shoulder, Y/n hit the golf ball gently and let it roll into the hole. She squealed slightly and hopped on her white tennis shoes. Topper slowly clapped from behind her, jutting his bottom lips to emphasize he was impressed. The bright smile on her face was worth seeing any day in Topper's opinion.

"Eat grass bitch," Y/n jeered in a drolled tone, bumping Topper's shoulder with her own.

Topper scoffed at her, raising his hands as he walked to where she was standing just a few seconds ago, rolling his shoulder back to take his shot. "Watch how the real pro does it." he chucked with a smug grin, bringing his sister to roll her eyes.

Y/n stood next to Topper, resting her weight on the golf club while the other rested on her knee. "Has anyone ever told you that you have shitty form?" she whispered tauntingly in her brother's ear.

Topper swung back, making his sister take a cautious step away before hitting the ball across the field. "I do not!" he said, pointing his gloved hand toward the ball he made into the hole." If anyone has shitty form, it's you!" he jested, hovering his club mockingly in her face before she smacked it away.

"Whatever, Top, at least my ball never ended up in the lake." y/n sneered playfully over her shoulder as she trotted toward her ball with a skip in her step.

Topper lifted his hand and dropped his arms to his side, rolling his eyes as he followed her. "That was one time!"

The sibling played a few more rounds until Topper called it quits after y/n beat him the rest of the day, making two holes in ones. She had school the next morning anyway, and with the sky colored a deep purple, they thought it was time to turn in for the night.

With her hands swaying by her side, a yawn left y/n lips before she felt Topper bump her shoulder with his own. "So there's rumors going around at school that you've gotta crush on somebody." Topper's tone was hopeful, and the way he lifted his eyebrows suggestively brought her to scoff.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever." she shrugged, suddenly finding the velcro of her white loves quite fascinating.

"Come on! I'm your brother, you can tell me!"

Y/n laughed, letting her ponytail graze her cheek when she whipped her head up toward where Topper walked beside her. "Um, yeah, exactly, you're my brother, I don't really feel like you're the one I should go to for talking about my love life. It's kinda embarrassing."

Topper let his eyes linger on his sister for a moment before looking ahead of him where Rafe and Sarah drove by in their golf cart. The Cameron sibling tossed them a wave in greeting while the Thornton siblings nodded in response. Topper grin began to grow, and he spun on the sole of his foot to walk backward in front of his sister.

"Oh, I know, I know who it is," he said confidently.

Y/n snorted, amused to hear what Topper would pull out of his sleeve. No one would ever know who she had eyes for. She even tried to deny it herself—several times. "Do you now?" she nodded along with his game.

"Yup."

"Shoot then, wise guy."

"It's Rafe, isn't it?"

Y/n nearly choked on her saliva, and she passed her brother a bewildered look. "What- No! Absolutely not." she gasped, shoving him in the chest but to no avail as he stayed standing and laughed heartily at his sister's attempt to knock him down.

"What's wrong with Rafe?" he chuckled teasingly, prodding her on the rib, and opted to walk by her side again.

Once they arrived at his car, she kept her hand on the passenger side handle and glared at her brother through the windows as he stood on the other side. "Should I start alphabetically or chronologically?" she smiled caustically, and Topper mirrored her expression once he unlocked the car, and the two climbed inside.

She thought the discussion had dropped once they shut the doors, and the engine roared to life. But Topper pestered on with his investigation.

"Is it Kelce?"

"Nope." she sighed deeply, resting her head back, irritated he wouldn't drop it. She was saddened that he would never guess the name even if he listed off all the boys on the island.

He tapped his finger anxiously on the steering wheel. "Jeremy from your AP classes?"

"No, Topper."

"Whatever," he huffed in defeat, "I'll find out eventually! Don't you worry."

No, you won't, she thought, letting her eyes draw to the trees in passing. If Topper weren't so concentrated on the dark road ahead, he would have seen the frown that made permanent residence on his sister's face the rest of the ride home. He would have even caught a glimpse of the sole tear that rolled down her cheeks as she thought of the one person she could never have and the one person no one could know she wanted.

___

Adjusting her straightened hair in the mirror that was magnetized in the back of her locker, y/n's mind was reeling with all the duties she had ahead of her. She had a council meeting next period, and she hasn't even gotten her notes in order. Sarah Cameron was leaning against her locker that resided next to y/n, worry pooling in her eyes as she watched her run her hands through her hair for the hundredth time since they've been standing there.

"If you keep stressing your hair like that, it's gonna fall out." Sarah pointed out, leaning her head against the cold metal, and tucked a blonde strand behind her ear.

Y/n shook her head, rubbing her temple with the tip of her fingers. "Sarah, I've been up all. night." she emphases, slamming her locker shut with more force than she intended and turned to her friend, the creases on her forehead prominent. "All night, trying to accommodate everything, and even then, I doubt Trevor will be satisfied. Such a pain my ass, I swear.."

"Stop beating yourself over it, my god. Trever will just have to grow a pair and get over it. You're busy as it is, and he can't expect you to drown yourself in all this crap."

Taking a deep inhale of breath, y/n wrung her hands to rid of the nerves. "Okay, how do I look? Head of the student council worthy?" she padded down the uniform skirt that barely reached past her fings while Sarah tugged on the lapels of her navy blue blazer, her eyes scanning her golden brooch that was pinned to the side.

"You're a babe y/n. Of course, you look good! Also, I was thinking after school we could stop by Scarlet's..."

A pretty girl walks by my locker

my heart gives a flutter

but I don't dare utter a word

cause that would be absurd behavior

for little miss perfect.

Sarah's words are slowly drowned out once y/n's eyes catch sight of Kiara Carrera gracefully walking by. Everything slows, and she wasn't sure if it was time slowing down in her favor or if it was her mind, giving her the chance to catch a glimpse of the one true thing that kept y/n going. The one person who she thought about before shutting her eyes and the first thing she smiled about once she woke up.

The way her uniform hugged around her curves—the way her tie was loosened as it draped under the collar of her blouse. Kiara's long brown curls looked especially curlier that day as they bounced past her shoulder with every step. The half updo bun she wore accentuated her oval face perfectly, and it gave more space for y/n to admire her features.

Y/n and Kira have known each other since they both volunteered to watch over a turtle nest back in July. They were both surprised to see each other but nevertheless fell into a smooth rhythm of comfortable conversation. The whole night was spent naming all the baby sea turtles after star constellations that they thought fit their personality. They snuggled close for the majority of the night after Kiara ran to Haywards with a spare key to grab a few snacks to help them survive the night. The cool night air was becoming overwhelming, so they decided to keep up the chattering to distract themselves.

Y/n took this as two girls blossoming a newfound friendship, but it was when Kiara began to speak that really sparked her interest. But the funny thing was, it wasn't something specific. It was everything she was saying. Kiara spoke of her passion for music, her friends, the environment, her dreams, and hopes. She spoke so gracefully that it drew y/n in more and more like a siren thirsty for water. Before she fell in love with Kiara, she fell in love with her words. Her free spirit. Her aura of happiness that drew people in for more. More of the words that trickled from her plump lips light honey. Something so sweet that y/n craved more than anything.

While she was fawning over the girl as she spoke animatedly about her passion for surfing, a crack was heard from the turtle nest. Racing to look over the small hole with flashlights, radiant smiles colored both girls' features, seeing the sand cave in as little baby sea turtles began crawling from their shells.

For a brief moment, Kira gazed upward to see Y/n eyes glowing with the light and smiled. She loved how carefree she seemed away from the strict counsel of her stepmother. The Thornton name was a heavy crown to bear, and she admired y/n for carrying it so effortlessly. And at this moment, Kiara couldn't help but blush when strands of y/n's hair began to fall near her cheek, and she wanted so badly to brush them away. But she was knocked from her thoughts once she noticed the girl hustling around to clear the area for the turtles to move.

The rest of the night was spent encouraging the turtles as they made their way toward the water and protecting them from possible predators.

"Fuck off, crab!" Kiara shouted, picking up a branch from the sand and poking at a hard exterior near one of the turtles.

"Kie that a rock! Focus!' y/n whispered harshly, afraid she would scare the baby turtles as they paddled down the sand path they created for them that led to the water.

"Shit, you're right-- oh my god its Aries!" Kiara exclaimed, flashing her light down at a turtle that was speeding ahead of the rest.

Y/n quirked a brow, 'How could you possibly know? That could be Sagittarius for all we know."

Kie scoured her flashlight toward her, nearly blinding y/n from the abrupt light assault. "What? No way! That is so Aries, I mean, look at how he's showin off and struttin and being a baddie!" Kie then shined her light toward the hole where the last baby turtle flipped out from his nest and slowly moved toward the water. "That is Sagittarius. The lazy bitch."

"Hey, don't call the turtle bitches-- oh my god, Kiara, a crab!"

"Where!?"

After seeing the sea turtles to safety, Kira and y/n walked a mile to the Wreck, babbling loudly, not caring if the residents shut them up. They were just so happy to be in each other's company. The night ended with the girls eating a couple of plates stacked with truffle fries and a carton of ice cream while diving into more in-depth topics. They cried, laughed, and then cried some more before falling asleep on each other's shoulder in a booth. Mr. Carerra came in the next morning and sent them back to Kiara's house where they all but threw themselves on her bed in the comfort of her thick, warm blankets.

After that, the two would hang out every chance they got, even if there was an unspoken spark hovering between them like a magnet. It brought them closer, but as soon as they dared to think of each other as more than friends, they repelled.

Though they spoke of everything, they never mentioned how they fell asleep with their hands intertwined under the blankets.

Y/n breathed hitched once those almond eyes met hers, and the smile she passed her way was at par with the brightness of the sun. It warmed every part of her being, making her heart melt in an instant. Kiara's smile could light up a room; everyone knows that. But what they can't see is that she lights y/n up inside completely that every difficulty of loving her disappears. Every crevice of doubt. Every corner of insecurity. Ever crack of self-loathing. Kiara Carrera filled those spaces so selflessly, and all it took was a smile.

"Crush" was such an infantile word. But if that's what Topper wanted to call it, then yes, she had a crush on Kiara Carrera.

No, I can't risk falling off my throne,

Love is something you don't even know.

Two hands swaying in front of her face made her vision dizzy once she came back to reality and looked to Sarah, who looked relieved to finally grasp her attention.

"Dude bell rang. You ready?" she asked.

Y/n faked a smile before lifting her head a bit higher once Kira passed her and disappeared from sight. "Um yeah--yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

Sarah looped her arm with hers, and the two girls moved down the hall. Sarah felt the stiffness in her friend's arm and tilted her head with furrowed brows. "You okay?" she inquired softly with a smile.

"Just lost in thought is all," y/n, sighed, sucking on her bottom lips as she cast her eyes to her shoes.

"Must be unfamiliar territory then." Sarah laughed, giving her a playful shove, bringing y/n to bashfully shake her head at the compliment. "Now chin up, let's show Trevor, who's boss."

Once again, she let her thoughts of Kiara settle in a little corner of her brain, not to be touched until necessary, and went about her day.

Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward

Straight girl

Little miss perfect

that's me

One night my friend's stayed over

We laughed and drink and ordered

Something about her drew me in

What? It's totally platonic

"That is such a lie, Sarah, and you know it!" Y/n muffled around a bite of potato chips. She had called out her blonde friend, who rests her back against her bed's headboard while in a heated game of Kiss, Marry, Kill.

"What is so wrong about the order? It seems fine!" Sarah hiccuped after taking a swig of the large bottle of wine Kiara brought from home. She was currently sitting next to y/n; they're shoulders pressing together as they evened their weight on each other.

"Seriously. Marry Pope, kiss John B, and kill JJ? Where's the favor in that!" Kiara questioned with a shake of her head.

"Hey, Pope is superior." Y/n reminded her as she pointed toward Kiara with the loose finger that wasn't gripping the neck of the wine bottle. She tossed her head back and let the sweet, pungent taste burn her throat.

"Well, of course, he is, that answer is fine but c'mon! Kiss JJ and Kill John B! Simple." Kiara said, letting her thumb wipe off a drip of wine that rested on y/n chin. Too dazzled with a fascination with the spinning fan above her, Sarah didn't notice the lingering glances happening between Kie and Y/n.

Their eyes stayed glued, and Kiara smirked as a blush crept up y/n cheek. She brought her thumb to her lips and tasted the wine that didn't make it into y/n mouth before turning back to Sarah.

"JB is my boyfriend, Kie!" Sarah whined, lightly kicking her legs in a pout with her eyes squeezed shut, the onset of a headache beginning to rack her brain.

"You and John B are a literal walking hallmark movie!" Y/n told her with irritation lacing her tone. "I think he'll understand that you picked JJ over him in a game!"

"But...but -but I - I love jombee," Sarah slurred moments before a silent sob broke her lungs.

Kiara and Y/n both groaned in unison, disregarding how emotional Sarah got after too much drinking. "Pass me the damn bottle," Kira demanded with a roll of her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," y/n replied.

That night was so exciting

Her smirks were so enticing

Hours speed by like seconds

Then, what happens is iconic

She takes a sip, I bite my lip

she tells a joke, I nearly choke

she braids my hair, I sit there

blacking out for the first time

With her straight hair now pulled back into a loose french braid made by the one and only Kiara, the two decided upon a game of never have I ever. After consoling Sarah for god knows what, the blonde fell asleep, leaving Kiara and y/n to sit at the end of the bed.

"Never have I ever called a turtle a bitch." Y/n narrowed her eyes, sitting on the balls of her feet, waiting for Kiara to drink from the wine bottle.

Kiara threw her head back, and a groan erupted from her chest while her loose, curly hair brushed past her shoulder. "Would you let that go? You know I love those turtles!" Kiara said, sipping the wine from the space in front of her as she sits criss-cross.

Her eyes flickered around the bottle, meeting y/n eyes for a moment, making her bite her lip and look down at her fiddling hands that rested in her lap.

"I don't think Sagittarius appreciated being insulted. He was just taking his time." y/n said, finally looking back up to see Kie handing her the bottle.

"At least I didn't forget their names! What kind of mother are you?" Kie chuckled, her fingers lining the edge of her oversized yellow t-shirt that covered her gray shorts.

Y/n's lips parted, and shrugged her shoulders aggressively. "We named them when they haven't even hatched yet! Can you blame me for getting confused?"

Kiara's face was reddened by the second as a sudden laugh surpassed her lips. "A mother always knows." she chuckled.

With her eyes fluttered shut, y/n took this time to admire her once again. She watched her selfishly like no one else should have the honor of seeing Kiara in such a lighthearted state where only the two of them could be alone. Nothing was really funny about what she had said, but if she could hear her adorable snort, she didn't mind. She had a laugh like shattering glass, something you want to get so close to, but y/n was sure she would get cut with the shards.

"Right because you are so mother oriented." y/n mumbled, watching as Kiara calmed down and steadied her breathing; she brushed some hair from her face and settled down until her eyes caught y/n's. She could see wind stirred waves in her eyes. If one were brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur, and you'd fall so deep in love that you'd choose to stay there no matter what.

Y/n was not sure what took over her. It must have been the ambiance of silence, but she couldn't take her eyes off Kiara's wet lips that had just consumed the wine. Uncertainty flooded Kiara's eyes as Y/n hesitantly moved forward, then gently cupped her jaw in her hands and pressed her lips against her lips. Kiara stayed frozen in place, her hands raised around y/n silhouette that was slightly hovering over her like she was afraid to touch her. Because if she touched her, then it made it real. But she wasn't pushing her away, and she didn't know why.

The kiss was innocent, new, an unknown territory that y/n was afraid to tread until now. All the expectations placed upon her to be the model daughter disappeared with Kiara Carrera. The perfect girl her mother wanted was defying everything society said was wrong. But if it was so wrong, why did she feel Kiara's hands touch her waist and kiss her back? The taste of wine was exchanged between their sweet kiss and shared breath. So sweet and savory like honey, but once Y/n pulled away and opened her eyes, her heart shattered like glass. As if what she had just done destroyed her whole being. The glass cut deep like she touched something that she shouldn't have, and now she was paying for it.

Next thing I know, I lose control

I finally kiss her, but oh no

I see a face in my window

then my brain starts to go

She saw her reflection. She saw herself. The reflection of someone she didn't recognize, and she felt an ache in her heart once she met Kiara's eyes again. At that moment, they both seemed to realize what they had done and quickly moved away from one another, standing up to face each other on either side of the bed.

No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Love

Is something you don't even know

Thunder rumbled in the sky, the clouds grayed and shifted the cold air into a moist, dewy atmosphere. Rain droplets raced down y/n umbrella, creating a curtain of water around her body as she stood barefoot at the beach. Her mind was lulled with last night's events, and she hated herself for driving Kiara away. Y/n eyes observed each raindrop like a kaleidoscope. She wondered if she could stop time just one last time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside one of those raindrops and take the gravity propelled ride to the earth. Maybe then, she would be able to melt away into nothingness.

She let her hands stretch out from the safety of her blue umbrella and felt the cold rain soak over her hand. Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears, thinking of the night with Kiara on the beach. Oh, how she wishes she could do it over, just to have on a normal night like that again.

The shifting of sand beside her pulled her from her thoughts, and she stiffened once she caught a glimpse of Kiara's curly hair beside her, holding her own yellow umbrella.

The sound of gentle rain upon the surface shielding their head is all that filled the air. That's what kept y/n from crying once Kiara began to speak.

"We can still be friends y/n."

The words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she didn't care when a warm tear slid down her cheek.

"Okay," she mumbles in response, not believing herself to say anymore. She would surely break down, and she couldn't hurt Kiara like that. Not when she cornered her in a difficult situation.

She could hear Kiara sniffle, and she faced her quickly. "I'm sorry, Yn. You have no idea how sorry I am, but-- I just can't do it."

Y/n chin wobbled, and she quickly bit down on her lip before a whimper could escape. "It's okay," she murmured with a crack in her voice.

That crack nearly broke Kiara in her entirely, and she nearly reached out to touch her arm but stopped.

"Y/n/n, please say something else," Kiara was now crying, her almond eyes looking darker, and the frown on her lips broke y/n's whole being. "Just say something to make me stay. And I will, but I have to hear it from you first."

Y/n let in a shaky breath and finally found the courage to look at Kiara. She tilted her head, a sad smile presenting itself on her quivering lips. "What is it worth if I can't tell everyone else that I love you, Kiara?"

Both girls stood silent, and the decision was made. Hours passed, and a lonesome blue umbrella stayed put on the beach while the yellow one was long gone. Once she was sure Kiara was gone, Y/n dropped the umbrella from her shaking hands and let the sob she held rack her body. She clapped a hand over her mouth to quiet the scream she wanted to let erupt. Holding her body, she let the rain drown out her cries and felt the memory of Kiara's lips be consumed by the raindrops to melt away into the earth.

Rewind, induce amnesia

Deny the truth it easier

You're just confused, believe her

When she says there's nothing there

It's never worth it

When you're little miss perfect.

@pogueszn @mdlyncline @cordeliascrown @acvross-the-universe

@x-lulu @bricksatanakinswindow @ponyboys-sunsets @kaitieskidmore1 @casper17 @moonshinerbynight @illbesafeforyou @crxstalreeds

#outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx cast #obx x reader #obx #obx kiara #obx kie #outer banks fic #outerbanks x you #outer banks x reader #outer banks angst #angst.#kiara carrera #kiara outer banks #kiara x y/n #kiara x reader #sarah obx #sarah cameron #topper thornton

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Imagine:

I”m gonna do two imagines at once because I figured these two can go hand in hand

The reader face-riding Erik and Erik holding the reader’s hips down and overstimulating her/ Erik telling the reader “lemme dig in that pussy one time”

This shit here... WHEW!

Nasty smut per usual.

“Happy birthday you fine ass Sagittarius.”

Y/N’s boyfriend, Ace, was gliding his tongue like the black mamba snake along her exposed neck. He had just taken her to a fancy dinner and now they were headed back their place to finish the night off just right. Ace looked over at his woman dressed in a satin mini dress colored sage. Her braided hair was twisted up into a bun and her skin shimmered from all the body glow she had put on.

“Thank you, Baby,” Y/N squeezed Ace’s hand, interlacing her tiny fingers with his long slender ones, “Now, are you gonna tell me who you’ve been texting all night talking about it’s a surprise?! I am fucking dying over here.”

“What I tell you? Save that begging shit for later.” Ace looked at Y/N with sly eyes, “Sexy ass.”

Y/N wanted to savor this moment as much as she could while her man was home from the military. He would be leaving again in about a couple of weeks. She pouts like a baby, folding her arms over her 36 C cup breasts. Tiny whimpers escaping her mouth, Ace adjusts himself in his seat, trying his best not to react to her seducing sounds. He’d missed every ounce of her. Every curve, every noise she made, the way she smelled, how soft her skin was. Being away and seeing all that death, Ace had to keep a positive image of Y/N in his brain.

They both pulled up to a gated community. This is where they both live. A big house built from the ground up. An accomplishment he happily came back to when he could. Pulling up in one of the spots of their three-car garage, Ace turns off the car, not yet getting out as his phone was in his hands again. Y/N had her Pink Whitney Amsterdam Vodka bottle resting in her lap ready to be opened. Ace was driving her crazy!!! She wanted some of that good dick. She just knew he would beat her pussy up like he’d been locked away in jail for 30+years. She needed a hurting on her good pussy.

“Wassup, E,” Ace acknowledged the man on the other line with a grin, “You here already? Where? I didn’t see you when I pulled up.

E? She looked behind her out of the rearview window, spotting a blacked-out G Wagon flashing its hazards to gain their attention. She turns back around in her seat, side-eyeing Ace. What was this nigga up to? He’d already bought her all the things she wanted, taken her out to eat, what else could he have in store for her? Y/N unbuckled her seat belt, turning towards Ace while he talked on the phone.

“Nah, I think she’ll remember you, bruh. Y/N got a good memory... yeah, shes giving me a look right now,” Ace laughs at Y/N’s annoyed expression, “Just come over to the house, let's make this reunion happen.”

Ace hung up his phone, pocketing it before taking his keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car. Y/N waited as he came around to her side, opening her door and grabbing the 24k gold and red roses he purchased from THE. MILLION. ROSES out of her hand with the bottle of Amsterdam Vodka. since Ace’s sports car was so low she had to duck while getting out. Y/N reaches out her soft manicured hand for Ace to grab, but it wasn’t Ace’s hand that took hold. She could feel a thicker, more solid hand grab hers, fingers covered in rings, very sturdy and overpowering her rather tiny one. Startled by the unfamiliar texture, Y/N placed her doe-eyes on a man standing at 6’3, braided-back dreads, black T-shirt on with a denim jacket, black ripped jeans and a pair of Vans on his feet. Gold around his neck, wrist, and fingers, even in his teeth when he smiled down at her.

Ace stood back, hands in his black and red plaid jacket pockets, watching the scene in front of him. Y/N was pulled from her seat, her hand reaching behind her to fix her mini dress since her ass was too much for it. Ace told her it was two sizes too small but she didn’t care. Now that she’s standing in front of E, she felt exposed.

“Wassup, birthday girl,” He spoke softly.

“E...Erik?” She finally recognized him. It’s been at least a few years since she saw him. He had a curly fro the last time they’d seen each other.

“It’s been a while I know,” his eyes trailed down her frame, “Still looking good I see.”

Y/N, perplexed that Erik so openly gave her a compliment in front of her man, looked over at Ace to see if he would correct his boy. To her surprise, Ace has this coy smile spread across his full lips.

“Can we go inside? It’s getting chilly out here,” Y/N tried to revert the topic of discussion. Ace hands Erik her roses and vodka while he leads the way to his front entrance.

“After you, ma” The gesture was simple but so...tantalizing. A shiver spread throughout her body at the thought of Erik checking out her ass as it swayed in her tight mini dress. The way her legs looked in her heels didn’t help situations either. Ace held the door opened for her, allowing her to walk past. Ace slaps her ass hard as hell, Y/N giving him a shy look before turning towards both men. Erik was smiling wide and dangerous at Ace before turning his hard, intoxicating eyes onto Y/N’s body. That entire moment made her ankles buckle a little and she hoped that she didn’t look crazy.

“Can I get comfortable before we have some drinks?” She rested her plush bottom on the grey velvet ottoman in their shared living room, taking off her heels. She flexed her toes, resting the shoes next to the love seat.

“Oh Nah, keep that dress on, girl.” Ace instructed her.

Y/N looked over at Erik who was helping himself to some Hennessy that Ace has at his living room mini bar. He had his denim jacket off at this point, all those muscles in his arms...his almond skin looked beautiful....

She froze.

Now she was beginning to think that Ace must have known how attracted to Erik she was. She had eyes, her man's friend is sexy as hell. It just overwhelmed her seeing him like this. More muscles, hair in those sexy dreads, gold in his mouth...

“Hey,” Ace’s lips were on her cheek, trailing down to her neck. Y/N took her hand, rubbing it against the shiny black waves in his hair. She placed her lips against the chocolate skin of his cheek before teasing him with her jeweled tongue.

“Mm,” Ace lifts her up, making her straddle him while he rested on the grey velvet love seat. Drink in his hand, he sipped while his other hand moved slowly over her arched back and ass. Y/N felt so nervous doing this in front of Erik. Erik was seated on the edge of the ottoman right next to them both, drinking out of his glass with those eyes on her face and only her face. She wrapped her arms around Ace while his soft lips attacked her protruding cleavage. Y/N held Erik’s gaze but it was a challenge with the way those whiskey-colored eyes surveyed her.

“Damn, shit don’t make no sense how much I missed you. Tell her Erik, my ass was going crazy.”

Erik smiles, “you had this nigga fantasizing about you. Every fucking day. And every fucking night. Couldn’t get this nigga to shut up.”

“Awww, babe,” Y/N grabs Ace’s chin, “Daddy, I missed you too.”

Erik made a sound at that, causing Ace to laugh and Y/N to blush profusely. What Erik didn’t tell her was how Ace shared all of their wild sex stories with him. Ace would tell Erik how bomb Y/N’s pussy is. Straight wet wet and nice and tight like she did kegel exercises. He even disclosed that she had a major head game too, jaws strong as a bitch.

She can suck a golf ball through a water hose that’s how he described it.

“Damn, bro. She got it like that? Just the thought of it is making my dick hard,” Erik said, laughing.

Another thing Y/N didn’t know but Erik and Ace did, was that she would be fulfilling her man's deepest, darkest fantasy. Give the birthday girl a real treat. From talks about how his girl put it down to Erik spotting Ace from time to time admiring nude photos of Y/N, he was thinking about fucking his friend's girl. He never told Ace, but now he didn’t need to. Ace hit him up about a week ago before Erik came home from a JSOC mission that he wanted Erik to fuck his girl in front of him.

“Say, bro, would you like to hit Y/N?” Ace had asked.

Erik was in disbelief on FaceTime with Ace. He couldn’t believe that he asked him that so openly, even though his brain was saying hell yeah I want that puss.

“Are you for real? Man, you are crazy, nigga.”

Ace’s look said it all.

“You are for real, Huh? Okay,” he said, letting Ace know he was game.

And Erik was down for whatever. Clearly, Y/N was too with the way she looked at him with those come fuck me, Daddy eyes. He’d fuck her real good too. That nigga Ace was in for a show. This fine bitch Y/N was about to give that pussy up.

“Are you having a good time, baby?” Ace asked Y/N, looking from her to Erik.

“Yes, this is really nice. I feel like a princess,” she stated, satisfied with the outcome of the night.

“It’s cuz you are a princess.” Ace said, praising her.

“You want some of your vodka, Y/N?” Erik asks. Y/N nods her head at him, watching Erik get up to retrieve her bottle and make her a nice cup of it. Ace whispers happy birthday in her ear, bringing his lips to hers and sucking on her bottom lip. She could taste the Hennessy on his warm wet tongue and feel the icy grill on his lower teeth. Right then and there she wanted his tongue dancing around her pussy.

“Daddy,” she moans.

“Yeah, girl?”

“I need you to fuck me now. I want your dick inside of me. Fuck me please.”

Y/N tried to be discreet and whisper that but Erik heard it all loud and clear while making her drink. He walked back over to the horny couple, standing behind Ace and handing Y/N her glass over the back of the couch.

“Thank you, E,” she takes a nice sip, eyelids fluttering from Ace’s slick tongue on her neck and his hand rubbing her juicy, hard clit through her satin thong. Y/N ground her pussy roughly against his hand, nonverbally urging him to plunge his fingers deep inside of her little pussy.

“Mmm,” Y/N moaned while stroking the back of Ace’s head. Ever so gently, while Erik stood there behind the love seat, lustfully gazing at Y/N and loving the sounds she made, Ace caressed her face and brought her lips to his once more, and gave her a nice sloppy kiss.

“I told my boy you have some good pussy, baby girl,” Ace whispered, informing Y/N that Erik knew of some of their sexcursions.

“Oh, really? And why would you do that, Daddy?”

That seductive look in her eyes said it all. Ace placed Y/N on the couch, adjusting his dick in his dark-wash denim jeans. He sat his empty glass on the black and silver coffee table. Y/N’s pussy was extremely wet and warm. The moisture probably made itself visible through her panties. Erik came over to seat himself next to Y/N while Ace was on her other side. Both men refilled their glasses, Ace reaching between Y/N’s legs to see exactly how wet his woman was.

“Damn,” Erik says, licking the liquor from his bottom lip, “that shit wet wet just like you said, Ace.”

Y/N lets out an airy sigh, face hot from the way Erik leaned forward with his elbows to see it all. He was seeing everything. The way Ace rubbed her wet satin thong, how the exposed skin of her pussy lips shined like she’d been oiled down.

“I told E how good your pussy tastes,” Ace whispered. “He wants to eat it for you.”

“E?” She asks timidly. Oh, it was written all over her face. That sexy helpless look on her face. E wants to eat my tight little pussy, Daddy, that’s what she looked like she wanted to say. Drink almost slipping from her hand, Erik takes it, placing it on the coffee table next to his. He swallows spit before biting his lip, preparing his taste buds for her pussy. Erik and Ace shared a look, both mischievous men smirking.

“Hey, bro,” Ace finally pulled Y/N’s soaking wet thong to the side. Erik let out a hiss, the sound causing Y/N’s toes to curl, “You wanna taste this pussy? I told you it was good. Come and get this pussy.” Inviting Erik to join in.

Without saying another word, Erik was bending over Y/N’s lap in a single bound and attacked her pussy like a flesh-eating piranha. Y/N was semi-naked and it wasn’t enough for Erik at all. He wanted to see her fully naked while he stared up from between her legs. Ace sat back on the ottoman, one hand palming his erection while the other held his glass of Henny. His voyeurism kink was finally going to come to life in front of him. Y/N looked overwhelmed by the way Erik licked her. She was squirming and shaking, looking from Ace to Erik with a bewildering look in her eyes. The soft-sounding moans that escaped her mouth seemed to grab hold of Erik’s dick because now he wanted to yank his jeans off and plunge into her tasty pussy. Erik sopped her pussy like it was a full course meal. This nigga was really eating it up and Ace couldn’t help the grunts that escaped his mouth.

“Take this shit off,” Erik demanded Y/N. Y/N timidly lifted her dress over her belly and up past her tits.

“Don’t be shy, listen to Kill,” Ace had his hands down his pants now.

“Kill?” She asked with a perplexed expression. Y/N felt Erik’s lips on her neck, his hands helping her the rest of the way with that dress. She was finally fully naked, her big juicy nipples all poked out and ready to be sucked up.

“Kill wants some of that pussy.” Ace reminded Y/N. She could feel Kill against her inner thigh. He was much thicker than Ace but they were around the same length. She wasn’t used to being stuffed and bottomed-out at the same time.

“Yo, this couch ain't doing it for me. Can we take this shit to the bed?” Erik asked while running his fingers between her pussy lips. He sounded so desperate and it made her bite her lip. She couldn’t believe she was going through with this. This was a surprise alright.

“Take it wherever you want, bro, as long as I get to watch the way you fuck her.”

That was enough for Erik. He picks Y/N up, throwing her over his shoulder. The action was rough and the way he slapped her ass didn’t help make it any less rough. Ace was following behind Erik, telling him where the master bedroom was on the second level. Finally there, Erik takes a naked Y/N and laid her softly on her back on the large bed. Ace made himself comfortable in a chair facing the head of the bed, the sound of his belt and zipper loud in Y/N’s ears. Erik was taking off his clothes.

“Happy birthday, you know you special,” Erik told her with a low seductive voice. Shirt off, she took in his defined body littered with scars. Now, he was working on his jeans, pulling those down nice and slow so she could watch his dick bob out at her. Once the long, and fat pole was free from its confines, Y/N gasped, mouth hanging open and ready for a dick in it. His dick in it.

Ace gave his right hand a workout by stroking his dick. He planned on cumming all over himself tonight. Erik returned to the bed, Ace witnessing the helpless look on his girl's face as Erik pulled her legs apart roughly, his face disappearing between her legs. It was as if she had no control over her reaction to the way Erik ate her pussy. That pretty face of hers contorted with pleasure.

“FUCK. Ace forgot to mention how sweet this pussy is,” Erik was eating that little pussy better than Ace. It didn’t make him feel jealous, it made his dick harder and heavier in his hand. All he wanted his woman to do was cum on his homeboy's face. Erik breathes hard on her clit and then started kissing all around her glazed pussy. He was licking and kissing everything but her clit.

He brought his face up to Y/N’s, kissing her lips, “what you want me to do, princess?”

Without stuttering, she said, “I want you to suck my clit, Erik!!!”

Finally, Erik began sucking it. He would move away and then come back to it. Move away and then come back to it, and that shit felt so damn good! He started licking it with long strokes, and she could feel his tongue working it’s way around the lips of her pussy and then dart in and out of it with expert precision. Erik worked his way back to her “trigger” and ran his tongue down each side of her clit and tickled it underneath. Erik didn’t miss a spot and Y/N enjoyed every bit of it. Erik swirled his tongue around the hood of her clit and Y/N started rocking her hips back and forth as he started pushing down harder with his mouth. He didn’t come up for air once, and the pressure and rhythm of his tongue on her clit was almost poetic!

Y/N never knew there were so many ways to suck a pussy before this moment on her birthday. Just when she thought it was over, Erik enclosed his whole mouth around her clit and started sucking it lightly, as he blew on it with his warm breath. He kept glancing up at her pretty face; she could tell he was getting off by the way she was moaning and driving that pussy into his face. He placed deep French kisses on her clit and sucking on it until Y/N was ready to cum. The stimulation was toe-curling, and as she thought she would fly off the bed but Ace was by her side now, keeping her legs open with his dick all out and slick with pre-cum next to her mouth. Erik was in the zone, he wasn’t about to turn the pussy loose for Ace to get a taste.

“Damn, homie, you sucking it like it’s your pussy...stay still baby, let him have it. This nigga Kill is hungry I see.”

Right when Ace said that, Y/N shouted at the top of her lungs in between chocked up moans, “This is your pussy!! This is your pussy!!” Erupting all over Erik’s face. As she rested her head back against the pillows, Erik finally let Ace join in as they both leaned forward and started slurping and feasting on what Y/N could rightly say was both of their pussy.

“Daddy,” she looked into Ace’s eyes then over into Erik’s, “Daddy.” She called both of them niggas Daddy.

“Damn, E, got your whole mouth on her clit.” Ace watched Erik back at it again with the sucking and slurping.

“Look at the way you making her pussy cream, bro,” Ace scoops up some of that cream, placing his finger in his mouth, “Fuck, this slutty little pussy is leaking.”

Ace goes back to his seat, rubbing Y/N’s juices on his dick. Erik lifted up her body, making her sit on his face. She could feel him running his tongue up and down her swollen pussy. He had his big biceps holding her in place while he overstimulated her clit with a back and forth motion of his sharp tongue and a little pulling and nibbling action of his plush lips. She was grinding all sexy on his mouth, her eyes watching Ace standing directly in front of her now, jerking his long dick. His slit was open and a long string of pre-cum spilled out and to the bed. Y/N had nowhere to run while Erik worked her sensitive clit into yet another orgasm.

“Daddy, Erik,” she cried, her arms shaking while her cum spilled and spilled into Erik’s mouth. He licked her clean, giving her pussy gentle kisses before pulling her off of him.

“You ready for me, Y/N?” He looked at her, his face shiny with her juices, “you ready for me to fuck that little pussy while your man buss a nut to it?”

Y/N got into doggie style position. She opened her pussy lips wide and said, “Here, Daddy, fuck this juicy pussy.”

“Shit,” Erik moaned.

“Keep that slutty little pussy open just like that baby girl,” Ace encourages. Erik takes a condom from his jeans pocket, opening it and rolling it over his dick. Secured, getting behind Y/N, he placed her body at an angle so that Ace could see how Erik was going to fuck her. Her shoulders and face were pressed into the bed, everything else up and to the ceiling. Erik reaches up under Y/N, rubbing her swollen clit.

“Lemme dig in this pussy one time,” Erik whispered. If only he could take Ace’s words literally. With the pussy Y/N had, once wouldn’t be enough. Erik thought he only needed one round of sex with this bad bitch to satisfy his fantasy...

“Fuck me, Daddy,” She cries, backing her twat into his meat.

“Yes! Call me Daddy,” Erik said, taking his enormously impressive dick, attempting to push it inside of Y/N’s pussy.

“Ace, yo,” Erik stops for a moment, looking over at his friend, “Yo, she hella tight, bruh,” He laughs.

“Told you, Bro.”

“Erik beat Y/N’s clit with his dick before trying to get in her shit again. The condom was a bitch tryna get all up inside of her.

“Take the condom off, fuck her raw,” Ace said with finality, “She feels sooooo much better that way anyway.” Ace didn’t understand the mistake in his words. Y/N had some good pussy...

“Please,” she begged.

Erik let out a satisfying moan at the way she begged for it raw. Shit, he liked this little one. Erik takes off the condom, rubbing her wetness over his dick some more before trying again. The minute he pushed himself inside successfully, was the moment he knew he was never going back. She literally swallowed him. Sucked him in like a vacuum. Ace’s words weren’t enough to explain how good this pussy was.

“Damn, baby girl, you giving up that juicy pussy to the homie?” Ace came to stand in front of her, bringing his dick to her mouth.

“That’s right, suck my big dick, baby, suck me good.”

“Damn right, I’m gonna suck it,” Y/N said with her mouth full of dick. Ace gripped her braids in his hand, popping her mouth off.

“Here,” he said, stuffing her mouth again with dick.

Erik was taking long, deliberate strokes. He feared if he picked up the pace, he would cum quick and he didn’t want that right now. She was so damn tight and warm around him.

“I love this sloppy pussy!” Erik has his lip between his teeth, fucking Y/N with no hands.

“Damn...Ace...look at her throwing it back on me, look at all this ass on my dick, bro.” Erik moaned.

Y/N found an easy rhythm to suck Ace while Erik tortures her pussy.

“She wetting you’re shit up man, I see them jaws you were talking about, mmm,” Erik had the best view, her little pussy wrapped around him and her mouth on Ace’s dick.

“Come get you some,” Ace slips out of Y/N’s mouth, stepping back to sit down and jerk his wet dick. Her spit gave him the best lubricant while he stroked. Even though he just wanted to sit back and watch Erik fuck his girl, it was damn hard. He’d always wanted to know what she looked like getting fucked. Ace decided to sit back and enjoy the rest of the moment for now so Erik could have all the fun he wanted. Erik was in front of Y/N now, his soaking wet dick mixed with her cream all over him and his pubic hair.

“Keep your mouth wide open. You ready for all of this?” Erik swinging his wet dick in front of her face had her slobbering.

“Yes, Daddy.” She gave him that innocent look with those big eyes.

“Gimme Some,” Erik whispers, grabbing her hair with one hand, and her chin with the other while his dick pressed between her lips and into her mouth.

“Suck that dick,” Erik grunted, thrusting his hips forward, causing Y/N’s head to push back. Erik started pulling his dick all the way out and thrusting all the way back in.

“She working your shit, E? Using them tight jaws on her?” Ace said, stroking his dick. Ace watched his girl swallow Erik’s dick, making his friend's eyes flutter shut.

“Goddamn, Bitch! Take it...yeah...take it deep.” Erik reached behind Y/N, slapping her ass hard. Her ass thrust up into the air, basically letting him know that she wanted that. Erik slapped her ass again, Y/N moaning around his dick. She popped her mouth off, a string of spit falling to her tits.

“Spank me again, Daddy.” She asked in a child-like voice.

“You like it when I pop that big ass?” Erik said, both of his hands came down in unison on her cheeks, “Yeah, you like that,” he thrusts his dick back into her mouth, making her gag.

“If you stay in her mouth too long she’ll have your ass cumming,” Ace joked. He was ready to buss a nut himself but he wanted to witness Erik back inside of Y/N’s slit.

“Same thing for that pussy,” Erik joked back. He slipped out of Y/N’s mouth, laying her on her back and putting her legs over his shoulders. Erik rested his arms behind her thighs to elevate her even more, her ass hanging over the edge of the bed, Erik’s toned hips angled perfectly over her body. His dick slipped inside with ease this time, even though she gripped him so tightly. He pistoned in and out to the tip of his dick down to his balls. Her body was bouncing against the damn bed. Erik was on his hands, looking down at her. She had her hands up, grabbing his wrists, her toes curled. Erik has to look down at the way his dick was murdering her pussy.

“Damn, Daddy, it’s so thick.”

Erik’s eyes rolled shut. He brought his mouth down to suck on her pretty chocolate nipples.

“It’s too big for my pussy,” She announced, “I thought my pussy could handle it.”

Ace felt his balls swell up, his hand shaking around his erection. Ropes of cum shot out and on his jeans, a look of disbelief on his face. He couldn’t believe how much cum spilled from him. That cum was begging to be freed.

“Daddy, let-let me lick it up,” Y/N wanted to taste him again. Ace groans, getting up to allow Y/N to taste the rest of himself off his dick. She took him deep into her mouth, sucking him dry while Erik held her thighs back with his hands.

“How’s That mouth?” Erik asked while deep in her pussy.

“Fucking amazing,” Ace said while holding Y/N’s head with both hands, “how’s that tight little pussy?”

“Goddam, she’s tight as fuck,” Erik panted.

Erik picked up the pace, Y/N’s mouth popping off Ace’s dick to let out a sharp moan. He was bold in her pussy. He really wanted this.

“Erik, homie, you going crazy with it. Beating that pussy up.” Ace was jerking his dick again, smacking Y/N’s face with it.

“Bruh,” Erik slips out of her good puss, “I was about to buss in your bitch.”

Ace’s dick jumped at that.

“Flip your pretty ass over,” Erik demanded. Y/N lifts up, flipping her ass over. Erik pressed her down yet again, making sure her ass was up in the air.

“Get that shit,” Ace was ready to watch Erik fuck her ass up from the back. Erik spread her cheeks open, his dick so deep she felt it in her abdomen. He was so deep if you looked at her belly you’d probably see his dick digging in her guts.

“You’re fucking me so good, Erik,” she panted.

“Giving this pussy up, huh?” The loud clapping sounds from her ass on him made Ace grunt.

“Pound that fat puss, E, give this bitch what she wants!” Ace yells.

“Look at this pussy, you can see it gripping my shit,” Erik said. Ace came behind, a load groan escaping his mouth. She was so wet. She dripped to the bed, pussy fitting tight around Erik. Her pussy was loving him.

“There’s enough for you, Daddy!! Take me please!!!” She whined so sexily beneath him. All soft and delicate like a little. Erik was about to cum, his fingers sinking into her flesh. She was looking back at him with those pretty ass eyes. Erik was caught up in them, giving her more of him like he wasn’t already filling her up.

“Oh, fuck,” she let her mouth hang open, her hands coming back to grab her own ass.

“I’ma cum on your dick, Daddy. Your making my pussy cum so good!!!”

She squeezed his ass. Erik almost fell from behind her with how she had him.

“Gimme you’re arms! Now!” Erik barked out. She reached behind her, her eyes falling on Ace’s dick, then to Erik’s intense sweaty face. She felt him beat her down. Her stomach tightened again, cumming on him yet again.

“Fuck!!!!” Ace yells, cumming on the bed. He was so overwhelmed by how good Erik fucked her.

“Damn! This good pussy...ima cum all over this fat butt!!!”

Erik pulled out, cumming on Y/N’s back and ass. She reached behind her, taking his cum on her fingers and bringing it to her mouth. She sucked it all off before lifting up to suck the rest off of his dick. She grabbed hold of Ace’s dick, jerking his while sucking Erik’s. The sounds coming from them both had her ready to take both dicks at the same time.

“Ace, are you gonna get in my pussy?”

She pouted while Erik massages her nipples.

“You know ima get in that pussy, baby.” He reassured her.

“You were such a good fucking girl for me,” Erik praises her. He leans down, kissing her lips softly. Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. It felt so good kissing him. Her eyes connected with Erik’s, looking at him with a desperate need for his lips again.

“Mm,” Erik slipped away, laying flat on his back with his fist around his dick. Y/N was sucking Ace off now, Erik focused on the way she took her time to suck it. It was like art. His eyebrows knitted together, jaw growing tight. Damn, he was hooked and it was just one fuck.

Lemme dig in that pussy one time.

He lied. There was no way he could leave here with just one taste.

“You staying the night, E?” She asked softly with Ace’s dick in her hand, face all covered in spit. She was fucking killing him.

Erik looked up at Ace, his friend shrugging his shoulders.

“You wanna stay the night?” Ace asked.

“If that’s cool with you, yeah,” Erik slowly stroked his dick. Y/N had an expectant look in her eyes.

“Please? Stay,” she grabbed Erik’s dick, causing him to close his eyes and cover her hand with his, stroking his dick with her.

“Okay.” He allowed her to stroke him fully. His dick was like steel.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @bugngiz

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Twenty Four

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

May 5th, 2000

Emile redid his tie for the ten thousandth time, setting it flat against his chest and fiddling with the end of it. He knew he looked good enough, but he was still worried. When he walked downstairs, his mother fawned over him. “Oh, you look so handsome, Emile!” she exclaimed. “Absolutely perfect for prom!”

“Thanks, Mom,” Emile said with a sheepish, mildly flustered smile.

She drove him out to the hotel that was hosting the party, and Emile grinned when he saw his date waiting for him under the awning. Charlie was in the closet to his parents, still, so they couldn’t arrive together, but they were definitely each other’s dates and no one else’s. Emile gave Charlie a quick peck on the lips and asked, “You ready?”

“Let’s dance,” Charlie said with an eager smile.

April 3rd, 2001

Emile was impossibly proud of himself. Not only had he managed to acquire a date with Remy, but he had managed to keep a majority of the contents a surprise. He drove Remy to the minigolf course with a grin of his face. When Remy saw where they had pulled up, he whistled. “Emile, are you trying to ruin our friendship? Minigolf never ends well for anyone involved.”

“You’ve never played minigolf with me,” Emile said, laughing. “I guarantee you I can make it fun, and still kick your butt.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock before popping the collar on his leather jacket. “Okay, you’re on.”

Emile grinned and paid for both of them to play. Remy protested but Emile wouldn’t budge. “It’s my treat, Rem,” he insisted. “No reason to kick up a fuss, because I’m not changing my mind.”

Remy stared at Emile for a long second before he picked out a golf ball and putter. “Oh, fine,” he said. “But if we do anything like this again, I’m paying, understood?”

“Absolutely,” Emile said, with a playful salute.

Remy laughed and shook his head. “You’re such a dork!” Remy exclaimed as they moved from the entrance towards the first hole.

“Maybe so, but that’s one of my best qualities!” Emile said with a grin. Remy laughed and shook his head. “Do you want to go first or should I?” Emile asked.

“You paid for this thing, I’m not letting you wait for a turn,” Remy said. “You go first.”

“Okay, okay,” Emile laughed, placing his ball on the tee and carefully hitting it towards the hole. He wound up about an inch away and he staggered back, making gagging sounds. “Oh, no, I’m dead! My reputation as a good minigolf player is ruined! I’m dead!”

That had the desired effect of getting Remy to laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he said in a stage whisper.

Emile grinned as Remy took his first shot, which was a little too far to the left of the hole. Emile got his in the hole in two, Remy in three. Their conversations were mostly consisting of laughter and Emile over-dramatizing every single shot while Remy just laughed and called him a dork every time.

They got to the dreaded windmill hole and Emile whistled. “This one is tough, no matter what course you go to,” he said.

“Tell me about it,” Remy said. “I had the biggest problems with these as a kid. You get it in the windmill, it’s as good as a hole-in-one, but you don’t, and it takes you four more strokes to get it in the hole.”

“And that’s provided the shot doesn’t land you right back at the tee where you started,” Emile said sagely.

Remy turned to him with a laugh. “Get out. That happened to you?!”

“Several times,” Emile said with a laugh. “I’d go to the beach with my parents as a kid, and they’d have minigolf places by the dozens. Not many of them had windmills, but the ones that did were vicious courses.”

Remy squinted. “Is this hole where our friendship ends?” he asked. “Did you get good at the windmill holes?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done minigolf,” Emile said. “But yes, I did learn the trick for most windmills. But I can tell you the secret, if you want?”

“Please?” Remy asked.

“Okay, you see how fast the windmill is going? It’s not super quick, right?” Emile asked.

“Right,” Remy said, brows furrowing as he looked at Emile.

“Well, you don’t want to hit the ball super hard, because you’ll lose control of the direction.” Emile pulled his golf ball out of his pocket and placed it on the tee. “Based on the speed of the ball I’ve seen on the other holes, and the speed of the blades, if you hit the ball with a normal amount of force, it should pass through the blades unharmed if you hit the ball about halfway between the blade coming down to cover the hole.”

“Let’s put your theory to the test then,” Remy said with a slight smirk. “Care to make a friendly wager?”

“I’m listening,” Emile said with a grin. He doubted Remy would do something like bet a kiss, not on a first date, but his bets were always interesting.

“If you’re right about your theory, and your ball passes through the windmill with no problems, you can pay for whatever you decide we’re getting for dinner and I won’t kick up a fuss, since it’s clear you want everything to be your treat tonight. But if you’re wrong, I get to argue for the right to pay for dinner, and I pay for a scoop of ice cream for each of us before we head to dinner, because I saw they sell scoops here and I’m a sucker for a good ice cream cone,” Remy said.

“Oh, the stakes are high!” Emile said, laughing. “All right, you’re on! And just to sweeten the deal, I’ll pay for ice cream once we’re done if I win the bet, since you said something.”

“I knew I should have just said I’d pay for half of dinner,” Remy said. “Fine. The bet’s on.”

Emile lined up his shot, waited, just to make sure the speed of the windmill stayed the same, pulled the putter back...and hit the ball.

They both watched intently as the ball rolled up to the windmill. The blade came down over the hole...the ball kept rolling closer...and just as the last of the blade moved to reveal the hole in the windmill, the ball rolled up and into the passageway. Remy’s jaw dropped and both of them ran around to the other side. The ball was heading into the dip in the turf, closer, closer...and it was in. “Hole in one!” Emile cheered, throwing his free hand up in the air. “I’m paying!”

Remy shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, I gotta try that trick,” he said, moving back to the tee. Emile retrieved his ball and wrote down his score, watching at the edge of the hole as Remy lined up his shot, hit the ball, and just barely got it into the windmill before the blade passed. But the ball rolled into the dip dutifully, and circled the hole, before falling in. Emile whistled. “Way to go, Rem! You got a hole in one too!”

“Yeah, thanks for that little trick,” Remy said grabbing his ball and walking with Emile to the next hole. “That’s good to know about this course, even if it doesn’t apply to others.”

“Eh, it takes a lot of trial and error, most of the time,” Emile said. “After a while, you grow to predict how much force and time you need, on any course, not just the one you learned on.”

“Huh,” Remy said. “Good to know, I guess.”

“I know, you’re probably wondering about the real-life applications about being able to accurately predict how hard to hit a golf ball on a minigolf course,” Emile laughed. “There’s isn’t much of one, but it’s fun to know on the rare occasions that you do go minigolf-ing.”

Remy chuckled and Emile grinned. This was fun. He was having a fun time. He was on a date with Remy and having a good time, and no one was taking below the belt shots, or making any jokes in poor taste, or anything like that. Emile was pleasantly surprised. Remy didn’t seem to be purposefully being on his best behavior...this just seemed to be how he behaved normally.

Maybe Emile had misjudged exactly how much Remy had grown. He was surprised. Pleasantly surprised, to be sure, but surprised nonetheless. They continued to make their way through the minigolf course, and when they reached the final hole, Emile shared a look with Remy. “You ready for this?” he asked. “Because once we pass this hole I’m buying you ice cream and dinner.”

Remy groaned, but he was smiling as Emile lined up his shot. It swung a little wide to the right, and Remy took his turn, getting a hole in one with a cheer. Emile grinned and marked it down on their scorecard, before getting his ball in the hole with a second stroke.

They returned the golf clubs and Emile bought them each a scoop of ice cream from the vendor by the entrance. Remy shook his head. “You know you didn’t have to insist on getting me 'Rocky Road.' I would have been just as happy with vanilla, and that’s a little cheaper."

Emile took a bite from his chocolate ice cream with a smile. “But I wanted to make sure you got what you wanted,” he said. “You deserve to get something you would enjoy!”

Remy shook his head. “Emile, that’s sweet of you, but really. You can’t just pay for everything whenever you want.”

“You’re right,” Emile said. “And next time we go out you can pay. But for now, I’m buying us this night out.”

Remy shook his head but didn’t argue further, and they finished their ice cream, before Emile drove them to Remy’s favorite pizza place in town. Remy scoffed as they pulled up. “You know, Emile, if I didn’t know any better I would say you like me, taking me all these places.”

Emile laughed genuinely at that. Remy really knew how to make him laugh. “Come on, let’s just go inside and eat,” Emile said.

They got out of his car and got a small table for two near the back of the restaurant. Emile wanted to make a move, but he also didn’t want to spook Remy, so he restrained himself to just smiling frequently and making puns about the pizzas they served. Remy rolled his eyes at every last pun, but he chuckled at a few of them, too.

When their pizza came out, pepperoni on one half and veggie lover’s on the other, Emile quickly took a piece of pepperoni to keep himself occupied. He didn’t want to start blabbering nervously, not when the date had gone this well so far.

Remy was chewing on a piece of veggie lover’s, and Emile knew he was making heart eyes, but he couldn’t stop. Remy looked up and noticed, turning pink. “What?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” Emile said, looking away and blushing.

“No it’s not, tell me,” Remy said.

Emile shifted in his seat. “I’m just...really glad that you agreed to come out tonight with me.”

Remy chewed the piece of the pizza currently in his mouth, swallowed, and said, “That’s gay, Emile.”

Emile burst out laughing, and a few of the other customers sent him dirty looks. He was left wheezing in his seat as he said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The sun had set by the time they had finished their pizza, and Emile and Remy walked back to Emile’s car in companionable silence. When they got in and Emile started to drive, Remy hummed. “Tonight was fun,” he said simply.

“Yeah, I agree,” Emile said. “We should do it again, sometime.”

“Definitely,” Remy said.

Emile’s heart soared. Remy liked the date! He said he would go on another one! This was a rousing success! Emile grinned as he drove. “I’m glad you agree,” he said at Remy’s questioning look.

“Ah,” Remy said. “Well, of course I do. After all, this isn’t something you do just any night, you know? It’s special.”

Emile smiled softly. “Yeah, but it’s a good kind of special.”

“Definitely a good kind of special,” Remy agreed.

When they got back to their apartment, Emile hovered by the doorway as they walked in. What did he do? He didn’t want to scare Remy with a kiss, but he didn’t want to just retreat to his room without saying or doing anything else, either. “...Hug?” he eventually asked.

“Sure,” Remy said, frowning.

Emile hugged Remy tight and when he broke apart, he smiled softly. “I really enjoyed tonight,” he repeated. “Night, Remy.”

And with that, he left a very bewildered Remy so he could get ready to go to bed.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 6 years ago

Text

Foolish

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A date with Sebastian Stan brings your friendship with Tom Hiddleston into a whole new light.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a fic based on this (paraphrased) request from an anonymous user: I thought maybe a jealous Tom who is in love with his best friend and he helps her go on a date with some other famous Marvel boy (maybe Seb Stan) would be nice! But in the end of course they stay together.

I hope that you enjoy this, Nonny!

Permanent Taglist (open): @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25

“What about this one?”

You walked out of your bathroom, holding your arms out from your sides and giving a spin to show off a casual but cute outfit of a blue fit and flare dress that went down to your mid-thighs.

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Tom replied from where he was sitting on your bed, propped up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of him.

You huffed and stormed back into the bathroom, loudly calling your response through the closed door, “‘Alright, I suppose’ isn’t good enough! You said that he was really into me, and I haven’t been on a date in ages!”

Throwing on your last outfit choice - your go-to when you didn’t have a clue on what to wear - you stomped out of the bathroom, a little less excitement in your spin before you turned back to your best friend with your arms crossed over your chest. “Well?”

With a heavy sigh, Tom rose and walked over to you, turning you around to face the full-length mirror leaning against your wall. His hands settled on your shoulders, warm and comforting, and the fondness that lied beneath his azure eyes set off a flight of butterflies in your stomach. His chin came to rest on top of your head so that his soft words vibrated through you, “You are breathtaking in whatever you wear, darling. You know my thoughts on the matter.”

And you did. Throughout your friendship, he had been nothing but amazing, layering the sincerest of compliments about anything and everything on thick. But there was never more to them. The man could compare you to all things beautiful under the sun in his velvet baritone timbre, but it didn’t mean much when paired with nothing but a platonic hug where his hands remained firmly where they were supposed to.

You had given him every opportunity to further your relationship, cuddling up to him during your movie nights, hugging him for much longer than was appropriate, even holding hands when you were pulling him around town in his ridiculous disguise of a baseball cap and sunglasses - that fooled no one, by the way.

But either the vastly intelligent man was too dense to realize the hearts in your eyes, or he didn’t feel the same way and was saving your dignity by ignoring them.

Which meant it was time to try to move on from your unrequited pining. Waiting for him was like waiting for a god to take notice of you. Why would he deem to love a mortal when he gallivanted around the world with beautiful women who looked to be created by the most discerning eye.

So when he had introduced you to Sebastian Stan at a party, you put the yearning you held for your British best friend in the back of your mind. Soon enough, you were cracking jokes one right after the other, laughing and talking quietly in a corner of the room.

And when he asked if he could take you on a date - nothing too serious - you had agreed.

The doorbell to your apartment rang, and you reached up to pat Tom’s hand gently on your shoulder. “Showtime. I need to throw on my shoes; can you grab the door?”

Tom pressed a light kiss to your temple before exiting your bedroom, leaving you to scramble to throw on a pair of comfortable shoes for the evening. You didn’t have any idea what Sebastian had planned, and it was better to be prepared for any scenario than have aching feet the whole night.

Finally dressed, you snagged your bag before leaving the bedroom, coming into the living room to see Tom and Sebastian talking quietly. You cleared your throat, quirking your brow at the slightly guilty uptick to Tom’s brows when they both turned to you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. You look great.” Sebastian smiled at you, open and kind, holding his arm out to you.

The tension between the two could be cut with a knife as you took your place under his arm, glancing at Tom. You could just ask him about whatever that was later. “You gonna hang out here to mooch off of my cable?”

He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his chin, looking up at you through light lashes with a sheepish grin. “If that’s alright. The hotel doesn’t have all the channels, and Bake Off is tonight.”

You hugged him quickly, squeezing his bicep when you pulled away. “There should be all of the episodes of that and Countdown recorded for you. I’ll see you later, then. Don’t eat all the cookies while I’m gone, ya hear me?”

Sebastian guided you out your front door with his hand on your lower back, giving you just enough time to hear Tom’s answering shout of “I make no promises!” before the door closed and he was leading you to his car.

~~~

Everything was just slightly off.

The touch of his hand on your hip when he walked past you to retrieve his ball on the miniature golf course was a bit too timid.

Your hands didn’t fit properly when your fingers were laced together, his squeeze too tight and his knuckles pinching yours.

The sound of your name on his lips was too harsh without a lilting accent to draw out the vowels and soften the consonants, more like a handshake and less like a caress.

His eyes were just a shade too dark when he gazed down at you, reading the hesitation in the worry of your bottom lip in between your teeth and the lines between your brows.

And when he pulled you in for a hug, your bodies didn’t align comfortably, your arms not knowing whether to go around his neck or his waist, your hands just awkwardly patting his cool leather jacket until he released you. He smelled pleasant, like woodsmoke and light musk, but it wasn’t right.

“This isn’t working, is it?” he asked quietly, letting his hand capture yours as you pulled away from him, twining your fingers together.

You squeezed his hand softly, and took a chance, standing on your tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips. He reciprocated, just barely moving against you, allowing you to set the pace. When you pulled away you sighed, shaking your head. “It was a nice kiss, but there’s no…”

“Spark,” he supplied for you with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s okay, though. Wanna know why?”

You followed him as he led you to his car by the hand. The touch was friendly now that any expectations of romantic activities had been squashed. It didn’t stir any feelings deep in your belly, or make heat spread throughout your limbs, or cause your heart to race in your chest. No, it was just nice. “What’s that, Seb?”

He opened the door for you, that easy smile back on his handsome face once again. “I think I do know someone who could spark your interest.”

~~~

“Honey, I’m home!” you called out into your dimly lit home, dumping your keys and bag on a table in the entryway.

When you received no response, you rounded the corner into the living room, following the soft music coming from your ancient record player Tom must have unearthed from the cobwebs it had been buried beneath. He was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands.

“Tom?” you asked quietly, concern lacing your voice as you came around the couch to sit down at his side.

He heaved a heavy sigh when your hand stroked down his spine comfortingly. The muscles in his back were tense, hard as marble, unyielding beneath you. “How was your date?” he asked, the last word poison dripping from his tongue.

“Definitely no love connection there. I think we’ll make great friends, though, in time,” you replied, arching your brow as you tugged on his arm to try to see his face. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay?”

He let you pull his arm away, following the motion by turning his whole body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, his brow furrowed as his eyes flitted over your face. When they came to rest on yours, it felt like he was staring into your very soul, piercing you with the intensity of his ocean-eyed stare.

Whatever he found from his inspection, it wasn’t what he had been looking for, and he stood up, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m fine.”

You stood as well, walking around your coffee table so that you were facing him once again. When he tried to turn away you caught his hand with yours, twining your fingers together. A comfortable, natural fit. He squeezed your hand gently. Your heart beat that much faster for the contact, but you ignored it. There would be time for your overeager emotions later when Tom wasn’t clearly upset about something.

“I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been in a mood all day, Hiddleston. Spill it,” you implored him, not unkindly, but leaving no doubts in your tone that you were going to let up.

“I just-”

“No, no excuses or half-truths,” you insisted, cutting him off before he could wiggle his way out of the situation with a distracting smile and a well-crafted argument. “Please?”

That seemed to do the trick, his shoulders slumping in resignation and his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He released it to place both of his hands on his hips. “You know that you are, without a doubt, my dearest and closest friend, yes?”

Not knowing where this was going, but trusting him to lead you there, you nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Open vulnerability lifted the inside of his brows and reflected in his bottomless blue eyes as he finally looked at you, so startling that it made your heart skip a beat in its sprint against your ribcage. “I am not content with the current state of our friendship.”

Your heart, which had been threatening to burst from your chest, now stopped beating and lodged itself firmly in your throat. Fear dug its icy claws in your lungs, and you clenched your jaw to stop your lower lip from quivering. You knew this day was coming. One day he would get too famous, too popular, wanting more out of life and his friendships than you and your mundane existence could offer him.

“Oh, okay. Sure, I get it…” you murmured, afraid if you spoke any louder that you would lose the tenuous grip you had on the burning on the inside corners of your eyes.

“No, darling, that isn’t what I meant,” he assured you, placing his hands on your upper arms, rubbing the tense muscles there soothingly. Each stroke tore at the barrier of strength you had quickly constructed around your barely-contained emotions. “It pained me to know that you were on a date with Sebastian tonight.”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek unbidden. “You introduced us, Tom.”

“I didn’t intend for you to hit it off.” His hand burned a trail up over your shoulder until it settled against your neck, thumb catching the edge of your jaw.

You pulled away from him, swiping the back of your hand over your cheek angrily to wipe away the evidence of your failing control. “Yeah, well, that didn’t happen. So, if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’d appreciate it if you left, now,” you said thickly, words distorted around the sob that you held back in your throat. You thrust your hand out toward the front door.

The floorboards shifted, groaning beneath his steps, but they weren’t toward where you had indicated. Instead, his hand curled around yours, and a flutter of warmth trickled out from your hand from where his lips ghosted across the smooth skin. “That is not what I meant, and I beg your pardon for leading you to believe otherwise.”

Hope soared inside your chest, stilling your tears and lifting your eyes from where they had landed on the floor. He set your hand upon his chest, over his rapid heartbeat, covering it with both of his own. The vulnerability you had seen before was tinged with sadness pulling down at the corners of his mouth. “My stomach has been tied in knots since you walked out the door with him. I didn’t pay an ounce of attention to anything on the blasted telly all evening because the thought of you in his arms drove me to madness.”

“Tom…”

He shifted so that his face was just inches from yours, eyes shining as he gazed down at you. “I’ve spent the entirety of our friendship hoping that you would one day open your eyes and see that I have always been here, by your side, loving you. I was driven to distraction tonight at the thought of you with him. I cannot continue this way, so I’m asking you, with my heart in your hands, if you have any similar feelings toward me.”

It took several beats of his heart for his proclamation to sink in, for you to fully grasp what he was saying. Could your Tom, the man who visited you in his every free moment, who ate all of your sweet treats when you weren’t looking, who pulled you into impromptu dances in the middle of your living room, feel the same way?

Laughter bubbled up from your throat, and your head fell forward to rest in the crook of his neck. The scent of leather and soap and warm spice washed over you. Home.

“Is my affection for you that hilarious?” he asked, clearly offended.

You let your free hand come up to snag your fingers into the loops of his dark jeans, tugging so that the lines of your bodies matched up. Perfect. You tilted your chin to kiss his neck gently. His breath hitched, and you hadn’t thought it possible, but his heart beat even faster beneath your joined hands.

“Darling?” His voice was low, intimate, hesitantly lined with hope.

You angled your head back to smile up at him. “We’re both idiots,” you explained. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and his eyes darkened in response. “Idiots who need to shut up and kiss before we both explode fro-”

Your statement was cut off by his mouth crashing down onto yours. Years of mutual love and frustration were poured into your lips working against the other, rushed and less than graceful in your eagerness. Your fingers dug into the soft material of his shirt, and one of his hands came around to flatten over your lower back to hold you to him.

It was everything you had hoped for, everything that your date earlier hadn’t been. Passion and strength and fragility and love and fire that scorched through you, burning you up from the inside out. It was all you’d ever wanted. It was Tom.

You were both breathless when you broke the kiss, searching for air desperately in the small space between you. His nose rasped along the length of yours. “We are fools.”

You stood on your tiptoes so your rebuttal was delivered against his lips. “No, we were fools.”

And then there wasn’t another moment wasted to talking, as you had to make up for so much lost time.

#imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fluff #all the fluff #just a tiny bit of angst #foolish #hopelesswrites

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 5 years ago

Note

“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

There’s a cuss word or two mentioned in this one.

Friday night meant date night in the Higgins-Conlon household. This particular Friday night meant that it was Race’s turn to pick the date night activity. All he told Spot was to be ready to go by 5:30 and make sure he had his “A-Game” ready.

Hearing a low whistle, Spot looked up from tying his shoes with a grin. “Who’s the hottie standing in front of me?”

“Your husband.” Spot deadpanned, pushing himself off the sofa and walking to where Race was standing. “Who’s the hottie standing in front of me?”

“The poor sucker you’re stuck with for the rest of your life.” Race chuckled, pulling him into a kiss before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “Ready to get your ass kicked, Conlon?”

Raising an eyebrow at his husband, Spot shook his head. “That sounds like I’m going to be dreading this date night activity.”

“Nah, you’ll enjoy yourself but you can’t pout too much when I kick your ass at mini golf.” Race grinned, lacing his hand with Spot’s before pulling him from the house and out to the car.

“Mini Golf? That’s your grand plan for date night?” Spot asked, getting into the car. “You’ve been boasting about date night for the last week and you pick mini golf.”

Race chuckled, starting the engine. “There’s a twist.”

“You’ve got me intrigued. I’m listening.” Spot said, fiddling with the radio as Race drove through town to the local mini golf location.

Race shook his head, stopping at a red light. “Nope . . . I’ve said too much. Now play with the radio and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it all under control.”

“The last time you said that we ended up in the Emergency Room for hours on end.” Spot spotted back, giving his husband a look.

Nodding, Race couldn’t argue with that. “That’s true but that’s not going to happen tonight.”

Holding up his pinkie, Spot looked over at Race. “Promise?”

“Well . . . . do you really want me to promise that?”

Pulling into the mini golf place, Race quickly found a parking spot. “You will be perfectly fine tonight. Neither one of us will end up in the Emergency Room. Now come on, it’s time to start date night.”

They paid, picked out their golf balls (navy for Spot and lime green for Race) before heading out to the course. Before they started on the first hole, Race reached into his pocket and took out a stack of index cards. “Now this is what we’re going to do. On each of these cards, there are different challenges or items listed. One of us will pick from the stack of the cards before each hole and do what the card says. There’s nothing on here that will hurt you - Jack and Kat helped me with this so you know that you’re not going to die.”

Spot grinned. “Alright, who picks first?”

“You.” Race said as he fanned out the cards.

Quickly picking one, Spot flipped it open and started laughing. “Pool Par-Tee - Hit the ball as this was a game of pool. Use your club like a pool cue!’ Alright, let’s do this.”

They both had some laughs watching the other shoot their ball as if it was a pool cue. “That was absolutely horrible but a lot of fun. Now onto the second hole, your turn to pick.”

Race handed a stack of cards to Spot as he fanned them out. “Sole for the hole - use your foot, instead of the club, to hit the ball in the hole.”

Kicking the ball, Race cheered loudly when it neared the hole but just slid to the side. “Beat that Conlon!”

Spot grinned, kicked the ball and watched it take the same path of Race’s before dropping slowly into the hole. “In your face, Higgins!”

“But-but-but . . .” Race’s jaw dropped, looking at the navy blue ball sitting pretty in the hole. “What the hell, Conlon?”

“I know my butt’s pretty but that’s how a master works, Higgins.” Walking over to retrieve his ball, Spot grinned. “Knock your ball in so we can get on with it.”

They continued on with the game with the challenges at the hole getting more and more sillier. At one hole, they took their second swing while their eyes were closed; at another, they swung granny style - the club between their legs; and at another, they had to sit cross-legged while swinging the club. Needless to say, their scores were awful at mini golf, with Spot just barely winning.

“Ha! In your face, Higgins. All that trash talk earlier was for nothing.” Spot blew a raspberry in his direction as they neared the car.

Nodding, Race waved him off, unlocking the car before getting in. Once Spot was settled, he leaned over and kissed him. “Did you have fun?”

“Of course. It’s always fun having a date night with you.” Spot grinned. “That was some twist to mini golf but it was good to let loose, have fun, and laugh with you.”

“Good. Now let’s go get dinner.”

Race drove them to an old diner in town that was completely empty, except for a couple at the other end. They slid into a booth, Race throwing two laminated menus on the table. “Why do you have to look? You always get the same thing here.”

“Maybe I want to change up my dinner option.” Spot stuck his tongue out at Race as he laughed.

“Hey boys. Are we doing the usual?” Mindy, the head waitress, walked over to them setting down a Coke for Race and a water for Spot.

“Still deciding, Mindy. Can we have a few minutes?” Race asked, grinning at the teenager.

She shook her head. “Uh huh, that’s why you always say Race yet you order the same thing even after ten more minutes of looking. But yes, I’ll give you a few minutes.”

She walked away shaking her head, mumbling something as Spot’s eyes went wide at the callout from the teenager. “She’s got you pegged.”

“She’s sassy tonight, that’s for sure.” Race took a sip of his Coke as the bell rang above the door, signalling someone coming in. Spot’s eyes went wide when he saw who it was.

“Incoming.” Spot whispered to Race as the newcomers scanned the diner before falling on the pair.

“Racer, Spottie, didn’t expect to see you two here.” Jack Kelly’s loud, boisterous voice rang out as Race groaned softly.

Jack and Kat came over to their table as Jack sat next to Race. Kat looked apologetic at the two of them. “Jack, it looks like they’re on a date.”

“They don’t mind, do ya fellas?” Jack asked, looking between his brother and brother-in-law.

Race grinned. “Nah the more the merrier.”

Kat hesitantly sat down next to Spot with a small smile. She looked between Race and Spot for something as the air was thick with something unknown. Turning to Spot, she whispered. “Did we interrupt something?”

“No. We just got done at the mini golf course. Race mentioned that you helped him with date night tonight.” Spot grinned, looking at his sister-in-law.

She smiled. “Yeah he wanted to do mini golf but he wanted a twist. A simple google search brought up some ideas.”

“It was a lot of fun. There were some good laughs.” Spot pulled out his phone as Race broke away from the conversation with Race.

“Sean . . . do not.” Race warned, giving his husband a look.

Spot looked up, blew Race an air kiss before opening his phone and flipping through the photos he took. “I think this one might go on our Christmas card this year.”

Kat laughed seeing a photo of Race granny shooting, the club between his legs with the most awkward look on his face. “That’s a print and hang up in the house kind of photo.”

“Christmas Card worthy.” Spot grinned, swiveling his hand so Race and Jack could look at the photo. Race snorted at himself before shaking his head. “Not Christmas Card worthy, Spottie. Need I bring out my phone to show the one . . .”

“Alright, you don’t have to get so hasty, Racetrack.” Spot gave him a look as Mindy came back.

They quickly ordered as Jack grinned looking around the table. “This is a fantastic double date.”

“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.” Kat looked at her husband with an eyebrow raised.

Jack tilted his head with a grin. “You went along with it.”

Shaking her head, she sighed looking between Race and Spot. They both laughed, shaking their heads, knowing how impossible it was to persuade Jack once he got a thought stuck in his head. “Don’t worry about it Kat. It’s a pretty good way to end the night. Just don’t be surprised when we crash one of your future date nights.”

“Duly noted.” Jack said, sipping his drink. Race asked about the previous week and the conversation picked up around the table and didn’t stop until Mindy delivered the food. Fries were stolen off of plates while the four laughed about a variety of topics.

Spot pushed his plate away from him with a sigh. Yes, Friday nights were date nights but there was no place he’d rather be than surrounded by his husband and family. It was a great end to a great day. A foot knocked his ankle as he looked over at Race with a grin. An ‘I love you’ was mouthed as Race finished off his grilled cheese sandwich with a happy sigh. Spot repeated the three words as Jack and Kat finished up.

“Now what?” Jack asked with a grin.

Faking a yawn, Spot gave Jack a look. “It’s bedtime for me, especially if we’re getting up early to tailgate before the game tomorrow.”

Jack and Race’s eyes went wide with excitement. “I almost forgot about that. What time are we meeting?”

“Gates open at 8am so we’ll probably meet around 7:30 and head over there to get our normal spot. Blink is bringing the grill and Albert the tables and chairs.” Race ticked off before looking at his sister-in-law. “And what will you be doing while we’re at the game?”

“Enjoying a quiet house.” She grinned. “Actually, I think the girls might come over and hang out while all of you men are at the game.”

Nodding, Race grinned. “Spottie, ready to head out?”

“Yea. This was fun but let’s do it again on a non-date night, huh?” Spot asked, pushing himself out of the booth with a grin.

Goodnights were given as the couples split up. With a final wave and a promise of seeing them tomorrow, Spot and Race headed to the car. The ride was quiet as they made their way home. Pulling into the driveway, Race groaned getting out of the car before heading into the house. “Hey Race?”

Looking at Spot, Race paused toeing off his shoes. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for a great date night. I had a lot of fun. And I know you didn’t exactly invite Jack and Kat but it was good to see them.” Spot walked closer to him, lacing his fingers with Spot’s.

Leaning over for a kiss, Race grinned. “You’re welcome. Come on, let’s go to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Thanks @wide-eyed--wonderer for sending in this prompt!

#Newsies Fan Fiction #Newsies #Writing #ask #drabble prompts #drabble prompt #Newsies Drabble #Racetrack Higgins #Spot Conlon #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #wide-eyed- - wonderer

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