#Michael can only really smile awkwardly

[chloesimaginationthings]

i love the detail of post-scooper michael not really being able to smile right because of ennard leaving his body through his mouth, that's really well executed!

He’s trying so hard to smile “normally”,,, you’re doing great Michael

[johnbrand]

Profile Picture

Anthony had been avoiding it for over a week and now the social media manager was getting antsy. All the new frat members were supposed to submit a picture to be introduced in profiles online. It made sense, but Anthony just did not have any good pictures of himself. Typically, people sent in their senior pictures, but Anthony had not had any taken. The last decent portrait he owned was from junior year when he had had braces.

“UGH!” Anthony sighed loudly, exasperated as he locked himself into a bathroom. Worst part of it all was that he could not escape the issue because he LIVED with these people. He had run into three of the other frat boys on the way here, one of whom insisted on shaking hands as he flew by. Typically, Anthony was short enough to literally hide; people would just overlook him so that he could scurry away unnoticed. But now he was trapped, making a deal out of something that probably should not have been in the first place. 

“If only I had been narcissistic enough to have taken a selfie once in my life,” Anthony groaned.

Suddenly, his phone lit up with a new notification. A text from a contact named “Michael.”

“Hey dude, it was great to meet you,” it read. Anthony wondered how the blond jock he had just met in the hallway already had his number. Let alone, why. Most people seemed to be put off by his personality, especially the hot, muscular ones. Anthony’s height was also a deterrent, as was his weight. Well actually, just about anything else one could think of. 

“How did you get my number?” Anthony adjusted his glasses almost subconsciously.

“Got it last night from you at the party,” came the reply. “Must’ve knocked you out pretty hard if you don’t remember.”

For a moment Anthony was not sure what Michael meant. He had only rushed this frat for the bullet point on his resume; he would have never gone to a college party. Or at least Anthony could not imagine having gone to one.

“Don’t you remember? That chick Nicole was all over you. I couldn’t help but get jealous.” Michael sent a laughing emoji before continuing. “She’s always been into the tall, ‘All-American’ kinda man.”

Anthony laughed as he checked himself out in the mirror. He did fit that bill pretty well. His body was practically built by the Midwest; corn-fed and stacked with beef. Anthony worked out all the time to maintain his thick-yet-polished frame. And at 6’3, all the muscle made Anthony appear even larger. He was almost always staring down at others, but that was just natural for men his size. 

“Yeah she was pretty crazy,” Anthony awkwardly replied. He had told her countless times that he simply did not swing that way. “I’m just glad someone else noticed. She had no chill, man.”

“She’s got a real hankering for the blond-hair, blue-eyes combo. It’s like something that really sets her off. You might get yourself a stalker if you’re not careful.”

Anthony’s smile broadened. Had Nicole really been that easy to read? Yeah, his sparkling sapphire eyes and luscious golden locks were usually enthralling, that was why he never covered them up. But that girl had really been on to him last night–more than Anthony was used to from others. “I could probably handle a girl like her.”

“I know. I’m just teasing,” Michael replied quickly. “I know you like when a girl is crazy for you anyway, all that attention goes right to the big boy downstairs.”

That text confused Anthony at first, but after a quick squeeze to his thickening python, he felt himself agreeing.

“What can I say,” Anthony smirked, continuing to paw himself. “I like to have a good girl who understands her place.

“Now stop fagging out on yourself in the mirror and get out here!" Michael responded. "This new pool is sick, and all the sorority chicks are here in their skimpiest bikinis.”

That final line made Anthony’s juicy dick spurt a bit into his tight, American-flag print swim shorts. Cockily, he posed in front of the mirror and took a picture of his studly body. Anthony then sent it to Michael before hurriedly exiting the bathroom. By the time Michael had forwarded the image onto the social media manager, Anthony had already acclimated into the pool, a swarm of hungry girls eagerly surrounding him.

[aemondsbabe]

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand. 

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad. 

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!” 

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.” 

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this. 

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket. 

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth. 

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?” 

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully. 

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.” 

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise. 

And a few seconds later, everything blows up. 

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?” 

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it. 

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go. 

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. 

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.” 

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.” 

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.” 

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out. 

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser. 

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor. 

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls. 

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl. 

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face. 

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap. 

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.” 

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck? 

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly. 

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns. 

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly. 

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.” 

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.” 

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. 

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up. 

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red. 

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.” 

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished. 

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly. 

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own. 

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch. 

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs. 

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down. 

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor. 

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out. 

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts. 

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving. 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently. 

“How do you want me, Mikey?” 

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered. 

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again. 

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

  Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him. 

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance. 

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his. 

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.” 

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length. 

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is. 

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you. 

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you. 

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.” 

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed. 

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him. 

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him. 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend. 

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach. 

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open. 

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

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[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI !! Oliver Quick x reader x Michael Gavey

♡ Bimbo! Reader letting Oliver and Michael take turns on her

♡ Like ughh. It starts out at a party where the both of them are sulking in a corner. Two losers with no friends and slightly obsessive personalities trying to socialize? No way, no way

♡ Until you come along, all pretty and pink, tits out and underwear peeking out of your skirt. And they’re both drooling as they see you, embarrassed to look at each other because of the obvious hard ons they have

♡ And you’re a little airheaded, but you aren’t dumb, per se— you got into Oxford, for christs sake! — so you notice their wavering glances

♡ Introducing yourself to them, asking if you can sit down. The both of them parting like the red fucking sea to let you take a seat between them on some random frat boy’s stained couch. Your bubbly personality enticing the both of them as you tell them your name and about how you had seen them both around

♡ Going on a rant about how you and them are similar — you have companions, but they aren’t close ones, and you came to this party alone. Besides a few frat boys (with ill intentions), no one really wants to be your friend. Call it stuck up rich kid attitude, or whatever

♡ And they nod along, palming their bulges in their jeans like fucking pervs. Nasty, icky boys

♡ You don’t notice until a few minutes in, and looking down at each side of your thighs and into their laps, you let out a sweet little giggle

♡ Teasing the fuck out of them, all while they’re completely flustered as hell and stuttering out apologies. But you just shrug them off, tell them it’s okay

♡“If you want.. I can help? I’m good with my mouth and… other stuff. At least, that’s what my ex boyfriends said! We can go in a room upstairs, ‘m sure the guy who owns this house won’t mind.”

♡(It’s Felix’s house. He does mind, thank you very much, and is sickened by the sight he sees in his bedroom the next morning)

♡ Oliver and Michael are at loss for words at such a simple offer. Awkwardly nodding their heads, they refuse to aknowledge the other’s existence as you grab their hands and lead them upstairs

♡ When you get into one of the rooms, you shut and lock the door. Your lips find Oliver’s first, because he’s the closest. He kisses you rough, desperate. Not a virgin, but not completely experienced either. Probably a drunken fumble with a girl in high school, nothing more

♡ When you kiss Michael, he’s so soft. Like, insanely soft. Lips and touch alike. His hand finds your cheek and he holds your head in his hands when he does it. It’s sweet. Definitely a virgin

♡ You push them both onto the bed, and your fingers nimbly play with the zipper on your pink top. They both watch in wonder as you pull it down, sliding the shirt off your shoulders. No bra .

♡ Both literally gaping, mouths wide open, as they stare at your tits

♡“They’re nice, right? I think they’re my favorite part about me, honestly.”

♡ And then comes your skirt. Short, so they know the color of your underwear already (bubblegum pink)

♡ They both gape as you slide it down, revealing yourself to them so effortlessly. You tilt your head as you ask them to take their clothes off, too

♡ It’s instant. Buttons are undone as quick as lightening, shirts fly to the floor. Underwear is pushed past their ankles. They don’t even care at this point what the other is doing. The only thing in their focus is you

♡ Sliding your panties down, you step out of them and make your way over to the bed. You get on your hands and knees in front of them, pussy exposed and wet, looking back with a smile

♡ “Which one wants to go first?”

♡ Oliver is the braver one, since he has more experience

♡ His cock brushes up against your entrance, clumsily slipping against you. Michael watches, stroking himself with a shaky breath

♡ Oliver sheathes himself in you in one go, whining at your heat, his hands dig into your hips as he begins to thrust into you

♡ He’s not gentle, really. Not even close. He pounds into you, desperate and only thinking of his own aching dick as he splits you open. Mouth agape, sounds tumble out of your glossed lips as he pounds you into mattress

♡“Mmm, give it to me, give it t’me, just like that.”

♡ You’re moaning like a pornstar, feeling every drag and every ridge of him. His fingertips leave crescent moons in your hips, painting your skin with pretty indents of his infatuation

♡ Michael moves to your side and presses a warm kiss to your mouth. His cock sits big and heavy against his stomach, and you try to reach out and touch it but he slaps your hand away

♡ Is he getting a bit cocky? Maybe. He must be doing something right if he’s getting to screw a girl like you

♡ That’s probably why his big hand curls into your hair and he yanks your head back so he can slip his tongue into the warm confines of your mouth. Spit slick lips collide against sticky red ones, making a smear of divine crimson. Oliver, groaning and pent up, is close. So incredibly, undoubtedly close

♡ With a tiny cry, you try to guide him towards his release

♡“It’s good, yeah? My pussy’s so warm ‘n tight for you, Ollie. Cmon, want you to fill me up, want it so bad..”

♡ He can’t say no to that, spilling inside you with a deep stutter of his hips

♡ Michael watches in excitement.

♡ Absolutely fucking insane for that pussy, I’m telling you !!

♡ Practically throws Oliver out of the way to get at you. Watching the way your little hole gushes creamy white cum, he can’t help but push into it

♡ It’s warm, sticky, wet. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt

♡ Whimpers as he presses all the way in. He’s a little bit bigger than Oliver, and your cunt burns from the stretch

♡ But it’s nothing you can’t handle. Your ten inch dildos can vouch for that

♡ Oh, Michael is needy

♡ Needy, needy, needy

♡ The way he fucks— rutting into you like an animal, while also cooing to you as Oliver presses his thumb against your tongue— makes your vision practically white out

♡ Oliver isn’t a completely selfish boy, of course, and his fingers reach down and rub your clit

♡ It surprises you. Usually they pump and dump. You guess he’s just different because he’s a loser

♡ Michael spears his dick against that spongey spot inside you, and you mewl, fucking back onto him with an avaricious intensity

♡ He doesn’t last as long as Oliver, but that’s okay

♡ He’s a virgin, after all. You wouldn’t expect him to

♡ And ughhh when fills you up :(

♡ It’s so precious, the way he whimpers as he releases inside

♡ Oliver just watches, a smirk on his face

♡ The sick fucking freak is already hard again

♡ Ready to go another round

♡ The minute Michael pulls out, Oliver is behind you and you’re being used again

♡ It’s okay, though. You have all night for the two of them to abuse your little cunt <3 they’re pretty boys, after all. And pretty boys deserve to indulge in sweet, creamy pussy

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi

[shrenvents]

Competition

Warnings: Smut, M!receiving, penetration (w protection), language, enemies (ish) to lovers

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x reader

Summary: After "Beef's" rebranding as "The Bear," business at your cafe has declined, which left you furious, and that anger only worsened after meeting the restaurant's owner.

Word count: 3.4k

...

Ever since I was young, I've always had this unnecessary, aggressive competitiveness, which has only grown since its opening; The Bear, formerly known as "Beef," has become Chicago's newest hit. Its success has been so impactful, that it's driven away numerous customers, including regulars from my spot, just across the street.

My cafe has been open for years. Its income has been steady from the get-go, and the presence of a certain sandwich shop has never deterred that. Not until said sandwich place suddenly turned into a high-end restaurant. It crossed my mind that it simply shut down due to its infamous unpopularity, but Richie was still waltzing into my cafe to order coffee, as per usual.

So, being curious enough about what had happened to "The Beef," I go visit, expecting to be greeted by the "ever-so-pleasant" owner, Michael. But instead—

"Uh, he died," Neil mutters rather awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. My eyes expand in complete shock.

"Oh my god, sorry, I had no idea." I grimace at my lack of sensitivity. "It's alright." He shakes his head.

Silence envelops us both before I speak again. "So, um, how come you're still here? If you don't mind me asking?" I grimace again at my poor choice of words, saying, "I swear I'm not trying to be rude." Neil tilts his head in confusion. "Whatta mean?"

"I just assumed you wouldn't be, here, since...?"

"Ah, yeah, Mike left the place to his little bro, Carmy." He waves his arms around, gesturing to the restaurant's interior. "And he did all this, sick right?"

"Yeah... Sick." I mumble with a pout, failing to hide my contempt, but my sour mood goes right over his head.

"Fak!" A man's loud, demanding voice, quiets my rearing thoughts. "Fak! What the fuck are you doing? I need you in here." The voice grows stronger as the chef it belongs to pushes through the kitchen doors. I just about hold my breath at the sight of him. In his all-white get-up, his deep blue eyes have yet to notice me, as he addresses Neil angrily. "The fucking toilet's still broken." He throws his arm up in frustration, "So would you please, get off your ass and fix it!" He commands Neil, and I jump at his dangerous tone. My brows furrow. There was no need for him to shout so rudely, not to mention that it was really bothering me, how he had yet to acknowledge my presence even once. Not only was he stealing my business, but he didn't give a rats-ass about it.

"Shit! Yeah, on it! I was just talking to—"

"Y/n." I announce my name roughly, and his eyes bounce from Neil to me instantly. Appearing startled, he hesitates to extend his palm for a handshake. "Carmy, sorry about him—" Just as he begins waving off Fak, apologizing for his behaviour, I snap.

"No, he was the perfect gentleman, as always," I protest, "I just came to check on the competition." Carmy's brows knit together, and I can feel the vein in my forehead pop out. "I own the cafe across the street," I state plainly, and he slowly nods in recognition. "It was nice to see you, have a great day," I commend with a smile, directed only to Neil. With that, I spin out the door, stomping vigorously towards my shop.

...

The next time I saw Carmy was nearly a month later, on garbage day. He happened to be taking the trash out that evening, exactly when I was. I sigh at how little he struggles to lift several trash bags. Looking away, I huff as I throw the plastic sacks into the massive tin container. After finishing, I stretch out my back, rubbing my hands together. Shortly rolling my head back, I observe the evening sky. I exhale, releasing a breath of cool air from my lips.

My skin pricks as I feel someone watching me and shift my gaze towards "The Bear." I instantly identify the sapphire eyes latched onto me. When I catch Carmy, his eyes fly in every which direction, clearly embarrassed. 'The hell? Okay dickhead, hello to you too.' I think, shaking my head as I go inside, once again, feeling the heat of his stare as I do.

An hour later, I complete the last of my chores before locking up the cafe. Removing the key from the door, I pivot towards my car. However, I stumble when a figure standing not far behind me approaches, causing me to unleash a horrid scream from the depths of my throat. Carmy's eyes widen, evidently apologetic and equally terrified. "Uh sorry! I didn't mean—"

"What the actual fuck, is your problem?" I practically hiss.

"Sorry, I was thinking about saying something before you turned around. But then I second-guessed myself and just did nothing," Carmy blabbers, "I'm really really sorry."

"Okay okay." I put up my hands in surrender to stop his rambling. It's rather disarming, after our first meeting, hearing how he sounds so... Timid. "Sorry." He mumbles once more, head hung low.

"You're good," I reassure him with a sigh, to cover up an unexpected giggle. "Um, so what're you doing, here?"

"Oh!" He jolts upright and his eyes shoot from the ground to mine. "I just wanted to uh, talk."

"You 'wanted to talk'?" I question, a brow arching in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah," Carmy replies with uncertainty.

Folding my arms, I sigh, "About?"

"Oh, um, just about, how I acted when we met," Carmy scowls at the memory. "I should've introduced myself way sooner, and not in such a—"

"Rude way," I interject, which seems to be a common occurrence between us.

"Heard." He huffs out what sounds like a laugh, "Exactly that." I then shift uncomfortably under his intense watch. "It's alright, I didn't exactly intend to be gracious myself," I utter, returning a similar, shy smile.

"No, no." His smile widens, "You were..." He and his gaze trail off, lowering to the concrete. "'Were'?" I repeat, imploring him to continue.

"Great." Carmy finishes, peering up again. His eyes appear somewhat different, and I feel an unfamiliar chill slide down my spine. "Wow." My eyebrows rise. "'Great,' that's a, really, kind of you," I splutter with a chuckle. Carmy joins in, laughing at himself.

After a beat of silence and a few stolen glances at one another, Carmy speaks up. "I know I should've said it a while ago, but I'd like to be on good terms, rather than 'competition'." My sight hones in on his active hands as they switch between fiddling with his back pockets and shaking. "I'd like that too," I murmur, scratching the back of my head. "If only you'd stop stealing my customers," I smirk.

"Oh?" He smiles playfully and tilts his head, "So that's how it's gonna be," he jests, laughing again.

"Hmmm," I hum in confirmation, slightly troubled by how flirtatious I'm being. But damn, the way he's always looking at me —it's throwing me off...

Flushed, I conclude our conversation, "I'll see you around," then walk to my car. He almost, absentmindedly, wanders alongside me. "Yeah, see you."

While I unlock my car, Carmy's already one step ahead of me, hauling the car door open. I thank him in a whisper as I bend into the front seat, brushing past him, and he tenses. He then mumbles my name with a "Goodnight," and I sit in silence, long after he leaves, breathless.

...

The next day, I feel giddy at the prospect of seeing Carmy. It's ridiculous, considering he was my neighbour, and I was bound to see him. Though I've actually had to refrain from seeking him out.

However, that afternoon, through the glass of both our eateries, we see one another, pause, smile slowly, and head back to work.

From that point on, that sort of thing became a routine. Every day that week, I saw him for at least 50 seconds. It was even better knowing he was a chef, so the likelihood of him seeing him out front was low, but still, each time he'd be there.

Come Sunday, I couldn't delay things any longer. It was a little disheartening that he hadn't come over himself or even thought to come and ask for my number.

Thus, I knew I had to be the one to make a move. So, after closing earlier than usual, I saunter across the street. Inside, Neil greets me with an ample smile. "Hey Neil," I wave. He virtually shouts my name in return. "Hey! What you in for?" He asks cheerfully.

"I was hoping for some dinner," I chuckle. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and the anticipation is killing me. While Neil leads me to a table, my eyes don't leave the kitchen's entrance.

Neil takes my order, and my ears attentively listen for those few moments, when the restaurant's crowd temporarily quiets down, and I hear his assertive voice filter through the walls.

...

As delicious as my meal is, I can't stop my anxiety from getting the best of me. It's plausible Neil didn't bother letting Carmy know that I was here. But I'm nearly vibrating with dread, waiting for him to materialize.

Eventually, it's closing time and the herd of patrons leave. I take the opportunity to call Neil over. "Hey, I was just wondering if Carmy was in? Just wanna say hello, be neighbourly and all," I beam innocently.

"Course!" He winks but doesn't move to get Carmy. So, after a long beat staring into Fak's clueless eyes (bless him), I come up with something dicey. "Could you let him know that my food's uncooked, and I'm very, very upset," I express sharply, biting back a grin.

"O-okay?" Neil stutters, confusion and distress written across his features. I suppress my laugh with my palm.

Five minutes later, I hear a loud and hostile "what" seep through the walls. My attempts to muffle my laughter are stumped when Carmy abruptly bursts through the doors. He freezes when he sees me, and I watch the doors rapidly swing behind him. I awkwardly raise my hand in hello, and I swear he gulps.

"I was joking, Carmy." Now growing nervous, I tear my eyes away from him, onto my clear plate and see him move towards me from my peripheral. "It was, pretty good actually," I remark, downplaying the truth.

As I open my mouth to fill the silence, I peek up to see Carmy sitting right in front of me, and I lose my train of thought. It's as though we're on a date, and that's the most normal thing in the world, something we've done countless times before.

"I was planning on coming to see you after work." His sheepish, yet deep timbre makes me shudder.

"Beat you to it then?" I smirk smugly.

"Didn't we say this wasn't a rivalry?" He smirks back, and my stomach forms knots. "Nothing wrong with some friendly competition," I retort, and his reply is a simple, pleasant smile.

"Well Chef, I'm sorry to hear you're closing soon," I sigh. Still smiling, he raises his brows, "Because?"

"Because the food was decent, but I'm still quite hungry." I proclaim teasingly, shrugging. He chuckles lowly, "We can't have that."

...

Now sitting on Carmy's kitchen stool while he cooks me an omelet on his stove, I inspect his backside. The muscles tense and shift as he moves expertly through the room.

"I hope this suits your refined palette," Carmy remarks with a certain ease that he didn't have before. He pushes a plate towards me, and I reel at how domestic this all feels. I lick my lips in excitement as the delicious, potent smell of the dish consumes my senses.

Taking a bite, I withhold a moan, and close my eyes so he doesn't catch them rolling to the back of my head. Swallowing, I open my lids to see Carmy's eyes studying me, expectingly awaiting a reaction. "It's alright," I state monotonously.

Eyes and mouth expanding, he smacks his hands on his chest, overlapping them over top of his heart, like he's been shot, and a laugh escapes me. "I make it better," I contest.

"I don't doubt that," he responds without a hint of condescension, and I gape at him before giggling nervously, eyeing my omelette.

"So, what would satisfy your elite tastes?" His words may be rather suggestive, but his tone is short and reserved. Glancing up at his expression, I note the way he sluggishly runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His view then trains over my features, lingering on my lips...

Not giving him a chance to refocus on anything but my mouth, I lunge at his. Capturing his lips with mine, I hear a fumble of noises leave him pitifully. The sounds morph into a mixture of bewilderment and a cavernous groan. His hesitancy is brief as one of his hands curves behind my head, into my hair, while the other gropes my waist, bunching up my shirt in a tight fist. His groaning becomes more brazen, and I devour every single one.

Our tongues fight each other, and our hips wrestle with the kitchen island that separates us. Determined to feel more of him, I pull away from his wretched kiss. He instinctively chases after me, but my hands firmly press against his chest, which seems to bring his attention to my eyes. He more or less whines to himself.

I lick my swollen lips, holding eye contact in hopes it would help him understand what I wanted.

His grasp moves from my torso, to hold my hand, tugging me towards what I assume is his bedroom. As he maneuvers around the counter, I decide that I just can't wait. So, when we pass his living room area, I drag him back, and to his surprise, shove him onto his couch.

His back hits the cushions and he releases a grunt. Immediately, I straddle his hips and he makes haste to grip my hips, pressing me further onto his crotch. I whimper nosily, and it's his turn to hum back. "You're so..."

"Great?" I quip.

"Beautiful, is what I was gonna say— should've said." His baby blues melt me to my core. The intimacy of his look and words, somehow mean so much more, than everything we've just done.

After a short break of just breathing in each other, I press my lips to his gently, pecking them. This seems to snap him out of whatever trance he's under, as a peck is clearly not enough.

His hefty grip on my hips increases and encourages me to lean closer. His mouth dictates my every move and sound, and I wriggle above him. "Carmy," I whine desperately, begging for more.

He lets go of me to strip, sitting upright to remove his white-collar shirt. I moan at the sight, before copying him, working my shirt off. When I struggle, he rips the cotton over my head, throwing it to the floor in one swift motion. His mouth quickly draws me back in, nibbling my bottom lip.

Breaking away, I whisper, "As good as you taste, this isn't enough to satisfy me, Chef." Peering up at me through hooded eyes, he looks dazed but nods nonetheless.

My breath hitches as Carmy rears me onto my back, moving us so that his larger frame hovers over my smaller one. He unbuckles his belt clumsily and glides his jeans down his stocky thighs. I chew my lip as I gawk at the impressive bulge tucked into his black briefs. When he reaches for my bra clip, he freezes. "Shit," he exclaims airily, shoving a hand into his curly locks. I flinch, stammering, "W-what?"

"Condom," he states flatly.

"You ran out?" I joke, brows lifting.

"No, I don't do this often," he discloses, ears reddening. Silence eats up the space, and allows us to register what Carmy so bluntly, admitted. Not that I minded at all.

"I have had sex before—"

"I know," I squeal, guffawing at his prompt confession. "I think I have some in my purse." I soothe, encircling his bicep with my index finger. He lets out a sigh of relief, and I giggle like a schoolgirl when he springs to his feet, racing towards my bag.

Carmy's footsteps thud against the floorboards as he races away, half-naked. I fasten my lips together to prevent an extensive grin. When he reenters the room, I lift my body weight onto my forearms for support, cruising my eyes over his body, spying the condom between his dense fingers.

When he straddles my legs, meaning to resume where he left off, an impulse consumes my thoughts. Wordlessly, I place my palms on his thighs, spreading my digits atop his sturdy legs, to push him back. Then, kneeling on the floor in front of Carmy, I smile devilishly. I feel him trembling and the whole scene feels so erotic.

Looking up, I catch his gaze, as it adorns me, in a sort of awe. "There's something I have been craving, Chef," I murmur whilst running my tongue over my teeth. Carmy shudders as my fingers weave into his waistband, tugging them down.

While he's undressing, his briefs hanging on his chaves, I admire how his eyes flutter shut, and he mumbles nonsense to himself.

His cock engulfs my sight and brushes my cheek a bit. Carmy sucks in a sharp breath, tilting his head to watch me. Despite being taken aback by his size, I begin to stoke him. He gasps and his stomach constricts immediately.

Picking up my pace after a few pumps, I kiss his tip and his thighs shake. "Christ," he mewls. I take his noisy reaction as an encouragement to surge forward, wrapping my tongue and lips over him, and driving his cock to the back of my throat. "Fuck!" Carmy shouts.

As he gets closer to the edge, his words of appraisal jumble together in fits of, "yes, like that," "faster," and some "perfect" comments, among many other things I can't comprehend anymore. I'm lost in his touch, which tangles my hair, clasping it tightly. Before Carmy finishes, he cups my face and yanks himself out of my mouth.

Eyes shut and face twisted in both euphoria and frustration, he grumbles, "Fuck, I said I didn't wanna cum yet."

I simply smack my lips together, savouring his taste. Carmy appears stunned as holds my face. I smirk wickedly and a short puff of air abandons him.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, and his jagged voice makes his question sound like an order, and I love it. "Please," I pant and he kisses my forehead before dragging me back on the sofa, underneath him again.

Positioning himself, Carmy rips open the condom with his teeth and rolls it over himself. He sucks in a coarse breath as he pushes into my entrance, and I do the same. He moans my name and I choke on a sob as he bottoms out, in one, mind-numbing jolt. His hands tighten on my hips, pressing me into the couch as I arch upwards. We both moan nonsensically, adoring the friction and how seamlessly we fit together.

Moving synchronously, we fight for our highs, grinding into a rhythm that makes us gasp in pleasure. With my name on his lips, they seize mine, and his tongue laps every corner of my mouth, as he slowly takes control. I writhe under him and he thrusts harder, hitting all the right places. Shortly, my body grows almost limp, unable to keep up with the tide of desire above, bucking into me.

As I reach my end, he keeps going, simultaneously kissing and nipping my neck, surely leaving numerous marks, but I don't care. He just feels too good, deep inside, strong and brutal.

I cry out as core contracts, clamping down on him, and making his untamed movements stutter. I cum hard, gasping as tremors rack through me. Soon after, Carmy whimpers, craning his neck back as cums inside. With a lengthy sigh that eases into a loud moan, he holds us still. He dips his sweat-covered forehead into the crook of my neck and hums in satisfaction.

After a few minutes of catching our breath, and enjoying the weight of his body over top of mine, he heaves himself up to kiss my mouth once more.

"Go out with me, please," he urges politely as if he isn't still inside of me. I laugh lightly, then tense in surprise when my core clenches over his cock, and he winces as well.

Exhaling steadily, I breathe, "I would love to."

[ktownshizzle]

Wild & Free (Teaser)

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Vegas, something that his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of every second of his life being planned by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Notes: What can I say? We got all the tropes in this bad boy, because I don’t know when I can write again, so let’s put everything in this sucker and call it a day! This is canon-ish. I included some real-life events during this period, but it may or may not be loosely rearranged to fit the narrative - just go with it. Ginger Yoongi, because this is the LOOK I don’t give a damn what haters say. I have not written in a decade and this is me attempting to pick things back up, I hope you like it xo

BTW, the teaser scene is inspired by that leaked video of the BTS tour crew’s  private party in Vegas. It’s here if you want to see it. Enjoy! xo

Read the teaser under the cut!

!!!! Edit: Read Part 1 here !!!!

P.S. Leave a comment to be part of the taglist 🙂

***

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you. On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes were, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you were wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

***

WHAT DO WE THINK? Join the taglist by leaving a comment so I can let you know when this story drops.

Tag: @jajabro @yooglefics

[asumofwords]

Common Factors - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Midpoint, though can be read as a standalone. Michael Gavey asked you out for a drink and you had surprisingly agreed. Will you be able to tolerate each others wit without bickering, or will you lose yourself to him once more?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Public fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling, voyeurism, dumbification, finger fucking, biting, bratty reader. This is porn with barely any plot.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: Hello my angels, I know you have all been waiting so patiently for part two of Midpoint and here it is! Now I can't say that there will be a third/final chapter, but I may have ideas for it. No promises though. Saltburn has made me so nostalgic, I miss MSN messenger and MySpace. I miss the early 2000s so much, the tackiness of it, how everything was just to the max. Lmao. I also miss Tamagotchis. *Sigh*, nostalgia. Anywayyyyy, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy! <3

Part 1 - Midpoint

When Michael had asked you out for a drink, or rather asked if you wanted to get a drink, it was not really a distinct question of going on a date with him or not, and perhaps you were arguing semantics right now, but that was besides the point.

He had thought that you would go right after your little event in the library. His eagerness was riddled by anxiety, clear for anyone, not that there was anyone in the vicinity, to see or hear, you hoped. 

You had shifted awkwardly for a moment, feeling his spend slide down you thigh in the large hole he had ripped in your stockings, explaining that you wouldn’t be able to go that evening.

He wilted.

It strummed a cord in your chest, and so you quickly explained that it was because of said issue between your legs, and not that you didn’t want to see him again. The fire in his eyes lit up again, and for a moment, the hair on the back of your neck stuck up. It felt as if you were about to be confronted once more by his obnoxious spite, though thankfully, and only because of your quick explanation, did he soften and you exchange details for your respected MSN Messenger accounts. 

The night after he was busy, apparently there was some sort of important chess tourney that he would be going to with his friend, you were unaware that he had any, and so he proposed the night after. But the night after you had told your best friend that you would bus into the city centre to meet with her, so that was no go as well.

You both thankfully settled on the Friday later that week, agreeing to meet at the small pub you frequented, which you found he did too. Each time the computer dinged at his reply, a thrill of excitement crawled through you. He was rather curt in his messages, but eager, and would often would send moving emojis at the end, which you saved and would send back.

Friday rolled around quickly, and you found yourself eager to see him again. You spent a solid two hours fretting over what to wear, deciding that pants or tights were not an option this time despite the cold weather.

You settled on a cute little outfit, the skirt of it coming to your mid thigh, looking at yourself in the mirror as you left before triple checking your computer and Nokia for any messages to say he was late, or couldn’t come, but none came. The last message he had sent to you, was a smiling thumbs up that moved largely across your screen agreeing to see you at 7pm sharp. 

You left early, earlier than what was needed, and sped walked the entire way to the pub, pulling your large jacket tightly around you, scarf covering the lower half of your face. The air was particularly crisp that evening, and by the looks of it, it may snow later, and although it was quite cold, you could see from afar that the pub was full, the winter air not deterring them. 

When you opened the door, the stale stench of its beer soaked floorboards filled your senses, loud music and even louder people, drinking and smoking and laughing in large groups without any care for the world. You knew that break would soon enough be coming to an end, and all the students would now be slowly making their way back, spending their last days or weeks of break with friends on campus and the establishments surrounding. 

The air inside the venue was stuffy, and almost wet with condensation, and as you rose on your tip toes, looking over the heads of others at their tables, or at the bar, you struggled to spot the familiar sandy blonde hair from your library, and the glasses that sat perched on his sharp nose. 

You pulled out your Nokia, checking the time and also checking for any messages. 

It was 6:57.

You were early.

But not too early.

Heading straight for the bar, you ordered yourself a drink, eyes drifting back over the pub, looking at the faces to see if you could see him with anyone. When again, you didn’t spot him, you told yourself not to panic, and instead decided that you would find yourself a spot to sit. There was table in the far corner, away from most, its surface was cleared bar a half drunken pint, hidden in the shadows and pressed against the wall between two larger tables, filled with people. You paid for your drink, and headed straight for the empty seat, winding past the pulled out chairs and wafts of smoke.

You were halfway there when a figure popped into your periphery. Your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar blue ones, a twitching smile pulling at his sharp yet plump lips. He came towards you from the direction of the loo, and you watched as he wiped his hands down the sides of his pants despite them looking dry.

“Hey.” You smiled, stopping short of the table, to awkwardly look up at him as he made his way over.

“Hi.” 

You shifted awkwardly around each other before you leant forward to give him a hug, he wrapped one arm around you stiffly in reciprocation, before pulling back to straighten, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“You get me one?” Michael nodded his head to your drink.

Your brows furrowed softly, “Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Michael hummed, “I’m never late.”

Here we go again, you inwardly sighed. This is just what you didn't need. Another run in with his attitude.

“I wasn’t to know that.”

Michael stared at you a moment longer before turning away to the bar. You watched him awkwardly, yet somehow confidently, move through what little people stood at the counter waiting, standing rod straight as he ordered himself another pint. As he waited, you took your seat on the side where the half drunk beer wasn’t, back to the wall and completely cornered in. 

When Michael came back, beer in hand, you let yourself graze your eyes over him. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that exploded from your lips. He frowned as he sat opposite you, a tinge of defensiveness showing on his strong features.

“What?” He almost sneered, watching as you brought a hand to your mouth to try and cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” You giggled again, having to look at the ceiling for two seconds, trying to compose yourself, pushing a breath out shakily, “Your shirt.”

You began to laugh again, watching him as he looked down at it, inspecting it for a stain or hole.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He asked clinically, not finding a rip or hole or bird shit which he had suspected was there for a moment on the material.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled again, “It’s awful.”

Tucked into his cargo pants and black leather belt was one of the worst shirts you had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, and in big font on the front, it read ‘Weapon of Math Instructions’. On it, small drawings of calculators, protractors, and sums surrounded the large font.

In a quieter voice this time, he replied, “I got it for my birthday.” He picked up the sweating beer to bring to his lips, the foam coating his mouth as he drank deeply.

You felt a tinge of regret for laughing at him so openly, even though it was admittedly the worst shirt you had ever seen, “Do you enjoy maths puns, Gavey?” You tried to sound flirtatious, but in the moment you sounded more unsure than anything.

Michael took the beer away from his lips, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “If they’re funny. Why?”

“Do you have more shirts like this?” You tried to contain your mirth and failed.

The curiosity melted away, and a stony expression slipped over his face, “You’re taking the piss.”

You shook your head, heart speeding up, “No! No, sorry, Michael. I swear I’m not, I just, I wanted to- I’m trying-“

“-For someone whose degree relies heavily on the english word, you sure do struggle to find them.” The smirk on his lips was a thinly thing that indicated that he was being playful, but if he hadn't of smirked, you wouldn't have known. His tone was flat, his body posture stiff, and not once did he laugh, but you knew him.

And it more intimate than you would have liked.

Tongue in cheek in you leant back in your chair, feeling a comfortable little bubble surround you, the tension that was there only simmering in the background now, and not drowning you in it.

“How was the chess tourney?” You took a sip from your drink as he watched you.

“Fascinating, if it’s something of interest.”

His answer surprised you,.

“And was it of interest?”

“TBD.”

You took another sip of your drink, “My nan used to play chess with me when I was little.” 

This seemed to peak Michael’s interest greatly, “You can play?”

You shook your head humbly, smiling, “I can play, though I’m probably not very good.”

“We should play.” His answer was so immediate, so abrupt, that you could only blink before remembering to reply.

“What, now?”

Michael raised his brows at you as though you were intellectually stunted, “Do you see any chess boards in this shit hole?”

You breathed sharply through your nose, “No.” You said more afronted than intended, “I was just asking-“

“-You ask a lot of questions but don’t know what ones you want the answers for.”

Annoyance began to bloom in your chest, “I thought we were done with this tit-for-tat nonsense. Or did you want a round two, Gavey?”

A soft blush spread across his cheeks, and you knew you had him.

“Are you going to ask me about my day?” You cheeked, enjoying the way he flustered slightly, and then held back an angry sneer.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Michaels jaw tensed, and you bit your inner cheek to not smile, “Your day.”

A large grin spread across your lips along with a false expression of realisation, “Oh, my day! My day was fine, thank you, Michael. I did some reading, I did some study, and then I got myself ready to have drinks with a right git.”

Michael sucked his teeth loudly, “You’re funny. Should be a comedian instead of studying them.”

“You’re cute,“ You countered, “Should smile more instead of sneer.”

“I thought you said we were done with this nonsense.”

“I did, and I am. Starting…. Now.” You smiled widely, bringing your drink up to toast. 

Michael looked at you oddly, then to the glass in your hand before finally he brought his up, connecting the two cups.

You smiled wider, proud to be ready to say something you know will interest him,“‘If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.’”

Michael's glass slammed down onto the table, his body leaning towards you in palpable excitement, “How do you know that?” His voice was eager, like you had lit a flame inside of him.

You smiled smugly, sipping on your drink, proud of yourself to have garnered such a reaction, “Learnt it with my degree. Einstein wasn’t just a man of maths. He was an important part of modern history. Especially regarding his involvement, or I should say rather, his non-involvement in the Manhattan Project.”

Michael's eyes lit up behind his glasses before he picked up his beer and thrust it against yours again, “Glad they’re teaching you something of importance.”

You huffed and laughed and sipped, watching as Michael settled his chair closer to you. It felt as if a door had been opened, and suddenly you were able to step inside the world that was Michael Gavey.

“You know,” You smirked, feeling heat from him beside you, chairs still apart, but bodies leant towards each other, “Art and History is just as important as Maths and Science.”

Gavey looked as though you had declared that the Earth was flat. It was a peculiar little look that made you want to lean across the space and press your lips squarely against his.

“I’m being serious.” You continued, “Without art, without history, the world would be a lot more boring than it is now.”

Michael pursed his lips at you, “Whatever helps you rationalise your choice of degree.”

You sipped your drink, eyes watching him over the rim of your glass, “I’ll let that slide. Only because I know you like watching me get riled up.”

“You’re rather confident of yourself this evening.” He commented, his blue eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“And you’re rather goading. Not that that’s out of the ordinary.”

His fingers strummed against the table as he looked at you, eyes roaming over your body, “You look nice.”

“I would say the same, but I hate lying, and that shirt is an abomination.” You teased, bumping your shoulder into his lightly.

He smiled.

When did it become this?

How did it become so easy for you to melt into this conversation with him of all people?

Only earlier this week the two of you were at each others throats, snarling and fighting, and now here you were, seated beside each other, making little jokes and sitting intimately close. 

“Careful. Tit-for-tat.” Michael warned you, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a huff.

It seemed to please him, and soon enough you were moving through a smooth conversation. He mostly asked you about your studies and friends, and even asked about your family.

And you learnt about his. A fairly standard, run of the mill family. One sister, and an older brother, had a dog growing up, and now has a fish. 

But soon enough the conversation drifted back to your studies.

“Are you looking forward to term starting again?” You asked.

You felt as though he would be, his desire for learning and studying was clear whenever he spoke about it. He was passionate, and it was something that you admired about him. Or at least, now you did.

Michael shrugged, “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

This confused you.

“Why?”

Michael frowned, “Why do you think? I’m second in our year, I barely need to study-“

“-All you do is study, Michael.”

“Because there’s not much else to do here, I don’t have friends like you do.” Michael sneered the word friends, and immediately you knew who he was referring to.

“Michael-“

“-It’s different for us. People who aren’t ‘in’. Theres no parties, or accolades, only our degree.”

“You know that I’m not-“

“-I know that you don’t think you are, but whether you like it or not, they consider you one of them.”

You frowned. You didn’t like hearing that, especially with what Farleigh had said to you. You hated it because whilst it was wrong, it was still true. You did get invited to the parties, you had them all on MySpace and MSN, and even had their numbers in your phone. But for you, it was different, and Michael knew it.

You pushed your tongue against the side of your mouth, “I’ll bring you as my plus one to the next party. Then you can see that you’re not missing out on much.”

“You’d be seen with me in public? With them watching?” He said it with a laugh, though it was entirely humourless.

Your head tilted to the side, “We’re in public right now, aren’t we?” You looked around the pub, watching the many faces around you before settling back onto his. His expression was unreadable, until finally-

“We are in public.” He smirked. Gavey downed the rest of his beer quickly, all but slamming his glass onto the table, though not loud enough to garner any attention from the other patrons.

Michaels hand grabbed the seat of your chair and pulled it roughly towards him. You let out a squeak of surprise as your seat shifted against the floor suddenly, almost making you lose your balance. 

“Michael!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“What are you doing?” Your heart began to quicken, his hand coming down to brush against your thigh as he intently stared at you from behind his glasses.

“I’m not doing anything.” His hand inched higher, grazing your inner thigh.

In a small panic, you lifted your gaze to the rest of the pub. Not one person had looked up when he dragged you to him, nor had anyone taken even the slightest bit of interest about the two students hidden in the dark corner table. Everyone in the pub was drunk and too absorbed by their own conversations and friends to notice anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Gavey teased, voice dipping lower as he openly mocked you, his pinky finger skirting against the edge of your panties. 

Your brain had short circuited itself.

You were in public.

Where anyone could see.

And Michael had his hand under your skirt, teasing you.

This was what not what you would have expected from the man who was currently wearing a maths pun on his shirt. Your hand dropped under the table and grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping him from moving it any higher, though this didn’t prevent him from continuing to run his pinky back and forth under the elastic of your panties.

Heat coursed through you, and your core clenched around nothing. 

“What are you doing?” You asked breathlessly, a rhetorical question really. You knew just as well as he did exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Gavey.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He smirked again, eyes locked onto your face, watching as you struggled internally, “You sit there and be a good girl for me, and when we go back to your room, I will give you what you want.”

You blinked.

Michael squeezed your thigh roughly, “Use your words.”

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay what?”

“Yes.” Your blood pumped loudly in your ears, air struggling to get inside of you as you squirmed in anticipation. 

“Yes, who?”

You wet your lips with your tongue, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Yes, Michael.”

He could be so demeaning so quickly. Like a switch was flicked. He went from this awkward, sneering maths genius to a cold and domineering man who could pull any response he liked from you.

“Better.” He smiled, “Now,” Swiftly Michael tugged your panties to the tide, two fingers immediately grazing your centre. You jerked as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds and up to your clit.

You were soaked.

“Tell me what they’ve taught you about Einstein, since you want to use his words as a toast.” He looked you in the eyes as your breath caught on itself, his fingers swirling around your bud slickly. 

Michael suddenly paused, stilling his fingers, “Unless you only used him to try and impress me?”

Irritation coursed through you alongside frustration, “I didn’t use him to im-“ Your voice stilted as he began to rub his fingers against you again.

“To what?” He mocked you.

“I-Impress you. We learnt abou-t him and his wife recently.”

“The wife he divorced?”

“Yes.” You grit through your teeth, pleasure winding powerfully through you. Your toes curled in your shoes, stomach clenching as his fingers dipped back down to your entrance, scooping up more of your slick to drag back to your bud. Your eyes flittered around the pub, checking nervously to see if anyone had noticed what was going on underneath the table. 

No-one had.

“Surely you can find the words to tell me more?” One long finger suddenly pressed inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, “Or are you dumb already?”

“H-his wife was a brilliant physicist,” You struggled to control yourself as he crooked the long finger inside of you, curling it up against your inner walls, “And a-a mathematician.”

“Was she now?”

“Yes. Mileva Marić. They were married for a decade, and he-“ All thoughts escaped you as Michael added a second finger with the first, the stretch pressing into you deliciously as he immediately hooked his digits. You blinked mouth agape whilst looking at him, feeling your face become flushed. 

His eyes were half lidded as he watched at you intently, watching your every reaction, testing and teasing to see what made you tick, eager to make you come undone.

This was affecting him as much as it was you. 

Only he didn’t care for others catching on.

His stare urged you to continue.

“H-he was cruel to her.” You muttered, brain struggling to catch up.

Michael hummed, “Most men of historical notice were. It was the norm.”

“It doesn’t m-mean that it was okay.”

“No. But a man such as him surely deserves more merit in your eyes.” As his fingers crooked into you, slowly rubbing the spongy patch inside, his thumb pressed against your bud, causing you to shift your hips towards him, grinding down on his hand as you breathed a breathy moan, “Einstein did things that no men could.”

“I-if it was all his w-work to begin with.” You argued weakly, unable to keep your voice sturdy.

“What do you mean?” Michael’s interest halted his hands movement, but this lapse in control only lasted a moment before he corrected himself and began again.

“M-Mileva scored higher than him in applied physics. Five to his one. I-It's believed she helped him complete equations that he couldn’t without the credit. I-It's why he promised her the money f-from his Nobel Prize.”

The mans fingers slowed down their ministrations as he digested your stuttered information, the coil within you already beginning to tighten, “Fascinating.” He breathed, edging closer to you, “Tell me more.”

“Many women-” Michaels thumb began to quicken, halting your thoughts abruptly, your hands still clutching the edge of the table, knuckles aching.

“Many women, what?” He parroted you meanly, “Don’t tell me you’re close already, are you?”

You swallowed thickly, not willing to open your mouth lest a moan or gasp fall out. Michael chuckled quietly, his fingers quickening the pace within, causing you to arch towards him and grind down against his hand again. His arm subtly moved against you, and if anyone in the pub looked, they would surely know what was going on.

“Look at you,” He cooed, his other hand brushing hair behind your ear, “Already so close.”

You whined, trying to shift closer to him and his hand, if that was even possible.

“Does it turn you on that I’ve got my hand in your cunt for all to see?” He purred, “If someone just turned around right,” His fingers pulled out from you momentarily, moving up to your clit where he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, causing you to jerk, “Now, and looked closely enough, they’d be able to see how you’re desperately grinding down against my fingers.”

Your core clenched around him at his words.

“Oh, you do like it.” He tutted, “Such a dirty little whore.”

You whined again, “Michael I-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry that pretty, little, empty head.” He cooed, emphasised by swift rubbing circles on your bud, “I’ll take care of you, but only if you behave.”

You nodded desperately, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. You would do anything. You were desperate at this point. The week of waiting for him had filled you with anticipation, and meant you spent most of your nights with your fingers or vibrator between your thighs thinking about him and your last meeting in the library.

Michael watched you nod and grind down on his hand, his pace slowing so that you couldn’t get much out of it besides a slow and steady buzz of pleasure.

He seemed to think for a moment, deliberating, before an almost cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

“Do you know your times tables?” He asked, fingers almost still at this point, only languidly moving to keep you riled, or to remind you of what he was doing.

You could scarcely think, scarcely exist without feeling as though you were at any moment about to come undone, his hands keeping you just at the precipice. Your mind was hazy, and any and all thoughts of substance had seemed to escape you.

“Use your words.” He encouraged you in a demeaning manner.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Not just a pretty face then.” The backhanded comment could have made you smile, “We are going to play a game.”

Could have.

Your eyes widened slightly, hands dropping down to clutch the underside of the table, “A game?”

“Yes.” He gave you an encouraging smile, “Good job. A game.” He was treating you like you were a child who is only just beginning to understand a basic concept, “I’m going to ask you an equation, and you’re going to answer it. If you’re correct, you get a reward. If not,” He paused, fingers teasing you again, “You get punished. Do you understand? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The way he was speaking to you, so meanly, so smugly, made you clench harder around his fingers.

You liked when he was mean to you.

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Alright,” His hand paused its movements, pulling his fingers out to just rest lightly against your bud, barely touching you, “What is the sum of seven times nine? I’ll use small numbers so that it doesn’t confuse you.”

Slowly, you did the maths in your head, “Sixty-three.”

Michael smirked, “Good girl.” You keened at the praise, and felt his fingers press a little harder into you, his movements beginning to start again slowly, though not enough to give you any pleasure.

“What is fifteen times six?”

Oh god. 

“Um,” You shifted, blinking rapidly to try and do the maths, but every time you got somewhere, Michael would press against you harder as if he knew, ruining your train of thought.

“Come on,” He teased with a swirl of his fingers, “That’s an easy one.”

-5 is 75, then-

“Ninety.” You gasped out.

“Good, good. So clever of you.” He cooed, though the sarcasm dripped from his lips. His fingers once again pressed harder, sparks of pleasure finally springing up inside of you. The sound of the pub was loud around you, and in the dim light, you could see that a blush had spread across his cheeks. 

“One more and then I’ll give you your reward. If you get it wrong, then you get nothing. Ready?”

You nodded shakily, chasing his hands with your hips. He tsk-ed you and stilled his hands, “Don’t be greedy.” You apologised softly and stilled, waiting for him to start again. 

"Twelve times seventeen.”

Oh God. 

What?

“M-michael, that’s not-“

“What? It’s easy enough. Even the thickest of people could get it. Though I suppose you’re getting all pretty and dumb for me anyway.”

“I-“

“How about this,” He smirked, and the way he did it caused you to sit on edge, “I’ll help you since you’re such a stupid little girl.” Michael plungers his fingers into you with no warning, immediately fucking them into you rapidly.

You sucked in air sharply, feeling the coil within begin to pull taught. 

“Twelve times fifteen is one-hundred-and-eighty. You need two more twelves. Do you know what two times twelve is?” 

Did you?

Jesus.

“I- It’s twenty four.” You answered shakily, surprised at your own voice.

“Twelve times seventeen?” He repeated the original question, “Oh dear, you really do have no brain.”

“N-No.” Your voice shook with how roughly and quickly Michael fucked you on his fingers, “Two times twelve.”

“Ah, clever little idiot. Go on now, what is one-hundred-and-eighty plus twenty-four.”

Your brain couldn’t do it, too hazy with how he was degrading you and how well he was touching you. You just wanted to cum. All you wanted was to cum. And then his thumb joined, swirling over your clit slickly as his fingers pistoned in and out of you, the sound of your wet rising from beneath the table. Your arousal pooled onto the back of your skirt and the wood of the seat.

“T-two-hundred-and-“ Michael pressed his thumb brutally against your clit suddenly, fire coursing through you, ruining your train of thought once again.

Damn him.

“Two-hundred-and what?”

Oh god.

“Two?”

Michael frowned at you, though you could tell that he was pleased, his fingers pulled away from you quickly, your eyes widening.

“N-No!” You grabbed his wrist keeping it against your inner thigh, his slick fingers pressing against your skin, “I-I-“

“Wrong answer.” He tutted, “You’re so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid and desperate, look at you.”

“Please, please,” You begged, clit throbbing, “I know- I know what the sum is. Please.” You pulled his hand back to your core, his fingers stiff as you ground against them desperately, “It’s two-hundred-and-four. Two-hundred-and-four. Michael, please.”

Michael’s fingers did not move, and watched you with entertainment as you desperately rubbed him against you. You needed to cum. You needed it. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care if it was degrading. You needed him. And you needed him now. 

“Look how fucking desperate you are.” He laughed, “So pathetic. Whining like a bitch in heat as you grind against my hand. Are you that desperate to be a little whore?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Michael. Please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He smirked.

You were so close, so so close, “Please, please.”

“Tell me you need me.” He breathed, face coming closer to yours, his breath fanning agains your lips.

You licked your lips again, swallowing thickly, “I need you.”

Gavey smiled toothily, “You’re so pathetic.”

And without a second thought, or really without even a first thought, you nodded in agreement, “I’m pathetic. Please. Please, Michael, I want you.”

“What will you do to get it?”

“Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” He asked again, eyes searching your face.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than you had ever needed something before “Please.”

“Okay.” His fingers slipped back into you as he breathed the word, almost as if he was bored, like fucking you with his hand in public was an all too boring affair.

Mundane.

Little to nothing coming out of it for him. But in that moment you didn’t care as the coil within began to wind again.

“Fuck.”

Michael leant forward, his lips beside your ear so that you could hear him clearly, “You’re going to cum on my hand in this disgusting little pub like the dumb, desperate, little slut that you are, and then you’re going to thank me for it. Understood?”

“Yes.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist as it pummelled into you, thumb brutally swiping your clit as his fingers brushed over the sensitive patch inside of you over and over. 

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” His lips brushed your neck, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Fuck. Y-yes.”

Michael leant forward, his lips brushing against the skin beneath your ear, his sharp nose nuzzling into your hair before he bit down on you roughly, causing you to gasp. To anyone else in the pub it would have looked like an intimate gesture, a man trying to whisper something sweet into his dates ear, but to you, it was damning.

You were so close, so so close, and all it took was four little words to send you over the edge. Michaels tongue lapped at where he had bit you before he came back to your ear one last time.

“I own you now.”

Pleasure erupted through you, your release bursting from within. You jerked in your chair against him, tucking your head into the side of your neck as you hid your face, grinding down onto his had as you whimpered. Michael plucked pleasure from deep within you, his hand not once slowing, prolonging your orgasm. It was only when it began to subside did his hand slow as you breathed raggedly against his neck, slumped into your chair and against him.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you panted, and gently Gavey withdrew his fingers from within you, a wince falling from your lips from oversensitivity before he pulled your panties back into place.

Michael cooed you gently, “Good job.” Almost inaudible in the loud of the pub, “So good f’me.”

Fatigue washed over you like a wave, crashing into you so fiercely that you didn’t have the strength to sit up yet. You were fucked out, mind thinking of absolutely nothing as you nuzzled your face into his neck further, breathing in his scent.

“Hm,” Michael hummed, “You still with us?”

You hummed back in reply dreamily, only moving back when Michael pulled you away, watching you with half lidded gaze as he looked over your disheveled form. Michael laughed again, eyes crinkling in the corners as he brushed his hand against your cheek. Your first thought was how pretty he was when he smiled, and then you felt the wetness of your slick clinging to your skin crudely. 

With a curious touch, Michael moved his fingers across your lips, the taste of yourself tart and warm as he caressed you. You opened your mouth for him and let his fingers inside, immediately tasting yourself as he rubbed his digits against your tongue slowly as you held your mouth open for him, drool beginning to pool at your bottom lip. 

“Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded lazily, small smile flicking at the edges of your lips. Michael pulled his fingers from your mouth and used his thumb to smear the saliva that had pooled at your bottom lip over lips messily.

He tutted, “Dirty girl.”

“Mmm.” You hummed in content.

Michael eyed your half drank drink, nodding towards it, “Finish it.”

You did as he bid, brining it to your lips as you kept your eyes on him, swallowing it quickly before placing the glass back on the table, a warm fuzzy feeling slipping over you, a little space that was warm and safe and cozy. Then Michael stood, rather abruptly, like he had remembered that he forgot to turn the stove off, chair hitting the wall behind him as he looked down below at you.

“Time to go.”

You stood, on shaky legs to follow, adjusting your skirt sheepishly, knowing that there would be a damp patch at the back but not caring enough to hide it. In a way, you wanted people to know what had happened, and in some ways your wish had come true. 

A table in the middle of the pub nearby had half of its eyes on you, whispers and smirks shared amongst one another, watching as Michael grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd roughly. Wolf whistles and hoot’s were called after you, followed by rambunctious laughter. You weren’t sure if they had seen what was happening under the table, but you were sure they had seen his fingers in your mouth. 

The door to the pub was swung open as Michael pulled you out sluggishly behind him. As you stood in the crisp air he spun you abruptly, grabbing your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately swiping against yours, trying to taste your essence that lingered there. Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against you, where finally you could feel how much what had transpired had affected him. He pulled back, restraining himself as his sharp nose bumped into yours as he moved. 

And then he was gone, stepping away from you as he began to walk away. You stood dumbfounded as you watched him, snow beginning to fall from the sky. 

Do you go after him? Was this it? Did he just use you in the pub only to humiliate you out the front? 

A wave of confusion and hurt washed over you, but before it could turn to anger, he stopped and faced you again, a soft smirk on his lips.

“You coming? You said anything.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

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The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student. 

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point. 

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town. 

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends. 

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.” 

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?” 

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend. 

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside. 

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.” 

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace. 

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed. 

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette. 

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal. 

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress. 

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up. 

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table. 

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else. 

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer. 

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling. 

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie. 

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly. 

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out. 

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

[madhatterbri]

Unbothered | F.B.

Summary: Can I please request a Finn Balor x ring announcer/reader fic?, where Finn loves showing off in the ring because he knows the reader is watching him, but she acts like she's unbothered 😉.

Author's Note: I took it one step further. I hope that's okay. ❤️

Requested by anon.

Finn Balor Masterlist

Unbothered Part 2

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms

"It sure looks like Finn is showing off tonight for the main event," Michael Cole mentioned with a smile. He stared at his paper while trying to hide a smile. Pat McAfee laughed next to him and looked at Y/N. She glared at both men. The two were having fun at her expense lately.

"Well, he does have quite the woman to impress. Miss Y/N is our wonderful ring announcer and has certainly caught the eye of Finn. He is quite the catch to you know? Zero percent body fat," Pat commented and winked at his ring announcer. He fingers formed a 0 to elaborate on his previous comment. Y/N rolled her eyes and focused on the match.

The Irish man wasn't shy about showing off to her. His moves were bigger and flashier than they needed to be. His light eyes would lock on to her to make sure she was watching. When he completed his move, Finn would look for a reaction. Sometimes, she would roll her eyes. Other times, she would clap sarcastically. She was rewarded with a smile on his face.

Tonight didn't go exactly as planned. Finn stood on the top rope to perform a Coup de Grace. He turned to look at her like he normally did. When he saw she was watching, he jumped to perform his finishing move. His opponent didn't calculate the landing.

Finn landed on the man awkwardly. His ankle twisted. Y/N knew something was wrong the moment Finn didn't look at her. He automatically pinned the guy. The commentary table commented on the injury he might have sustained for those watching at home. They went off the air, and medic came out to help him get to the back.

The announcers and Y/N took a couple of pictures with fans. She couldn't hide the worry on her face. Maybe he was really injured. If only he would stop being a show off.

"You, uh, looking a little concerned, kid. Why don't you check on him?" Pat asked and motioned towards the ramp with his head.

"I guess," she answered. Truthfully, that was the only thing she had thought about. After a few more pictures, she apologized and started to take off from Michael and Pat.

"You think they gonna name their first kid after me someday?" He asked Michael. The two men laughed and continued to interact with the audience.

Y/N made it to the medical room and knocked on the door. Nervously, she crossed her arms over her body. The locker room would have a field day with her being there to see them. All the teasing, especially from Judgment Day, would never cease.

"Come in," Finn's Irish accent called through the door. She grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

Finn couldn't hide his shock when he saw Y/N. He was expecting someone from his faction. The injured wrestler slowly sat up. His pant leg was hiked up. A bag of ice placed high on his ankle. His shoe was left next to the medical bed.

"Impressive. Showed off so much you ended up in medical," Y/N complimented and walked next to the bed.

"Worth it, though. I know my Coup de Grace is your favorite move. I see the way your eyes shine when I perform it," he smirked. Y/N couldn't stop the brief chuckle. God, this man is so full of himself, she thought.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Pretty lucky. Any minute longer, and doc thought I would have lost my foot," he answered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "All right. Well, I hope you feel better. If you need anything, anything at all. Don't be afraid to ask someone else,"

Finn laughed. "How about your number? You like my moves in the ring, you should see how I am out of it,"

Y/N thought about it momentarily. "Okay, six,"

"Wait, seriously? Hold on," he pleaded and reached for his phone in his pocket. His fingers worked quickly on the touch screen. "Okay, ready,"

"Six," she repeated yet didn't say anymore numbers. They stared at each into realization dawned on him.

"Come on, I got injured trying to impress you. That should get me all ten numbers," he complained. Finn placed his phone on his lap.

"I couldn't be bothered by giving you the rest. Besides, you don't know if that's even the first number," she winked and walked out of medical.

[aestas666]

The Interview [K. Hammett]

pairings: kirk hammett/female! reader

warning/s: smut, inappropriate language. MINORS DNI

-request via message of the reader interviewing kirk! (REQUESTS OPEN)

5:00 AM

That’s what the clock read as I blinked my eyes groggily. My body was still numb from sleep. The hours rushed by so fast it was as if I never slept.

“God, I have an interview.”  I thought as I rose from the soft duvet and headed toward the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I glanced at my apartment windows noticing the still dark sky. As the coffee maker softly hummed in the background, I pulled out my papers to look back into the history of the band I would interview later on.

METALLICA

That’s what was written as the headliner of the article I was reading in huge bold text.

Hopping into the shower I was rehearsing my questions, I had none prepared. That was the point of our brand. We intend to make things come up naturally and we invest on making sure we knew who we were talking to flat out.

“Should I look up a photo of them?” ... Shaking my head, I thought an element of surprise would be good.

After the shower I hurriedly rushed to my closet. “Should I dress in black? I mean- they’re a metal band. Am I supposed to look the part?” All these questions rushed in. I really should have prepared more the day before. I pulled out some black button long sleeves and some denim shorts with a black studded belt.

Downing the coffee in one go, I grabbed the keys of my car and rushed to the venue. It was in some room of the arena they were performing in. Call time was at 7:00 and it’s already 6:48.

Parking was easy, the lot was huge. I found myself running to the arena and into a hallway. Stopping at a door with 1507 written at the front.

I took a deep breath in and entered. The crew was in already. 2 guys named Michael and Jim. 

As soon as I walked in Jim (the cameraman) hit record. 

Only one guy was sitting on the chair, I looked back at Michael in confusion as he just nodded at me to go on. 

“Oh, um hi-” I extended my hand over the table as I took a seat down in front of him.

“Kirk. Kirk Hammett. Yeah, it’s just me, the guys are still sleeping.” He laughed softly as he shook my hand.

“Yeah sure, that’ll be fine. We could start the one-on-one interview now if you’d like?”

“Oh for sure yeah, you guys are the Ride or Die people, right? How does this work?” He looked at me with intent as I waved off Jim to stop filming.

“Yup that’s us. Basically, we ask general questions. Some fan questions that could get a liiitle too personal can come up and you have to answer honestly. That’s our whole gig.” He nodded, his mouth making a small “o”. 

“This’ll be interesting for sure. Never expected a cute girl from a name like Ride or Die actually.” His comment made me heat up; I mean. This man was gorgeous, he had such nice curls and an adorable smile. There was so much I wanted to-

“Hey. Are we starting?” Jim interrupted my thoughts as Kirk looked back at me, amused.

“Ah yeah- sorry. Start rolling.” He hit the record button as I once again extended my hand to the guitarist.

“(Y/N)”

“Pretty name, I’m uh. Kirk.” He grinned at the camera almost awkwardly.

“Renowned guitarist of Metallica. Wow it truly is an honor. How are you doing today, Kirk?”

“Haven’t had breakfast, the boys are sleeping, it’s 7:00 AM. I’m pretty good.” We both shared a laugh as we finished up some questions on the album, the band’s touring and his thoughts on the city.

“Now for the fun part. Fan questions. I’ve gathered some questions they are dying to know.” I enunciated the ‘dying’, watching him suddenly turn to stifle a small laugh.

“I’m kinda scared to be honest. They could get a little crazy.”

“You’ll be fine! This one is from Kacey, and she wants to know what your type in groupies are.” I cocked a brow at his furrowed ones.

“Wow. This one’ll need some deep thought.” He looked up as if he was reflecting. 

“Probably someone like her.” He nodded at me as I held my chest in pretend shock.

“I look like a groupie?” 

“You’d look good as one.” It was Michael's turn to chuckle as the camera whipped to him and I shot him a look.

“Who was the last person you had in bed?” I continued.

“Jesus. At least get me some breakfast first, wow.” He rubbed his face in embarrassment as he went on “Come with me and it could be you.” 

“God I would.” 

“What was that?” He shot me a look as if in shock.

“Huh?”

“You said you would. You’ve got some honesty there Ms. Interviewer.” He leaned in my direction as I mouthed a “cut that out” to Michael, who just rolled his eyes at me.

“This is the last question.” I stated as he clasped his hands together, awaiting.

“What place do you want to visit most?”

“Back to serious ones huh. Hawaii. It just looks so relaxing y’know.” 

“Well. Thanks Kirk. That’s all.” I glanced back at the 2 men who hurriedly sorted their gear back into place.

“Yeah, the rest of the band probably isn’t going to wake up any sooner.” Kirk called out to me as I rose from my seat to leave.

“Ah yeah that’s fine. I could come back some other time.” I put the notes I had back in my bag.

“I was serious by the way. I think you’re gorgeous.” My heart was suddenly pounding, I looked back to see both Jim and Michael gone. 

“Thanks, Kirk. You look goo..d” I mentally face palmed. I was dead nervous, and it was more than obvious.

“I don’t bite (Y/N). Come here.” He rose from the seat and approached me. He was taller, by some inches. He smelled like tobacco and a few hints of spearmint. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” I backed up toward a couch just at the end of the room.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you. Sit down.” He motioned toward the couch as he knelt on the ground. 

“Tell me. Do you want this?” 

Only a sicko wouldn’t want this. He was knelt before me and I just wanted to scream. “Yes please.” He grabbed my calves from the bottom as he softly trailed them on top of my knees. “Remove your shorts.” Quickly removing my belt, I looked away in embarrassment, I was still wearing my underwear and I was already flustered. Christ. “Pink panties? Thanks for dressing up for the interview I guess.” Kirk grinned, his fingers clasping at both sides and dragging the underwear down.

“Hey. I could stop anytime.” His brown eyes bore into mine as I shook my head with a clear no.

His rough hands caressed my thighs, opening my legs further. “You’re so wet already.” He dragged a finger down my slit and back up. Resting a hand on my stomach he licked a stripe and gave a coy smile at my flustered face. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was almost a whisper as the pounding in my ears increased. 

He stood up and leaned toward me to give a kiss, his lips were soft and wet and strangely tasted like mint. Grabbing my waist, he sat next to me and pulled me up to his lap as he continued to feather my neck with small kisses. 

I lifted my hips as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, he raised his hand to gather the slick from my cunt and pumped himself, his breath hitching.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.” I breathed out as he gently placed both his hands on my hips and lowered my body to his tip. “Fuck.” He moaned out, stretching me as I whined at the foreign feeling. My eyes squeezed shut while he whispered reassuring words, dragging his other hand on the back of my head and pulling me closer. 

“It’s alright sweet girl, move when you’re ready.”

I rested my head on his shoulder as I raised my hips up slightly and started moving at a slow pace. Gaining the courage as I got used to the pressure, he met my bounces with a hard thrust each time. I moved my head up to look at him. His hair stuck at the sweat of his forehead and his blown eyes focused on his cock pounding my cunt. 

He flipped me over and was now on top, still pounding, chasing his high. My legs were over his arms now as I gasped at the new position. Placing his thumb on my clit, he rubbed small circles, his jaw slack. My eyebrows furrow as I feel my orgasm rushing. “C’mon, baby.” He leaned to kiss me again, suppressing my soft moans. 

“Fuck, Kirk. I’m close.” My eyes started to tear up as his pace quickened. He’s hitting my sweet spot over and over as I choked a moan and felt my body tense and slacken at my release. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. I’m close, baby.” He rambled as he rammed into me, and I felt him fill me up after his thrusts.

He pulled out as I swallowed at the feeling of loss. He knelt in front of me between my legs and laid his head on my stomach, breathless.

“Wanna interview me again sometime?” He looked up with the same cheeky grin.

“I’ll think about it.”

[alt0writings]

Only for you~

Lucifer x reader

fandom: supernatural

Note: in my stories "luce" is pronounced like "loose" just so you know :)

When I mentioned looking at his wings he tensed up his mind was running over all the situations. The only conclusion he could think of is I would leave him.

So he denied it, "don't you think we're kind of busy right now?" He says kind of harshly. I frowned "no your right we are busy" I laughed awkwardly.

Since lucifer wasn't showing his wings maybe I could ask michael for a description.

Michael wasn't keen on the idea of telling me, "come on michael tell me!" I begged. He still said no.

I sat down in a chair right next to sam and dean "hey boys, how's it going?"

They both looked stressed "not good we can't find this crucial piece of information." Sam groans and lays his head on his arms which were folded in front of him on the table.

I frown "can I help some how?" I looked over towards dean but he was shaking his head "nothing you can do kid" I sigh and nod.

Sam and dean had left to go hunt a werewolf that has been eating elderly people. I sat in a chair off to the side in the library so as not to disturb micheal and lucifer, it's the first time they had gotten along without wanting to rip each other's throats out.

I was reading my book, as I was nearing the end of a chapter I could hear whispers. I turned the page to act like I was reading when I was actually listening.

"Just show them!" Michael harshly whispered. I heard a growl and a forced bitter laugh "you know I can't do that." Everything was silent after that.

After a while dean and sam came back, "how did the hunt go?" They smiled and hugged me. "It went really well besides the fact we almost died" dean snorts. I shake my head and nod "I'm glad you both are back in one piece" they release me and back up, my face scrunches up "you smell like a wet dog. Go take a shower."

Once they agreed and started walking towards their rooms I took my leave and started walking towards my room.

I opened my door and almost jumped out of my skin, lucifer was sitting on my bed, and was sweating profusely He looked up and rolled his shoulders.

"I need your help" he stood up and pulled me into my room before shutting the door and putting an angel banishing sigil on it. "What are you doing?" I question, he sighs and gently places his hands on my shoulders. "You want to see my wings right?" He says while looking away he seemed.

Fearful.

I nod cautiously, he sighs and pulls his hands away before walking around me towards my bed. He pulls his shirt off, he had a surprisingly toned body he wasn't a bodybuilder and wasn't exactly fat. What was the word I am looking for? Oh right.

Dad Bod. He has a dad bod, he turns and walks towards me. From where he stood in front of me I could feel his breath fan against my face, a slight minty smell.

"Don't freak out." He quietly mumbled as he covered my eyes. A bright light flashed from behind his fingers, he pulled his hand away.

I gasp as I take in the beauty of his wings. There were 3 sets of 6, the biggest were the brightest.

pink mixing with blue while fading into black due to burn damage they looked to be torn. The set below that was a mix of pink and white with small black spots, it kind of looked like a sunrise it was also burnt but it also looked torn as well. His last set was the smallest yet was still bigger than your thigh. It looked to be the worst, half of it was gone but you could tell it was gold underneath all the dirt and grime.

"They need grooming, c-can you do that?" His request went on deaf ears, I was hypnotized by their beauty.

I blink repeatedly "what?" I shake my head slightly before looking up at his face. His cheeks had a pink hue to them, he groaned and released my shoulders "listen I need help cleaning them I don't wanna have to ask michael." He crosses his arms over his chest as if a defense.

I nod "of course I would be honored too luce. I can't believe you let me see your wings." I mumbled the last sentence, not trying to be rude or suggest I wouldn't be honored to do this again.

"Only for you~" he purred out as I ran my hands through his biggest set of wings.

Note: hope you enjoyed this I liked writing it lol

[asa-do-your-thing]

A pillar of support

Michael Gavey x F!Reader 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: 2,3k Tags / Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, looming sense of me projecting my insecurities about my upcoming statistics exams

“What don't you understand? I've told you five times already, it is one of the easiest concepts. If you just follow the formulae, you’ll manage your assignment.” 

You nervously picked up your pen again, clicking it a few times. “I know, Michael, but… I don't get it. I want to understand what I’m solving.” The numbers on your paper wouldn't want to make sense to you and Michael's bobbing leg distracted you further. 

“They let anyone study here, urgh”, he muttered and ran a hand through his short hair. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you took his written assignment out of its plastic folder. “Well, I'm not the one that has written ‘This theory has been proven and it is Logical, I shall not explain more.’ You do know that'll be rejected? You've not quoted anyone in all of these ten pages.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and scooted closer to you. “That is why I have taken out my time to sit with you, so you can correct it for me,” he said coolly.

Raising an eyebrow, you laughed incredulously and pushed the paper back to him, getting ready to leave. “D’you think I'll help you out, for free, without anything in return? You're a dreamer.” 

“No, please, wait,” he said and quickly put his hand on your arm. “The thing is that I've tried explaining to you what you've asked of me. I can't make it easier.”

‘So he really does need my help, then’, you thought to yourself and gave him a small smile. “Well, what would you offer me then?” 

You could see his mind racing as he looked over his assignment once more. “How long would it take for you to correct it and give me feedback?”, he asked matter-of-factly. 

Getting up from the small chair in his room, you stretched and let yourself fall onto his uncomfortable bed. “Anywhere between one and two hours. Why?” 

His eyes scanned your body, stopping at your short skirt and your bare, plump thighs. “I'll meet you next Saturday and you can choose what to do, I'll do it with you and pay for it, but only if that assignment comes back at a 85% or more”, he mumbled, a slight blush spreading on his stern face. 

You knew what he was thinking about and it made you want to giggle. He really wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. “Mh, anything?" You turned onto your stomach, looking up at him, batting your lashes. “That isn’t very ‘specific’ and ‘observable’ of you.” 

He rolled his eyes and got up, giving you an annoyed look. “Stop parroting me.” 

You grinned and got up as well, noticing the way his ugly trekking pants started bulging. “Oh, I will parrot you as long as I want to. Not that you seem to mind, anyhow.”

Michael realized what he was doing and quickly stepped back, his eyes widening in embarrassment. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” he stammered.

You couldn't help but laugh at how flustered he got. He was usually so stoic and uninterested in women that it was surprising to see him blush like this. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a knowing look. “It’s okay, I get it…you think I’m seducing you or something?”

He coughed awkwardly before averting his gaze. You could tell he was trying hard to keep his cool demeanor despite the current situation. “Well, uh…it is kind of hard to concentrate when you are…right here in front of me like this.”

“Oh, so you do want me then?” You gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, if you really want my help so badly, then I suggest you seduce me as repayment. If you do it properly, I might even consider teaching you a thing or two about the art of seduction. What do you say?”

Michael stared at you for a few seconds before he finally nodded shyly, yet with a hint of threat in his voice. “Yes, I’ll do it…but if you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure to ruin your reputation.”

You grinned and crossed the space between you two, standing directly in front of him, slipping your fingers through his belt loops. You could feel the tension radiating off his body as he tried to play it cool. You leaned forward slightly and whispered into his ear. “Good boy. Now let's get started...”

Michael gulped audibly as you pulled him closer by his belt loops. He could feel your breath hot against his ear and he shuddered involuntarily. This was not something he was used to, but he couldn't deny how much he wanted it. He had always been a loner, someone who preferred to keep to himself and focus on his studies. But being in your presence made him feel alive in a way that he had never imagined possible.

You could sense his apprehension, but you were not about to let him back out now. You had spent too much time trying to get him to open up to you, and you were not about to let him go that easily. You ran your fingers along his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and smiled to yourself. This was going to be fun.

You pulled away from him, a coy smile playing on your lips. "So, do you know where to start?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Michael shook his head, still a bit dazed from your touch. "No, not really," he replied softly.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, sitting him down beside you. You could feel the heat emanating from him, and you knew that he was just as affected by your closeness as you were. You leaned in closer, feeling his breath hot against your face. "Let's start with a kiss," you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

Michael closed his eyes and leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You could feel his hands shaking as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

"N-not bad, not bad at all," you mumbled, breathing heavily.

You could feel his hot breath against your neck as he moved in for another kiss. He wasn't being very forward, but he wasn't too shy either. It was a good beginning, but he needed to do more if he wanted to win.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "Did you lock the door?" you asked, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his lips on your neck.

"On it," he replied, quickly getting up and locking the door.

You smirked and pulled him closer, hands moving to caress his chest. "Good boy," you muttered, purring in delight as he kissed along your neck.

He got the hint and quickly moved to kiss your lips once more, a bit more rougher this time. You were no stranger to this. You had played with a few men before, and you knew exactly what they liked.

"Now this is the stuff," you thought to yourself as he continued to kiss you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His fingers gently moved past your hair, playing with it as he enjoyed the kiss. It felt nice, but you sensed he wanted to do more. You pulled away, looking at him with a mischievous smile. "Do you want to be more forceful?" you asked.

He nodded, biting his lip as he looked into your eyes. "Y-yes," he stammered, and you could tell he was getting harder with each second that passed.

You could feel him harden against your leg, and you grinned. "Mh, you are eager, aren't you? Well, would you want to take off some of my clothes?"

He nodded again. "Yes, I think I can manage that," he replied, his fingers already working on the buttons of your shirt.

You let him take off the shirt, admiring the view. You didn't dress for anything - after all, you just thought you'd study a bit, yet it seemed like it didn't matter to him at all; his eyes widened at the sight of your tits.

"Now the skirt," you said, unzipping the skirt and stepping out of it.

Michael undid your bra and pulled off your skirt, leaving you in a simple black thong. You could feel his fingers trembling as he pulled it down, your womanhood becoming evident. You could tell he was nervous and shy, but he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You let him admire your womanhood for a few moments before you pulled away and grabbed his hands, placing them on your chest. "Here, touch me," you breathed in his ear, biting his earlobe.

He nodded and began massaging you, his fingers moving all over your chest. You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him. You could feel his eyes on you as you grinded against his erection, a grin spreading across your face. "Having fun?" you asked playfully.

He replied with a deep kiss, his hands moving to grab your ass. You let out a cry of surprise as he did it, but you couldn't help but like it. You moved your hips against his, moaning softly.

"Y-yes," he stammered, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to keep his cool. His hands moved over your ass, gently massaging your body. He was enjoying this, but he wasn't the kind of man to just sit back and let you have all the fun. He pulled you off him, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him.

"O-oh?" you muttered, smiling slightly. You had never been on the submissive end before, but it was evident that he had enough of you toying with him - you had given him enough confidence to take the upper hand and you enjoyed it thoroughly.

He kissed your lips again, only to move to one of your nipples. He kissed around it, teasing you. His fingers traced ever so lightly over your skin, feeling every inch of you. He was enjoying the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, and you enjoyed it too.

You ran your fingers through his hair, moaning in delight as he kissed your breasts. "Oh...that feels good..." he muttered breathlessly.

His lips began kissing lower and lower, until you felt his lips against your stomach. He wasn't going to stop there, you knew that much. You bit your lip and prepared yourself for what was to come. He smiled to himself, enjoying the view. He kissed your thighs, and then he moved in closer.

His tongue brushed against your pussy, tasting your womanhood. He moaned softly as he moved in deeper, tasting the juices of your womanhood. His tongue began moving in perfect harmony, he was enjoying every moment of it. You could tell that he was enjoying himself, and that made you moan even louder.

"M-Michael..." you moaned loudly, grabbing a hold of the sheets beneath you as you began shaking. He had just begun, but you were already on the edge. He moved in faster, his tongue working wonders against your womanhood. Each flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, and you were already in a daze. You moved your hips against his tongue, wanting him to go deeper and faster. "Ohh...M-Michael..."

He moaned as you called his name, and you could feel him quickly coming up again, positioning himself aganist your entrance. "D'you want me... raw?"

You didn't need to answer, you didn't want to and most importantly you didn't care. He slowly began sliding into you, his cock filling up every inch of you as he slowly began thrusting. He moaned quietly against as he began moving in and out of you, his cock sliding in smoothly.

"M-Michael..." you muttered, tilting your head back in pleasure. You had never felt something this good before. He was so big, filling up your womanhood. His cock pushed deeper into you, and with each thrust he made you moan louder and louder.

"A-ah..." you moaned, biting your lip as he thrust faster. He was taking no time at all to push every inch of his cock into you, and you loved every second of it. You could feel his cock thrust in farther, hitting against your deepest places. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, enjoying the tight walls surrounding him and you could feel your pussy tighten around him. You knew exactly what this meant.

"O-ohh...I'm-I... fuck," he moaned loudly, his cock twitching within you. He let out a loud moan, pushing himself deep into you before he pulled out, cumming all over your lower body. His hot cum sprayed out over your skin, and you loved it. He leaned forward, his cock still throbbing above your body.  You could feel his heart beat through his cock against your skin, and you could tell just how hard it was for him to hold that back.

He finally leaned down, panting against your neck. "I-I... hope that should be enough for you to help me with my assignment."

You smiled, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. "Mh..." you replied, leaning up to kiss his forehead. "You did exactly as I asked, I think I'll be able to help you now."

He smiled in delight. "Great! D'you think you could help me tomorrow too?"

You nodded. "I'm pretty much available to help you as much as you'd like," you said.

He smiled, bringing his hands up to your face and gently caressing it. "I... thank you. I'll make sure to get you ready for your statistics exams," he muttered before he leaned in to kiss your lips softly.

[restlesspazzi04]

here are scraps from chapter 6 + explanations on why they were scrapped!

Scene 1

This was a deleted section from the conversation with Paige and Michael:

Michael just nods in response, letting Paige continue. “I think I’m in love with Azzi.” The verbalization shocks both of them as the words slip out of Paige’s mouth. “And I don’t think she loves me back,” Paige slurs out, hugging her knees for comfort. 

“What makes you think that?” Michael asks a little quieter this time. 

“I just don’t think she sees me like that. I can’t really explain it.” 

Michael hums lowly, continuing to listen. 

“I’m not good enough for her,” Paige pauses for a moment before continuing, “And I don’t think I ever will be.” 

“I think you’re being harsh on yourself.” Michael chimes in finally, “You should talk to Azzi about this. I think you would be surprised at what she has to say.”

“And ruin my relationship with my best friend? No way.” Paige scoffs, “Plus, I can’t give Azzi what she wants… or what she deserves. It wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her.” 

“But are you happy with what you are to her? Are you happy seeing her with other people?”

The question made Paige stop and think. Was she happy? When Azzi had told her about the girl she had hooked up with, Paige had gone on a mini-rampage, finding random girls to sleep with every chance she had. She had chalked it up to being in college and an unlimited population of girls who wanted her (which was true still), but she would be lying if she said Azzi hooking up with someone else didn’t influence her choices. It had hurt her more than she anticipated and that hurt terrified her. 

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. I can’t lose her. If I told her right now then we would have to date. And if we dated that means we would break up. And if we broke up, well- well then our friendship would be over and I don’t know if I can handle that.” 

“Why would you have to break up? You’re dooming a relationship before it even starts. What’s the point of that?” 

Paige shakes her head, “I’m not dooming anything, I’m just being realistic.”

“Or you’re projecting your commitment issues.” Michael cuts in quickly, causing Paige to have a mildly offended look on her face. 

“I do not have commitment issues!” Paige exclaims. 

-

Explanation:

I didn't want Paige's first verbalization of loving azzi to be in this chapter (aka want it to be a bigger moment)

I thought the outward mention of her commitment issues was too cliche and scrapped that

just not well written and flowed awkwardly to me idk

Scene 2

This scene jumped from multiple places such as the beginning on the basketball court and the bathroom scene at the party:

“We would get to spend three years playing together, that’s one.” Paige says, counting off her fingers, “We would get to hang out at any time, go to bars together, and just have more freedom. I mean I love Katie and Tim, and my parents are good about letting us sleep over, but let’s be honest we always have to end shit early, and that’s just two. I got like three more.”

Paige takes a step closer to Azzi, in her face now. 

“Three, we would be teammates and you know how well we worked together in Team USA. We are like Curry and Thompson. See? I even used an NBA player you knew. That’s just how well I know you.” Paige says with a shit-eating grin on her face, warranting a tiny shove from the brunette. 

“Four, I want you to meet my friends. I just know you would get along with everyone. Why would I not want the best team for you? And you would love Geno. He’s a tough coach and I know you like that.” Paige just smiles, resting both her arms on Azzi’s shoulders. 

“And five?” Azzi asks a bit quieter when Paige doesn’t respond for a moment, just staring at the younger girl with a flirty smile.

“We could be as loud as we want,” Paige says while maintaining eye contact, only breaking it once to glance down at Azzi’s lips. 

“Oh yeah? Is that why you want me to come? I didn’t realize my Mom telling us to quiet down while playing Fortnite was so annoying. I’ll ask her to back off.” Azzi says while feigning innocence, not wanting to play whatever game Paige was playing.

“Yeah, it gets really annoying when our hangouts get interrupted. I mean we’re just two girls tryna have fun, what crime are we committing by laughing too hard?” Paige says, playing along with Azzi. 

“I guess I just have to come so we can laugh into the night together,” Azzi says while leaning in for a kiss. 

Explanation:

it lowkey killed me to take this out because i liked the way i wrote it but i just didn't have a use for it

kinda forward and i wanted paige's reasons for wanting azzi to come to uconn to be less superficial? if that makes sense

her actual list will be revealed later in the fic

Scene 3

This was the original ending to the fic, i just didn't like it that much:

“Do you remember that party we went to before you committed when I asked you to narrow down to two schools?”

Azzi looks at her, confused, “What does that have to do anything?” “Just trust me. Do you remember that night?” Paige says, still unsure of where she is going herself. 

“Yes, you were being an asshole… what does that have to do with anything?” 

“I made of list of every single reason I wanted you to come to UCONN, but I never told you because I was too scared to tell you how I felt.” 

Azzi looks back curiously now, wanting to know more.

“And I thought about sending you that list every single day leading up to your commitment because it was driving me insane"  

“But I realize now, that I can’t do this anymore with you. I can’t sit and hold back every single time we talk about something serious because it’s been years of this back-and-forth and it’s driving me insane.” Paige pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’m not going to tell you what to do because that’s up to you to decide. But if you're genuinely asking me if I think you should get married to Ben, I'm going to say no."

Explanation:

I initially wrote this with the intention of this being the moment Paige tells Azzi she shouldn't get married, but it felt way to premature and i just didn't like the level of impact it would've had to the plot

I didn't like most of the wording

too much blatant flashbacking, felt unnatural

this is a slow burn and this would simply be too much progression when it hasn't even been a full 24 hours of them being resolved friends again (aka wtf was i thinking)

And that is the totality of the deleted scenes i will be sharing thank you for reading :)

also if you've made it to the end, i have a one shot coming out soon on tumblr so watch out for that !

[sinning5sos]

one of the boys (you can choose which one!!) having corruption kink and teaching y/n some stuff? I think it would be so hot him teaching her how to touch herself cause she’s never done it before and in the end just being “good but not as great as you make it feel”.

so basically innocent!yn + corruption kink if you could and isn’t weird for u to write.

Corruption

Requested: Yes you little freak, I love it

Word Count: ~2,100

Smut:  praise kink!!!!!!! Corruption, masturbation, teaching? Etc. DIRTY!

We all know Ashton has to be the kinkiest one out of the group

“Truth or dare, what are we back in high school?” Luke said, laughing off Michael’s suggestion. Michael rolled his eyes but leaned back against the couch. You were sitting next to him, Calum, Luke and their significant others on the opposite side of the coffee table. Ashton was off in the kitchen, gathering snacks for the group. It was a weekly occurrence that you all got together, something beneficial for all of you involved.

“We all know everything about one another anyway.” Calum said, and Luke chuckled.

“Well, nearly everything. We still don’t fully know you,” Calum’s fiance pointed out, her gaze on yours and everyone else followed.

“You guys know a lot about me,” You said, laughing a bit awkwardly but Michael shook his head.

“Mmm, not all of it. We don’t know the juicy details of yours and Ashton’s sexual encounters.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. The girls around the table scoffed, but the boys laughed slightly.

“Who’s in charge in the bedroom? Is it you?” Luke’s wife asked, and you laughed again as you shook your head. You weren’t really sure how to answer that. You’ve had a lot of fun with Ashton, but you’ve always felt as if there could have been something else, if there could have been more.

“It’s equal in the bedroom,” You said, taking a sip of your drink to give you time to think of an answer, “But of course, it’s more so Ashton.”

“Well obviously, we all know that Ashton is super fucking kinky, it’s only a matter of time before he truly corrupts you,” Calum said, lifting his beer up in a cheers motion and you felt the blush creep onto your cheeks.

“He’s probably already done it, hasn’t he?” Michael prodded, nudging his knee with yours and you laughed, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t showing itself.

“What are you going on about me corrupting my girlfriend?” Ashton asked, bringing a tray of food into the living room. He had a smile on his face but a pointed look in his eyes. 

You smiled up at him, taking his hand as he sat on the other side of you, “Michael, you’re not being a dick again are you?”

Michael chuckled as he shook his head, and Ashton leaned his head down against yours. He turned slightly and kissed your hair, and you smiled as the topic drifted off to a different conversation.

“Tell me about it later,” Ashton murmured into your hair and you nodded. You knew all the jokes of Ashton being the kinkiest one, but he hadn’t shown that side to you. You weren’t a virgin, but you also weren’t as experienced as he was, and now that thought was a slight insecurity. You felt yourself becoming distant from the conversation, which Ashton so graciously covered for you as you thought more about what the boys had said.

Ashton hadn’t corrupted you at all, nor has he let you feel any shame in it whatsoever. But you wanted more from him, you just weren’t sure how to get it.

* * *

“Baby girl, why are you acting like this? Is it because of the conversation that I walked in on earlier?” Ashton asked, moving to join you on the bed as he knelt beside you.

“I'm not acting like anything.” You insisted, but you knew that was a lie. The conversation had been replaying over in your head, again and again, until the two of you had gotten to this moment. You weren't sure why the conversation was impacting you so much. I'm at the boys a joke around about summer things in the past, but there was a part of your deep down that wondered if Ashton had been holding out on you.

“Okay fine, I am. I’m sorry,” You said, laughing slightly as he looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, just talk to me about what you’re feeling.” He said, an authentic smile on his face as he leaned down closer to you. He pressed his lips against yours, a nice gentle kiss but pulled back. 

You leaned in again for a kiss, deepening it and racking your brain on how to be more…aggressive. You bit down on his lip but winced as you pulled away.

“Princess, what was that?”

“The boys are talking earlier at Luke's that you're obviously the very kinky one and that I am not as experienced by your means. I don't know, it's just been kind of stuck in my head since we left.”

“Can you explain a little bit more?” He asked, nodding as he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing the skin.

“I want you to corrupt me.”

He chuckled as he dropped his hand but stopped when he realized you were serious.

“Baby, what do you mean?” He asked and you sighed as you thought more about it. 

“I don't know, I just want you to teach me more. I'm not saying that I am completely innocent, but I know there's more that you wanna explore but you’ve been holding back on me?” You suggested.

“Is this coming only from the conversation or is this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?”

“I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” You said sheepishly. His brow furrowed at your response, and he pushed off the bed, “Baby wait, I’m not -”

He cut you off with his hand raised and you quickly shut your mouth.

“I’m not mad. But we’re going to have some fun now, since you want to learn so badly. You want to be my little slut, is that what you want?” He asked, his voice hard but his eyes still soft.

You felt the blush creep back into your cheeks but nodded.

“Good girl. Now I want you to get up, strip, and then sit with your back up against the headboard.” He commanded. You were quick to follow his words, pushing off the bed yourself and climbing out of your pajamas. You shivered slightly as the air, chilled by the AC unit, now was blowing against your skin. You followed his instructions and climbed back onto the bed, your back now against the headboard.

He stripped out of his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, by your feet and gripped his own cock. You licked your lips in anticipation, now so excited to hear his next words.

“Spread your legs Princess,” He murmured, his voice low and his eyes dark. You slowly spread your legs, feeling self conscious but also empowered and how hungry he now looked.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and I want you to do exactly what I say. My mouth is about to be very vulgar, can you handle that?”

You nodded, but his gaze caught your attention.

“Verbal confirmation. Everything will revolve around your ability to answer me, is that understood?”

“Yes Ashton,” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“Good girl,” He praised, and you bit down on your lip again at the praise. Did you have a praise kink? “Now, I want you to take your right hand and bring it down to that sweet pussy of yours.” 

You followed his instructions, your hand grazing down your front to your core and looked up at him, waiting for the next cue.

“I want your fingers to tease your slit, but no penetration yet. Up and down, collect some of those juices I see running already.” He said. You followed his instructions, your two fingers grazing your lips. Your body jolted at the contact, but you kept your gaze on Ashton. His hand was moving ever so slightly, teasing himself and you at the same time.

“The same rhythm I’m stroking my cock, I want you to start fucking yourself with your fingers.” He muttered.

“Yes Ashton,” You breathed out. Your fingers, already slick from stroking yourself, pushed inside of you. You let out a slight gasp at the feeling, craving it to be his cock instead but you didn’t voice that - not yet.

“Good girl. Tell me how that’s making you feel?” He murmured. He started to stroke his cock just a bit quicker now and you matched his pace.

“It feels so fucking good Ash,” You moaned out. He chuckled as he nodded, licking his lips as he watched your fingers move.

“God, already so fucking wet and you’re only fucking yourself. You’re a fucking vision right now,” He breathed out, his eyes closing for a second as he increased his pace once again, “Insert another finger inside of you and start rubbing your clit with your other hand. Fast too, don’t hold back on it.”

You followed his instructions once again, adding in your ring finger inside of you as you brought your left hand to your clit. You moaned as you made contact with yourself, your clit being a sensitive spot for you. You started out rubbing slow circles, but as you heard him tsk, you sped up.

“Tell me again how you're feeling right now, baby girl.” He said, but you barely heard him over the sound of your own moans. You couldn't help it, the way that they fell from your lips at the situation. Ashton looked so hot sitting at the edge of the bed and stroking himself while fucking yourself with your fingers. 

“I feel so fucking good Ashton. I think I’m going to cum soon.”

“Good. Keep going, but don’t you dare cum without my permission.” He said, and you nodded.

“Ah, words Princess, or I’ll have to punish you.” He snapped.

“Yes Ashton, I won’t cum unless you tell me to,” You breathed out, your eyes peeking up at his and seeing him satisfied. He had a smug look on his face, his hand still stroking at a steady rhythm and you were starting to struggle to keep up. You felt your thighs begin to shake, but you kept your gaze on Ashton as you continued fucking yourself.

“Ash,” Your voice was desperate, but he chuckled. You positioned yourself sitting up more, your fingers still fucking yourself as your other hand was on your clit, and you moaned out as your body began to shake.

“Ash, please,” You begged. He stopped stroking and moved closer, giving you a singular nod.

“Cum for me princess,” He said, and your abs and thighs started to burn with how much you were restraining yourself. You let everything go, your orgasm crashing into you as you came on your own fingers. You stilled, your body now exhausted and Ashton went back to stroking himself.

“Let me taste you,” He murmured, and you brought your hand up to his lips. He sucked and moaned with your three fingers in his mouth, before releasing them as he was about to cum himself. He stilled, his cock twitching as he came and you enjoyed watching him become undone.

“I’m going to clean up real quick, then we’ll chat.” He murmured, pressing a kiss on your lips and you hummed quietly. He walked into the bathroom, and you pushed up on your elbows as you watched him grab a washcloth and run it under warm water before returning to you. You moaned as his fingers brushed against your core, feeling extremely sensitive from what had just happened.

“Tell me baby girl, what do you think?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against your neck and trailed them down your throat.

“I definitely enjoyed that,” You whispered. He chuckled as he nodded.

“You definitely did. Did you like fucking yourself while I watched?” He asked, sliding down slightly to drop the rag in the laundry basket before he turned back to face you. This was your favorite version of Ashton, his cheeks flushed and his face glowing in the post orgasm haze.

“I’d much rather have you inside of me instead,” You breathed out and he chuckled as he crawled up the bed, closer to you. He met your lips with his, pushing far more forcefully than earlier and you smiled into the kiss. He pulled back, his hand gripping the side of your hip as he lifted himself up.

“You’re going to regret those words Princess,”

[jenniferjareauwife]

Hiiiii could you write a jj x reader where reader meets jj’s kids, doesn’t have to be daughter or son.

She's My Girlfriend

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 630

summary: you meet jj's boys

I gnawed on my lip nervously while staring out the window of JJ's car. We were on our way back from the work and I was meeting Henry and Michael for the first time. Michael was just barely a toddler but Henry was 8 and I didn't want to make a bad first impression. "Baby don't be so nervous they're gonna love you, ok?"

"It's impossible not to be nervous." I chuckles awkwardly as I chewed on my thumbnail. She took my hand from my mouth and kissed it before holding it in her lap.

"We're here. You gonna be ok?"

"Only if your kids like me." I flashed her my best smile, making her laugh a bit before she turned off the car.

I held my breath as we stepped in the house. Henry ran up to JJ and jumped into her arms, making both of us smile. "Hey buddy. I want you to meet someone, ok?" She held up against her, holding him up with her arm under his body

"Who are you?" He asker with a goofy smile, his long hair covering his left eye.

"This is y/n. She's my girlfriend." JJ's eyes lit up when she looked at me. I held out my hand for him to shake but he just pulled on my pointer finger while laughing.

"Do you kiss?"

"Yes we do." JJ confirmed with a soft laugh.

"Pretty." Henry said.

"I think she's pretty too buddy." I blushed at his and JJ's compliment. "We're gonna order pizza tonight, how does that sound."

"Yay!" He lifted his arms up into the air triumphantly. As if it was his cue, her younger son Michael started crying from upstairs. JJ sighed and suddenly had a tired look on her face, making my smile fall.

"Everything ok?"

"That's the sound that wakes me up in the middle of the night. I don't enjoy it." I frowned as I followed her upstairs.

She held Michael in her arms and slowly rocked him back and forth, kissing his forehead while whispering comforting words even though he couldn't understand them. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Do you wanna try holding him?" I nodded, taking her offer and holding Michael in my arms. It wasn't immediately but he stopped crying after about a minute. "You are never leaving this house again." She whispered. "You're my savior babe." She kissed my cheek, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, taking in the silence. "Do you want to stay over tonight?"

"I'll never turn down a sleepover." I smiled and turned my head a bit so she could kiss the corner of my mouth.

"Thank you so much."

"Of course." I leaned down to plant a kiss on Michael's forehead, smiling as his mouth slightly parted. "He's so cute, you know that? You make cute babies." She blushed, squeezed me a bit tighter.

"We should have a baby someday." I couldn't help but smile at her suggestion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, we should." I could feel her eyes on me from behind as well as her huge smile. "I think we would have really cute babies. I just hope it's a girl. Boys are hard to take care of." She sighed, resting her chin on my shoulder while staring at Michael's cute face as he fell back asleep.

"Let's do it."

"What?"

"Let's do it. Let's try for a baby."

"Really? Now? You want to?"

"Of course baby. Unless you don't want to, I mean Michael is only two-"

"No no. I want to try for one." She brushed my hair back from my face. "I want a baby with you honey." She kissed my cheek again. "I want a family, with you."

"I love you so much."

"I love you more."

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Like Real People Do: Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of "Like Real People Do"

Working a Saturday shift, Eddie and Dustin come to the rescue to help you leave work early...only after you've met potentially a new friend.

Read Chapter 2 here

Pairing: Eddie x female reader (named "Brooke" because I hate using Y/N, but will also be using "you" to make it reader-centric!)

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint enough

Word Count: 2.11k

A/N: Graphic made by me. I do not give permission for my work (graphic and writing) to be shared without my permission. I have a taglist for this fic, let me know if you'd like to be added to it!

The weather had finally gave way to autumn, the citizens of Hawkins saying goodbye to their tank tops, and hello to their sweaters. The sun was shining on this crisp, autumn day, making you a little stir crazy while you worked your Saturday shift.

Huffing and wiping your brow, you pushed the shelving cart through the Non-Fiction section, feeling like you were missing out. It was a Saturday and the library was virtually empty, and as you watched a group of kids run past the windows, you frowned slightly, wishing you were anywhere but there.

Sure, you loved the library – you loved reading! – but now that your social life was taking a turn for the better in Hawkins (you had gone out a couple of times with Nancy Wheeler, and oddly enough, her younger brother and his crew…most importantly, Eddie), you wanted to go do fun things. For instance, you knew that Eddie and the rest of Hellfire were going to the mall that afternoon, and were later grabbing burgers at Benny’s.

Your mind wandered to Eddie as you grabbed a small stack of books to re-shelve. Thinking of how, in the past few weeks, you had fallen into a nice friendship with him, and how, if given the chance, you’d want to seriously suck face with him.

Not that you’d admit that out loud.

Butterflies appeared in your stomach as you couldn’t help but smile, thinking back at the last time you had hung out with Eddie – after a Hellfire Club meeting, you met him in the parking lot to grab late night sodas at the local convenience store. Somehow, he made sitting in a dimly lit parking lot until 1 AM excessively fun, especially when he kept leaning into you every time he laughed.

Sigh.

His hair was extra curly that night, the summer humidity hanging on for dear life fluffing it up a bit. You noticed he smelled really good too, which, was how he smelled all the time…but it was still really good, and sill worth noticing.

“Uh…excuse me?” Some said from behind, snapping you out of your daydream. You jumped a little and turned around, facing a boy around your age, waving his hand awkwardly. When he finally got your attention, he smiled, “Hi. I’ve been trying to ask for help for a bit now…I hope you’re not in the middle of something?”

You blushed, embarrassed, “Oh god, no. I’m sorry. My brain is…somewhere else.”

He waved his hand as if to say “no big deal”, “It’s Saturday. Your brain isn’t supposed to be working that hard today, anyway.”

You laughed and nodded, “What can I help you with?”

“Well, I’m doing a report on Napoleon for school, and I was wondering if you could help me find some stuff on him?”

“Oh…well, you’re in the right section, and it’s alphabetical, so you can start at the N’s…but unfortunately, I’m not a librarian, so I can’t help you find exactly what you’re looking for…I just put stuff back on the shelves,” You gestured to the pile of books you were holding in your arms, “Eventually. I do put them back on the shelves…eventually.”

The boy nodded and stalled a moment, looking down at your outfit. “Do I…know you? Do you go to Hawkins High?”

You nodded, “I do. I transferred this year. I’m Brooke.”

“Michael. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to shake it, but suddenly took his hand back, “Actually…let’s not. Because of the books…” He blushed a little, “I don’t want you to drop them.”

You smiled and waved your elbow as a greeting, “Nice to meet you,” Awkwardly, you transferred weight on your feet, “Well…I better get back to this…the librarian is over in the corner over there if you have questions.” You nodded towards the librarian, who may or may not have been currently sleeping.

Michael gave a little wave, “Yeah, sure. Thanks…it was nice to meet you.” He turned and walked a few steps away, but turned to look back at you. Giving you one last smile, he disappeared around the corner.

Huh. He was nice.

Suddenly, there was a giant crash near the front of the small library. You craned your neck and saw the front display of books on the floor, the books scattered in every direction. You followed the two pair of sneakers standing in front of the (now broken) display, and unsurprisingly, you found Eddie and Dustin. Sheepishly, they waved.

You rolled your eyes and put the book stack down, marching towards them, “What are you guys doing here?” You asked, your voice a hoarse whisper. You snuck a glance at the librarian at the front desk who was wide awake now.

“We’re here to bail you out!” Eddie said proudly, crossing his arms. You smiled at him.

“…you’re what?”

“We’re here to bail you out!” Dustin echoed, shouting excitedly. The librarian stood and put a finger to her lips.

Shh!

“No, I get that, but,” You ushered them over to a corner, trying to not get in trouble, “Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t be cooped up at work on such a beautiful day.” Eddie said, almost in a “duh!” fashion.

“Okay…and how are you going to bail me out?” You asked, incredulously.

Suddenly, Eddie grabbed your arm and dragged you over to the librarian’s desk, Dustin in tow.

“Ma’am!” Eddie said, suddenly acting nervously, “I am this young lady’s brother and I just found out that she is really sick…our doctor just called our house. He told us she shouldn’t be out, so our mom just asked me to take her home.”

“SHE’S CONTAGIOUS!” Dustin wailed dramatically, earning another “Shh!” from the librarian.

“You guys!” You hissed, embarrassed. You could feel the deep blush rising in your cheeks.

The librarian looked at them, then at you, and then at the clock. It read 2:30. Slowly, she looked back at you and sighed heavily.

“You’re lucky you only have a half hour left of your shift,” The librarian said, monotone. She waved her hand in the air, “Go…enjoy the beautiful day. I mean…enjoy your…” She looked over her glasses at Eddie, “Quarantine from your contagious illness.”

Dustin pumped his fist in the air and Eddie smiled, snagging your arm and taking you outside. “I can’t believe that worked.” He said, laughing as soon as he got outside.

“I can��t either…but you canNOT do that again, you guys! I could’ve gotten in trouble!”

“With that dinosaur? She’s so old she’s not going to remember this in like, five minutes.” Dustin said. He shoved his hands in his pockets, “So, Benny’s?”

“To Benny’s!” Eddie said, looping his arm in yours and leading you to his van. You giggled and followed suit, happy to be enjoying the day.

-*-

With your milkshakes to go, you and Eddie were the only two left after everyone had gone home. Currently, you were sitting in the back of his van, the doors open, watching the sun go down outside of the empty field next to Benny’s.

“Cookies and cream was the way to go.” Eddie said, slurping up some of his milkshake, speaking with his mouth open. You shook your head.

“You can’t go wrong with chocolate, Eddie. Any other flavor is just…not right.”

“Chocolate is so boring!”

“Chocolate is a classic!”

“I refuse to argue this bogus point,” Eddie said, putting his hand up in your face, “Quite frankly because there is no argument…I am right.”

You huffed, giggling and crossing your arms. You swung your legs and sipped your milkshake, falling in a comfortable silence with Eddie.

“So…who were you talking to?” Eddie asked randomly. Confused, you shot him a look.

“Huh?”

“When Dustin and I got to the library today, you were talking to…some guy. Who was it?” He nonchalantly sipped his milkshake, staring off at the sunset.

You furrowed your brow, “Oh…his name is Michael? He’s doing a project for school and needed help finding books. Apparently, he goes to our school but…I’ve never seen him,” You shrugged, following Eddie’s gaze.

He paused for a moment, “Oh. Michael Cardin? I think he’s in my study hall…” He nodded slowly, “Cool.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

You softly punched Eddie’s arm, “Why did you want to know?”

“I dunno,” Eddie said, lifting the straw out of the milkshake cup over and over again, “Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like…bothering you…or something…” He grumbled.

You could feel your ears turning a bit pink – what was with Eddie wondering that? “Aw, Eddie…are you looking out for me?”

“I just know what people in this town can be like, especially with new kids, so I wanted to make sure he wasn’t giving you shit!” He smiled and chuckled, “Sue me!”

“That’s very nice,” You murmured, looking at him. He met your eyes and smiled, a drawn-out moment between the two of you. You got lost into his eyes before he cleared his throat uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, “But I wouldn’t be able to sue you for like, anything. I’m the one who had to buy these milkshakes, if you’ve forgotten already.” You joked, trying to ease the tension.

“I told you, when I’m a rich and famous rockstar, I’ll buy you all the milkshakes you want.” He countered, nudging you with his elbow.

“Nah…when you’re a rich and famous rockstar, you’ll forget all about me. You’re gonna have like, 80 million chicks surrounding you, with bleach blonde hair and fancy makeup and tits out to here,” You held your hands far out on your chest, like you were holding beach balls. “That’s who you’re going to be buying milkshakes for.”

“First of all, those kinds of chicks probably don’t want milkshakes, they’ll probably want tequila,” He started, poking your shoulder, “And secondly…what makes you think that I’d ever forget you?”

You turned and looked at Eddie, his brown eyes seemingly boring into your skull. Your breath hitched in your throat as you searched his eyes, trying to find what he meant by that. He was leaning close to you, completely still. Uncomfortably, you shrugged.

“I don’t know…because I’m forgettable?” You mumbled.

“Okay, you must not be as smart as I thought you were because that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true!” You said, throwing your hands up in the air, “I didn’t have a lot of friends back home! And let’s just say I didn’t have a line of boys waiting to take me on dates, either…” You sighed, “I mean, I don’t think I should be putting a brown paper bag over my head, but-”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need a line of boys waiting for you to take you on a date, just as long as you have the right one.” Eddie said, sucking out some more of his milkshake.

You eyed him and pressed your lips together, your heart starting to beat like crazy in your chest.

“Well…I don’t even have one yet, so…” You tried, quietly. Eddie snorted, putting his milkshake down.

“Well, that Michael guy seemed to have those goo-goo-ga-ga eyes after you guys talked today, so…” His voice tapered off.

You frowned, looking away in disappointment. You didn’t know why you thought maybe Eddie would give you an admittance of a crush, but hearing him try to go the Michael route was a bit crushing.

“Yeah…” You mumbled, sighing lightly and leaning against the edge of the van. You could hear kids playing off in the distance, the sun almost fully set now. Maybe you had read the situation with Eddie wrong? You thought he wouldn’t have been hanging out with you unless there was some sort of feelings there, but he was just given an easy in, and didn’t take it.

You felt lame.

“Are you getting cold? I can drive you home.” He offered, tossing his cup into a garbage can in the parking lot. It went in first try and he pretended to be a crowd roaring, throwing his hands up in the air. You felt sad, but also silly now that he was doing that.

He didn’t seem to even notice what was going on, and now he wanted to drive you home. Great.

You nodded, hopping out the back of the van. Making your way to the passenger seat, you finally spoke, “Yeah, I can go home.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but got into the driver’s seat after closing the back doors to his van. He looked at you for a bit, and when you turned your head to meet his eyes, he immediately looked out the front window, starting the car.

He drove you home in silence.

---

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Taglist: @cosmicdanielle @sapphire4082 @findmeincorneliastreet @hugdealer @chipster-21