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avatar-anna · 2 months

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Workday Blues

2024 Masterlist

i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol

"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"

"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"

You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."

Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.

"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"

"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.

"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."

"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"

Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."

"And...how far from home are you now?"

"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."

You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.

Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.

"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.

"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.

"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."

"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.

You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.

When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"

"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."

"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.

"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.

His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.

Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"

You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."

"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"

Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.

Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"

He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.

You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.

Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."

Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."

"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."

Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."

Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."

Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.

When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.

"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.

"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"

Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.

A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."

"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"

"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."

Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Both."

You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.

*.*

"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."

Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.

"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.

Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."

From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."

Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.

"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.

You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.

You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.

Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.

Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.

You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.

So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.

"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.

"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.

"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.

Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.

"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."

Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.

"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.

"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."

"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."

You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.

"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.

"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"

A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."

Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."

*.*

"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.

"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."

"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."

"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."

Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."

"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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howmanyholesinswisscheese · 15 days

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More Sherlock & Co Headcanons

Because y'all like the first ones so much.

Mariana is one of those heathens who eats the kernels at the bottom of the popcorn bowl and enjoys it.

John and Sherlock have a rotating cast of answers to the age old client question, "So are you two...?" which only serve to confuse the asker even more. It's an incredibly enjoyable sport. Sherlock often just plays dumb, to John's enormous amusement. It's their favorite inside joke.

When he does actually eat it, Sherlock's go-to breakfast food is a boiled egg and soldiers. Fight me. I will not stand for boiled eggs and soldiers slander they are amazing and Sherlock knows it.

John keeps a collection of bloopers/funny moments he's recorded during cases in a folder on his computer. When he's feeling down, he puts in his earplugs and listens to them. He never fails to get a laugh out of it.

Speaking of language headcanons in the last post, Sherlock speaks fluent Spanish (because of course he does). Sometimes he and Mariana have innocuous conversations in Spanish just to mess with John. He finally gets what it's like to be a stranger watching them all converse in BSL.

Sherlock has a strong appreciation for the musical arts. Once, after a particularly sour case, John took Sherlock to the orchestra to lighten his mood. Sherlock didn't express much outward enjoyment, still drained from the previous week's labor, but the next day the pieces they'd heard rang out through the flat as Sherlock's touch brought them to life from memory on his violin. John found this version infinitely more beautiful than any orchestra. and he even glimpsed the ghost of a smile as Sherlock lost himself in the music.

You know how everyone has a different little doodle they do when they're bored and they've got a pen and a bit of paper around? Well, Sherlock does mandalas and circle scribbles, John does little smiley faces and zig zags, and Mariana writes peoples names in calligraphy.

@obsessed-sketches and I both agree Sherlock wears a really heavy, well-worn coat for the deep-pressure stimulation. And a scarf, because those are absolutely splendid to play/fiddle with and being all wrapped up just adds a whole nother dimension to it all.

John uses Microsoft Edge as his default browser. Mariana's exasperated protests have been completely futile in convincing him to switch and to be honest, who knows if there's any hope left for him anymore.

Speaking of browsers, Sherlock would be such a boss at the 2048 game.

Someday I'm gonna have to write a dance lesson fic, because the idea of Sherlock teaching John to dance for a case lives in my head rent free for literally every SH rendition but these two especially. Sherlock freely infodumping about the history of each song he plays as he shows John how to waltz, John filling the silence with nervous rambling, that rapport setting in and them just falling into step after a few minutes and forgetting time is even passing... I know I mostly HC them as a QPR but dear god the intimacy in that may kill me.

Mariana once introduced Sherlock to the National Day Calendar. National Cellophane Tape Day, National Life Insurance Day, National Raspberry Popover Day, and the likes are now slipped happily into conversations at 221B under Sherlock's firm belief that each one is on par with Christmas in terms of their significance in the public eye. Slay, Sherlock. National Days are awesome.

John makes the cutest sleep noises.

Yk how i said Sherlock likes rainbow sour straps. If you've ever eaten sour straps, you'll know there are two ways to eat them: whole, or by tearing the colours into strips. Clearly, as a civilised human being, Sherlock does the latter.

SHERLOCK WOULD TOTALLY WRITE AWESOME POETRY AND READ IT OUT AND JOHN AND MARIANA WOULD BE STUNNED INTO AWESTRUCK SILENCE

Mariana wears those really big hoop earrings. You know the ones.

AAAAH i should stop before this becomes a mammoth block of text. Maybe I'll make a part three.

Thank you kindly for being unwillingly subjected to my opinions coming to my TED talk.

#please i have too many they are literally exploding out of my head #the innocuous domestic ones are the worst i see them EVERYWHERE #NJKGLG AAAAAAA #i probably need help #ive not proofread this post at all but yk what im posting it #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #jonk watson #sherlock holmes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra #johnlock #jonklock #podlock #sherlock and co headcanons #arter speaks

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katyawriteswhump · 6 months

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Freestyle love (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22 prompt, Sports AU.

Nobody ever wanted Eddie Munson on their swim squad, and uni competition was no different. Until Steve Harrington decided to play by the rules.

WC: 966. Rating: T.

CW: none really. Tags: Enemies to lovers, whump, university/college AU.

***

"Munson's freestyle times smash half the teams.'" Steve pushed his wet hair from his eyes, double-checked the stopwatch. “He’s in."

"That science geek pond-scum?” asked Steve's swim co-captain, standing with him beside the pool. "No way. You read the numbers backwards again, Harrington?"

"Shut up. I’m calling this one."

When Steve broke the news, Munson pulled off his swim-cap and a mass of dark, damp hair tumbled out. “One of your teammates said my tats automatically disqualify me,” said Munson.

“That’s bullshit.” Steve actually found Munson’s freaky tattoos bizarrely compelling. Oh, and the body beneath—all lean rope-like muscle, not massive shoulders, but a decent swimmer’s physique. “We need you. You beat most of the sports scholarship guys.”

“I know.” Munson shrugged. “And you can take my place on your dumb squad and stuff it up their buttholes.”

“What the heck, man? Why did you trial, if you don’t want in?”

“To show you over-privileged frat-house dicks you ain’t special. I qualify every year—you’re just the first knucklehead to notice. Anyhooo.” He poked his tongue out stupidly. Steve planted his hands on his hips and couldn’t glare harder. “I’m off to Who Soc.”

“What Soc?”

Munson’s shoulder clipped Steve’s as he passed—possibly an accident, but he nearly toppled Steve into the pool.

“Screw you, man! Crawl back to your den of Satanist freaks, like I care.”

“Yeah?” Munson poked out his tongue again, wiggled his fingers. “Hexing you, Harrington. Oooooh, bet you’re pissing yourself.”

***

Eddie had simply been getting one back for the little guys, against all those over-pumped numbskulls.

He still felt bad when he heard what happened at the inter-state semis—some moron dived into the pool on top of Harrington in the shallow end, breaking his leg.

It bugged Eddie. So much he wound up visiting Steve at the hospital.

When Eddie sidled into Steve’s room, Steve’s pale face—peeking from behind his plastered leg in traction—said it all: What the heck?

“Hey,” mumbled Eddie. “Guess I’m the last person you expected.”

“On my list of expected visitors, you were somewhere below Elvis.” Harrington seemed pissed. Also genuinely bewildered.

He was still sexy as hell.

Especially now Eddie couldn’t find it in his cold, metal-loving heart to hate the guy. Mmmm, and was it kinda wrong to wanna lick those well-muscled arms, and picture him shirtless… even when Harrington glowered at him from a hospital bed?

Eddie raised his palms in half-hearted surrender. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been doing swim trials since Middle School. My time is always good—the place I grew up in was right by a lake—yet nobody ever gave me my place on the squad before. This face never fits.” He gurned a silly grin. “Then you went and flew in the face of all the laws in the universe and offered me ‘in.’ I guess it... blew me away.”

“I was only following the goddamn rules.” Steve grumpily puffed his flatter-than-usual hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, and I was a dick, and the Hex thing was dumb. I didn’t really… you know…”

“I don’t blame you for my stupid accident.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a complete moron. I'm scraping a pass in English Lit, okay?” As the atmosphere softened, Eddie shuffled nearer Steve’s bed. “Good job. Who's gonna keep me here on a sports scholarship now?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault!” Up close, Harrington looked exhausted, possibly even in pain, with dark smudgy shadows around his eyes. “You know, you can do something to make this less shit.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed oddly—gratefully? “What?”

“Take my place in the squad.” Steve mumbled toward hands clasped in his lap. “I recorded your times, made it official. The place is yours to claim. I'd tell the team myself… if any of them came to visit.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nobody’s got time for a swim co-captain who’ll never swim competitively again.”

A lump clogged Eddie’s throat. Harrington’s face worked strangely, too… Shit, shit, shit! Eddie reached out, tentatively squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked up sharply, eyes large and liquid. Damn, the boy was tense.

“That stinks,” said Eddie.

“Yeeeah.” Steve’s laugh was shaky, while Eddie’s mind raced:

“Dude, I’m in a ton of non-sports societies. D & D, model-making, Who Soc… Uh, maybe not that one for you. I can bring a few of the guys and gals here, see if you get into anything.”

“I don’t need YOU to find me friends.” Harrington’s spikiness proved short-lived. He unleashed a resigned sigh: “Look, man, I’m not exactly in the mood for parties, but… If you wanna come back… that would be cool.”

Suddenly, neither of them could look at each other. Eddie’s face was burning. Could he actually be into me?

“Tho’ if you’re not fresh from swim practice when you arrive, I’m not interested, Munson.”

Eddie hooted: “You blackmailing me?”

“I can play dirty, ya know, buck expectations, too.” Steve went in for the kill. He smiled up at Eddie, a proper, hot-as-hell smile, which reached his too-pretty brown eyes.

Is he hitting on me?!? Eddie gawked like a goldfish.

“See you tomorrow?”

***

On the day of the national finals, Steve watched from the stands. When Eddie slammed home for victory on the final leg of the freestyle relay, Steve was on his feet—okay, propped by his crutches—cheering his head off.

As soon as Eddie could get away, he clambered, wet and dripping, through to the rear of the stands and planted an even wetter kiss on Steve's lips. Steve threw his arms around his boyfriend. It was great to finally be with somebody to whom only the real things in life mattered.

"Love you, Champ," he whispered in Eddie’s ear.

"Love you, too." Eddie kissed him again.

Victory had never felt so hot.

***

Thanks for reading :) Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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crazyunsexycool · 2 months

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My Little Love

Chapter 34

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warning: fake medical scenario (you'll see), So much fluff, this is so fluffy!!!!!

A/N: If you haven't done so I suggest reading this ONE SHOT before you read the chapter because it will be referenced in the chapter. All I can say is that I hope you guys like this chapter...

Series masterlist

Bucky sat completely still. He only moved or answered questions when he was told he could do so. The people he was with were bossy and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bucky had no choice but to comply.

“Deep breath.”

Bucky takes a deep slow breath.

“Say ‘aahh’”

“Aaahhhhh.”

“I’ve found the issue.”

“What is it doc?” Bucky asks worriedly.

“You have a cat in your belly.”

“A cat? That’s not possible.”

“We’re gonna have to remove it. Nurse, get the patient ready.”

“Kay.”

Bucky tried to not laugh as Henry and Lottie played doctor with him being their only patient.

“Be a good boy, dada.” Lottie pats Bucky’s cheek.

“Please lay down, sir.” Henry instructs and points at the couch. “Baby it’s not dada, it’s sir.” He whispers to Lottie.

Bucky does as he’s told and gets comfortable on the couch. Lottie stands by his head and takes the toy stethoscope that had been resting around her neck and checks his heart.

“Is stwong, dada.” She says, referring to his heartbeat.

“It’s sir.”

“It’s dada.” Lottie sends Henry a pointed look, hoping he would drop it.

Ever since you started working exclusively at the medbay the kids had been fascinated with the idea. They still didn’t like the actual hospital portion of the tower you worked on but they liked visiting your office. In an effort to show them what you did, you got a toy medical kit and explained what everything was. You even used Bucky as a patient and showed them what you did with each item. Now they loved playing hospital. Unfortunately for Bucky he was usually their patient and Henry and Lottie loved to play for hours. They even switched on who got to play doctor and nurse.

“Habe to gibe shot dada. Be bwave.” Lottie says before giving him a so-called shot with the fake syringe from the play kit.

“Wow nurse, you’re so good at that. I didn’t even feel it.”

Lottie smiles as she places a pink princess bandaid on Bucky’s metal arm. Then she leans in and places a kiss on top.

“Is bettuh.”

“Definitely but,” Bucky fakes a yawn. “I’m so sleepy now.”

“Quick nurse, we have to get the cat out now.”

Both kids ran around giggling and supposedly performing surgery. Bucky just laid back with a smile on his face as he listened to Henry and Lottie talk amongst themselves.

You walked in just as Henry was holding Alpine above Bucky’s belly. Lottie was pretending to listen to Bucky’s heart again.

“Is good.”

“Sir, everything was a success.” Henry informs Bucky.

“What is going on here?”

Both Henry and Lottie turn their heads to you. They start laughing when you narrow your eyes at them and then they run off.

“I had a cat in my belly, apparently.” Bucky explains. “They were removing it.”

“Oh. Well I’m glad they caught it on time, you know, before Alpine had kittens in there.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but chuckles. He opens his arms as you walk over to him, inviting you to cuddle with him on the couch. You gladly accept and lay over him. Bucky pulls you closer and you sigh once you’re comfortable.

“Bad shift?” He murmurs.

“Kind of.”

“I heard about the agents that came back.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. They’re hanging in there but it’s very touch and go at the moment.” You sigh as Bucky moves his hand up and down your back. His body heat and soothing movement are slowly lulling you to sleep.

“They’ll pull through. I mean they have you taking care of them.” Bucky says but doesn’t get a response. He shifts a little and realizes you’re already asleep.

Henry and Lottie walk back into the living room to find their parents cuddled up. When Bucky sees them he presses a finger to his mouth so they know to be quiet. Henry nods and runs off, coming back a few seconds later with a blanket he drapes over your sleeping form. He even places a gentle kiss on your cheek, which Lottie repeats. They leave the living room quietly and head to their shared room to continue playing.

Bucky kept his arms around you and couldn’t help but think that this was heaven. He could hear the kids playing and laughing in their room. He also enjoyed your weight on him as you napped. Lottie’s question kept playing in his mind over and over. Bucky already had a plan; he was just waiting for the right day to do it. But the more he thought about marrying you the more excited he got about finally asking you. So the moment you woke up he’d start actually planning the proposal. Everything would be perfect for you, it’s what you deserved.

For the past two weeks Bucky had been acting weird. He was secretive and jumpy whenever you walked into a room. He’d always give you a lopsided smile but his eyes looked slightly panicked. Like he was about to get caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Half of you found it funny but the other half was curious as to what was going on. Whenever you’d ask he acted like he had no clue what you were talking about. You wanted to laugh, he made the same face Charlotte and Henry did when they were caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing.

“You should never play poker.” You tell Bucky while stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. He had been in the living room typing away on his phone when you found him.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re being very secretive.”

“Again, no idea what you’re talking about.” Bucky shrugs.

“Alright then, keep your secrets.”

His eyes narrow and lips part slightly. “Did you just quote the Lord of the Rings?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bucky chuckled. “Fine, I might be planning a surprise. But that’s all I’m saying.”

“A surprise? When do I get to see this surprise?”

“Soon. Now, I love you very much and I love being with you but you have to go.”

“Fine. I’ll go. I have plans with the kids anyways.”

Bucky gives you a kiss and gently pushes you out of the living room before grabbing his phone again. Everything was almost ready, he just had to finish writing out what he wanted to tell you.

It was time.

Bucky had chosen what he thought was the perfect date, the day Charlotte was found. He had help from everyone to get this right. There was nothing that made him more nervous in his life than this but it was the good kind.

With Wanda, Nat and Sofia’s help he bought you a red dress and accessories. The dress was similar to the one you’d worn on your first date. They’d also help you get ready. Molly and Luke had agreed to watch Lottie and Henry. Clint had advised Bucky to just speak from the heart. Steve had been so giddy that Bucky had to keep reminding him to not accidentally say anything. Sam wouldn’t stop teasing Bucky but it was all in good fun. Tony was of course Tony and said he had a surprise of his own if you’d say yes to Bucky. Bruce, Josh and Vision had congratulated him and kept Steve busy. Eddie was the last person Bucky spoke to right before the date. Eddie gave him some much needed fatherly advice.

And it would be, it had to be.

****

You’d taken his breath away when you walked out of your shared bedroom. The dress he’d chosen fit you like a glove but that shouldn’t have been a surprise, Bucky knew your body well. He looked just as handsome in his suit and white button up shirt. The top two buttons were open and his hair was styled to perfection. As soon as you were close enough Bucky pulled you into his arms.

“Absolutely beautiful. What did I do to get so lucky?” He asks before placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Me? What about you? You look very handsome.”

“Stop.” Bucky blushes but can’t hide his smile. “We should go or we’ll be late.”

“Ok. Lead the way.”

Bucky pulls away but takes your hand and heads out of the apartment. He was so nervous and as the elevator took you both down to the private garage he kept going over his plan. Bucky knew everyone was already where they needed to be. All he had to do now was get you there.

You were confused when Bucky pulled up to the compound. Tony had said that the renovations had been completed and that soon enough it would be up and running at full capacity. It still didn’t explain what you were doing there now when you should be on a date.

“I’m sorry Sugar, I should’ve told you I had to stop by before we went on our date.” Bucky says as he opens your door. “It’ll be quick I promise.”

“Ok.” You said softly as you looked around.

It felt like a lifetime ago the last time you were here. That last day at the compound started the three worst months of your life. Being back felt surreal. You decided to wait outside for Bucky. From where you stood you could make out the small playground the kids used daily, the training grounds you’d use with future agents and the area that Tony loved to use for outdoor events.

“Agent Y/L/N?” A security guard called you. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Smith.” You smile.

“This is for you.”

He hands you a piece of paper and walks off before you could ask him anything. Opening the note you saw Bucky’s handwriting asking you to meet him at the main hangar. You were growing more confused by the second. Still you headed into the main building to meet Bucky.

At the door you find a sign that says ‘wait here’. You do what you normally would and lean against the doorframe. Walking in from around the corner you see Steve and Bucky heading straight toward you. Steve looks way too excited to be here while Bucky gives you a coy smile.

“What’s going on? I thought you were on a mission.” You ask Steve.

“I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is my mission.”

“This is where we were standing about three years ago.” Bucky starts as he looks between you and Steve. “Yeah, it’s just about right.”

“Ok?”

“This is where I truly met you for the first time.” Bucky admits. “It was the middle of the night and I was coming back from Wakanda. I was nervous and a bit scared that I wouldn’t be welcomed by the team. And there you were waiting to welcome me.”

“I think she was waiting for me, Buck.” Steve jokes.

“Don’t be a jerk.” Bucky elbows Steve playfully. “I’m doing something here.”

“Focus, I’m still not sure what’s going on.”

“As I was saying, you looked so beautiful that night. I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live here.”

“That night was the first time I saw a glimpse of my best friend for the first time.” Steve adds. “I was worried about him but when I saw the way he looked at you I knew there was something special going to happen.”

You smile at that. Bucky pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to you. It gives you instructions on where to go next.

“Go.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Nope.” Bucky smiles. “I’ll see you later.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction but turn around and head to the next location. When you get there, to Steve’s office, you’re surprised to see him sitting at his desk. He was acting as if he’d been working.

“How did you get up here before I did?”

“I ran.” He says coolly.

“Ok then. What is supposed to happen here?”

“I was sitting right here and,” Steve assesses where you’re standing. “Take two steps back.”

You do as he says and stop at the doorway.

“You were standing right there. It had been a few weeks since Bucky had been back. I was trying to keep him in and you were arguing that he should be going out.”

You smile, remembering that conversation.

“I think you also told me to go get laid.”

“I still stand by that.” You joke and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, even since then you’d been looking out for Bucky. I still stand by what I said, I knew something special was happening between the two of you.”

“And I was standing right here.” Bucky’s voice startles you.

You step out of Steve’s office to find Bucky leaning against the wall not too far from you.

“You heard?”

“I did. I was actually on my way to Steve’s office to tell him I needed to get out. You beat me to it. Always looking out for me.” Bucky holds his hand out. “Next stop, c’mon.”

You take his hand and he takes you down to one of the common areas. Girls just wanna have fun is playing but it’s Clint singing. When you turn the corner the living room is set up similar to the bar you’d been at that night. Bucky’s hand falls to your waist as you laugh at Clint’s dancing.

“That night at the bar, Steve told me you would have said yes if I asked you out on a date. I wanted too but I thought you deserved better. I still do. It was the first time I admitted to myself that I liked you and wondered what it would be like if we had a family.”

“Baby.” You felt a lump of emotion form in your throat. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was crazy about you then. I’m crazy about you now.” Bucky kisses your cheek. “We should keep moving, we have a few places to see.”

Bucky takes you to a few places across the compound and recounts all the memories he’s had with you. Along the way the team keeps popping up with their own little stories about watching you fall in love.

The next stop was the medbay. Specifically the room where Lottie stayed when she first arrived at the compound. Bucky opens the door and you step in. To your surprise the crib is still there and a special guest too.

“Hi mama.” Lottie greets you from inside the crib.

“My sweet Angel, what are you doing here?”

She looks over at her father who places a finger to his lips. Lottie nods as she sports a knowing smile. She waves you over so you lean in.

“Is suwpwise.” She says before covering her mouth with her hands and giggling.

“It has been exactly a year since we found Charlotte. This is where you spent a large part of your time once Lottie was found. You stepped up when she needed someone. It’s also where I heard you tell her what you thought about me.” Bucky says as he gets closer and picks Lottie out of the crib. He sets her down and she runs out of the room.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” You were starting to get suspicious but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“We are almost done.” Bucky takes your hand and brings it up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

There were a few more stops. Like the waiting room where Bucky sat, desperately waiting for news when he thought he’d lost you. Twice. The conference rooms where you flirted and the staircase where you had full make out sessions. The last stop was your apartment. Well what was left of it. Bucky gently moved you so that you were standing with your back to the door. You looked up at him curiously as he placed his hands on your hips.

“This is where we shared our first kiss.”

Bucky leans in and gives you a quick kiss so as to not mess up your lipstick. He reaches around behind you and opens the door. The apartment was bare. It was completely redone but all of your belongings were missing. There wasn’t a single thing that reminded you that it was yours. Of course this had been the target for the missile so nothing would have survived the impact and subsequent fire.

You take a tentative step inside and a slew of emotions hit you square in the chest. This apartment had been a witness to the love you’d had for Bucky from the very start. It held many good memories and even some bad ones. Your eyes welled up with tears at the memory of your last time in the living room, it was the night Lottie had her vision. Still that didn’t diminish every happy moment.

“Hi mama.” Henry stood by the kitchen counter.

“My sweet boy.”

He smiles at you. “This is where you taught me how to bake. We had a lot of fun times here.”

“Yeah we did.”

“We habe tea pawties he-uh mama.” Lottie poked her head out of her room and smiled.

Henry ran past you and into his own room. You followed closely behind.

“You read me lots of bedtime stories here.”

“Me too mama.” Lottie adds. Henry leaves his room and takes his sister’s hand as you and Bucky follow.

“Habe seepovers.” Charlotte says when you get to your room.

“Yup. You would pick us up and lay us down right in the middle when we were having nightmares.”

“Mama and dada gibe us cuddles.”

You took a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay then turned to look at Bucky. He only smiled before looking past you and toward the bathroom.

“I believe you were in this room when I called you once. You’d been back from a bad mission and had been hurt. I was ready to drive down here but you told me Bucky was taking care of you.” Eddie says from his spot.

“Dad?”

“You’d talked to me about him before but it had just been in passing. This time though, I knew something was either going on between you or something was about to happen.” He smiles at both of you. “And I was right. You sure do know how to choose them kitten, Buck here is one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

You smile and take Bucky’s hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Go on ahead.” Your dad says and you look at him suspiciously.

When you walk out into the living room your siblings, Molly and Olivia are there. Luke is the one that speaks up.

“This is the first time we had an actual conversation with Bucky for the first time. You were still sleeping after Lottie’s birthday party. After he welcomed us in he sat us down. He warned us that he wouldn’t allow anyone to disrespect you in any way.” Luke looks between you too. “He protected you and I knew he was meant to be at your side.”

“It was low key hot.”

“So hot.”

Sofia and Molly agree and you laugh.

“Will you tell me now?” You turn to look at Bucky. Your family walked out quietly.

“One last stop.”

Henry takes Charlotte’s hand again and runs back out ahead of you. This felt like old times. The good memories outweigh the bad in this place. You let Bucky lead you out of the building and on to a golf cart. He drives past the training area and he admits he used to always check you out while you were training. The playground is next when he reminds you that it was where Henry first laughed. The jet where you watched Lottie take her first steps. You weren’t sure where he was taking you until you went further into the tree line. Bucky reminds you of the second date. One that you planned. It was just the two of you, the back of a pickup truck and music. That was the night you’d asked him to officially move into your apartment. It was also the night he asked you to adopt Lottie.

“When the hell was this built?”

“You know Tony.” Bucky replies as he stops the golf cart.

There was a huge two story house there. A dance floor took up the front yard. Fairy lights were strung up above and around the dance floor. There was a dj booth on one side, speakers surrounding the dance floor and your favorite flowers all around. You walked toward the center of the floor and looked around in awe.

“We haven’t had any memories here.”

“Not yet.” Bucky says from behind you.

When you turn to look at him he’s down on one knee. Your breath hitches as your hand rests on your chest. In one hand he holds a small box, the other reaches out to you. You take a step closer and put your hand in his.

“Everything that you saw before was just the start of us. It’s led us to this moment. Y/N, you mean so much to me. When I first left Wakanda I asked myself what reason did I have to keep fighting, to be better and there you were waiting at that door. For the first two years I tried to deny my feelings for you because I thought you deserved better, you do deserve better.” Bucky clears his throat, his eyes filling up with unshed tears. “You push me to be better, so that I can be the man you deserve. A better father and friend. You’ve been an amazing friend, girlfriend an even more incredible mother to our children and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A few tears had already rolled down your cheeks as you waited with bated breath for what he would say next.

“Y/N will you marry me?”

“Bucky-“ you whispered, unable to get another word out you nod enthusiastically.

Bucky immediately shoots up and takes you in his arms, lifting and spinning you around as you both laugh. He sets you down and you pull him in for a hug. Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

For just a moment you’re in your own little happy bubble soaking up the moment.

“Mama, did you say yes aweady?” Lottie called out from somewhere. You and Bucky laugh at her innocent impatience.

“Yes, I did.”

The door to the house flies open and Henry and Lottie run out. They both reach you as the rest of the team, better yet your family, walks out. You and Bucky each take turns hugging them before you turned to receive your congratulations from the group.

“Let’s see the ring.” Sofia asks as she holds your left hand only to find your finger bare.

“Oh right.”

Bucky opens the small box to reveal a beautiful gold ring. It had an oval diamond in the center with smaller stones around it, reminding you of a mosaic. Bucky takes it and slips it on your ring finger.

“Baby it’s beautiful, I love it.” You pull him in for a kiss before everyone is looking at the ring and complimenting Bucky on his choice.

“Actually I have to give credit to Charlotte. She was the one who picked it out.”

“You did?” You looked down at your daughter and she nodded excitedly.

“When did you even get this?”

“Towards the end of July. I snuck the kids out to the jewelry store in town.”

Your mouth dropped at the information.

“I was going to propose the night when we were at the restaurant on the roof of that hotel and got called back.” Bucky informs you.

“The night it happened?”

Bucky nods and you’re left speechless.

“I actually found the ring in my go bag a few days later, I’ve been holding on to it since.”

You hug him again and he holds on to you for dear life.

“Let’s celebrate the two love birds!” Tony announces as the music starts to play. He walks over to you and turns to look at the house.

“It’s lovely Tony. I didn’t know you were building yourself a separate place to live.”

“I am but this one isn’t mine. It is my engagement gift to the two of you.” Tony informs you. Both you Bucky turn to look at him better. Tony just shrugs. “I’ve been working on building houses on this land. You know, so that we can have somewhere outside of the main building to live. The apartments can be used for our most trusted agents or employees if they need it.”

“Tony, this is amazing, thank you so much.” You give him a quick hug and Bucky shakes his hand.

“Don’t mention it. I think the kiddos would love all the space to run around too don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

Tony winks at you and walks away to find Pepper. Steve quickly takes his place.

“It was about damn time, you two.” Steve smiles brightly as he hugs first Bucky and then you.

“I’m surprised you kept it a secret.”

“Since July I might add. This is amazing, I’m so happy for you two, really.”

“Thank you Steve.”

You can’t stop smiling as your siblings and then the rest of the team come up. Eddie is the last person to congratulate you.

“My little girl is getting married, I can’t believe this.” He places a hand over his heart. “I’m so happy for you kitten. You have a good man. I don’t have to worry about you being happy.”

“Thank you daddy.” You hugged him and for a moment you felt like you were little again.

“And you,” Eddie points at Bucky. “Remember what he talked about. I won’t hesitate.”

“Yes sir. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to make her happy.”

“And yourself, Buck. Your feelings are just as important.”

“As long as I have my Sugar and my kids are by my side I’ll be as happy as can be.” Bucky said as you tucked yourself under his arm. One arm around his back the other on his chest.

“That’s all a father can hope for. But how about a dance for the newly engaged couple.”

The music changed and it was slow. Those eyes by New West starts playing. Everyone steps off of the dance floor Bucky can’t stop smiling as he leads you in the dance. You can’t help but mirror his beaming smile. When the song comes to the end Bucky dips you and connects his lips to yours. There’s whooping and hollering from all around.

The music changes again to something more upbeat. Lottie and Henry come back and the four of you dance together. Then all the women pull you away as they gush about the ring and celebrate with you.

You however can’t stop looking over your shoulder at your fiancé. It was heart stopping to think about. You’d be getting married to the love of your life. By the twinkle in his eyes it seemed like Bucky was thinking the same thing.

“Wow.” You said as you walked into your new home.

Your new home wasn’t furnished, which was fine by you, but it was incredible. The wraparound porch alone was more than enough. Immediately when you walk in is the living room to the right. On the wall is a recreation of the collage of pictures you’d had in the apartment that Bucky had made for you for Mother’s Day. The kitchen was of course state of the art and had been equipped with every gadget you could only dream of. Henry was ecstatic when he saw all of the baking supplies. There was also a breakfast nook, a formal dining room, a half bathroom, an office space and what you knew would become a playroom.

Upstairs were the bedrooms and there were plenty to go around and just in case you wanted to have more kids, which you did. Henry and Lottie chose their rooms, right next to each other of course. Everything was perfect and you couldn’t wait to make it your own.

****

Standing on the porch, Bucky had his hands on your hips and his chin resting on your shoulder. You were leaning into him completely as you watched everyone dancing and talking. All of them coming together to celebrate you and Bucky. You sigh happily. Henry and Charlotte’s laugh draws your attention. They’re in the middle of the dance floor holding hands with Olivia as they jump and dance around. You smile, seeing the pure joy on their faces. The kids call out for both of you to join them. Bucky takes your hand and leads you down to the dance floor.

Raising Henry and Lottie together only brought you an overwhelming amount of happiness. The love and joy was there. Through the ups and downs you and Bucky were side by side. You had each other’s back and there was no one else you’d rather spend the rest of your life with.

Ch 35

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

Text

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 28 You trying to get me fired?

NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: Office AU/Lawyer AU, Office romance/sex, co-workers, sexual tension, voyeurism, fingering, dirty talk, the whole office definitely heard, unprotected PiV (wrap it up folks). Let me know if I missed anything!

Unproofed, yolo I needed to get it posted.

Word count: 1578

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me!

Read on AO3

You saunter into Miguel’s office, blouse undone just enough to show off your cleavage and a whisper of your pale blue lace bra. Your tight pencil skirt hugs your hips as you drop the take-away box of empanadas on the desk.

“Layla said you haven’t moved from your desk since seven this morning, thought I’d make sure you aren’t going to keel over at the three o’clock.”

Miguel doesn’t look up from his computer screens, lost in the legal brief you know is up on both his monitors. His one hand is scribbling away on one of those artists tablets that allow you to draw digitally. But instead of creating art, he’s annotating evidence and marking pages to go back to with you after the meeting.

“You’re welcome, hijo de puta.”

You grumble under your breath as you turn to walk out, your hand is on the doorknob as you hear the growl from behind you.

“You tryin’ to get me fired muñeca?”

There it is.

You hear the hungry rasp in his voice accented by the sound of his desk chair being rolled back; it hits the wall with a crack, and you smile to yourself. Is today the day you finally get Miguel to snap? To take what you both know is his, and only his?

You twist the doorknob, pulling the door open only for it to be slammed shut. A broad palm slaps against the wood as you feel him crowd you from behind.

“Couldn’t have just asked me to fuck you like a good girl, could you?” Miguel’s lips ghost along your exposed neck, his breath fanning across your skin in short, hot bursts.

“You know I’m not one to beg, Miggy.”

“God, you’re fucking annoying.”

Miguel says, almost softly, as he slides his free hand down your thigh, dragging it back up slowly before slipping his thick fingers under the hem of your skirt. You struggle to stay still, heart pounding in your chest as your cunt throbs in anticipation.

“Careful, we’ve got that meeting later.”

You purr as you feel the fabric strain as he yanks it up. You moan softly as he licks a stripe up the column of your neck, and you feel his lips pull up into a smirk against your skin. The sound of your skirt tearing makes you hiss, and you try to push back against Miguel.

“Don’t be a brat, I know you have another outfit in your office down the hall.”

He pushes you flat against the door now, your cheek pressed against the hard surface as he pins you with his large form. You can feel the press of his cock against the seam of your ass, and you whimper as he rips the rest of the fabric away.

“Look at that.” Miguel purrs as he pulls your lacy panties down just enough to expose your dripping core to the air-conditioned chill of the office. You cry out as he runs his knuckles through your wet folds, gathering your slick over his fingers.

“You finally gonna give in and fuck me, Miguel? Taken you long enough.”

“Mierda, can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” He grunts as he pushes two thick fingers inside you, giving you no time to adjust. The burn is sinful, and you can’t help but whimper at the stretch. You grind back against his hand instinctively as he fucks you with his fingers. curling them up to press into your g-spot.

“Miggy, fuck, better than I could have imagined.”

“Oh?” He presses you up against the door with his whole body as he picks up the pace, the breath is forced out of your lungs as he smothers you with his body, “You been thinking about how I’d fuck you muñeca? How often, tell me.”

“Fuck.” You groan as he grinds his palm against your aching clit. You’re pinned under him, completely at his mercy as he unravels you with his thick fingers and scathing tone.

“Answer me.”

His hand stills inside you and you whine at the lack of friction. You try and move against him, but you’re pinned too tightly against the door. Your walls flutter around his fingers buried inside you and he hums in approval as he licks a flat, broad stripe against your skin, driving you closer to the edge.

“All the fucking time.” You wheeze through clenched teeth and that only makes him laugh, a low, barking sound.

“Fucking slut, you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“You fucking know I do Miggy, been trying to get you to do this for months.”

You’re rewarded for your sass with a sharp, loud crack, as Miguel spanks you hard with his free hand, the pain sending ripples of pleasure straight to your core.

“I’m a firm believer in consent baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t use your words to ask for it like a good girl.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You grumble as your fingers scrape on the lacquered wood of the door.

“Well?”

“Miguel, please, put your cock in me.” You bite through your pride as you beg. You’re so close, and all you want is for him to finally give in to you. Fuck you like you deserve, pressed against his office door like a whore.

His fingers leave you and you groan in protest at the way your pussy clenches around nothing, the emptiness maddening as you try and squirm against him. Relief washes over you as you hear the clink of his belt mere seconds before he nudges his head against your entrance from behind.

“Was that so hard?” He scoffs as he asks with all the smugness you deserve as he notches himself at your needy core, holding himself there for a few agonising seconds before he eases into you.

“Fu-uck.” Is all you can muster as he drives his thick length inside. You pant and moan at the burning stretch of his thick cock. He takes his time, filling you up, pausing, letting you adjust, before pressing into your once more.

“Such a tight little cunt, been holding out on me.” Miguel growls as he finally fills you to the hilt, both of you panting and gasping as he sits heavily inside you.

“Please, Miguel, fuck me.”

“There it is.”

Miguel’s fingers press firm marks into your hips as he pulls almost all the way out and you whimper at the way his cock rakes through your slick walls. You let your hand fall to your clit, not caring if Miguel’s ego would be bruised or not, you’re beyond letting men, even men like Miguel, from dictating your pleasure.

“Fucking dirty girl, I love it,” He growls as he notices what you’re doing, “Was going to take it slow, touch you myself, but I love that you just take what you fuckin’ want.”

Miguel starts to thrust into you harder, pulling almost all the way out, before snapping his hips forward to fill you to the brim. You cry out as pleasure arcs through you like tongues of flame, a desperate push and pull as you let him use you.

“Where do you want me?”

He pants against the column of your neck as his pace quickens, his thrusts getting sloppy as he kneads the swell of your ass, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips press into your flesh.

“Inside, I’ve got an implant, come inside me, please.” You whine as your fingers press just right on your clit as you rub frantically against the swollen bundle of nerves.

Miguel groans low in your ear as he fucks you so hard the door rattles violently beneath you. But you don’t care about who hears, you’re sure half the office are rolling their eyes as they hear the evidence of your months-long sexual tension finally coming to fruition.

“Fuck going to come, fill this sweet little-!” Miguel’s sentence is cut off by the guttural snarl that rips from his lips as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You cry out as the blinding rush of your orgasm rips through you, your cunt clenching around Miguel’s cock as you milk him dry. You pant heavily into the air as Miguel presses soft, tender kisses to your shoulder as you both come down from your high.

Eventually Miguel breaks the silence.

“So, you still keep that pant suit in the second desk drawer?”

“Of course you fucking know where it is.” You huff out a laugh as he eases out of you, his spend already trickling down your leg.

“When are you going to learn muñeca? You can’t hide a thing from me.”

“Asshole.” You groan as you use your torn skirt to clean up the worse of the mess before sliding your panties back into place.

“Got that right, now stay put.” He smirks at you as he eases the door open to slip through, giving you the dignity of not being laid bare to the office floor.

“Not like I can go anywhere!” You shout after him and you shake your head as the door clicks shut behind him. You shuffle over to his desk and perch on the edge, looking over at the screens to see a hand written message on a blank document.

Stop being so stubborn, and we can do this again sometime.

“Asshole.” You say to yourself, already formulating a plan to get back at him.

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lushafterglow · 3 months

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Trouble -> Chapter one

This is gonna suck.

Story Summary: Final year in college, the intern year. You get a once in a lifetime opportunity when Shoko Ieiri lets you intern at her hospital with her and her team.

Chapter summary: While it is your final year in your university you get an internship for one of the most important hospitals from Ieiri Shoko. You help her and study under her. You meet her two co-workers Geto and Gojo. The latter making you wish you chose a different career path.

Masterlist

Warnings: none

Taglist: @satxoru

Series masterlist

Ieiri Shoko. One of the most top Pathologist working in Tokyo. Apart of the ‘dream team’ of diagnostics. You had read almost everyone of her articles.

So when you got an offer from Shoko herself to come study under her and her team, you were so excited. This would be the best hands on experience you could get.

—

You walked up to the reception lady — nervous. “I’m here to internship under Dr Shoko.” The woman slowly looked up.

She made a disapproving hum before reaching over to her phone. She dialed a number and waited for the other side to pick up.

You fingers tapped against the counter, while slightly bitting you cheek.

“Dr Shoko? Yes there’s a lady up here claiming she’s interning under you.” “Okay I’ll send her up.”

She placed the phone back down and looked up at you. “Room 165 4th floor.” You nodded and made your way to the elevators, the whole trip up you were panicking.

What should you say? What if she made a mistake choosing you? Oh god what were you going to say?!

The doors opened and their the doctor herself was standing. “Welcome, I figured I’d meet you here so I could show you the way to my office.”

You nodded dumbly and followed after her quickly as she gestured for you to follow with her hand.

She opened the door — that had her name and practice written perfectly— and held it open for you.

Once you entered you noticed to other people. They must be Geto and Gojo. Two other best doctors of Tokyo that were apart of Dr Shoko team.

“Hey, I’m Geto.”

The one with long black hair spoke up, send you a slight wave with a kind smile. You smiled back and was quick to introduce yourself as well. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you Dr Geto.”

You looked over too the next guy, who was tossing a ball up in the and catching it, only to continue to repeat it.

“You must be Dr Gojo?” You asked just to clarify, you didn’t want to mistake him for someone else.

He caught the ball once again but didn’t toss it back up. He turned his chair to you and looked you up and down before clicking his tongue.

“Uh huh, that’s me scrubs.” You looked down to your white scrubs before telling him your name, feeling a bad vibe from him. “Oh my name is Y/N.”

“Yeah I heard.” Okay no need to be an asshole. You thought to yourself.

Doctor Shoko cleared her throat before interrupting the little challenging stare the two of you were sharing. “Okay, now that that’s out the way. Why don’t we start taking a look at this case.”

Shoko placed a file folder onto the table for Gojo to pick up.

He placed his ball in his coat and opened the file up, Geto leaning over his shoulder taking a look as well. “Night terrors, and double vision. Kid was hit in the head at a football game recently. Nothing special.”

“This case was given to use by Yaga. We have to at least find a solution to his problem.” Geto reminded the white haired doctor.

“Here’s a solution and here’s the problem: kid has a concussion and needs to sleep.” Gojo threw the folder onto the table.

You picked it up and started to look over his case. Multiple doctors, all saying the same thing as doctor Gojo.

“This kids seen a lot of doctors.” Your voice spoke up, stopping the bickering between Shoko and Gojo.

“So?” Gojo was looking at you as if you didn’t even know how to spell toast. “Different kinds of doctors saying the same thing. If there treatment isn’t working, then the diagnosis is wrong.”

Gojo pushed himself out the chair and walked around the table to you. He was tall, over 6’ foot tall.

He looked over your shoulder and looked at the file on more time. He let out a bored hum and snatched it from you — making his way to the door.

“Gojo where are you going?!” Shoko’s irritated voice stopped him as he slightly opened the door. “I’m gonna go examine this patient, and proved all this is, is some worried parents.”

He walked out the door making Shoko sigh out in annoyance. “I’m sorry about him. He’s always my way or no way.” You nodded at her and gave her an awkward smile.

“It’s okay, maybe it was something I did?”

Geto placed a hand on your shoulder, and smiled at you. “Your interning yes?”

You nodded up at the doctor beside you. “Then maybe go with Gojo and see what he does, hands on experience is the best kind.” You looked to Shoko weary.

“You should listen to Geto, besides me and him need to go over things in private.” You nodded you head in understanding and made your way to exit the room.

You noticed Dr Gojo by the elevator doors and hurried over him. When Gojo saw you making your way over to him he clicked on the button more.

He stepped into the doors and sighed in relief when the started closing. Though that relief was short lived as your hand stopped the doors from shutting all the way.

“Look I don’t do autographs lady.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance and stepped into the elevator beside him. “Geto and Shoko sent me with you.”

“Of course they did.” He whispered to the sky as if he was cursing god.

“I haven’t even met you more than ten minutes and you already hate me.” You turned and gave the taller man a pointed stare.

The doors opened back up and Gojo started to walked to the patient’s room. “I don’t hate you.” He opened the door. “I just don’t like you.” And walked through it, not holding it open.

You hurried into the room and just remained at the door, not wanting to get on his bad side any worse.

“So, mark. I hear you hit your head pretty bad.” Mark nodded his head and Gojo took a seat on the counter of the room. “What I’m interested in is your night terrors.”

“There awf-awful.” Mark spoke, but stutters as if he doesn’t even want to remember it. “He hasn’t slept in days.” His mother adds on.

“Really? Says here that your last doctors recommended it and prescribed you sleeping pills. Are you not taking them?” You could already see where Gojo was leading with this.

“I- I can’t, the nightmares won’t go away.”

Gojo turned his head to you and gave you a look saying ‘I told you so.’ “Night terrors happens from two things. An injury from the head, or high stress such as sexual assault.”

Your eyes widens at Gojo’s words, they were pointed at the parents even if he was talking to Mark. “Are you accusing us?” That dad was quick to jump and question. Rightfully so.

“No, I’m telling you want it comes from in most cases, you son has had an injury to the head. So don’t worry, child care won’t come knocking.”

The audacity of this man. “Take the sleeping pills, your kids fine.” Gojo grabbed the folder and handed it to you as he walked out.

You follow him through the doors, “did you seriously have to be like that to them?” Gojo stopped and turned to you.

“In the folder it says that they’ve listened to the doctors. That they’ve taken the treatment.” He pointed to the file before continuing on. “Your argument was if the treatment isn’t working then something’s wrong with the diagnosis.

That kid admitted to not taking the sleeping pills, so he’s not taking the treatment, that’s the problem, not the diagnosis.”

You were too stunned to even speak, not like you even could, because the second you went to say something Gojo sushed you.

You looked to where he’s looking — through the window in the door — and on the other side you just seen it last second a jerk in the leg.

Gojo was quick to walk back in and ask the boy questions.

“Are you tired?” Mark was quick to not yes, but Gojo further explained. “Are you tired this second, this instant?”

“No, I’m not tired right now.” The parents were quick to ask questions but gojo only continued to question the teenager. “Did you feel that twitch in your leg?” A no came from mark.

Gojo started to flash a light in his eyes and you turned to the worried parents and started to answer there question.

“Sometimes if the brain thinks we’re falling asleep they will send a signal, to try and wake up that part of the body. The brain is thinking the body is dying.”

The couple only grew more worried and ask more questions.

Gojo took a few steps away from the boy and stood beside you. “Good job, now they think there kids gonna die.” You looked to the couple who were hugging there kid. You looked back to Gojo and noticed how blue his eyes actually were.

The doctor handed you the light he was using, “admit him over night and get the nurse to do another family history check.”

—

“He was so cocky about it too! ‘Now they think he’s gonna die’ well obviously that wasn’t my intention!”

You groaned to your roommate. Maki laughed at your frustration.

“I swear imma drop out cause of him.” You placed your face into the pillow on the couch and screamed.

While Maki did find enjoyment in this, she was also always your voice of reason. “Well, you only have to deal with him for a year. Then once you finish collage, it’ll be easy to get hired somewhere.”

You peaked your head up and sighed, ”yeah but he’s so annoying.”

“Maki got up and went to throw away her bag of chips, calling out from the kitchen, “well he is a big shot Doctor!”

When she walked back to the living room she demanded you tell her more about the case you were working on.

“We’re going over possibilities of what could be the problem tomorrow. So we’ll know more then.”

At the end of the day Maki was right, one year of dealing with some cocky prick for your career to take off.

First chapter done! I’ll have the second out soon! If you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment, have a great day and I hope you enjoyed!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo #gojo masterlist #jujutsu gojo #jjk geto #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk masterlist

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alwaysaslutforfic · 1 year

Text

Tsukki Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW

Just some musings on my favourite Sendai Frogs middle blocker ☺️

Warnings: nothing super explicit. Mentions of sending nudes, hair pulling, and oral sex

Minors keep away from the cut and DNI!

Beta readers? Pft

Listens to any and everything but with a purpose 👌🏾. Ask him for a recommendation in any genre and he’ll give you a top 5 tier list. Has playlists arranged by mood, genre, vibe and occasion (he even has one for you that he will literally never tell you about but plays often. He just tells you it’s his favourite mix). Dude is highkey a music snob. Like he’ll listen to a song in any genre but it better be a fucking ✨S tier song✨ or he will Judge. Will never concede the aux cord.

Meanest tutor ever. Will have you crying at the kitchen table asking the same question till you get it right. “If Johnny has 5 apples! 😤” typa tutor. But his notes are amazing and he’ll always lend them without question.

We already know how I feel about clingy Tsukki. But let me reiterate: this man is obsessed with being in your personal space. Like ”I’m gonna go take a shower.” ”….. without me? 😒”

But he also respects your space when you need it. Just don’t be gone too long or he’ll get lonely. He’s highkey touch starved.

An impeccable driver. And unreasonably hot while doing it. I’m talking hand on thigh, arm on headrest when reversing, will do your seatbelt HOT. And you’re his favourite passenger princess. Tsukki refuses to let anyone adjust your seat. If they’re feeling cramped they’re more than welcome to sit in the back, or even better, walk.

A great cook. He lets you be the taste tester when you cook together. If you can’t cook this is the one time he has an amount of patience teaching you. He is, however, a horrendous baker. Tried to make you valentines day chocolates and you had to throw out the tea towels cos they somehow ended up singed. You laughed till you cried he’d have been hurt about it if you weren’t so beautiful

Likewise, his actions speak louder than his words when it comes to affection. Obviously he compliments you and tells you he loves you, but only on special occasions like birthdays, christmases and blowing your back out ten ways till sunday. But mostly he’ll show you how much he cares by treating you like royalty. Carries your bags while calling you weak, says ‘no’ every single time you ask for a favour but does it anyways, takes you for walks to your favourite ice cream shop and pays for both of you while you bitch about a character in your dumb show that he hates (read: binges with you and gets invested in)

A slip it in while you watch a movie kinda dude. At this point the Netflix subscription is for show. There is literally no point in trying to watch something with him because your legs will be over his shoulders way before the halfway mark.

Much like his actions speaking louder than words, he’s willing to try anything once if you suggest it. This has led to a very interesting bedroom life. There were obviously things that you both decided weren’t for you, but Tsukki would do anything to please you even if he’d never confess it. Once you asked for a personalised dildo so you could have his dick whenever you wanted as a joke. It was there by next week.

Loves fucking you in public. You guys are banned from THREE different lingerie stores. You’re 65% sure he only takes you out so much so he can find somewhere to fuck you, since it’s how most of your dates end. The Karasuno gang clocked you two on a club night when Noya and Tanaka took a badly timed trip to the bathroom. They are constantly embarrassed when you two go missing for half an hour and return dishevelled.

Send. Him. Nudes 😩 Especially when he’s busy. He sends them back and holy shit are they art personified. He heard “don’t send dick pics, send cumshot vids with the sound on” and boy did he run with it in the best of ways. Has a password protected folder for all the filth you send each other.

Speaking of nudes, his dick is so pretty. He doesn’t even manscape. It’s just long and slightly curved with just the right amount of hair. Also so much pre-cum. He was actually a little embarassed by it until he saw how much you loved licking him clean.

Pull his hair and listen to him moan. If you pull it hard enough when he’s close he will just cum. He definitely wasn’t embarrassed the first time it happened. Now it’s sort of a game to see if you can use it to get him off when he’s going down on you.

He’s reconciled with the fact that he has a volleyball brain. Seeing you at his games, and feeling your eyes on him as he jumps blocks is like foreplay to him. It’s always a race to see how quickly he can get you naked and under him after a match.

I will undoubtly have more thoughts on this, because I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Tsukishima Kei

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #tw.smut #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #tsukki x y/n #tsukki smut #haikyuu fluff #tsukki thirst #hq fluff #hq #haikyuu #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki

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philliam-writes · 1 year

Text

you are in the earth of me [01]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Content: cot3 +1 (and kipps), canon-typical violence & horror, loss of family member (not just Lockwood), found family, touch starved Lockwood, childhood friends Kipps & Reader, childhood trauma, slow burn, rivals to lovers (if this stays a Lockwood/Reader), mature language (swearing), aged up characters (everybody's in their early 20s; Kipps is mid-20s), fem! Reader though pronouns are used sparingly and no use of y/n

Summary: “Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.” Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?” You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Notes: [02]

Words: 5.1k

A/N: Words will never suffice how much Lockwood & Co. has carried me through some of the toughest parts of my life. To see it adapted to a show is SO EXCITING, I couldn't help but be a little self-indulgent and plan out a whole ass story for my favourite three (+ Kipps) ghost hunters. So here we go.

This could either stay a Lockwood/fem!Reader or I could easily change it into Locklyle or even freaking poly cot3 x Reader or just Locklyle depending on what people want to read. I'm fine with pretty much everything; I just want my silly little Reader joining 35 Portland Row because I am in DIRE NEED OF FOUND FAMILY AND JUST SELF-INDULGENT GHOST HUNTING

So yeah, I'm totally open to people requesting Locklyle or anything for this one, but it's still gonna be from Reader's POV and focusing on an original story with action and characters studies and personal growth. Also sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language and I'd be super happy if someone offered to become my beta-reader for this! Any feedback is super super appreciated!!

01: let the dead hollers hum

when i first saw you, the end was soon to bethlehem it slouched and then it must've caught a good look at you

—hozier: nfwmb

At almost two in the morning the streets should be empty of people and cars, yet you manage to nearly get hit by a night cab turning down Tredegar Road. Its ghastly horn echoes like the wail of a Banshee through the dark, disturbing the peaceful night. Across the street, a kitchen light flickers to life inside a building. A shadow moves behind the white curtains, pausing for a second to look out at the street.

Bracing against the cutting wind, you turn up your maroon trenchcoat’s collar and duck your head like a turtle trying to hide inside its shell. It would have been much colder without your gloves now that the early winter bite is coming, but it’s still very unpleasant to be outside after the sun has set. Today is a clearer night, despite the day of rain; the moon chases stray wisps of cloud across an otherwise unmarked black sky.

London turns in earlier than usual now that the nights grow longer and colder—and more dangerous as well. Just yesterday you heard two more night-watch kids have succumbed to ghost-lock down at the warehouses near Blackfriars when they got distracted trying to warm up from the freezing evening rain that had set in after eleven. They turned into easy pickings for a Drowner lurking beneath the docs—former scoundrels who ended their sorry lives in the water by drowning. They rarely make a pleasant sight with their bloated limbs and skin wrinkled so hard it is peeling off like layers of paint.

It makes you glad to feel the familiar weight of your rapier hanging from your hip holster, to know that just within short reach, everything you need to protect yourself is at your disposal. That and the salt bombs around your belt. It’s hard not to feel safe while carrying around something with ‘bomb’ in its name.

You find the meeting point you’ve been summoned to at the end of the street. The Green Goose is a two-floor building with the restaurant at the bottom and what you can only assume the storage and other facilities upstairs. All sun-blinds on the first floor are drawn shut.

Few London establishments are open during the night, and fewest of all in the dark hours before the dawn. But places like this, catering for agents or night-watch kids, are easily recognised by the additional fortification against possibly unwanted visitors. High up where the first floor meets the second, heavy mistletoe bushes run around the whole building like a gigantic garland. You imagine in summer this would be lavender blooms, plunging the whole street into their thick, sweet scent. The door and windows are laced with iron grilles, and overhung with battered ghost-lamps. A few wooden dining tables and benches remain vacated outside, left to their own until the warmth of spring returns.

After a first glance inside the premise through the grimy windows, you don’t spot your friend. How much easier this would be if you could carry a phone around, just to check if you are at the right place. Now all you have to go on is his cryptic call before your shift started this morning, and a vague sense of the kind of establishments he likes based to his tastes.

Good thing you have known him for almost a decade.

But that doesn’t really give you an idea what exactly Quill Kipps wants from you. Maybe help with a case? Or he has finally realised he has a crush on his co-worker, that lemony-smelling Kat or Kate, and now he needs advice. Not hanging out at the dead of the night would be a preferable start.

Small bells jingle when you push the door open with your shoulder, and a waft of warm air scented with grease and coffee hits your nose, bringing heat back to your face. It looks a lot smaller than from the outside, narrow and with the sitting area stretched in an L-shape around the bar and counter in the middle. Behind that a pair of slightly askew doors lead to the kitchen where you can hear a radio play.

The first row of tables line alongside the window, then disappear further into the back. In the corner, two night-watch kids sit huddled together, quietly snoring and drooling on each other’s shoulders with their meagre food spread before them. A waitress with short black hair and a chubby chin standing behind the counter looks up from a magazine, stares at you, and blows out a baby-blue bubble of gum until it pops loudly.

She raises an eyebrow.

You raise one back at her.

From the other side of the entrance, you hear Kipps calling your name. At that, the waitress gives you a single, polite nod which you answer alike, as though you are two cowboys engaged in a stand-off who don’t want to shoot each other.

Marching down the narrow aisle, you pass an occupied table and accidentally bump into it. Cutlery rattles against an empty plate. You mumble a half-hearted apology and move on, barely listening to the grumbled answer or really looking at the man clad in black sitting there. He gives of a sweet, heavy scent you can’t really place, and quickly move on.

Knowing you’d arrive in a foul mood, Kipps has already ordered your favourite midnight snack after a hard day’s work: coffee and a simple English breakfast with a fried egg, hot and greasy sausages, crispy bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms on the side.

“It better be important, Kippy,” you say in lieu of hello, manoeuvring over his lap to the unoccupied seat by the window, using elbows and knees to execute a complicated dance with him so you can squeeze into the narrow booth. He grunts and makes barely any effort to make you room. His outstretched legs take up a disproportionate amount of real estate. “I got a ten hour shift behind me and I’m desperate for my bed.”

“You certainly smell like after a ten hour shift,” he comments, wrinkling his nose. Of course he looks well kempt and neat as always with not a single ginger curl on his head out of order. But there are dark circles under his eyes as though someone put a charcoal pen to his skin, betraying his tidy appearance. His eyes flit over your face for a second, scanning it for any injuries.

You give him your best shit-eating grin and wolf down on your eggs when someone clears his throat from across the table—and that’s when you realise Kipps isn’t alone.

Nursing a cup of tea, opposite you sits a young man in a black suit, slender and tall, his short, unruly hair swept back elegantly. He watches you with mild interest, his thin lips slightly pursed, like someone would watch a flock of hungry pigeons plunge towards bread crumbs spread by tourists at Hyde Park—nothing out of order. Just another regular sight in the big city on a late afternoon stroll.

You hold his steady, dark eyes when you bite into your egg, feeling the yolk escape at the corners of your mouth and run down your chin. You didn’t even realise how much you were starving.

“Hwo’sh yor fren’, ‘Ippy?” you ask with your mouth full because you have absolutely zero shame.

Kipps swallows a groan.

“Yes, Kippy,” the young man replies with the most soothing, alluring voice you have ever heard, as though he’s eaten silk and honey for breakfast. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

Kipps makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. Annoyance radiates off him stronger than any other-light you have seen on apparitions. “Friend is a bit much,” he says slowly, as though he has to talk around the word ‘friend’ because it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “That’s Lockwood.” You recognise his tone. It sounds a lot as if he’s saying That’s the biggest nuisance of my life.

The effect is pretty much the same.

You nearly choke on your next bite and aim for the coffee to wash it down. When you jerk your head around to stare at Kipps in disbelief, your eyes stretch wider than the dinner plate before you. Kipps must read what’s written on your face: That’s Lockwood? Tony Lockwood you can’t shut up about? Your arch-nemesis?

Kipps rolls his eyes so hard it must give him a spectacular view of his skull. Just humour me, his expression says.

“Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.”

Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?”

You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Lockwood seems to understand, for he doesn’t inquire further, but his smile seems to freeze a little at the corners. “And you are?”

“Kipps’s friend.” You stuff the rest of your toast into your mouth and give your name. Lockwood blinks and keeps a polite smile, and doesn’t ask even though you’re sure he didn’t understand a word you just said.

“I wasn’t aware Kipps has friends.” Lockwood’s eyes have taken on a taunting glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “Certainly not friends at Rotwell.”

His eyes drop to the crest stitched onto the upper part of your sleeve on your trench-coat: a snarling lion holding a rapier in its front paw—the agency’s symbol—before he gives Kipps a pointed look as though that small detail would have been worth mentioning before they got up to whatever this is.

Kipps ignores him. “I called you because I need your help,” he says, sliding napkins over to you which you promptly ignore. “I need your Talent.”

You halt at that and give him a long, level look. Kipps doesn’t shy away from the weight of your gaze, and suddenly you become painfully aware of the tension surrounding them, thick enough you could cut it with your dull knife.

Slowly, you chew your sausage. “What exactly are we talking about?” you ask, voice quieter, matching Kipps’s. He’s doing that little wiggle in his seat, shifting his weight from left to right he always does when bracing for potential conflict. When he trails his eyes away from you, you follow them to Lockwood who is looking at Kipps as though seeing him for the first time.

From the pockets of his long, black coat, Lockwood pulls out a small wooden box. It would easily fit into the palm of your hand, and from where you sit you can’t see a particular design or anything on the surface. Lockwood slides the box across the table towards you, flips it over with his long, slender fingers, and opens the lid, revealing a small bronze key lying on a cushion surrounded by thin iron plates.

You stare at it for five, six seconds. Then reach out to take another big swig of your coffee. With no sugar, acidly bitter taste explodes on your tongue, just the way you like it.

“It’s a Source,” you say. “You just carry a Source around like that?”

“Exceptional observation skills,” Lockwood says with the mild tone of someone barely holding back his impatience. “I can see why you asked her to join us, Kippy.”

“I can see why Kipps wants to shove his rapier up your—”

“Trust me, I’d be the last one missing out on a chance to ridicule Lockwood,” Kipps interrupts, tapping a finger on the table in front of the box, “but Barnes wants results by tomorrow and I’d like to act like professionals for once, so can we please focus?”

Lockwood and you throw a mirror glare at Kipps that’s something along the lines of You’re one to talk. When you notice each other’s similar expressions, Lockwood quickly schools his features back to a neutral one. “It is secure inside its seal for now, but the Visitor contained in it is not particularly strong. If we’re quick, it won’t have time to come through,” he says.

You shake your head. “You’re mad. And you—” you knock your knee against Kipps’s—“what’s wrong with you for going along with this?”

“There’s just … not enough time,” Kipps says. Exhaustion seeps into his voice, strong enough to peel back layers of caution for he shares a quick glance with Lockwood and what they don’t say screams so loudly that you have to lean back and re-evaluate what you’ve known about their relationship up until now.

It seems that Kipps has missed out on filling you in on some crucial details about the past few weeks he has worked at Kensal Green Cemetery.

“Then why don’t you just tell me what this is about?” you say, looking over at Kipps sharply. “Why does Barnes need you both to work on it? Is it a Fittes job? Did Bobby get his greasy little hands on something and—”

“Actually,” Lockwood chimes in, “it is our case. Lockwood & Co. Kipps is … an associate. And we’re very short on time to solve this case. Let’s just say Kipps has a little favour to repay. We need someone who excels at Touch, and he said you are the best at it. You might be our last chance to find out more about this key.” He has switched from that arrogant drawl to a soft, melodic cadence with that maddeningly smooth voice of his. It has to be intentional—he is trying to play you like a fiddle with that charm he switched on like an industrial bulb.

“What’s there to solve? You got the Source, you sealed it. That’s all there is. This should be on its way to a furnace right now.” You fall back into your seat, eyes raking over Lockwood’s form. He doesn’t even wear a uniform for Christ’s sake. “And you call yourself an agent?”

And just like that the light goes out, the switch flicks off. Lockwood’s face is calm; the only sign of his agitation is a pulse hammering in his throat and a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Kipps shifts in his seat. “We can’t give it to Barnes yet,” he says in a quiet voice, wrenching your eyes away from the glaring contest you have engaged in with Lockwood. Kipps presses his lips into a thin line, and you can see the mental strain it takes on him to agree with something Lockwood said. His handsome face crumples as though he has bitten into a lemon. “We believe the murder of that Visitor is still out there.”

You digest that. Go in for some more food. It takes a lot more effort to swallow your bacon. “Even more reason to just leave it to Inspector Barnes and DEPRAC. Exactly why is this your responsibility?”

“Justice for the dead?” Kipps offers.

“Protecting the living?” Lockwood states nobly.

It sounds like a load of crap, but you are too sleep-deprived to bother figuring out what truly is at stake for them. Maybe another stupid bet, or whatever favour Kipps owes Lockwood from the last.

You run a hand through your hair, bobbing your leg up and down in a frantic rhythm. It isn’t your favourite thing to do, but you have always had a hard time telling Kipps no—and God knows he has done so much for you.

“You owe me,” you tell him. Kipps nods, and visibly relaxes with relief.

“Do you need me to—” he starts, sliding his hand across the seat and offering it to you. From across the table, you hear the seat’s leather creak as Lockwood leans forward to get a better look at what you are doing. It reminds you of a hound scenting blood in the air and going out on the hunt for its prey.

“No, I’m good. I’m not taking my gloves off anyway.” You don’t like using your Talent without anything to ground you, but there is something about the way Lockwood is looking at you two, hungry almost, as though he is categorizing a particular fascinating information to dissect it later and see what use he can draw from it. Best to just ignore him. Besides, without your gloves, you feel naked, vulnerable. This isn’t something for prying eyes—and Lockwood has an awfully piercing, scrutinising pair of unfathomably dark eyes you are not interested at all to get lost in.

You lean back into the seat and get comfortable first. It never works when you go in too tense because it takes more effort to peel away the wards of your consciousness. When Kipps takes the key and plays it into your open palm, you focus on its weight first—akin to a bird bone, you barely feel it through the thick fabric of your glove.

Which doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. The energy radiating off this thing is like a physical force pushing you back into the backrest of your seat. You close your eyes and focus on the low thrum of energy—feelings and impressions wash over you in torrents, layer after layer. Your chest feels heavy. Your stomach clenches in a hard, tight knot—fear. Fear grips you in a tight, cold grip.

Something is lurking, far far back, something unfathomably dark and abysmal but you can’t get a hold od if through your gloves and as you begin to sift through the chaotic blur of emotions to find the source—so much darkness, so much death; good Lord the things people did to get their hands on—

Excitement. A lingering echo burning so bright it blinds; hope swelling after long periods of dread, like the first spring buds blooming after a cruel, cold winter. Agitation. The adrenaline-inducing last sprint towards your goal knowing there is nothing that stops you from reaching it. The smell of damp soil and coppery hijacks your senses, and then—

Pain explodes in your chest, knocking you back against a cushioned surface. Your knees slam against something hard, sending hot shots of pain up your legs. Your eyes snap open but the world spins when all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and warmth spreads over your chest, liquid seeps through your fingers—but how? He could not. He would never—someone is screaming, a piercing, blood-churning scream. It takes a moment to realise the scream belongs to you; the wailing is drawn out from your raw throat, but how could anybody blame you; you are dying, shot in the chest by—

Someone is calling your name. Strong hands grab your shoulders and shake you hard as though trying to tear you away from a dream, a nightmare.

“Oh God, help me. He—he shot me—please help.” You gasp, trying to stop the bleeding by pressing your trembling hands against the wound.

“You’re fine. Listen to me, you’re fine. Nobody shot you!” A familiar voice—Kipps’s voice pierces through the wailing terror inside your head. You stare up at his green eyes which are paler than usual, widened in worry. “It’s just a psychic echo. You’re safe here.”

Another forceful inhale expands your lungs. The hot pinpoint pain in your chest subsides slowly with every shaking exhale, and when you look down at your hands, there is no blood sticking to your fingers, only coffee. When you hit your knees against the table, you knocked over your cup. Now the liquid is spreading across the table in a big puddle and dripping down its edges.

Lockwood is busy wiping the table clean with the leftover napkins while wildly gesturing with his free hand to the waitress looming over your table. “Just a long night, nothing serious,” you hear him say in haste. Either she isn’t interested or doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this; she shrugs and drags herself back behind the counter. You look around the establishment, ready to apologise for your outburst, but everybody has left already.

You turn around. When your eyes meet Lockwood’s, he grins, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. “I have never seen anyone so sensitive to Touch. That was remarkable.” He beams as though you have performed an exceptional trick at the circus.

Something about the excitement in his voice sets you off—or maybe you are just still very raw from the experience, and the aftershock of such a gruesome echo is driving you up the wall.

“Oh yeah, it is so much fun! Feeling how people get killed every time is so worth it.” You grab your fork and stab your sausage with enough force you send tomatoes flying. On second thought, you are not hungry anymore. “Why don’t I get a gun and shoot you just so you can get an idea—”

“I’ve had my own fair share, thank you,” comes Lockwood’s flippant answer and for a second you imagine leaning over the table and smothering him with his own tie.

“So he was shot.” Kipps quickly steers the conversation back to its topic before you can follow your impulse. You slump against the seat, feeling pressure around your hand. When you look down, Kipps is holding your hand tightly, grounding you. You should have let him from the start. Weakly, you squeeze back. “We knew that already—”

“He … he never expected it to end like this,” you say slowly, gazing outside the window. Only your own reflection stares back at you. “He was shot by someone he knew. There was … genuine surprise. Before the pain, I mean. He couldn’t believe he would be hurt by someone he trusted. It was so absurd, he didn’t even have time to feel betrayed. That’s how unbelievable it was.”

“So it was someone very close to the victim. Who’s someone you’d never expect to betray you?” Kipps thinks aloud.

“Friends,” Lockwood provides.

“Family,” you say, quietly.

“A lover.” Kipps takes your fork and helps himself to some leftover mushrooms from your plate. When you look at the food, your stomach churns. “We should go back to the house tomorrow and see if you missed something, Tony. Wouldn’t surprise me if you managed to gloss over some obvious evidence,” he says to Lockwood.

“Why do you believe I would be the one—”

You shut out their bickering. A fine drizzle has set in outside, leaving small rain drops on the window. The street is a blur of black and faint white light from the ghost-lamps. When you look at your own face in the window’s reflection, your own eyes stare back at you—big, scared and haunted.

It always takes some time to get back after using your talent—to slowly build up the walls and distance yourself from the echoes of someone else’s life and the brutal way it ended. Deaths like these: sudden, violent, painful are always difficult to come back from. Which is why it is so important to have someone to ground you. Kipps has known you for so long, he is well aware how the psychic hangover drags your senses through the shredder and leaves your mind and body bruised and raw like an open nerve.

He had a few years training on how to handle it thanks to your brother.

The thought of Matthew shakes you awake and shoves you into full alertness, as if ice-cold water has been dumped down the back of your neck. You feel a sharp ache in your chest as you shove the ghost of his memory out of your mind, and then raw emptiness, as if a grappling hook has yanked your heart out of your body. It is just the aftershock—the hangover from the psychic connection, you try to reason. This is no time to allow grief back into your body, your mind.

Kipps must have heard the quiet sound you made, like a wounded animal. He falls dead silent mid-sentence and whips his head towards you. An echo of recognition passes his features for a second—there and gone so quickly, you think you imagined it.

“We are done here,” he says, and reaches over to close the box’s lid with a resolute click. You didn’t even notice he has taken the key away from you and returned it inside its seal. Lockwood opens his mouth, as though ready to argue, but whatever expression your face paints, even he recognises that you have reached your limit. Without another word, he swiftly slides the box back into his pocket.

You turn away from them, feeling anger and frustration boil inside you. You don’t want them to think you are weak just because you are a little more sensitive than other agents who can use Touch.

“Want me to drop you off the dormitory?” Kipps asks, his voice intensely neutral. He is digging through his purse to pay for your food, and shoots a glare towards Lockwood to indicate that no, he will not pay for his.

The dormitory for Rotwell agents, commonly known as the Lions Den, are rows of sand-bricked two-room apartments housing most of Rotwell’s younger agents in Chelsea. Half of your monthly salary evaporates just for paying rent, but at least it is a roof over your head and only a few stops away from your workplace. There is also something about pretending to belong to the upper posh class of London, to stroll through the highly-maintained gardens and polished windows glinting like diamonds in the early morning sun. They don’t have to deal with countless sleepless nights, the psychic hangover that makes you feel as if your body is not your own, or the constant fear every shift might be the last.

Sometimes it is that moment of pretending as though you live a different life that makes a difference.

“It’s okay, I’ll just take a cab.” Because for one, Kipps lives on the other side of the city, and two, you need to be alone.

Kipps nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Lockwood stays silent and is completely relaxed, a paragon of serenity with alert, dark eyes.

You scoot out of the booth and follow them outside into the cold drizzle. Mist hangs in the dark streets, rendering the area nearly invisible. Kipps and Lockwood share a few quiet words. When they part, Lockwood’s coat end flaps like black wings in the dark. He turns halfway around, gives you a long, considering look over the back of his shoulder. He parts with a single, almost approving nod, then ducks his head against the biting wind and strides down the street, disappearing into the dark night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kipps buttons the front of your trenchcoat. He is balancing on the back of his heels—an old habit when he feels bad for something and doesn’t quite know how to apologise and it would be easier to just bail from the conflict. “You still look like shit.”

You give him a weak kick to the shin. His shoulders relax. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow about how it went,” he says, jamming his hands inside his pockets. He pulls one out again and shoves a crushed candy into your hand. It’s your favourite brand and for the first time today, you feel something warm spreading in your chest.

“Wait.” Before he can turn away, you quickly catch his sleeve and make him turn around. “About that key…”

“Is there anything else?” Kipps leans forward and you have to bend your neck back to meet his eyes.

You remember when he was much smaller and you were at the same eye level. At 13 years, Kipps used to be smaller than the rest of the boys at Stroud & Co. where you started out your agent career and met. He’s had his share of playing errand boy or punching bag for the older, taller boys, until Matthew came along one day, dunked one of Kipps’s bullies into an overflowing rain barrel and got his nose broken in return.

They became best friends after that, and you in the middle. Matthew, Quill, and you. Lock, Shock, and Barrel.

Now, only two remain.

Kipps claps your shoulder, snapping you out of the memory and dispersing the picture you have conjured in your mind of him young. Today, he stands tall and broad-shouldered before you, twice in size and muscle. Nobody sane would try and mess with him.

“What’s wrong?” Kipps asks. “Where did you go in there?” He taps two fingers against his temple.

“When I was holding the key, the recent death was the strongest echo, but there was more. Like … way, way more.” You sling your arms around yourself. “Like many layers on a painting, and whatever is underneath all that … it feels evil. Really, really evil. There is a lot of death attached to that key.”

Kipps chews on this. He looks down the street to where Lockwood has vanished, his square jaw drawn tense. “I can’t say Lockwood’s stake on this, but I don’t care much about its history. It changed owners, I get it, but who would kill for something like that?”

“I don’t know.” You think back to the smell of blood, to the underlying eagerness to own that key. “But if that key is already that vile,” you say, shuddering, “then what about the thing it opens?”

“Not important to me as long as it’s not our problem.” He yawns, and taps a foot against the hard pavement to stave off the cold. “I bet it got destroyed or lost long ago. There is no way it’s still around.” Kipps runs a hand through his hair. It curls against his temple and neck in the damp mist. “Chances are high we’ll never hear anything about it ever again after this week. Case closed. Thanks for helping us. I’m sure DEPRAC can find the murderer and it’ll be just another case in the books.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess you’re right.” You barely hold back a yawn.

Kipps nudges your elbow. “I’ll catch up with you later, OK? Gotta make sure Lockwood’s the one who messed up the earlier investigation and go back to the crime scene.”

“Doing the Lord’s work,” you joke and give him a mocking salute. For the first time tonight, Kipps grins that lopsided half-grin showing part of his white teeth before he rushes off into the night after Lockwood.

For a moment, you stand still and let the drizzle engulf you. Although you have been almost sixteen hours on your feet, exhaustion has slowly trickled away, and in its stead a bone-deep anxiety has settled. Sleep. You need to sleep this off, and everything will return back to normal by tomorrow.

Heading for the main street to catch a night cab, you don’t turn around, and just like that, you miss out on the shadow unhitching itself from a wall even though the ghost-lamp flickers to life.

A/N: hmu if you want to join the taglist!

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co #lockwood reader insert #l&c reader insert

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

Text

“i can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

12 years ago, Elvis chose his career over you. What happens when he shows up at your door asking for a second chance?

a/n: this is entirely based on a dialogue prompt I saw from @twelvegods: “I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” apparently it was a really good prompt because it inspired all 8,735 words of this lol. I I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it <3 Thank you all again so so so much for 500 followers!!

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a couple swear words, lots of angst in the first half, Y/N has trust issues oops, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

That’s what Elvis Presley had said to you when he was just 20 years old and his career was starting to take off, thanks in large part (as Elvis said) to the Colonel. And you, being the young girl in love that you were, believed him.

What a fool you were.

You managed to stay together for another year before the Colonel, his claws digging into Elvis’s heart and soul to bleed all the green he could out of him, managed to convince him that appearing single would be what was best for his career— he had to let all those screaming girls believe they had a chance with him, after all.

“Baby please,” Elvis pleaded, “this is for my career. I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll get back together, you’ll see.”

You shook your head, “No, Elvis. I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you like some damsel in distress. If you want me, keep me. But otherwise…”

You paused, waiting for him to say something. Begging, pleading, praying he would say something, that you had managed to change his mind.

When he said nothing, you exploded.

You had screamed and cried, and he had screamed and cried, and you had taken your things that had made their way into his room in Graceland and stormed out of his life for good, only pausing to give him one final sincere “I love you” before you walked out the door.

The last image you had of him (that wasn’t on a tv screen or poster) was of him standing in the foyer in Graceland, tears streaming down his face, refusing to chase after you.

You hoped that time would eventually heal your wounded heart, but apparently whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking idiot because it was now just over a decade later and you were still as in love with Elvis Presley as you had been when you were one of the only girls in the world who knew his name.

He, evidently, didn’t feel the same.

That much was clear, at least, based on the way he was still overly flirtatious with his audience in his shows, not to mention the rumors about relationships with his movie co-stars. In his shows, before he went off to Germany, he had taken to stepping down into the audience and kissing practically every woman in the room. That alone cleared any remaining doubts from your mind that he still thought about you in any capacity, despite that little voice in the back of your head that still held out some futile, desperate hope.

You’re about to curl up on the couch with some tea and your copy of Anne of Green Gables — exactly what you need on a rainy day like today — when someone knocks on your door.

“You expecting anyone, Y/N?” your friend Annie calls from the hall. You had been living with her for about 5 years down in Louisiana, after the memories in Memphis had become too much, and you loved it.

“Nope,” You call back, wondering who on earth would be knocking on doors in this weather. “If it’s one of those door-to-door salesmen, slam it in his face again.” You suggest with a laugh.

“Will do,” comes her reply, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

You turn you attention back to your book as the door opens, and nearly spill your tea all over yourself as you hear a sultry drawl you hadn’t heard in person in over a decade.

“Hi Annie… is Y/N here?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re sure Annie is as stunned as you are, then:

“Maybe,” she replies curtly, “What do ya want?”

Annie knew the whole story of you and Elvis, and she had sworn that she’d never let you get hurt like that ever again.

“Please, Annie, I just wanna talk to her.”

“And why should I let you? You’ve got a lotta nerve comin’ here after what you did—“

You’re not sure what prompts you to set your book and mug down and sigh “Annie, just let him in,” but you’re just as surprised as Annie is that you did.

She reluctantly steps aside to let him in, eyeing him warily the entire time.

Your eyes drink him in; this is the first time you’re seeing him in person in over 12 years, and your mind automatically catalogs the differences since you last saw him. He’s tanned, with a few more freckles, a result of the California sun, no doubt, and tinted glasses hide his eyes. His burgundy suit is soaked, and his hair, which was no doubt carefully styled before, now flops onto his forehead, dripping into his eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses, revealing tired blue eyes. From the way his eyes track along your body, he was drinking you in the same way you had done him.

There’s a beat of silence, then his eyes finally meet yours.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You maintain a straight face, unwilling to be taken in so easily.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice cold. You want nothing more than to rush into his arms, but you remind yourself: he chose his career over you, and never looked back.

“I fired the Colonel,” he blurts, after several moments of trying to figure out what to say.

“About time,” you snort, dropping your serious demeanor for a split second, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. A lotta mistakes, really, but letting you go was the biggest one I ever made in my life. I missed you so, so much, and I—“

You cut him off, “Elvis, cut the shit. You made it very clear you moved on from me.”

“Y/N, I never stopped thinkin’ about you, I promise.”

“Sure, and was that before or after you kissed every girl in the audience at the end of every damn show?”

“Y/N, I—“ he starts, frustrated, then takes a deep breath. He starts again, calmer, softer, “I know how that looks. But I… I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes.

You feel your cracked heart melt just a little at his words, and yet…

“I don’t…” you sigh, “I don’t believe you. You put your career before me over a decade ago, and I tried to move on, but I couldn’t when I was seeing your face and hearing your voice everywhere, and it hurt like hell. And now you walk back in here, tell me you just made a mistake, and… what? Expect me to take you back just like that?”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, an echo of his plea back when he broke your heart for the first time, “I know I messed up bad, but… it’s you. It’s always been you, with those girls in the audience, even with Ann-Margret… I was always thinkin’ about you. And I’m willin’ to do whatever I have to to fix this. Anything. I mean it.”

And you can see the conviction in his eyes, like he’s that little boy again who believed he was Captain Marvel Jr. and could fly his family out of poverty to the Rock of Eternity. You know in your bones that he’d buy you the moon if it meant he could love you again.

But you’d made the mistake of believing his promises before.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you won’t drop me when your next manager thinks that’d be ‘what’s best for your career’?”

He winces as you throw the Colonel’s words from all those years ago back in his face. “I know I ruined any kind of trust you had in me that day, and I can’t tell you enough how goddamn sorry I am, Y/N. But I’m not askin’ for you to forgive me right now, I just want a chance to try and fix this. That’s all, I swear.”

He waits as you process his words, practically holding his breath as you think of how to reply.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

He nods. “That’s all I’m askin’ for, sw— Y/N,” he fumbles to avoid using the old pet name for you.

“I think you should go now,” you say, your voice cold again to hide how the almost-pet name brought a storm of feelings rushing back..

“Right, um..” he fumbles around in his pocket, producing a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it, “Gimme a call, if you want? I’ve gotta head back to Memphis in a couple days, that’ll probably be the easiest way to reach me if you, uh, decide anything.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing at it quickly before stuffing it in your pocket. The number was for Graceland’s house phone; a number you’d never forgotten for a second, not that you’d be telling Elvis that.

“Well, um… bye Y/N, Annie,” he nods as he moves past your roommate towards the door. He pauses, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You look good, Y/N,” he says softly before heading back out into the downpour.

The “you, too” you whisper in reply is lost in the sound of rain hitting the pavement outside.

The enormity of everything that had just transpired suddenly hits you and you fall back onto the couch, tears welling up in your eyes.

Annie rushes over, concerned. You look up as she fusses over you.

“Was that… did that actually just happen?”

Annie nods, “Yeah, it did, honey. I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“Did I do the right thing?” You wring your hands, suddenly second-guessing every decision you made during the interaction with Elvis.

“I know I’ve always said that I’d punch him in his smug face if he ever showed up here after what he did to you,” Annie says, “But I see the way you look at him when he shows up on the TV, and that ain’t the look of someone who’s just angry at an ex. You’re still in love with him, honey, I know it, and I feel like a fresh start is what both of you need. I don’t mean to overstep,” she drawls, “But if I can give you some advice: just start over as friends. Don’t jump back into a relationship right away. Try to make it organic. A clean slate.”

“A clean slate,” you echo, processing her words.

You mull over what to do for a few days, worst and best-case scenarios swirling around your brain, and eventually dial Graceland. Your foot taps anxiously as you lean against the wall by the phone, listening to it ring.

“Hullo?” A raspy voice comes over the receiver.

“Hi, Elvis,” you say, trying your best to sound casual, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he stammers, sounding less like the confident King of Rock and Roll superstar and more like the shy little kid you’d grown up with, “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” You reply, “Look, I did some thinking about what you said and, well… I’ve got a couple questions before I decide anything.”

“Sure, yeah, what is it?”

“Well, first of all… why now?”

“Huh?”

You sigh, “It’s been over 10 years, Elvis. What made you come back now? What made you fire the Colonel after all this time?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t very happy with the movies the Colonel was signing me up for. And then he planned this whole silly special for NBC…” he sighs, “I’ve been lost ever since I lost Mama— before that, even, when I lost—“ he cuts himself off with an awkward cough, “uh, anyway; he wasn’t helping. And I finally realized that he didn’t really care what I wanted to do. It was all about profit for him,” he says quietly. He goes on to explain hiring Binder and Bones to help with the special, to “find himself” again, and the realization he’d had that he hadn’t truly felt like himself since he’d left you.

“Hm,” is your only response at first, trying to shove down the warmth growing in your chest. “Well, um… thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to know, Y/N… you can trust me. I know I ruined that back then, but I’d really like a chance to try and rebuild it with you if I can.”

“I think I’d like that, too.” You say after a moment of silence. “Look, Elvis, I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, if we’re gonna do this, to pick up right where we left off. We need a… a clean slate. So what if we started over as friends?” You fidget with the phone cord as you await his reply.

There are several moments of silence, and you're wondering if something happened with the call before his raspy drawl comes over the phone once more.

“I’d love to be your friend again, Y/N.”

A wave of relief floods your body, and you smile. You think for a moment before speaking again, saying hesitantly, “I’m coming up to visit for Mama’s birthday next weekend, and… maybe we could see each other then? That would be a ‘friend’ thing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great, well,” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’ll just give you a call when I’m back home and we can figure everything out then?”

“Whatever works for you is fine with me,” he assures you, “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me, too,” you say softly, allowing a tiny bit of the warmth you felt earlier to creep back. “I’ll see you next weekend, then.”

“See you then,” he says and with a click, the phone is back to humming a dial tone.

You’re buzzing with anticipation for the next week, not only excited to see your family but also to see Elvis.

“Y/N!” Your mother rushes out as you pull into the driveway of your family’s Memphis home, “My baby’s home!”

“Happy birthday, Mama,” you smile as she rushes up to give you a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Thank you, darlin’. Come inside, honey, come in!” she insists, grabbing your suitcase from you despite your protests.

“Honey!” she calls to your father as she leads you into your childhood home, “Look who’s finally decided to come for a visit!”

“Mama, I was just here for Easter,” you remind her as you head to the living room to greet your father. “Hi Daddy,” you smile as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, “Louisiana treatin’ you well?”

You nod, “Mhm. Everyone’s real nice, and Annie’s always lookin’ out for me.”

You fill your parents in on life in Louisiana, and in return they (your mother, mostly) regale you with all the Memphis gossip you’ve missed. Apparently the young couple next door had a baby recently, another young couple in town just got married, and oh yes, Elvis came back fr—

“Mary Ann, you know I don’t like talkin’ about that boy!” your father exclaims, cutting your mother off.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, Walter,” your mother retorts, “It’s not as if we can pretend he doesn’t exist, not when he’s such a big part of this town…”

As you listen to your parents bicker, you decide that now might as well be as good a time as any to bring up your new friendship.

“Actually, Mama,” you interrupt their bickering, “I’m gonna try and meet up with Elvis while I’m in town this weekend…”

Your father’s expression flickers between confusion and anger at your words, while your mother’s morphs into one of delight.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, “Though I admit, I thought you’d’ve at least called to tell us you got back together—“

“Mama!” You cut her off, heat flooding your face, “We’re not back together, I promise,” you add with a glance over to your father. “He showed up at our place last week, we had a talk, and we’re gonna try to be friends again.”

“Well I’m glad to see the two of you are startin’ over, honey,” your mother says with a smile

“I still don’t trust that boy,” your father grumbles. “Just… be careful, alright?”

You nod, “Of course, you know I always am, Daddy.”

”When were you two planning on meeting up?” your mother asks.

You shrug, “We haven’t figured out the details yet. I was gonna call him today to sort everything out.”

”Well you should invite him over for dinner while you’re in town.” your mother suggests, with just a hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eye, ignoring your father’s clear alarm at the suggestion.

You groan. “Mama, no, he really doesn’t need to come for dinner—“

”Y/N L/N, inviting a friend over for dinner is a polite thing to do,” your mother scolds, “and in this house we are always…?”

“Polite and respectful,” you mumble, repeating the words that had been drilled into you in childhood.

She nods, satisfied. ”It’s settled then. You two will have your little meetup and then he can come over for dinner that night, or the next if it suits him.”

”Yes, Mama,” you say, resigned. “I’ll go call him now.”

You make your way over to the kitchen, dialing the number you’ve had memorized for over 12 years.

“Hello?” The same raspy voice comes over the receiver.

”Hey, it’s um, it’s me. Y/N.”

”Oh, hey. Um, how are ya?”

”I’m alright. I’m back in town now, and Mama’s bein’… well, Mama, so you can imagine.” you say with a soft laugh.

”Oh, I can imagine,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “How was the drive up?”

The two of you make small talk for a bit, slowly easing back into being a part of each other’s lives, and eventually you remember the reason you called. “Oh, yeah, by the way; I was calling to see if there was a day or time that worked for you as far as meeting up this weekend?”

”Oh, yeah.” You can hear some rustling on his end, and you assume he’s checking his schedule. “I’m actually free this afternoon around 1 if that works? Or tomorrow?”

You weren’t prepared to see him quite so soon, but you suppose now is better than putting it off until tomorrow. “This afternoon is perfect. You still like that diner on Beale Street, right?”

He hums an affirmative, and you smile, “Great, I’ll meet you there at 1, then.”

”I’ll see you then,” and the line clicks back to a dial tone.

You head back to the living room, entering to see your parents doing a wonderfully poor job of pretending as though they weren’t listening to your conversation. You roll your eyes.

”I assume you already heard, but Elvis and I are meeting for lunch at 1, just as friends, Mama,” you say pointedly, noting the beam on your mother’s face. “I’ll ask him about dinner then.”

Your father harrumphs, but mainly keeps silent, a firm frown on his face.

”That’s wonderful, honey,” your mother beams, “You’ve gotta get goin’ pretty soon then, huh?”

“Huh?” You glance over at the clock on the mantle and sure enough, it’s already 15 past noon and you still haven’t changed out of the outfit you wore for the 6-hour drive up to Memphis. You grab your suitcase and race to make yourself presentable, managing to change into a dress that seems nice enough for a lunch outing (but not too fancy), fix your windswept hair, and reapply your makeup in a cool 30 minutes before racing out the door.

Before you can make it out to the porch, though, your father stops you, calling your name as you’re about to step out the door. You turn, “Yes, Daddy?”

He has a solemn look on his face. “Just… be careful, darlin’. You know me, I hold grudges like no one else, and I admit I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you all those years ago. If you let him in, and he hurts you again somehow I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You step back into the room and envelop him in a hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not the same girl I was when I met him.” You add with a sad smile.

He squeezes your hand comfortingly, “I know you’ll be smart. If he does anything, you come right to me and I’ll sort him out, alright?” You nod and, satisfied, he kindly shoos you out the door with a soft “Go on, have fun.”

You pull up to the diner to find that Elvis is already there, if the deep purple Cadillac parked nearby is any indication.

He waves from a booth near the back as you enter, his bodyguards seated at a table nearby. You slide into the seat across from him, pushing down the butterflies that threaten to stir. It might’ve been a bad idea to choose the place you went on your first date, you realize belatedly, but too late now.

“How are you?” he asks with a casual smile.

“Pretty good,” you reply, “My parents have been updating me on all the Memphis gossip I’ve missed since I was away, very exciting stuff,” you say sarcastically. “Mama says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” he grins.

“Will do. Uh, how are you?” You say, trying to fall back into the rhythm of talking to him.

“I’m alright. There’s this big thing I’m gonna be workin’ on soon, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Oh, big thing?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“It’s a…” he pauses, looking around, “no one really knows about it yet, so you gotta promise not to tell anyone, alright?”

You nod, and he continues, leaning in to whisper, “You remember that special I told you about, the one that Steve and Bones are helpin’ me with? It’s gonna be a TV special for NBC. A Christmas show, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, it’ll have a couple of Christmas songs, but I really want it to be about finding myself again. Gettin’ back to the real Elvis.”

“Sounds exciting,” you reply, a genuine smile coming across your face at how excited he seems.

A starstruck waitress comes to take your order, and the conversation continues.

“So,” Elvis says, “how are you doin’ in Louisiana?”

“I actually really like it there,” you reply, smiling. “Annie’s great, obviously, and I found a job at a bookstore that I really love, things are goin’ pretty well. I do have the occasional grumpy customer, but that’s just how it is.” You finish with a shrug.

“Grumpy customer? Sounds like you’ve got some stories to tell,” he says, sounding genuinely interested, and you can’t help but launch into the story of a man who was sure that Stranger in a Strange Land was in the nonfiction section no matter how many times you tried to lead him over to science fiction.

You finally fall back into a rhythm of friendly conversation, trading stories for over an hour before you finally bring up what your mother had asked.

“Oh by the way,” you say, sipping your milkshake, “Mama wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Elvis nearly chokes on the fry he’s just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?”

“I told my parents that we were meeting up and she was adamant that I at the very least invite you to come over for dinner tomorrow— you know how she is about politeness—“ you explain, “but I promise, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I completely understand, I’d be more than happy to make up an excuse for you.”

“And refuse an invitation from Mrs. L/N? It’s like you want her to kill me,” he jokes. “I’d be more than happy to come,” he says, in a more sincere tone. “Besides, friends come over for dinner right?”

“Of course,” you say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, “and Mama’s very excited to see you, so be prepared for that.”

“I always am,” he replies with a smile.

You arrange for him to come over at 7 the next night, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly until the check arrives, which starts off a round of bickering between the two of you about who should pay.

“Please let me get this, I want this to be a start to making it up to you,” Elvis argues.

“I appreciate it but I’m perfectly capable of paying for lunch, thank you very much,” you retort, and this goes on for several minutes before the two of you eventually agree to split the check.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” Elvis says as you exit the diner, his bodyguards dutifully on alert as they follow you out.

“You, too.” You say. “I…” I didn’t realize just how much I missed you, is what you want to say, but instead, you go with “I had a good time.”

His face lights up as if those 5 little words were all he needed to brighten his day. He steps towards the Cadillac, throwing a friendly wave to you as he calls “See you tomorrow!”

You wave back, and you don’t realize how happy you are until your cheeks start to ache from smiling on the drive home.

The next day, your mother is practically frantic, bustling around the house making sure everything is perfect for when Elvis gets here.

“Mama, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever been here! And we’re just friends, please try to remember that.”

“Alright, alright, I know, honey. I just think it’s nice that you two are spending time together again, that’s—“

The doorbell rings, and your mother jumps into action, plucking microscopic bits of lint from your dress before hurrying to the door and opening it with a polite smile.

Elvis stands on your porch, bearing a polite smile and a bouquet of lilacs. “Hello, Mrs. L/N.”

“Hello, Elvis!” Your mother beams, “It’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought Y/N flowers, how sweet!” She looks pointedly at you.

Elvis lets out a nervous laugh as he steps into the house, “Actually, Mrs. L/N, these are for you. A birthday gift.” He holds out the bouquet to her with a shy smile, looking remarkably like the shy boy he had been back in ‘51 when you first became friends.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you dear. Wasn’t that kind of him, Walter?”

“Very kind,” your father grumbles in a tone that makes it seem as though Elvis had brought a pile of mud as a gift. He nods a greeting, “Hello, Elvis. California’s treatin’ you well, I hear.”

“Uh, yes, sir, it is. Thank you.” he replies.

When your father doesn’t respond, Elvis turns his attention to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you reply, resisting the urge to fuss with your dress.

The awkward silence that follows is broken as your mother ushers everyone to the dining room, arranged so she and your father are at the heads of the table while you and Elvis are sitting across from one another.

The meal begins, and the conversation that follows is strained but polite, with your mother eagerly asking questions about life in California and Hollywood and Elvis answering modestly then turning the conversation back to your family, remaining the picture of a Southern gentleman. The conversation remains polite apart from your father’s not-so-subtle grumbling about Elvis running off the California, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, he decides to bring up the rumors of Elvis’s womanizing.

“So, Elvis,” your father says casually, though his eyes remain calculating, “what’s all this I hear about you and… what’s that actress’s name, Ann-Margret? Or have you moved on to someone new by now?”

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure the mortification shows on your face as you hiss for your father to stop, please.

“Oh well sir, that’s really all just the tabloids tryin’ to get their stuff to sell, there’s no truth to that at all, I promise. Ann-Margret is a good friend of mine now, though.” Elvis answers politely, unfazed as your mother quietly scolds your father.

“Walter, quit it, you’re scarin’ the boy!”

“Well good, he should be scared after what he did to my little girl!”

“Dad!” you exclaim, mortified, “We talked about this! We’re friends now, you promised you’d be polite!”

“No, it’s alright, Y/N,” Elvis assures you, briefly breaking eye contact with your father to glance over at you, “He’s just lookin’ out for you like any father would, and I respect you for that, sir.”

Your father grunts a reply, and the conversation picks up again, still polite but even more strained than before.

Elvis remains as polite as ever, even offering to take care of the dishes — “Oh I can get those plates for ya, don’t you worry Mrs. L/N” — and despite your determination for a clean slate, your mind betrays you, reminding you of how shy and overly polite he was the first few times he was over for dinner, especially after the two of you first got together. Sure, he’s gotten a little more confident, which you’ll admit is kind of attractive, but— NO.

You firmly cut off that train of thought, no matter how badly that little voice in the back of your head (the one that practically melted at the sight of him at your door with a bouquet, reminiscent of your first date) wants to keep on track. Just friends, clean slate, you remind yourself.

After the dishes are done, your mother prepares coffee for everyone and the four of you head to the living room. At one point, Elvis gets up to get a refill, and your father follows him.

Your father approaches Elvis once it’s clear that neither you nor your mother will be getting up, and corners him.

“Now Elvis, I’m gonna try to be polite, because my daughter’s told me you two are tryin’ to be friends and I respect her wishes, but I don’t trust you after what you did to her. And if I get even a hint that you’re playin’ with her feelings, well… I’m afraid that won’t end well for ya, son.”

Elvis nods quickly, “Sir I promise you, I have no intentions of playing with your daughter’s feelings. She’s very dear to me, and I swear I’d do anything to make sure she’s happy.” He says, conviction clear in his eyes.

Your father eyes Elvis for several long moments and, apparently satisfied, returns to the living room with more coffee for you and your mother.

Elvis takes a breath to compose himself — he’s forgotten how scary your father could be when he wanted to — and exits the kitchen, re-entering as you’re laughing at some comment your mother made.

You turn as he enters with a wide smile on your face, and he’s suddenly slammed back to a time where you looked at him like that every time he entered a room— when you looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars just for you.

Fighting the urge to rush over and kiss you senseless — that’s not something a friend would do, he reminds himself — he moves to sit in the armchair across from you, turning his attention to whatever neighbor your mother is gossiping about tonight.

The night eventually winds to a close and Elvis thanks your parents profusely for “a wonderful meal and even better company.”

Your mother waves off the compliment modestly, “Oh it was nothin’ darling. We’ll be glad to have you back anytime. Y/N, why don’t you walk our guest out while we take care of these last few things?” she says, gesturing to the coffee mugs still sitting out.

Elvis gives one last wave to your parents, wishing them well, before stepping out to the porch with you.

“Well, my parents loved you,” you tease as the two of you make your way to the pink Cadillac looking more than slightly out of place in your modest gravel driveway.

He lets out a shy laugh, “They haven’t changed a bit, that’s for sure. Your daddy’s still as protective as ever.” His tone softens as he continues, “It was nice seein’ them again. ‘Specially your mama. She’s always been better to me than I deserve.”

Acting on impulse, you lean over and squeeze his hand as you remember his own mama isn’t waiting for him at home anymore. “You’re welcome over anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a near whisper. Your hand stays clasped with his, the warmth of him tempting you closer, and his gaze drifts slowly down to your lips before the two of you snap back to yourselves and create a respectable two feet of distance between you.

“Uh, anyway,” you attempt to continue the conversation, refusing to acknowledge that moment of… whatever that was, “Are you gonna be here for a while longer?”

He shakes his head, “I’m actually gonna be leaving for California again tomorrow.” he says almost apologetically, adding with a nod to the house, “But I’ll still be able to call ya for a bit, right?”

A frown crosses your face as you remember: “I’m actually headin’ back to Louisiana tomorrow. But,” you brighten, “I can give you my number for down there if you want?”

“I’d love that,” Elvis smiles.

You rummage around in your pockets for anything you can scribble on, producing some long-forgotten shopping list and a small pen. You scrawl your phone number down and hand it to him, determinedly not noticing the sparks you feel as your fingers brush.

“I’ll call ya every night,” he says as he stuffs it in his pocket, “I’ll need ya to keep me updated on all the Louisiana gossip, hm?”

A sad smile crosses your face at the memory of the last time he’d made a promise like that. Despite all your talk of a clean slate, you can’t help but remind him, “Let’s not make promises you can’t keep, Elvis.”

You give him one last wave, wish him goodnight, and walk back inside, his pleas of “What? No, Y/N, this ain’t gonna be like that!” falling on deaf ears.

You put on a brave face for your parents the next day, joking about what a coincidence it was that both you and Elvis happened to be leaving town on the same day, but behind closed doors, you’re unable to block the memories of the last time he had promised he’d call you every night: when he went along with the Colonel on Hank Snow’s tour.

1955

“I’ll be back in time for prom, darlin’, I promise,” Elvis reassures you over the phone. “I’ll bring you a corsage, we’ll have a great time.”

“Okay,” you reply, “I’m sorry, I know I must sound silly, but I’m just really lookin’ forward to going with you.”

“That’s not silly,” he assures you with a soft laugh, “I’m lookin’ forward to it, t—“ he cuts off, and you can barely make out what sounds like a knock on the door on his end of the line. “That’ll be Scotty again, no doubt.” he groans good-naturedly. There’s some shuffling as he makes his way over, yanking the door open with a “Scotty, how many times do I have to tell ya—“

“Elvis?” you say, concerned at how he cuts off mid-sentence, “Is everything alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, after which he stammers out a response.

“I, uh… I gotta go, I’ll call ya back, darlin’, alright?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before hanging up, but in the split second before it goes to a dial tone you can just make out a woman’s sultry voice over the receiver.

1968 - Present Day

He had still called after that, but not as frequently; certainly not every day like he promised. And while you forgave what happened on tour, you had never quite forgotten what him being away for a stretch of time could mean.

Still. Clean slate. Maybe this time could be different, you reasoned, though you were barely convincing yourself at this point.

You head back to Louisiana, promising your parents you’ll visit again soon and that you’ll give them a call as soon as you get home. You stumble through the door of your little house, exhausted after the 6-hour drive. Annie rushes over to hug you.

“Hey honey! Good to have ya home,” she grins, taking your suitcase from you, “I’ve got lunch for ya, you go sit down. I’ll put this in your room. And then I wanna hear all about how that li’l meetup went,” she adds with a wink, gently shoving you towards the kitchen while she heads down the hall.

You smile as you enter the kitchen to see a little card with the words “Welcome Home” in Annie’s signature scrawl next to a plate on the counter. You take a bite of the sandwich waiting for you — grilled cheese, Annie’s specialty — and finally allow yourself to relax. At that moment, Annie slides in with a mischievous grin, plopping herself down on the stool next to you.

“So…” she leads, a sparkle in her eye. “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, purposefully misinterpreting her question, “We took Mama out for dinner and I made her a cake—”

Annie cuts you off with a playful swat to your arm, “Not that! Elvis,” she says, dragging out the ‘s’ longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, “Fine! It was… fine. We met up for lunch at this old diner we used to go to, we talked… Mama had me invite him over for dinner, and he brought flowers for her” you say pointedly, noticing the gleam in her eyes. “It went well, all things considered. Daddy did have some things to say, he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for what he did, but Elvis was a real gentleman the whole time. He actually went back to California today, filming somethin’ for TV, but he said he wants to keep in touch.”

“That’s great, honey!” Annie squeals, “I’m glad y’all are doin’ well.”

You give a weak smile in return. “Yeah, he said he’s gonna call every day, but…”

“Oh…” Annie’s eyes soften in understanding, recalling what you had told her about your relationship before. “Y/N, I know it might be scary, but what if it’s different this time? What if he actually keeps his promise? He’s said he wants to work on trust with you again, right? This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove to you that he’s worth trusting. And if he doesn’t,” she adds in a lighter tone, “I’ll fly out to California and sock him right in his pretty face myself.”

“I know you will,” you laugh, “but you’re right, I’ll—“

You’re cut off as the phone rings, and you lock eyes with Annie. It can’t be him already, can it? No, it’s probably your parents calling to make sure you made it home safely, you reason as you move to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N,” the heavy drawl surprises you, and you nearly miss what Elvis says next, “I’m glad I caught you, I was callin’ a bit ago and got quite a tellin’ off from Annie sayin’ that you weren’t there yet.”

At that you turn to glare at Annie, who only gives you a smug, mischievous smirk in return.

“Yeah, I just got in maybe twenty minutes ago,” you reply, the shock slowly fading into a kind of warmth as his voice washes over you.

“How was the drive?”

“Long,” you say with a laugh, “I’m glad to be home now. How’s California?”

“‘S alright,” he replies, “I just got back from finalizing some stuff with Steve for filming tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” you recall your conversation from a few days ago, “The Christmas special, right? Or,” you correct yourself, “the not-entirely-Christmas special.”

“Exactly,” he laughs, “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”

“That’s good,” you smile, “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “But anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Well, Annie had one of her famous grilled cheeses waiting for me when I got here so I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Tomorrow’s an inventory day at work, though, not nearly as exciting as filming a special for NBC.”

He sucks in a breath in sympathy, “I remember you never liked those days. Good luck with that,” he says, “and I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make sure to tell you all about the boring parts of filming so ya don’t get too jealous, how ‘bout that?” he teases

“Sounds perfect,” you laugh.

You don’t even notice the time flying by as the conversation continues, the two of you talking about everything and nothing, and you fall into a rhythm of talking for hours every night. Slowly, the nagging fear you feel that today’s the day he won’t call starts to fade, and you look forward to your nightly chats where you fill him in on any interesting customers and he tells you about the goofs he made that day during filming.

“I’m not kiddin’, I legitimately forgot the words!” he laughs.

Your only reply is to laugh even harder at the image of him surrounded by cameras forgetting the words to Heartbreak Hotel.

“Alright, come on, it ain’t that funny,” he says in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, I promise it is,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, “I might need you to send me a copy or whatever of these goofs, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange that for ya…” he replies, his voice trailing off as he seemingly turns away from the receiver for some reason.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just someone at the door,” he assures you, “Gimme one second.”

There’s some shuffling as he makes his way to the door, and your surprise at the thought of him carrying the phone with him across the room turns into a sinking feeling in your stomach as you hear the squeak of a door open and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice. Your heart sinks as the memory of that day on his tour starts to play again in your mind, a cacophony of not again, I knew this would happen, I shouldn’t have trusted him filling your ears.

“-N? Y/N, you there?” You slowly blink back to reality as Elvis calls your name over the receiver, “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply hesitantly as he dives into an explanation about some crazy fan sneaking past security to his room. He pauses, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice.

“Y/N… you can talk to me, you know that, right? What’s wrong?” he says softly, and he sounds so genuine you want to cry.

“It’s… it’s silly…” you reply, embarrassed at the thought of telling him that that memory from all this years ago still haunts you.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to know if I can help,” he replies patiently.

You sigh, and launch into an explanation of that night back in ‘55. “You just hung up on me, and the last thing I heard was some woman’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much that hurt me until I started worrying about who you were with whenever you were gone for a long time.” You explain softly, nervously fiddling with the phone cord.

“So just now, when you heard that girl at my door…” he sighs, realization dawning on him, “that brought all that back, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, and the sincerity of his words does bring tears to your eyes this time.

“I’m alright, I promise,” you reassure him, “surprised you turned her down,” you tease, wanting to move on.

“I don’t do that kinda thing anymore,” he laughs, picking up on your attempt to move to another topic, “besides, why would I stop to talk to some stranger who thinks they know everything about me when I could talk to you?”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you hope he can’t tell how much you’re blushing over the phone, “Aw, you’re sweet.”

There’s a moment of silence; not an awkward one, but comfortable, like the two of you don’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just on the phone. The moment is cut short, however, as Elvis speaks up again.

“I was thinkin’— and you’re free to say no, of course— well, Steve’s organizing this screening of the special before it airs. Right now it’s just Steve, Bones, Dad, Jerry, and me, but I’d like you to be there, too. Maybe get an opinion from someone who’s not family or paid to be nice to me.” He jokes.

“I’d love to,” you reply, “I’ll have to see if I can get off work, but if I can I’ll absolutely be there. And don’t worry, I’ll be brutally honest about the whole thing,” you add teasingly.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He laughs, “I’ll call once Steve has the day arranged and hopefully you can make it.”

The date Steve apparently figures out is November 19, two weeks before the special is actually set to air. Elvis relays to you that he’s arranged to do the screening at Graceland, and luckily you manage to convince your boss to give you both that day and the following day off for the long drive. Your parents are delighted to see you, of course, and you just barely miss the knowing smile on your mother’s face as you gush about how well your friendship with Elvis is going. Your father has warmed up to him the slightest bit, it seems, since your visit back in June, if the fact that he doesn’t scowl at every mention of Elvis’s name is any indication.

You take a deep breath as you pull up to Graceland. You force down the surfacing memories from the last time you were here, when Elvis officially put his career before you. Clean. Slate. you forcefully remind yourself as you step up to the front door.

The door swings open barely half a second after you ring the doorbell, and you find Elvis standing there, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey.”

There’s a moment where the two of you simply stare at each other before he blinks, as if coming back to his senses, and steps aside to let you in. “Come on in, lemme introduce you to everybody,” he says, leading you to a room with not one, not two, but three TVs mounted into the wall, as one of his household staff comes to take your coat. 4 spaces on the immense couch taking up most of the space in the room are taken, one by his father and three others by people you don’t recognize. “This is Jerry, my manager,” Elvis says, gesturing to a man in a brown suit who looked to be in his late-20s with shaggy blondish hair, “and Steve and Bones, the masterminds behind this whole thing,” he introduces the two men sitting beside Jerry with a smile, one with neat brown hair and an ascot tied around his neck, the other with dark curly hair and round glasses. The three men give you various waves and smiles.

“And of course you know my dad,” Elvis finishes, gesturing to where he’s sitting next to Bones.

“Of course, hi Mr. Presley,” you say with a smile, coming over to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Y/N, how’ve ya been?” he asks as you take a seat next to him.

You’re hyperaware of Elvis sitting next to you as you make small talk with everyone, carefully leaning so that there’s a bit of distance between the two of you. As the screening begins, your attention is torn between the performance onscreen and real-life Elvis making jokes in your ear about “this is actually the take right after that goof I told you about—“ Your senses are full of him: the scent of his cologne, his arm brushing against yours, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he whispers to you, and it takes more and more of your energy to actually focus on the TVs in front of you.

About half an hour into the special, you excuse yourself and wander out to the hall, needing a break from the proximity. You don’t realize Elvis followed you out until his hand gently wraps around your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he explains, releasing you.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “just… needed a break.”

“It was that bad?” he jokes, “Damn, I’ll have to let Steve know.”

You shake your head, “No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” You hesitate, unsure if you should say what the real reason is. Your friendship is going so well, you’re not sure how he’ll react if you admit that your feelings for him were back in full force, that in truth they never really left.

“What is it?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I never really stopped being in love with you, if I’m being honest. But being with you these past few months, being your friend again… I’ve loved it. I’ve loved talking with you on the phone for hours about everything and nothing, seeing you talk with my parents like nothing’s changed, and I… I wanna try again. For real this time.” You bite your lip, nervously gauging his reaction.

“You— you mean that?” Elvis asks softly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you reply, “I mean it.”

“Y/N, I’d… I’d love that. I promise,” he says sincerely, “I’ll do it right this time. I’ll be the man you deserve.” He steps closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. “Can I—“ his eyes flick from looking into yours down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.” he breathes.

You nod your consent, and he swoops down to capture your lips with his, one hand cupping your cheek while the other grips your waist, pulling you close. Your arms wind around his neck up into his hair, mussing the carefully styled locks as you savor the feeling of his lips velvet-soft against yours. He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the wall, his lips never leaving yours as his body presses against you. Eventually the need for air gets the better of you, and he reluctantly pulls away, keeping his forehead and nose pressed to yours as if he can’t bear to be any farther away. His blue eyes lock with yours as you catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours, and the amount of love clear in those 5 little words brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, a smile spreading across your face.

The two of you stay like that for a while, pressed against the wall of the hallway, before Elvis mumbles “As much as I’d love to just stay here with you forever, we should probably get back before they notice we’re gone.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh sheepishly as you remember the reason you were there in the first place.

The two of you slip back into the TV room, your absence seemingly having gone unnoticed, and assume the spaces you had occupied before you left, with one small difference: your hand is intertwined with his throughout the rest of the screening.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis baz luhrmann #my writing #ickkspty #i can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you

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alovesongtheywrote · 7 months

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i feel like everyone's gonna be asking for this but i'm gonna need a nightmare academia part 912828277 if that's how long it'll take for those two to finally kiss

♥ Summary: will you settle for them very briefly holding hands? in this chapter of nightmare academia, reid and the reader shut down a party and lie to the police. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: the reader cries over the two-headed calf poem, spencer wants to throw himself out a window, the cops show up and. are cops. discussions of sex, drug use and alcohol consumption in passing, and i think that's it?

♥ A/N: ough, this is gonna be the last happy chapter for a while- but it isn't gonna be sad in the way you're expecting :/

♥ Word Count: 3341

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

So. You were right. Reid’s friends wanted you to fuck- and they weren’t the only ones. They weren’t the only ones by a long shot.

Since the first bet had been placed, the betting pool on whether or not you and Reid were doing it had only grown. There were more things to bet on now, too- who topped, who bottomed, whether the two of you used handcuffs from Reid’s FBI days, etc. Your students were degenerates.

Your co-workers were running their own bets. Professors Evans and Peters had a running bet on whether or not the whole affair was a friends with benefits thing. Other professors made a game of seeing how many times a day you and Reid would visit each other’s offices.

The head of the criminology department, Professor Belker, assumed the two of you had some sort of secret relationship- and she was generally fine with that. She just wished you and Reid wouldn’t cause so many disturbances about it.

About a week after the George Michael incident (which only ended after you and Reid got someone to smash the musical mechanism) you and Reid were called into Professor Belker’s office for a meeting about your behaviour.

The meeting took place later in the evening. Reid arrived fifteen minutes early. You arrived five minutes late. You were also crying.

Upon seeing you, your co-workers stood. Concern rose in Belker’s chest, but panic rose in Reid’s. You were crying. You shouldn’t be crying. Reid decided there and then that he didn’t like seeing you cry.

“Professor (L/N)? Is everything okay?” Belker asked as you took a seat next to Reid.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Professor Reid just put that one poem about the two-headed calf in my office.”

It had been a prank- just a prank to lower your mood. He knew that the poem would upset you, but it wasn’t supposed to do this. You weren’t supposed to cry-

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine in like-” you checked your wrist. When you noticed your lack of watch, you grabbed Reid’s wrist instead, “Five minutes.”

“Reid.”

Spencer had heard that tone before- it was the one Hotch used when he got a little too invested in cases, or when he acted out of line and spit hard facts at local cops.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-”

“Reid, it’s fine, I swear, I just-” you sniffed, “The cow is just a baby, you guys. As he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual. No matter how many times I read that damn thing, I always end up crying. I don’t know why.”

You were trying to be professional, but it was really hard. That poem is so fucking sad.

“Did- did you know that crying has a self-soothing effect? It activates your parasympathetic nervous system which helps you to relax-”

“Reid, please-” Belker held up a hand, to stop him, but you held up a hand to stop her.

“No,” you took a deep breath, “Let him talk, I brought this on myself. Besides, it’s helping.”

Spencer perked up at the instruction. He quickly looked to his superior for permission, but before could even begin to nod her consent, he was spouting off facts about tears in a way that only Spencer Reid could. He didn’t stop until there was a smile on your face.

He smiled back.

“Well, now that you’ve calmed down, can we move on to the true purpose of this meeting?” Belker raised her eyebrow. She had posed her words as a question, but you both knew that she was making a statement.

“Yes, we can, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just- maybe don’t read that poem during any classes.”

You tapped at your chair sheepishly, “Absolutely.”

Belker nodded at you and drew in a long, slow breath, “Now, I understand that the two of you have a… unique working relationship.”

She paused. In the space she left behind, you and Reid nodded.

“Now, this is fine. Whatever is going on between you is none of my business. As long as everything is reported to HR in an appropriate and timely manner, it doesn’t matter to me. With that said,” the woman leaned forward, eyebrows rising again, “I need to be sure that the two of you can work together- without disturbing the student body at large.”

“Of course we can, I apologize for previous inconveniences,” Reid kept his voice calm, though internally, he kinda wanted to fling himself out the window- it would spare him of any and all future embarrassment. It might also spare him from making you cry again.

“I apologize also- and I would like to make it known that I didn’t know the George Michael music wouldn’t stop. The mechanism was supposed to shut off once the cabinet closed, I don’t know what-”

Belker gave you a look that stopped you in your tracks.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just as long as the two of you can-”

Then, from the distance- a funky pop beat cut off the distinguished professor halfway through her sentence. The song was loud enough to make you jump, but quiet enough that you couldn't quite make out what it was.

Belker rose from her desk and turned her gaze to the window, glaring off into the night. You followed her gaze. There, standing out in the middle of the darkened campus, was a rainbow glow of light. It radiated out from one of the frat buildings. If you focused, you could hear the cheers of drunk students echoing off the various buildings and into the dark.

You expected Belker to give an exhausted sigh, or to roll her eyes at the nature of college kids, but when she turned, a smile lit up her face.

“This is the perfect opportunity. (L/N), Reid, I want you to take care of this.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, tilting your head. Belker ignored your question.

“Professor Reid, you have a history with law enforcement, yes?”

Spencer nodded, not saying a word. Belker’s smile grew, reaching her eyes and setting tiny fires inside them- or maybe that was just the reflection of the lights outside.

“Perfect. If the two of you can take care of this without incident, then I’ll know for sure that the two of you can work together, and no one will have to be moved to a different department.”

“Was that on the table?”

“Don’t mind that now. Just go deal with this before someone in the neighbourhood calls the police.”

It was a valid concern. You stood quickly, giving your superior a two-fingered salute. Reid followed behind you with less enthusiasm. Once the two of you were out of her office, Belker grinned to herself. Was this whole thing an effort to make you and Reid go out to a place that was not college? Perhaps. Whether or not it was, that was something she would keep to herself.

You and Reid wandered through the darkened campus side by side, heading to the rainbow-coloured lights of the frat house. Honestly, they were pretty hard to miss- and even if you had, you could always follow the sound. Music blared, echoing in the air with the excited shouts of students. You still couldn’t make out the song’s lyrics. At that point, you were pretty sure they were Swedish.

In opposition to the noise of the party, you, Spencer, and the rest of the campus were mostly silent. Your footsteps echoed off the various buildings. The pavement before you was illuminated by shitty outdoor lights, the rainbow light from the frat house, and the few classroom windows that remained lit at this hour.

Your tears had long since dried, but your skin still felt a little tacky in the light evening breeze. Beside you, Reid’s gaze was glued to the ground. He had been silent since he made his apology, and you were mostly fine with that. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to talk about.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Apparently, you were wrong. “Hey, don’t mention it. You fixed me, remember?” you gently rammed your shoulder against his, “All your crying facts made things better. Besides, I’m gonna get you back for it. That’s a promise.”

“Good.”

When you turned to face him, he had a small smile on his face. You counted that as a success. You shifted your gaze back to the pavement in front of you, walking with an extra spring in your step.

“Do you think Belker was serious about making one of us change departments?” he asked.

“Probably not. But if she was, you don’t have to worry. I’m the one that would have to move.”

“Oh?” Spencer raised an eyebrow. He knew about your degrees. He knew you were a good professor. He just didn’t know why you were so confident that you would be the one to switch departments.

“Mhmm. You have how many years of experience in law enforcement? A million? Two million?”

“Hey, I’m not that old-”

“You dress like you’re that old. Seriously. I can imagine you teaching dinosaurs about the concept of psychopathy. I’m sure they’d all come away much smarter.”

Reid paused before letting out a very confused, “Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments before Reid turned to face you again, “For what it’s worth, you could teach anything. You could teach the phone book and your students would learn something.”

“So could you. Quick, give me a fact about the phone book.”

He didn’t even hesitate, “The first phone book was published in 1878- hey, wait-”

“See? Honestly, if they let you, you could probably do both our jobs and teach a course about the phone book.”

“I doubt that. Besides, if anyone were to teach a course about a book, wouldn’t it be the person with a doctorate in English?”

“Don’t accuse me of being literate. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of dumb. I got into teaching by mistake. Honestly, I kind of got my doctorates by mistake. So if one of us is going to teach a course about a phone book-”

“Wait, what do you mean you got them by mistake?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really- it didn’t feel like I put in the same amount of effort as everyone else. It just kind of happened to me,” you stopped walking, “Anyway. Here’s the source of the noise.”

On your left, the frat house stood in all its rainbow glory. Spencer was so invested in your conversation that he had almost missed it.

“So,” you leaned towards him slightly, just to make sure he could hear you, “How do you want to do this?”

“Should we find someone and ask them to turn the music down?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “You can try that. I’m just gonna turn the music down myself.”

Before he could stop you, you had already disappeared, vanishing behind the massive doors of the house and leaving Spencer alone and out of his element. He wasn’t alone for long. About two minutes after you left, a chant rose from inside the house. At first, he couldn’t quite make it out, but then he heard it clearly-

The second you got inside, you felt the overstimulation starting to creep in. There were bodies everywhere. The stench of alcohol and weed hung in the air like a cloud of smog. It was bright- far too bright, and the strobe effect that the lights took on was almost enough to trigger an epilepsy attack. The music was deafening, but you could somehow hear snippets of conversation over it as you wandered through the house.

“Oh, they’re totally fucking.”

“Hey man, pass the chips!”

“WHERE IS MY BOOOONG?”

“Don’t speculate on them, they’re your professors!” that was Opal’s voice.

“Let’s stay in the building. It’s too fuckin cold outside.”

“It’s fall. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, man. The elf subplot in those books is so fucking weird.”

“Dude, you wouldn’t even have to pay me to fuck him. Professor Sexy is just that- Professor Sexy.”

“He looks like a long Victorian child, dying from the plague.”

(Technically, if he were Victorian, it would be tuberculosis. You kept the thought internal and continued to search for the speakers.)

“Dude, I got pulled over the other day and I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. Why? Oh, you already know why.”

“Fuck the police!”

The sound was small- and it was so loud in the room that you assumed if you repeated it, no one would hear you. Your opinion would be lost among a thousand screaming voices.

So, you said it.

“Fuck the police.”

Within seconds, the house devolved into chaos. Kids were standing on tables and couches, doing the worm and grinding on each other, all while yelling, “Fuck the police.”

By the time you found the speakers, you were laughing too hard to properly turn the music down.

So at first, you turned it up.

Outside, Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. This had to be your payback- your revenge for him making you cry. Honestly, he wasn’t even upset. Just impressed. Then he heard the sirens. Blue and red lights flashed against the house, against the other buildings on and around the campus. Someone had called the police.

Students swarmed out of the building, running across the campus and back to their dorms with bongs, beers, and snacks in hand, all while chanting, “Fuck the police.”

Spencer didn’t see your face among the crowd. As the officers stepped out of their cruiser, their faces red with emotion at the chant, Spencer darted into the house. He slipped between students, searching the faces that passed him for you.

He used his height to his advantage. It helped.

When he found you, you were slumped over a speaker, cackling so hard that you couldn’t stand straight. Your face lit up when you saw him. Spencer could feel something warm fill his chest, and he tried very hard to kill it, just as you tried very hard to school your expression back to something less luminous.

You both failed.

“Are you hearing this Reid? I didn’t even plan it, they just started saying, ‘Fuck the police.’”

“That’s great, that’s so cool, the cops are here.”

In less than a second, the smile dropped from your face. When you spoke again, the joy had been stripped from your voice. You sounded terrified.

“What?”Without another word, Reid grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside. There, you watched as the police tried their very best to stop any students they could. They didn’t manage to catch many- they did, however, manage to grab Opal.

You watched as one of the cops grabbed her arm, her face screwing up in a wince at his grip. Her braids flew out behind her as the officer pulled her closer. You jumped down the stairs, practically running towards your student. Without a word, Spencer followed you.

The cop saw you coming. Opal saw you, too. He let her go, and she ran towards you, stopping a few feet ahead.

“Are you okay?” you asked, just brushing the top of her shoulder with your fingertips in an effort to keep her steady, “Is everything okay? Can you get back to your dorm safely?”

She nodded at you, quickly reaching up to pat your hand.

“Okay, go. Don’t be afraid to call campus security.”

Like a flash, the girl was off, racing towards her dorm. When you turned back, Reid was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, pulling your arms across your chest protectively.

“It’s nothing.”

The cop- the one who had grabbed Opal so harshly- did not agree with that statement.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? I could bring you in on obstruction of justice!”

“Shutting down this party,” you answered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Responding to a noise complaint,” the officer spoke to you like you were stupid, “I was going to apprehend that subject for questioning. Can you not smell the illicit substances?”

“Okay, well, she’s gone now. And the source of the noise has clearly gone silent. The party has dispersed, so it looks like you won’t have to apprehend anyone.”

You were right. The campus had gone dead silent. Someone had shut off the lights, too, leaving you, Reid, and the cops with only the shitty campus lights and the blue and red glow from the police cruiser.

Still, the cop glared at you, “And what do you know about police work?”

“Well, y’know. I just have doctorates in criminology and law. No big deal.”

The man looked you up and down, clearly judging you, “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Why is that?” Reid stepped forward, putting himself between you and the officer, “Dr. (L/N) is well respected in their field. They’ve written numerous in-depth papers on the benefits and downsides of various policing policies and criminal justice strategies. Their conclusions are always brilliant, and your field would improve if officers like you would bother to examine their research.”

A blush crept onto your face as you listened to Reid. Did he really think so highly of you? Of your work?

“If you ask me,” the cop spoke again, “All you academics are a bunch of useless degenerates. I have half a mind to-!”

“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE THAT FBI GUY!!” the cop’s partner cut him off, “You were on the team that took down The Silencer!! And the Seattle Strangler!! Oh, I have so many questions.”

Beside you, Reid noticeably tensed up in discomfort. Without thinking about it too much, you grabbed his hand.

“Unfortunately, Dr. FBI guy is currently suffering from a bout of retrograde amnesia- sadly, he remembers nothing from his FBI days. If you want your questions answered, I recommend contacting Derek Morgan, he’s lovely to criminal justice students!”

You pulled Reid away before either cop could respond to your final cry of, “Have a nice night!”

Neither you nor Spencer realized you were still holding hands until you reached the main building. Until then, his long fingers sat intertwined with yours like they belonged there.

Your face burned as you pulled away from him. In the quiet of the atrium, you both fell silent. The only sound was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above.

“I fucking hate fluorescent lights,” you weren’t sure why you said it. It really came out of nowhere, and you were just starting to regret it when-

“Really? So do I. That's why I can’t stand hospitals.”

“Oh, I get that.”

The two of you smiled. You had probably agreed on things before, but for some reason, this felt like the first time.

“Hey, thanks for having my back earlier,” you crossed your arms and swayed back and forward slightly.

“Ah, it’s no problem. I meant it.”

Heat rose to your face again, but before you could ask him if he really did mean it, he was speaking again.

“Thanks for getting us out of there when you did. I’m not in the mood to answer questions about grisly murders right now.”

“Damn it,” you grinned, “I was just going to ask about the worst cases you’ve seen. Oh well, I’ll leave it for another night.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice.” “My sacrifice? It’s basic decency, Spencer.”

The smile on his face matched yours.

Meanwhile, back at Quantico, Penelope Garcia was not smiling. In fact, she was grimacing. She had accidentally gazed upon some gorey case details and it had kind of ruined her night- at least, it had until she saw just where the murders had taken place.

She dialled a number into her phone- Morgan picked up on the first ring.

“What’s up, baby girl? Do we have a case?”

“We do! And you’ll never guess where.”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

Note

Tenoch is making a new movie and is crushing on his co-star. Just moments of them flirting and getting close and Tenoch showing his cute side and his AguaPapi side. I'm okay with a little smut too. Thank you !

I love it, thank you.

Summary: 8 cute moments between Tenoch and his co-star and 1 spicy moment between the sheets.

FLUFF AND SMUT this is a long one

The Meet Cute

The table read is where you met each other.

Of course you had heard of each other. You knew of him because he was Namor, I mean come on who didn't know about Agua Papi. He knew about you because he made sure to look you up. Tenoch was considerate and never wanted anyone to feel like they were lesser just because they had less experience. He was surprised to find that you had some amazing credits in international productions that he had been meaning to watch. So when he did, and he was able to really know more about you professionally, he developed a little bit of a crush.

As the two leads of this venture you were sat next to each other for the table read and you noticed that, even after the initial introductions, Tenoch kept glancing at you.

You nudged him as the director spoke, and then whispered to him, "Is there something on my face? Why do you keep looking at me?"

He leaned over to whisper in your ear while still looking at your director, "I'm just wondering how I'm going to concentrate on these scenes when they got me such a beautiful wife to act against."

You gaped at him and then kicked him in the shin under the table. He jumped but still smirked at you, winking as he did.

"Tenoch, y/n, is everything ok?" The director asked,

"Things are perfect," The way Tenoch said it sounded like a purr and you hated that you thought it was cute.

You leaned over once everyone was back to listening to the director, "You're gonna be a menace aren't you?"

"And we are going to have a lot of fun together," Tenoch replied, looking into your eyes and holding your gaze until you had to look away. You covered your blushing face with the script while you tried to cool down. Tenoch sat next to you shaking from the laughs he was holding in.

This was going to be interesting.

Fight Rehearsal

" Aye pinche a la verga wey!"

"Honestly, Tenoch, I expected more from you," You taunted as the Latino man picked himself up off the mat.

"We are only supposed to be sparring!" Tenoch growled, throwing his spear to the ground, "No quiero hacer esto contigo, perra!"

"Aw, ok ok, I'm sorry. I just got excited. I've never been able to pull that move off with the stunt men and when I realized it was working I went full force. I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay?" You rushed up to Tenoch who had his arms crossed against his chest. You gripped his wrists trying to get him to loosen up. "I'm really sorry."

You had both been in physical training for months and had moved on to fight choreography and rehearsal. While it was fun most of the time, it hurt Tenoch's ego a little bit that you were much better at it than he was. Not that he wasn't trying but you grew up learning three forms of martial arts so you had an advantage.

You hugged Tenoch around the middle since he was so much taller than you and spoke to him even though your voice was muffled against his shirt, "I'll let you flip me into the foam pool in the big rec center if you keep practicing with me today."

"Aye, cabrona," Tenoch sighed and hugged you back, "let me throw you twice and we have a deal."

You pulled back and stared at him. You locked eyes trying to intimidate each other then you conceded, "Alright, twice."

You stuck your hand out for a hand shake and Tenoch took it and sealed the deal.

"You're lucky you're cute, hermosa, or I would have left," Tenoch called to you as he drank some water from his bottle near the training room mirrors.

You were across the room picking up your notebook to look up another scene. You glanced at him, "You're lucky you're handsome or I wouldn't be going easy on you."

"No mames," Tenoch yelled and gave chase. He grabbed you from behind and lifted you by your waist. Then got you in a head lock once he put you down. You were both laughing as you wrestled.

Gym Buddies

"Come on chiquita, one more rep," Tenoch encouraged you as you dropped into your last squat. You huffed and strained loudly.

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Just one more," Tenoch was spotting you as you forced yourself to stand one more time. Once the barbell was racked and the weight was off your shoulders you collapsed onto your butt.

Tenoch looked down at you amused then told you to scoot over so he could add his weights for his own set. You had decided to work out together today and you were regretting it. The man was encouraging but pushy when it came to weight lifting. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be sore as hell the next day.

"What happened to the tough, pendeja who keeps beating my ass on the mats every week?" Tenoch teased as he lifted you on to a nearby bench so that you weren't in the way of the squat rack.

"I am a cardio person Tenoch. This lifting weights stuff is not my happy place. I'm going to be so fucking sore and it's your fault." You complained as you gulped down some water.

"This is a good sore though," Tenoch said as he hit his set of squats.

"I can think of a better sore," You mumbled to yourself.

Tenoch racked the barbell and leaned over you with one hand on each side of you, spanning the width of the bench. God he had big hands. You looked up and his face was only inches away from you. He was breathing heavily from doing the squats and you could feel his hot breath barely blowing across your lip. You instinctively licked your lips which caught the actor's eye. "What kind of sore would that be?"

You stuttered, "T-the kind where my legs are sore from kicking you around."

"These legs?" Tenoch asked as he knelt in front of you and grasped your left thigh with both hands. He locked eyes with you as he started to massage your thigh then stretched out your leg.

Your heart raced at the feel of his hands on you. Then he bit his lip right before he made a fist and ran it firmly on the back of your thigh from your butt to your knee. "FUCK!"

It hurt like a bitch but Tenoch held your leg in place and repeated the gesture to your whole thigh, "Stop moving. This will help with the soreness."

"That fucking hurts!" Tenoch ignored you as he finished with one leg and held you down so he could grab the other leg, giving it the same treatment. Once he was done you smacked him hard across the chest, "Pendejo!"

He was laughing as he sat back, "It feels better now, right?"

You paused and wiggled on your seat realizing the tension in your legs had loosened. You looked down at your hands and quietly thanked him. He was standing now, having grabbed his things. Tilting your face up to look at him he spoke softly, "I promise the only type of sore I'll make you is the good kind of sore."

Tenoch smiled down at you before releasing your chin and heading for the lockers, "Goodnight hermosa, I'll see you next week when we start filming."

You watched his back as he left you there. He pulled off his shirt right as he made it to the locker room entrance way and you couldn't help but gasp at how good his back muscles looked right after a full body work out. You could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

Someone got sick

"Hey Nochie!" You called as you barged into his temporary apartment. You juggled the groceries you had as you made your way to the kitchen and started unloading your haul.

Tenoch stumbled in looking like death wrapped in a bathrobe and little else. His eyes were a little puffy, he had wadded up tissues in his hands, and he was sweating slightly.

You sprayed a little disinfectant at him, "No one told you to leave the bedroom. Go back in there or I'll spray this directly on you."

"Don't be mean," from the sound of his voice you could tell he had been coughing and his nose was stuffed up. He waddled back down the hall way and you heard the telltale 'whap' as he threw himself onto the bed.

The idiot had gotten a cold. Unfortunately, his assistant wasn't much help as he was a young newbie and a man. You got to work preparing the new humidifier that was delivered and placed by the door. Once that was set up in Tenoch's bedroom you returned to the kitchen to make some soup.

You knew that Tenoch was a fan of spice but even you were a bit hesitant to use as much as the recipe called for. But your Indian friend had insisted that the spice was necessary and would burn the illness out of the actor in no time. If you hadn't experienced it yourself, you probably wouldn't have believed her. Now here you were making a home remedy for the Mexican actor.

After a week of being sick and missing your first shoots together, you were fed up. Once you realized that his assistants were useless in the realm of caring for a whiney man with the a cold you decided you had to intervene. Plus you had started to miss the man.

With some texts and coordination with his assistants you were given a key and the go ahead to help him and try not to get sick yourself. You slaved over a hot stove for an hour before the soup was ready and the steam of it was making your eyes water.

You scooped some of the steaming soup and placed it in a bowl on a tray. You pulled out some of the cold medicine that was sitting on the counter along with a bottle of water. Carefully, you took the tray in to Tenoch's room, where he was sleeping soundly. His breathing wasn't as labored, which told you that the humidifier was working. You placed the tray on a small table and went to wake him.

"Nochie, time to eat." You shook his shoulder gently and he slowly opened his eyes. You helped him sit up and handed him the tissue box on his bedside table so he could blow his nose.

"That humidifier really helped. I haven't been able to sleep like that in days," He looked at you with a soft smile on his face.

"I made you some soup. It's a friends old family recipe. It's spicy but it always did the trick whenever I would get sick during tech week in college," You explained as you set the tray on his lap.

He watched you as made sure the tray was stable and the medicine was out of it's blister packet. When you looked up you couldn't help but blush at the softness he was emanating.

"Eat this and then take your medicine, " You commanded as you started randomly tidying up his room. Before you could move too far away from the bed he grabbed your wrist.

"Thank you for doing this. I really appreciate you coming to take care of me," He said earnestly.

You shifted your wrist and took his hand, "You won't be so grateful once you try that soup."

That made you both laugh.

"But seriously it's not just hot temperature-wise. There's enough spice in there to fill a taco truck," You gestured to the bowl.

"Sounds delicious," Tenoch said as he picked up the bowl with both hands and took a big gulp. Immediately he started coughing. You deftly took the bowl away from him so he wouldn't spill.

"I told you!" You exclaimed. Tenoch grabbed the water bottle and drank from it hungrily.

Once he had recovered he gestured for the bowl again and you hesitated before gently handing it to him. This time he took a much smaller sip and made a soft noise of approval, "It burns so good."

"Don't make that face when you say that, you look like a psycho," You went around cleaning up some tissues and clothes strewn about as the actor slowly ate his soup, "Trust me it may burn good now, but you'll hate it when it burns coming out."

Tenoch whipped his head up and looked at you with wide eyes.

"Don't worry, your cold will get burned away too. The hour or so on the toilet will be worth it. Anyway, I'm gonna head out. Good luck, handsome." You couldn't help but cackle loudly as you left the actor alone.

Hours later

TH: I hate you

YN: You love me

TH: I'm dying.

YN: Can you finally breathe through your nose and mouth at the same time?"

TH: ...yes.

YN: You're welcome.

TH: <3

Filming together for the first time

Due to Tenoch's cold the entire filming schedule got so turned around that it was 2 months after filming had started that you finally had your first scene together.

Although you had rehearsed fights and other scenes together, this was the first time you were seeing each other in full costume and makeup. It was quite honestly intimidating how good the actor looked in a well fitting suit and perfectly trimmed hair.

"Oh ho, look at you. Aye que bonita. Who knew you could clean up so good?" Tenoch said taking your hand and making you do a little twirl.

"Don't pretend like you haven't thought I was stunning since the moment you met me," You teased as you struck an exaggerated seductive pose.

"The color suits you, hermosa," he kissed your cheek in greeting and you did the same to him. The crew was still putting the finishing touches on the scene and directing the extras. It was a party where the two characters had agreed to meet for a covert deal. It was extravagant.

"Thank you, Tenoch. As always you look handsome as ever in that suit. No wonder they call you Agua Papi," You teased knowing that he always got flustered when you brought up the fans' nickname for him.

"Aye mujer, stop calling me that," as expected the actor was blushing.

You leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Don't pretend you don't like it. Every guy likes being called 'papi'."

He grasped your waist and stopped you from leaving his side, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, "I prefer it in private."

A shiver ran down your spine right between your legs as you looked into his eyes. You both glanced at each others lips. You chuckled, "Save it for the camera or your fan girls might try and poison my water."

You gestured to some of the extras that were staring at the two of you across the room. Two in particular were glaring daggers in your direction but it didn't bother you. The director called for 'places' and you went your separate ways.

Acting together was electrifying. Your chemistry seemed like second nature. Even when you both decided to move the scene in a different direction it was seamless. Everyone on set could feel it. That this was a dynamic duo in the making. Having an actor vibe with you so well was a rare gift and you enjoyed every minute of it. There was a challenge there as well as trust that gave you the confidence to explore versions of the scene that you hadn't thought of during rehearsal.

Tenoch felt the same way. Acting with you was fun and natural. For every cross he made you had a counter-cross. For every push there was a pull. It was energizing. When you had practiced together it was peaking through, but once you were both fully committed to the scene, in character, in front of the camera where it mattered most, you both thrived.

When the shoot ended for the day, Tenoch impulsively hugged you and kissed the crown of your head, "Mi compañera! This is going to be an amazing shoot."

You laughed at his exuberance and returned the hug, "You felt it too, huh?"

"Electricity! You're like my soul mate. Oscars here we come!" Tenoch cheered as you both made your way out of the studio arm in arm. You didn't want to think too much about how Tenoch calling you his soul mate had made your heart skip a beat.

Kissing Practice

You were pacing back and forth in one of the waiting rooms of the studio. You were incredibly nervous for a very stupid reason. Today you would be filming the first kissing scene. Not only was it the first kissing scene of this film but it was also the first kissing scene you had ever been asked to film.

That is how Tenoch found you. Pacing a path into the floor as you worried about your upcoming scene. "Que pasa mujer?"

You stopped in your tracks and looked at the actor. He was dressed in fitted black slacks and a satin button down that was only half way buttoned, showing off his sculpted chest. His sleeves were rolled up , exposing his strong forearms and the fake tattoos they had put on to them. You blushed, thinking about the scene and how you were supposed to throw yourself at him.

"Hi Tenoch," You replied nervously, not able to meet his eyes.

Tenoch tilted his head in confusion, "Que chingados? Quien eres? Who are you and what have you done to my co-star?"

"Oh shut up," You shot back as you continued your pacing.

Tenoch followed your path, watching you, "Why do you look nervous? You never look nervous."

You turned on him, "I'm allowed to be nervous!"

"Of course you are but why are you that way?"

You sighed, running hand through your hair while fidgeting with your skirt's hem. "I've never shot a kissing scene before."

"Ah, okay. What can I do to help?" Tenoch asked sincerely.

"Wait, you're not gonna make some joke about it?" You looked up at him.

"Of course not. I remember how nervous I was the first time I had to kiss someone on screen. Kissing is nothing in real life. It's natural, you don't have to worry about if you bump noses or close your eyes too soon, or purse your lips too much. But you can see all of that on screen. It's intimidating," he explained.

"Oh god, you can purse your lips too much? I hadn't thought of that," Your mind was racing with what else you could have missed.

"Oh mierda. Come here," he guided you to a chair and sat you down. "Calmate. Stop worrying. We can plan it right now ok."

"Plan it?"

"Yes. Like who tilts right and who tilts left, where our hands go, what kind of kiss it is. We can figure it all now and even practice if you want. It's just a scene like all the others. We can rehearse it." Tenoch took your hand and squeezed it.

"Really?"

He looked down at your face and realized just how vulnerable you felt in this moment. You had been confident the entire shoot until now. Reliable and trusted by everyone. You didn't want to disappoint anyone. He stood and pulled you to your feet, "Yes, really. So stand here and I will stand in front of you. I know in this scene you're supposed to jump into my arms. But we will get to the jumping later. Relax first."

You shook out your arms and slowed your breathing down.

"So obviously you jump into my arms so I will immediately wrap them around your waist," Tenoch did just that, your chest pressed together. Damn he smelled good.

"Thank you, you smell amazing too. But focus," Tenoch chided with a cheeky grin. You blushed red not realizing you had said your thought out loud. "Alright now you're in my arms. Obviously since you jump you will be more at eye level with me so let me lift you up, wrap your legs around my waist while we figure out the rest."

You followed his command and tried not to let your thoughts fly directly into the gutter at the position you were in. His arms felt strong around your waist, and you could feel how firm his muscles were as you wrapped your legs around him and, in turn, wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Alright did you want to keep your arms around my neck, or did you want to grab my face?" Tenoch asked like it was a normal every day question.

"Uh neck is good, especially if I'm throwing myself at you. If I try to grab your face I might poke your eye out." You explained finally getting yourself to think about the scene.

"Good call. Alright so I would suggest that we tilt right side respectively. And we keep that angle no matter which camera angle they use, for consistency," You followed his directions and tilted your head to the right and he did the same on his side. Your lips were millimeters apart. "Ok see that will eliminate any nose bumping. Now what kind of kiss?"

"Well it's a passionate one. She's giving into her attraction after putting it off and it's her way of asking for comfort," You replied, really digging into the context of the scene.

"Alright so passionate as in open mouthed, tongue, full on devouring?" Tenoch asked, rubbing your back slightly.

"I think open mouthed, with a little tongue at the end. Since he would be surprised at first and then realize what is happening and reciprocate," You reasoned.

Tenoch smiled and let you down on to your feet, "That sounds perfect. So are you ready to practice?"

"Right now?"

"Yes. Look we have figured out the logistics but if the first time we kiss is when the cameras are rolling it may turn out awkward. It's also your first kissing scene and I know you want to do well. " Tenoch told you.

"Right, ok. So, um, I just run at you and do it?" You were nervous again.

"No," Tenoch had found a spot across the room and had his arms folded. His demeanor was shifting from the helpful senior actor to his debonair character, "Get into character. The last three lines before the kiss then run."

In the blink of an eye Tenoch was gone and he was replaced by his character. The way he held himself changed, his expression, the twinkle in his eye, everything was different.

The electrifying feeling of acting against someone so skilled returned. You walked across the room towards him and with each stop you melted into your character.

"Quit looking so damn smug."

You clenched your fists in frustration as he smirked at you.

"You think you know everything but you know nothing,"

He looked away, uninterested. But damn did he look good.

"Look at me."

He turned back to you with a cocked eyebrow and made a dismissive 'hmph' noise. Then you ran the rest of the way into his arms, and your lips found his.

Tenoch hesitated as your lips moved against his and his arms wrapped around your waist. You were flush against each other. He finally started to reciprocate and you felt yourself melt. You moaned into the kiss and almost pulled away when you realized but Tenoch turned and pressed you against the wall, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Reluctantly you both pulled away. Tenoch was towering over you with his arms against the wall, caging you in between. You both were out of breath, eyes dilated, and slowly coming back to earth.

Tenoch cough and took a few steps back from you, "Um that was good. You're ready for the shoot I think. I-I'll see you later."

Then he was out the door leaving you flustered and wanting more.

Last day of shooting

The tension between you and Tenoch had been building ever since that first kiss practice. You both only really saw each other on the days you were shooting scenes together. The production had been asked to speed up to make a certain date so you were all swamped and working constantly.

The tension worked well with your characters and as always you acted well together. While on set you both were very aware of each other. Still joking and flirting but there was an undercurrent of desire beneath it all. Every kissing scene felt a little to needy and desperate to the both of you. The few moments you were alone together you didn't speak much. Instead you both would catch the other staring, it was obvious that the attraction was becoming unbearable.

It was the last day of filming and everyone was saying their good byes. Unfortunately, you couldn't find Tenoch anywhere. You considered texting him, but you were already overthinking and overanalyzing. What if the attraction was something you made up in your head? What if he was avoiding you because he could tell you were infatuated? What if he had actually left without saying goodbye? You knew you would probably see him on the press tour, but that was months from now.

You walked dejectedly to your car in the studio parking lot. You had told your manager to go on without you, after all you were on vacation for the next three weeks. When you turned the corner to where you knew your car was, you were surprised to find Tenoch parked next to your SUV, standing between the two cars with his hands in his pockets.

"Tenoch? What are you doing?"

"Aye chingada madre. Took you long enough. Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for you," Tenoch was startled by your sudden presence.

You walked up to him and immediately began smacking his shoulder, "I thought you left without saying good bye you bastard!"

"Hey! Hey, stop it." He grabbed you by the wrists, "Why the hell do you think I would do that?"

"I don't know," You replied softly.

Tenoch cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes. "I can't leave without asking this hermosa to let me take her out on a date."

"You wanna go on a date?" Your eyes widened in surprise.

"That's what I just said," he was smiling his most charming smile.

"I'd love to," You returned his smile ten fold.

The date

Tenoch had insisted on waiting until you were both in Mexico to have the date. One, because his flight was already booked, and two because he wanted to cook for you.

So two weeks later, you found yourself in Tenoch's house, in a pretty sundress, drinking a margarita as the man in question cooked for you. He was preparing four or five dishes and was entertaining you immensely with his running commentary.

"A man who cannot cook is a man who will never find love. That is what my mother always said so I made sure to learn how to cook," Tenoch recounted to you.

"It all smells amazing, but please don't make it too spicy. You know I'm a baby when it comes to spicy food," You commented as you leaned over the counter to look over the dishes he was plating.

"Yes, for the baby I have cut the spice level to 50 percent. Scouts honor," he leaned forward and kissed the corner of your lips.

"I don't think you were ever a scout. Do they have scout's in Mexico?" You asked as he circled the counter and started setting the table.

"Of course we have scouts. But of course I was never a scout," he winked at you as he pulled out your chair, then poured you both a glass of wine.

"First a margarita, and now wine? Are you trying to get me drunk?" You teased him,

"Drinking is a time honored Mexican tradition, hermosa, it's part of my culture," He took his seat and started serving you portions of food.

You couldn't help but laugh. He was so charming and looked so handsome, and he could cook. You thanked whatever gods brought you here.

"Cuisine a la Mejia, now being served. Enjoy!" And you both did.

You insisted on helping him wash up after spending two hours talking and eating and sharing everything you could about each other. In between all that casual chemistry you had always had together was a growing desire. You both snuck kisses in between conversations. Held each others hands, and found reasons to touch each other.

It was only natural when Tenoch pulled you into a hug from behind as you finished washing the last of the dishes. You both were a little buzzed, warm to touch, and feeling relaxed. He started peppering kisses from your ear to your neck, hitting just the right spot to make your legs weak enough that you had to hold onto the counter.

You finished the last dish and set it to dry as Tenoch continued his ministrations. He pulled your dress strap down your shoulder and laved, and sucked at your skin. Your hand came around and pulled his waist closer to your body. A low growl emanated from him as he pressed up against you. You could feel his arousal tenting his pants.

You turned your head and captured his lips in a searing kiss. His hand found your hair and pulled it loose from the bun on top of your head. Gripping it tightly in his fist, he grinded up against you.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop," He whispered into your ear, afraid of hurting you.

"Don't you dare," You replied desperately.

Tenoch captured your lips again and grinded against you. His hand reached down and flipped up the skirt of your sundress. He kissed his way down your back, leading with his hands so he could slip off your panties. He let out a groan at how wet you were. The actor was on his knees behind you, spread your cheeks and started lapping at your wet pussy.

Your hand gripped his hair behind you as you grinded against his mouth. Your moans filled the kitchen as he devoured your dripping cunt. He spread your legs further and pulled his tongue away from your center making you cry out in protest.

"Ssshh, I'm not done," He whispered as he slowly pushed a finger and then another inside of you. He stood back up and fingered you with a steady pace as he undid his belt and zipper.

You rocked back into his hand chasing after the orgasm that you were teetering on the brink of. Then his fingers left you and you moaned in frustration. "Please, I'm so close."

Your whimpered plea was met with Tenoch rubbing his tip against your soaked folds, "What do you want?"

"I want you to put your cock inside, Tenoch, please."

He slowly, agonizingly did as you asked. When he started thrusting you clutched the counter tightly. He was kissing your neck again, hand wrapped in your hair as the other guided your hips. He pounded into you relentlessly, giving into months of desire and attraction.

Your orgasm hit you like a train and you gasped as he fucked you through it. You felt wetness flow between your legs as he continued thrusting. Tenoch pulled you up to him for another wet kiss as he followed you over the edge. He grunted as he emptied into you. Slowing down and peppering every inch of skin he could with kisses. His hand gripped and rubbed your ass cheek affectionately.

The sheets

"Come with me," Tenoch said as he took your hand and led you upstairs. You were both still coming off the high off your coupling in the kitchen. It was spontaneous and passionate and so right. He had tenderly helped you clean up and righted your clothes afterward. Giving you water and asking if he had been too rough.

When you walked into his bedroom you were surprised to find it to be so clean and airy. The large bed was the center point but the rest of the furnishings were a light wood and his curtains were gauzy. The sun had long since set and instead of turning the lights on, Tenoch started lighting candles.

Once the candles were going, Tenoch stripped down to his boxers and then found an oversized shirt and a clean pair of boxers for you to change into. He helped you undress, kissing you on your neck, arms, cheeks, back and shoulders as you went. You felt absolutely adored.

Tenoch turned down the bed and gestured for you to join him. When you did, he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you slowly, nuzzling you between languid kisses. You cuddled and shared intimate caresses as you fell into an easy pillow talk about everything and nothing.

Tenoch had his head on your shoulder as you stroked his hair. His arm was slung across your waist and your legs intertwined. You could have fallen asleep then but his hand found the hem of your shirt and he pushed it up to reveal your breast.

You bit your lip as he suckled on your nipple. His hand kneaded the other and rolling the nipple between his fingers. You arched into his touch as his hand slipped past the band of the borrowed boxers you wore and found your clit. Tenoch teased you with his fingers and his mouth until you were pulling his lips to your own in a hungry kiss.

As you kissed you pulled his boxers down and palmed his cock in your hand. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and jerked it a few times, letting the pre-cum spread. He bucked into your hand as he sucked your lip. Eagerly you pulled the shirt and boxers off between kisses then wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand supported him above you while the other caressed your jaw. Tenoch reached between you and lined himself up before thrusting into you, balls deep. You arched into the feeling of his cock inside of you. The actor pulled your arms away from the sheets and pinned them above your head as he drove into you.

His hips snapped into yours as he thrusted deeply into you. The bed shook with the force of it and the sounds of your fucking filled the room. Tenoch leaned into you and captured your lips. Your hands, now free, found his back, dragging your nails along the contours of his muscles. Moaning into your kiss he gripped the backs of your thighs. He sat up and hooked your legs around his forearms changing the angle.

With increased vigor he fucked you, hitting a spot inside of you that had your mind reeling. He held your legs to him as he continued his rhythm and circled your clit with his fingers. You moaned his name over and over like a prayer as you felt that tell tale knot coiling inside of you. It released and you came, convulsing with the waves of your orgasm. Tenoch slowed down to kiss you as you came down from your high.

"Turn over, mi amor," Tenoch whispered as he gripped your hips. With his help you found yourself chest first into the bed. His big hands caressed your ass cheeks before he lined himself up and plunged his cock back into your glistening pussy.

His thrusts were relentless as he gripped your hips and moaned words of praise. You were lost in the pleasure of it, rubbing your clit as he rutted into you. You hit another peak just as Tenoch's hips stuttered and he groaned with his release.

The actor collapsed next to you. You looked over at him and you both smiled satiated smiles. You could tell he was barely staying awake like you, but he still got up and brought a clean wet cloth to clean up the evidence of your love making. He was gentle and continued to whisper words of praise and adoration as he helped you get dressed and tucked you in.

You were barely conscious as he blew out all the candles and then climbed into the bed behind you. He pulled you to him, kissed your temple, and you both fell asleep.

...

ALRIGHT YALL I NEED REVIEWS AND COMMENTS.

I was on a roll and I literally clocked out of work but stayed in my office for an extra hour to finish this. No, proof reading right now because I need to drive home so forgive me.

You're welcome

#tenoch x reader #tenoch huerta x reader #tenoch huerta fanfic #tenoch huerta mejia #jose tenoch huerta mejia #namor #smut

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zqcky01 · 1 year

Text

Enjoyএ

not proofhead♡

Taking a job at the Weatherin doesn't sound bad. Besides your stupid co-worker, Tyler. He's annoying. Someone needs to put him in his place. You will, one day. But never mind that.

You started to notice a girl around your age who na started to hang around the Weatherin. But you always forget her order. But you did remember her name. Wednesday. Wednesday Addams. Honestly, you thought she was cute. A cute Gothic girl from nevermore, the school for 'freaks' that some people call it, but it's for people who are 'outcasts'. You don't mind nevermore, you've been there a few times and it's peaceful. Besides the werewolves, they were scary.

But anyways. You wanted to...test your luck?

Every time Wednesday came in and ordered, you would write a little 'enjoy!' on the cup in different hand writing! Sounds boring. I know. But what else are you gonna put? 'your so amazing!' yeah no. But suddenly, she had stopped coming. And Tyler was always out and never in work. So you honestly forgot about the two. And mainly Wednesday. Yes, you did miss her face. Yes, you did miss when she would beat up people. Yes, you did miss her voice. You missed her even thought she didn't know your name.

But anyways, Tyler started showing up for work more finally. And so did Wednesday. But you never took her order or made since it was always Tyler who took it and made it. But you honestly didn't care and weren't jealous at all. Not at all..

....

Okay maybe you are jealous. You were really jealous. You just wanted to talk to Wednesday. But there she was! Tyler wasn't in today so it was just you. But you can finally talk to her. But she was far in line so it would take a minute.

There was a lot of people. Honestly, you were gonna have a panic attack. But you made it threw! You just keep making orders and orders that you didn't pay attention to the consumer. Then you took Wednesday's order, you didn't even pay attention to her. You made her drink without writing the little things you used to put on her drinks but you honestly thought you didn't care.

It was about 20 minutes after you had taken all those orders and there weren't a lot of people in the Weatherin. So you didn't pay attention to anyone that was inside, so you didn't really see Wednesday walking towards you.

You were washing some dishes when you heard the bell that rested on the counter. You turned to see Wednesday standing there with her drink in hand. You placed down the dish you were washing and walked over there. "Hey! What do you need?" You asked, drying your hands with a towel near by. "Um. You messed up my drink." Wednesday said, eyeing her drink. "Oh. I'm sorry. What did I mess up on?" You asked, looking at her drink while leaning the counter. "The note. The little notes that you put on my drink and only my drink." Wednesday says. Your cheeks turn slightly red. "W-what?! You noticed that?" You say, getting uneasy since she noticed. "Of course I noticed. Your hand writing is very perfect." Wednesday says. "Oh, well thank you. But why do you care?" You say. "I care because I enjoy it." Wednesday says. You smile at her and take out a piece of paper. And you wrote

Enjoy Wednesdayএ

-Y/N

Then you gave the piece paper to Wednesday and she read it. Her face soften at the paper then handed it back to you. "Give me your number. We can talk more, Y/N." Wednesday says. Your face turns into shocked then taking out your pen wrote down your number than you handed it back to her. "Here!" You say, giving her the paper again. "Thank you. I hope you get to know you better." And with that she left.

You honestly thought it was a dream.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #writing

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clearlydiamondz · 1 year

Text

The Game

Erik!Stevens X Black!Reader

Part Seven

- - - - - - - - - -

Erik being the most popular person at Texas Southern University, he has his heart set on a particular girl.

Warnings: SMUT

- - - - - - - - - -

At the next practice, she was more than ready to say what she had to say. All of her teammates heard about the talking Coach Ruby gave her, and they also knew about the meeting that she would be holding as co-captain.

“Alright girls, huddle around!” The coach responded. The girls moved from their formations and sat in front of the mirror. “It has come to my attention that a couple of girls on the team are displeased with the drama going around the team. Rightfully so, you should have a moment to talk to your captain and co-captain about these issues so we can be united as a group. So, here is your co-captain to hear and talk to you guys about these concerns.

She walked to the front of the room as some girl’s posture changed in regards to being able to have a talk with her.

“So, the coach has come to me with these concerns that the team is having and as co-captain, I promised that I will take each and every opinion and fact that you guys have to say about this situation.” she started as she looked around the room. “It’s no secret that Erik Stevens and I have started to date. And knowing the history and the past that was caused because of him, I would like to know what these concerns are face to face so we can have a team talk instead of talking among each other about me and my decisions.”

It was silent before Mirah raised her hand. “What’s up?”

“So, with all that you know what he did to not only me but Aliyah and some other girls, why would you think it would be appropriate as co-captain to date him?” she asked tilting her head. Obviously, she was trying to be smart, but (Y/N) was Einstein.

“Thanks, Mirah. So, before we started dating, I told him that I didn’t want to date because of the drama. We chose to be friends until he spoke his truth and with my judgment, I declared he was telling the truth. The both of us had some conversations about not only the drama but the past relationships that were formed on this team. He stated that the ONLY relationship other than me was with Aliyah.” she responded confidently as Mirah scoffed and the girls laughed.

“Yeah, and he’s lying.”

“Can you prove it?” (Y/N) asked.

“What?”

“Can you prove it? DM’s, messages, pictures, whatever proof you have. Can I see it? Because I promise you I can go tic for tac with you.” she said pulling out her phone.

“Why would I keep old photos and messages of a nigga I used to mess with?” she snapped.

“Language! Let’s keep it respectful, we are teammates remember?” Coach Ruby reminded her.

“Oh no, I believe that you don’t have the messages. Like I said I can go tic for tac with you because he let me have access to his Instagram DM’s,” she said pulling up her Instagram. A couple of the girl’s faces dropped as some of them ooohed.

“Yeah he’s not stupid enough to do that,” she said rolling her eyes as she shrugged.

“Bet.” she pulled up the DM’s between Erik and her.

“I think it’s really fucked up how you kissed me last weekend but have been ignoring my messages, especially after Aliyah and I fought. I’ve had feelings for you since last semester-”

“Okay, you know what-” she stood up looking at Coach Ruby. “Are you believing this right now?” she asked as Coach Ruby sighed.

“I do. She showed me the DM’s... including the ones from two girls on the team who are in this room right now, who shall not be named.” Mirah looked back at her.

“Real fucking classy co-captain. So much for being a team, reading personal DM’s between-”

“I’m gonna stop you there. You were not worried about being classy when you were taking pictures of us at a party minding our business. Not only that, you guys lied about this poor man and I have the proof that Y'all are lying.” (Y/N) said stuffing her phone in her back pocket.

“Mirah.. you lied about dating Erik?“ one of the girls said laughing. “Girl, that’s weird.”

“For real. Why are you so pressed on what (Y/N) is doing?” another teammate said.

“Because it’s trifling! We voted for you as co-captain because we thought you were responsible! And now here you go getting fooled up with him. Ever since you guys started dating you’ve been slacking as co-captain and I’m sick of it!” she snapped. (Y/N) looked at Coach Ruby then back to her.

“So give me an estimate on when I started acting horribly as a co-captain,” she said crossing her shoulders.

“For about a month! Around the same time y’all started talking!” she snapped. “Our routines have been offbeat, everyone instead of worrying about our competitions, they are sitting around gossiping about you!” (Y/N) looked again at Coach Ruby with an ‘I told you’ so look on her face. Coach Ruby sighed and then said,

“That’s not true. Mirah sit down.”

“No! You guys are sitting up here letting our team go to complete hell for what!? I’ll say it because everyone is afraid to say it. Ever since you and Erik have been fucking with each other, for the past month our team chemistry has been horrible and it’s your fault!” she snapped.

“So I guess my theory was the right coach.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I’m afraid it was.”

“What are you guys even talking about?” One of the girls spoke up.

“How many other people think that for the past month since I and Erik have been dating that team chemistry has been down?” Five girls out of the rest of them raised their hands. Of course, they were friends of Mirah. Kia and Brandy started to laugh knowing what was about to come up.

“Kay, why do you think that?” she said picking one of the random girls with her hands up.

“I feel like since you got with Erik, our team has not been a priority for you in the past month.“

“And let me get this straight because I don’t want to miss interpret what you’re saying. So in August, September, and mid-October I’ve been focused and doing right by the team. Then Erik came along around mid-October and everything has been a, excuse my language, a shit show.” (Y/N) said as the collective of girls nodded.”And because Erik and I have started dating since last month, from then and now our team has been going down, because I am letting him influence me.” she clearly said.

“Exactly! Thank you. At the beginning of the semester, we started off strong. Our dancing was great, we were damn near perfect.” Mirah exclaimed, which only made her chuckle. “I don’t see what’s funny since you are putting our team in jeopardy, (Y/N).” she snapped at her.

“No, it’s funny because Erik and I have been talking since Mid august and made it official in September. We only made it public a week ago so I’m gonna assume you caught wind from a specific ex-member that I’ve been messing with her ex for the last month.”

“Oh my god, why the fuck are you lying! You know damn fucking well y’all weren’t messing with each other. You’re only saying that to deflect what you’ve been doing to our team!” she yelled at her.

“No, no. She’s telling the truth. They’ve slept at each other house, went on cute little dates and everything,” Brandy said matter-of-factly. “The two of them even came together for some of our movie nights” she finished.

“And unlike you, I have pictures and messages going back all the way to the night I had my first conversation with him and from then on. You felt upset and you ran to Coach because you thought she was going to get on me for dating him,” she replied as the team got quiet.

“Yeah because I was worried about the team! He’s caused so much drama, which has affected our team negatively!”

“Okay Mirah but if you cared so much about our team and what he was doing to it, why were you in his DM’s complaining about him ignoring you?” she asked her. Everyone looked at her for an answer but she didn’t have one.

“This what it seems to me. If this statement is true about our team slacking, it’s not because of you’re co-captain is messing with this boy, but because y’all are pressed on what they are doing to even focus on your own stuff.” Coach Ruby said defending her. “She has proven that she’s been doing great with balancing both the team and him because y’all didn’t even know they were dating within that time our team has been so-called perfect.” Coach Ruby shrugged.

“Really what the problem is that y’all are lying, and keeping rumors up after finding out about this relationship.”

“Coach Ruby no one is worried about their little relationship. Trust and believe that. I only had my team in mind.” she snapped.

“Mirah.. just sit down. Stop embarrassing yourself. We will forget this happened.” The other teammate laughed. Knowing damn well they were going to talk about it for days.

“No fuck y’all.” she stormed out of the hall before Coach Ruby came up.

“Now, does anyone else feel like they have an issue with their co-captain dating Stevens.” no one raised their hand. “Alright, his name will not be discussed from here on out in this room. Y’all are dismissed.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Erik was now home from the gym, waiting on a call back from (Y/N). He was proud of her for finally standing up for herself against everyone and not being afraid of the outcome. He noticed that ever since she got with him, she’s been more confident in standing up for herself.

Even Omariana noticed the change, and she was here for it. She considered (Y/N) her little sister. Whenever someone had an issue with (Y/N) or said anything disrespectful towards her, Omariana would be right there to check on anyone. She was happy that (Y/N) was finally finding her voice.

As Erik was unpacking his gym bag, he heard a knock at his front door. No one that he knew texted him to tell him that he was on his way. He got up going to the peephole at the door to see (Y/N) standing there with two take-out plates, her book bag, a duffel bag, and a drink carrier with two milkshakes.

“I know you see me, open up the door! I got a lot of shit in my hand!” she exclaimed. He immediately unlocked the door helping her by grabbing her duffel bag and the milkshakes as she let out a sigh of relief.

“I ain’t know you were coming over here,” he said kissing her on the shoulder and placing her duffel bag right next to his gym bag.

“Yeah, it was a last-minute decision. I stopped and grabbed us some wings for dinner and a milkshake at the food truck on campus,” she said taking off her Crocs. She walked to his counter placed all the other stuff and turned to look at him. He walked over and placed the items he grabbed off of her and placed them on the counter.

“You don’t mind me coming right? I wasn’t sure if you were busy or not this weekend and I really need some alone time to study for my midterms and-” he stopped her rambling by reaching behind her and grabbing her ass, and grabbing a little bit of her pussy from the back.

“You know I don’t care about you coming over here. When was the last time I had a taste of you?” he whispered in her as she bit her lip.

“It’s been bout a week or two.” she moaned as he let her go, not before slapping her ass.

“Yeah, I hope yo ass know what’s up,” he said taking off his tank top. His muscles were a lot more toned, her figuring that it was probably because he just got back from the gym. Which means his libido is through the roof. His hands traced the outside of her tights as she leaned against the counter.

“And if I don’t?”

“You gonna figure it out real quick. Matter of fact-” he picked her up and placed her on the counter, catching her off guard as she squealed.

“Wait, Erik, I need to take a shower. I just came from practice,” she said pushing his head away as he moved it.

“Oh, would you look at that? I just came back from the gym and need a shower too,” he said picking her up.

“Aht aht. I wanna eat my food before it gets cold nigga, damn.” she laughed as he placed her back on the floor kissing his teeth.

“Don’t act like you don’t want my face between your legs,” he said walking passed her and grabbing both their bags as she grabbed her food and milkshake.

“I wanna eat first. And take a shower,” she said grabbing a fry and eating it.

“That’s fine. Just wait. I got something for your ass.” he said walking past the kitchen and into his room. It’s been damn near two weeks since they last touched each other. She wasn’t gonna lie and say that she didn’t want him. She needed him. With their busy schedules, it was almost impossible. With exams coming up, and the lack of competitions, practices, and events, she had a break this weekend.

He eventually came out and started eating his dinner but she was done with hers. “Okay, I’ma jump in the shower now,” she said throwing her stuff in the trash. “Where did you put my bag, my soap and stuff are in there.” she said as he turned to look at her. Swallowing what he had in his mouth he said,

“Yeah, I bought the same stuff you bring over here,” he said taking a drink from his milkshake. She looked at him shocked and said,

“When?”

“Like a week ago, I found it all on Amazon and just ordered it so you don’t have to bring that stuff from home,” he said taking another bite from his shoulder.

“Oh,” she said looking him in his eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” she didn’t know what to say, but she knew what she wanted to do. She was going to completely fuck the shit outta him.

________

After Erik finished up his food, he decided to join her in the shower. He took off his clothes placing them in the dirty hamper, and also placing her clothes that he saw on the bathroom floor in there. Might as well wash them so she could have some clothes over here, he thought.

He slid the shower door open as she turned around rinsing the soap off her body. “That was quick,” she said moving over so he could get some water. He lathered up with his rag and soap and started to move across his body as she leaned against the shower.

“Yeah.. because there were some things I wanted to do before you got out,” he said placing the rag and bottle of soap on the shower rack.

“What’s that?”

He leaned into her, placing kisses a long her shoulder and neck, whispering in her ear. “Playing with this pussy for starters.” his hands slipped between her thighs as she slowly spread her legs for him to have more room. “Such a good slut, opening up your legs for daddy.” he whispered biting her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders looking him straight in the eyes.

“I’m your slut.” she said as he smirked at her. He back away letting the water run down his dreads. She took a look at him, drinking him all in. The water running down his chest, to his abs, to his dick with water droplets falling off it. All she wanted to really do was just suck the water off then have it down her throat.

So she grabbed his dick with one hand and his arm with the other pulling him closer to her as he tilted his head. She went into a squat position as his eyes followed her every movement. She stuck her tongue out, licking along his dick, letting the water hit her tongue as well before placing his who tip in her mouth slowly sucking it.

“Fuck.. I love when you tease this dick baby.” he whispered as she moaned against it, making him throw his head back. “My dick belong all in the back of that nasty ass throat don’t it?” he asked her as she slowly took every inch of him.

She moaned in agreement as he bought his bottom lip between his teeth. He grabbed her chin as she placed her mouth open for him to slowly fuck her throat. She gagged as spit covered his dick but he didn’t stop, it wasn’t like she wanted him to either.

“That’s it...” he moaned out. “Nasty fucking bitch.” he went faster as she looked him in the eyes, as he looked back down at her. Her fingers played with her nipples, the sight alone making him harder if it was possible.

She took matters into her own hands as she wrapped her hand around the base of his dick, sliding it up and down as he fucked her throat faster.

He grabbed her throat bringing her up to her feet before giving her a tongue filled wet kiss. His hands trailed up her stomach to her breast, pinching her nipples as she gasped.

“Go to the bed. Ima be with you in a minute.” Was all he said before she gave him one last look. She stepped out grabbing a towel and walking to his room. The cool air hit her wet skin as she dried off in his room, hearing the shower still going. Quickly, she dried herself then moisturized and oiled herself down. She heard the shower turn off and the shower door open.

She got into the middle of his unmade bed, getting in a face down ass up position. She heard him come in, not being able to see him since she was facing the opposite way. “Yeah... I like that.” he said walking behind her. He softly traced his finger tips along her spread lips, slightly applying preasure when he came across her clit. “I barely touched you and your leaking on my fingers.” he said licking the wetness up.

“Daddy can you please touch me?” she whimpered. The throbbing of her pussy was killing her, Erik on the other hand was enjoying it.

“I think seeing you like this is my new favorite thing. Look at that pussy begging to be touched.” he said grabbing one ass cheek, spreading it a little to see her pussy drip. “I can see it throbbing.” he chuckled before grabbing a fist full of her hair. “Beg me to touch you and I might just do it.”

“Pretty please daddy. I miss cumming on your tongue and lips. You made my pussy feel so good and I want that again.” she pouted. He sat on his knees, pulling her to his face so looked up at him with her back facing his chest. With his other hand, he spread out her pussy lips rubbing circles around her clit. She moaned out, gripping the sheets as he went faster.

“Ooh Erik...” she moaned as he bit her shoulder, then placed a kiss on it.

“There you go.. give me that nut.” he whispered to her. “You so pretty. You know that? You look so fucking beautiful giving up this pussy like this.” he taunted her.

“Damn, im cumming. I’m cumming. I’m cumming.” she repeated over and over as her climax lasted longer than expected. He kept rubbing the sensitive but at the same rate not stopping, even though both his sheets and hands was covered. “Okay daddy.. I get it.” she moaned as he stopped, smacking her ass.

“What did I say? Didn’t I say I had something for your ass.” he stepped away as she fell onto her stomach into the bed. He stepped off the bed, pulling her ankles along with him. He then flipped her onto her back, yanking her till her bottom half was hanging off the bed, him having a grasp on her hips. She looked down and saw a towel barley hanging around his waist, and his dick pressed against her thigh. Without a second though, she grabbed it through the towel biting her lips. She saw his jaw clench as the grip on her thighs tighten.

“Yeah you a hoe for the dick ain’t you.” he smirked at he stood up straight, his dick hitting her pussy a few times.

“Mhmm.” she mumbled waiting for him to touch it as he slapped her clit. She winced at the pain, but soon after a moment of pleasure came.

“Use your words mama.” he whispered. “I said you a hoe for this dick right?” he said rubbing his tip against her clip as she eagerly nodded.

“Fuck, yes daddy.” she moaned out throwing her head back.

“You know how I like eating this pussy. Get in position.” he said stepping back. She pulled her ankles to the side of her head, as he stared directly into her eyes. She sat there with her legs in a V shape, his eyes slowly trailing down her body, his eyes halting when he seen her pussy. Clit swollen, pussy lips spread, wetness spread all over.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he said tracing the tip of his fingers on her lips. He saw her pussy clench, more wetness forming as he chuckled.

“I’m barely touching and your pussy is getting wetter. She must want daddy to eat her.” he said kneeling down as she nodded with a bite of her lip.

“She does daddy. She misses you.” He smirked licking her one time as she gasped at the sensation. He placed a kiss on her clit before sucking on it. She moaned at the new pressure, his tongue taking random licks to collect the wetness she was producing.

“Erik..” she moaned as he looked up at her. Her legs were shaking as her eyes were closed towards the ceiling. He pulled away whispering a fuck to himself, as his fingers found their way to their entrance.He inserted his middle and ring finger curving upward in a come here motion before putting his lips back on her clit.

“Eat my pussy just like that..” she whispered sitting up, her body bouncing with every movement Erik made.

“Pussy gripping the fuck outta a nigga fingers.” he smirked pulling away from the clit but still fingering her.

“You gonna make me bust again daddy.” she mumbled, but he heard her. Her squirt went all over his hand and forearm, him catching what he could with his tongue licking her up. With his fingers still inside her pussy, he said, “Will you grip my dick with this pussy just like this?” he whispered tilting his head to the side.

“If I do, I’m squirting again.” she said letting go of her legs. He stood up straight again before telling her,

“Get back in the middle of the bed.” she crawled backwards onto the bed, still facing him as he followed her on to the bed. Getting between her legs, he pushed her knees to her chest as he rubbed his tip against her pussy.

He let out a dragged out ,“Fuuuck”, as her pussy clenched around his inches as he pushed further.

“Oh my-” her voice broke off as his dick massaged her walls, slowly creeping up to her G-Spot.

“Fuck, there you go. Just give up the pussy like this.” he whispered in her ear as she moaned. She moved her hand towards her clit, rubbing it in circles as her mouth shot open. He took the advantage to grab her throat, slightly choking her and kissing her in the mouth. Another sloppy kiss endured between the two, as his paced went a little faster.

“Ooh ima nut..” she whispered, her juices splashing against the two of them as she moaned loudly. He continued fucking her till every single dropped came from her her entire body shook.

“Lemme get this shit from the back.” he said flipping her over. She got onto her knees, arching as best as she could.

“This beautiful ass.” he whispered smacking her ass a few times, then spreading her cheeks, to see her pussy spread once again. “Beautiful pussy.” he whispered to himself as he put his face between her ass, licking up and down her ass to her pussy slowly.

“Fuck daddy your so nasty..” she smiled, the nice sensation making her pussy wetter, another climax in need.

“Let daddy clean up the mess you made. Taste so fucking good too.” he said pulling away and smacking her cheeks. He spat on her pussy, before licking it up, the action throwing her off guard but she knew she loved it. He got back on his knees, alighning himself up to her entrance. He slowly pushed himself onto her as she gripped the shit.

“This pussy...” he sighed as she groaned.

“Big ass dick... you’re fucking stretching my pussy..” she whispered as he smacked her ass.

“Work your ass on this dick. Show daddy how much of a nasty slut you can be bitch.” he said. She started to move her way on the dick as he sat there, letting her fuck him. She started to only fuck the tip as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“C’mon... fuck that dick how you want it.”

That’s was all the motivation she needed. Within seconds she was throwing nothing but ass and pussy on him, the wet sounds turning them both on.

“You like when I fuck this big dick daddy. My wet tight pussy on this big dick.” she moaned at him as he rolled his eyes shut.

“Daddy loves this wet tight pussy. You know how to handle this big dick like a big girl.” he encouraged her. The talking mixed with her g-spot hitting the tip of his dick, she was squirting again.

But she didn’t stop. She kept fucking him through her nut as he smacked her ass. “What the fuck? You just squirted all over my shit and you gonna keep fucking me?” he said smacking her ass as she gasped.

“I don’t want to stop fucking this dick.. Ooh I’m gonna squirt again.” This time it was a mixture of both squirt and cream as he looked down at their connection. Her ass was now covered in her squirt and her cream, as she just continued to fuck herself.

“Such a desperate whore, no matter how many times you come on my dick you gonna make sure make daddy nut.” he said meeting her match. Her eyes shot open as her pace slowed down. “Aht aht, Don’t fucking stop now- GET YOUR ASS UP!” he snapped as her arch began to fall.

“You were just fucking me with no regards to how many times you came, not let me fuck this pussy.” he said putting her back in position. He pushed his way into her as she gasped.

“Oh my God, daddy cum please. My pussy!”

“Fuuck I’m close.”

“I want your nut daddy..” she whispered as he threw his head back.

“Fuuck don’t say that. Please don’t fucking say that.” he moaned going faster.

“My pussy want that fat nut please.” she whimpered.

“Oh shit I-”

“Cum in my pussy daddy.”

Right on cue, he painted her walls as he continued to fuck her. He pulled out roughly as she fell onto the bed. “That pussy looks so fucking...” he couldn’t phathom a sentence to say looking at his cum ooze out of her pretty little pussy. He jiggled ass before running to the bathroom and grabbing soap and water to clean her up.

“I’ma need a nap.” she yawned crawling up the bed as he stopped her.

“Damn I wore your ass out.” he laughed. He was still wide awake, “Lemme change the sheets out.” he said grabbing a pair of grey sweat shorts out of the drawers. He grabbed one of his black hoodies, placing it onto her before getting the bed prepared.

______________________

It was now 7 o’clock and they were both deep into their nap. (Y/N)’s phone rang waking the two of them up. She grabbed her phone pulling it up to her ear, not looking at the caller ID. “Hello..” she yawned.

“Well it’s nice to know you are alive. Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” she immediately knew it was her mother. She rolled her eyes not wanting to talk to her.

“You already know why.”

“Just because I didn’t go to some foolish games to watch you shake your ass. No thank you. You knew I was against you on the damn team anyways, just embarrassing me in the church.” her mother snapped.

“And you wonder why I don’t answer your phone calls.” she sat up, Erik looking at her get up out of the bed. She went into her duffel bag grabbing a pair of underwear and placing them on as Erik turned on his LED lights.

“Don’t talk back to me. The hell is wrong with you. All I was going to ask is if you were coming home for Christmas break. CJ met a girl on this dating app, and I invited her for dinner.” she looked confused. A girl dating CJ was the last thing she was expecting.

“Yeah.. I guess. I have to pick up some papers anyways.”

“And I want you to invite that boy you been messing around with.” her mother said, making her freeze.

“I don’t think I can do that.” she said as her mom scoffed.

“What? Y’all broke up? See I knew it wouldn’t last long-”

“No we didn’t break up. We are together.” she rolled her eyes. Erik connected the two and figured that they were talking about him. He sat at the foot of the bed saying,

“Who is that?”

“My mom.” she mouthed as he tilted his head in confusion.

“So what can’t he come? You don’t want me to meet him or something?” she scratched her forehead before saying,

“Have you thought that maybe he has a family of his own?” she said as Erik told her to put it on speaker. She placed the phone on speaker,

“Well I just think it’s suspicious that you have a so called ‘boyfriend’ and I haven’t seen a picture of him. Seems to me like you're faking the-”

“Actually hello ma’am. I’m right here.” Erik spoke up as she looked at him in shock.

“Oh well ain’t this a surprise. And what is your name?”

“My name is Erik Stevens.” he said.

“Hmm, I think she told me about you before she rudely stopped answering my calls. You ain’t tired of her yet, are you? You can be honest because I know how it is around her.” he looked at the phone then to (Y/N) in confusion.

“No, actually. She’s been truly a blessing to know ma’am.” he said. The phone got quiet as her eyes went up in annoyance.

“So is it true that you can’t come for dinner. I’d like to meet the boy my daughter is so called dating.”

“Actually I would like to meet her family.” he said as she scoffed.

“Wow, so she lied. Thought I’d raised her better but oh well. Well, I’ll be happy to meet you. Now you have a nice night.” Erik assumed that she would say bye to her daughter but she hang up the phone.

“You don’t look happy that I’ma meet your parents.” he said as she threw the phone on the bed.

“My father, sure. My mother and step-father, hell no.” she said sitting on the bed.

“I moved in with my dad when they got divorced. Even at the age of 12, I could tell she was mean and manipulative.” she then looked at him. “No one told you to say anything by the way,” she said getting up as he grabbed her hand.

“Aht, don’t walk away. I thought I was being nice.” he defended himself. She sighed grabbing his hand.

“I know, it’s just you don’t know my mom. She will try to say and do anything for you not to like me. She has all that animosity till this day because I wanted to go live with my daddy.” she rolled her eyes. “And she’s always had this weird competition between the two of us. It’s fucking weird, and she wonders why I barely talk with her.”

“Well how about this.. I’ll find us a nice hotel so we don’t have to stay anywhere, we can leave her house anytime we want, and hell if it calls for it we can spend Christmas together.” He reassured her as she smiled.

“Wait, what about your family.”

“It’s okay. They can miss out on a Christmas,” he whispered

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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