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pretty-little-mind33 · 4 months

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James Potter x shy Hufflepuff fem!reader

Summary: You have a massive crush on James. One you didn't think would ever lead anywhere until a drunken party in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Genre: Fluff 🫶

Warnings: drinking, being drunk

~ directly inspired by the song So High School by Taylor Swift. thank you to the anon who requested this! ily! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Your cheeks burn from your embarrassment and the fire-whiskey in your blood-stream as your ears ring from the loud music dancing around you and you shake your head.

Lily Evans laughs as she glances around the Common Room. "C'mon, this is your chance," she insists, "They're playing Kiss, Marry, or Kill."

When Lily sees your confused and frankly frightened expression, she quickly explains, "It's a muggle game—it's harmless and fun—c'mon," she says again and pulls on your arm.

"Gentlemen," Lily declares when you approach the circle of students near the fire and she looks at the ring leaders of the group, The Marauders.

They're the ones that had planned this party—or Sirius and James had while Remus and Peter tagged along.

Sirius grins when he sees Lily.

"Aw, are you joining us, Red?" he smirks and then he sees you, "And who's your friend?"

You smile shyly. You know Peter from Care Of Magical Creatures in your third year, and you often seen Remus in the library (you've even spoken to him a few times), but you've only ever seen and heard James and Sirius from afar—

—which definitely never helped the stupid, baseless, soul-crushing crush you have on James Potter.

Remus, who is sitting criss-cross ext to Sirius, speaks up, "Y/n, yeah? You're a Hufflepuff—I see you in the library." He smiles kindly and pushes on James's shoulder, who has the latter almost choking on his beer, so you can sit next to him.

James frowns but he recovers quickly and looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. He's wearing his Quidditch sweater, his brown hair a tangled mess, but he's smiling now.

"Hi," he moves so you can sit next to him and Remus as Lily grins like a fool. You feel her hand on your shoulder as she plops you down next to James and she sits across from you.

Apart from the Marauders, other students are also sitting around the circle and chatting. Sirius is by far the loudest of them all, and you think James is the funniest.

It becomes honestly embarrassing how hard you laugh at any stupid joke he says. You can't help it, your tipsiness impairs any rational thoughts you may have, as you cover your mouth and stifle your laughs.

James notices immediately and he grins.

"Never had this much success, dove," he says, as charming as always, "You're cute."

This causes you to become even more flustered and you don't even know how to answer him. So, you hide from him, turning your head in the opposite direction. Lily sends you a knowing look.

James leans his knee closer to yours and you have to convince yourself he did that by accident or you'll simply implode.

"Okay, Jamie, Kiss, Marry, Kill—me, Lily, and our new sweet little Hufflepuff," Sirius suddenly says, pulling your attention to the group again. You still have no clue what this game is and your eyes round.

Sirius seems quite pleased with himself.

James sips his drink, "Hmm, Kill you because you're a pain in my arse—"

Sirius dramatically puts a hand on his heart, feigning hurt at his best friend's words. "And here I had the ring all prepared," he whines.

James chuckles and continues. "Then um," he looks between you and Lily for a moment and your heart sinks.

Everyone knows James had a thing for Lily in second to fourth year. How could you, someone who had been too shy and awkward to even talk to him, compete with smart, incredibly witty, and beautifully stunning Lily Evans?

"Kiss Lily and marry Y/n," James shrugs, smiling lopsidedly as he looks at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Lils' seems like she'd be a decent snog, but I like them sweeter for the long run," he reasons and winks.

Lily laughs and rolls her eyes, "Smooth, Potter."

"No need to get all green-eyed on us, Evans," James says and turns his attention to you again, "Whadd'ya say, lil' puff, June 17th in six years?" he says, planning the future fake wedding.

You look up at him, your eyes round and you blink—unable to laugh it off as your heart thumps so loudly you can barely hear a thing anymore.

"I think you broke the poor girl," Remus chuckles and then turns to Peter to steer the attention away from you, "Okay, Wormy, your turn."

Thank Merlin for Remus Lupin.

* * *

A while later, you stand in the corner of the room, your mind still stuck on how James's teasing that you don't hear the man in question come up to you.

"Hey, dove," he whispers and you spin around.

"Oh–hi," you whisper. You must look so smitten because you can just feel your cheeks burn.

James smirks. "It's late. Where's Lily?"

You frown as you look around, "She's talking with um—some of her other friends over there—" you point, expecting James to walk to her and leave you behind.

Instead, he stays. "You think she'd mind if I walk you back to your Common Room, you seem a little tipsy."

You're at a loss for words but then you stutter, "O-oh, no, I don't think she would mind," you whisper, "That's very kind of you, James. I c-can walk alone if it's a bother—"

"Nonsense. If it was a bother, I wouldn't have asked," James takes your arm, pushing some hair from your face with his fingers.

"Cute ribbon," he adds, looking at the red ribbon in your hair, "Very on brand with Gryffindor pride," he chuckles as he clearly enjoys the flustered look you're wearing.

"You're adorable," he says and he takes your hand, leading you out into the hall. The corridors are empty and dimly lit at this time in the evening and it feels surreal to walk the halls hand in hand with James Potter—especially when he keeps looking back at you with that look on his face.

When you arrive at the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room, James turns to you and he keeps his hand in yours. He's blushing obviously now and you can smell the beer on his breath.

"If we weren't so tipsy," he mumbles, his knuckles caressing your skin, "I would kiss you right now."

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves you. "Pardon?"

"You heard me, love—where have you been all my life?" he sounds lovesick and one of his palms press against his warm cheek, "Is this what love at first sight is supposed to feel like? Because I was convinced that was all bullshit until now. What charm have you put on me, Y/n?"

You look away because if you look into his eyes any longer, you'll faint. Your hand squeezes his as his words make you feel dizzy and all fluttery. "I think you're just a little drunk, James."

"Drunk in love, yeah," he half-jokes, his tone soft as he leans in and his lips find your forehead.

You shut your eyes, wondering how he could make you feel like this in a mere matter of hours and although your insecurities creep in, you stay in the moment.

"Where can I find you tomorrow?" James whispers against your skin.

"I'm in the library a lot, especially in the mornings," you say, having no expectations of ever seeing James Potter again. You and him live on completely different planets.

"You can find me there if you'd like," you finish and James nods, his lips kissing your temple one last time and then he whispers a small, sweet dreams into your skin.

* * *

In the morning, you ignore your hangover and find your usual spot in the back of the library as you open an old book written by an ancient muggle philosopher.

Last night's events in the Gryffindor Common Room play in your head as you read.

"Mornin'." You're startled by a familiar voice and you look up from your book. James stands in front of you, a Quaffle under his arm as his hair splays messily across his forehead.

He's still dressed in his Quidditch Uniform and he walks closer, smiling. "Sorry I'm late—practice ran later than usual. Whatcha reading?" he asks, sitting across from you and draping his arm across the chair next to his as the Quaffle sits in his lap.

"You came," you whisper with a smile, your heart fluttering.

"Yeah, 'course I came," James says so casually as he leans over the table and taps your book, "Whatcha reading, dove? Do tell me all about it,"

You feel all warm and fuzzy like all your wildest dreams have come true, when you say, "Only if you tell me all about Quidditch practice after?" you look at him shyly.

"Your wish is my command," James grins, a faint blush on his cheeks.

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sagechanoafterdark · 7 months

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Shoot Your Shot, Cupid

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Word Count: 3,770 Warnings: mature language, unbeata'd, soft Bucky, lets assume Sam set him up for this one, female coded reader, happy ending because we all deserve it, TIME SKIIIIIP, best friend with good intentions that shows up for one job and then disappears, speed dating, one obnoxious man, all the soft feelings.

Hello Kittens, and Happy Valentine's Day. It's been a while since I wrote... well anything and I was working on this for a couple of months but I think it's come all together now. Hope you enjoy it!

This couldn’t get much worse.

Tricked by your best friend.

Nay, betrayed.

By someone you implicitly trusted.

There would be no forgiving this.

Never, not ever.

The dinner and drinks invitation a few days before the start of February was met with trepidation on your part. All Christmas season you’d feigned interest as Mellony, your best friend, thrust every single co-worker, neighbor, and wait staff at you to find you someone to share the holiday with.

You couldn’t blame her. After all, Mellony was blissfully happy with her fiancée and only wanted the same for you.

All that you could forgive.

But this?

This was a complete and utter betrayal.

A deep and unimpressed frown marred your face as Mellony took the sticky name tag off the table with her perfectly manicured nails. Peeling the back with an ear-to-ear grin and pressed it against your chest. “There,” she exclaimed with joy, lacing her fingers together. “Now you’re all set.”

Looking down at the beautifully scrawled letters framed by little hearts you couldn’t help but curl your lip and whine, “Mel, you promised.”

The blond snorted and rolled her enormous puppy dog eyes, “I never promised anything.” Looping her arm through yours she practically began to drag you through the convention center doors and past the sign that sealed your fate.

Cupids Bow Speed Dating Event.

“Yes, you did,” you reaffirmed. Glancing around the room packed full of men and women in a combination of sweaters, suits, and cocktail dresses. “You promised not to try and set me up with anyone again.”

“This is my speed dating event. It doesn’t count.”

“I can assure you it does.”

“Nooooo,” she practically sang, turning around on her heel with that adorable mischievous smile of hers. “I promised that I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I knew. Everyone here was vetted by my team. I don't know any of these people.”

Grumbling she began tugging you towards the stage as intro music began to play softly from the DJ booth. Mellony paused, gripping your hand tight and looking down at you as the DJ introduced her, “Please, stay? I just want you to find someone.”

“Mel,” you hissed with disapproval. “I don’t need to find someone.”

Whether or not she heard you was unclear as the music swelled and Mellony put on her famous razzle dazzle smile and waved at everyone as she took the microphone and the presentation began. Your eyes swung to the crowd of people, more than three dozen people silhouetted against the stage lights and it made you shiver.

This was going to be a disaster.

Twenty minutes later your mind was glazed over with the audacity of men.

With every new ding of the bell, you found yourself becoming more annoyed. The match-making event progressed easily. People were divided into groups based on results from a questionnaire, something you distinctly remember Mel presenting to you as a fun Cosmo quiz, while one group remained seated the others rotated around the room.

By some stroke of luck, you were one of the people destined to sit. But that also meant that total strangers would be coming to your table to chat with you.

In all your years of singledom, you’d thought you’d heard it all. Too fat. Too loud. Too smart. Too opinionated. Those were old hat by now, and you weren’t immune to the bitter words from unimportant people.

“I suppose you’re an attractive woman,” the suit across from you said thoughtfully. His eyes never met yours, instead looking around the room likely for the next victim of his charm. “But I’m not really into your hair color. How would you feel about dying it?”

The question hung in the air as you waited for the man to look back at you. When his beady eyes returned to your face you couldn’t hide the disbelief, waving your hand in the air with an icy finality, “Absolutely not. You can go.”

He didn’t wait. Standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor as he haughtily walked towards the bar. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pulled out your phone and began to scroll social media waiting for the next bell in fifteen minutes.

Not the wildest thing you’d ever heard, but the gall of some people astounded even you sometimes. This also wasn’t the first event you’d been to that Mel had put on, you’d come to one or two as she’d begun her match-making service so you knew the ins and outs pretty well. But getting the same questions over and over was getting old fast.

What do you do for a living?

Where are you from?

What’s your family like?

What’s your perfect date idea?

BOR-ING!

Just once you’d like someone to ask you a real question, something thoughtful instead of the surface questions you’d find on social media.

You couldn’t believe you wore your favorite dress for this nonsense.

The bell dinged once again and the shadow of a new man sat in front of you.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said not looking up from the device in your hand.

“Come here often?”

“To a dating event? No,” the words were flowing out of your mouth easily. Canned responses for canned questions.

There was a heavy pause, “You seem bored.”

“That’s because I am.”

A muted scoff came from the other side of the table, “What would make it more interesting then?”

A long sigh escaped you as you continued scrolling on your phone, “If someone would ask me a question of substance, maybe I would give them a chance for conversation.”

Again a long stretching silence from the other side and you had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Alright,” he rumbled, leaning back against his chair. “Then what’s one gift you always wish you’d gotten, but never did?”

That had your thumb pausing on the endless scrolling you were doing. Finally, your gaze flicked up and your brain stopped working for a brief moment as you took in the disgustingly attractive man sitting your opposite.

Coffee color hair, and a chiseled jaw dotted with a five o’clock shadow would be enough to make even the most choosy of a woman’s breath catch. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket in a building that was pushing 80 degrees, which was odd but not overly strange.

But oddly enough you felt yourself getting drawn in. Not by his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, or even the semi-scowl he wore.

No, it was his eyes. Bright blue soulful eyes, that sparkled a little as he sat across the table from you. Eyes that told a story all their own and drew you out of your scrolling for the first time that night.

Pursing your lips slightly you thought, “Hmm, I’d have to say it’s a puppy.”

His eyebrow arched slightly, clearly surprised by your answer, “A puppy?”

“Sure,” you said with a slight shrug. “A puppy is something I’ve always wanted but never gotten as a gift from anyone other than myself.”

“What kind of puppy?”

“Oh I don’t have a preferred breed,” you informed, tilting your head a little at the odd conversation. “But as a child, it was what I asked for every year as a present. But I never got one.”

His lips turned up in a half smile and you thought you were going to melt in your seat, “Asking for one every year and not getting one, sounds a little disappointing. Was that just a Christmas thing?”

“Nah,” you laughed a little, fingers picking at a little piece of lint on the edge of your dress. “Christmas, birthdays, Easter didn’t matter. If gifts were being given, it was at the top of my list. Every year I’d be running to the tree and picking up presents, looking for one big enough. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’d marry the first man to give me a puppy for Christmas.”

A brisk laugh escaped him, his lips pulled into a charming smile that had nervous butterflies leap up in your chest. “A puppy for Christmas,” he rumbled thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The response made goosebumps prickle along your skin and you held back a shiver, wetting your suddenly dry lips, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s a gift you always wanted but didn’t get,” you paused briefly a coy smile stretching your lips.

His smile turned into a smirk as he once again leaned back in his chair, blue eyes darting back and forth over your face as he thought about it. It was going well, your impish smile growing along with his own. That is until his smile began to fall, bright blue gaze darting a little more frantically over your face before he licked his lips and an unexpected tremor sounded in his voice, “I think, I think it was a sled.”

“A sled,” you asked, leaning forward a little in intrigue. “Like a big plastic one with the handles? Oh no, I got it you’re definitely an inflatable snow tube kind of guy.”

A balk of laughter sounded from him, making hidden laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes as they brightened with your playful banter. “Nah,” he exclaimed, waving a hand. “More like a wood and metal one. It had bright red skis and a wooden seat top. That sled was all I wanted as a kid.”

An amused giggle slipped from you, “I had a wagon kind of like that as a kid, it was a radio flyer.”

His fingers snapped as he pointed at you with a little bit of excitement, “That’s it! A Radio Flyer sled, with a rope handle and foot steering bar. Though I don’t think I’d ever get one now. I’m a little too old to go sledding down a hill.”

“Age is all about perspective.”

He snorted, “Tell that to my driver's license.”

Genuine laughter bubbled up from inside of you as you leaned forward in your seat, a teasing retort on your lips. Before you could speak, Mellony rang her little handbell and people began to switch places again. But your blue-eyed stranger lingered at your table.

“Talk to you again?”

He sounded, hopeful. “Yeah,” you croaked out pathetically. “Talk to you again.”

You watched as he stood from your table and made his way across the room to his next table while another man took his place at your own. A feeling of disappointment swelled as you lost sight of him in the crowd of people, the feeling intensifying as this new man briefly introduced themselves before launching into a long Tinder-level introduction.

Two more men sat at your table, barely holding your interest outside of normal pleasantries before Mel rang her handbell in rapid succession. “Alright everyone that’s the first round,” she called from her place at the podium. “We’re going to break for thirty minutes. There are hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at the bar. Please feel free to mingle!”

The room of people began to stand and mill around as an uproar of chatter began. Your eyes picked out a couple of men from your group, pairing up with others and heading to the bar. Cordial smiles turned into pleasant touches and sweetheart eyes as they went.

The Cupids Bow Dating Event was a success and you couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride for your friend.

“Hey, Sourpuss,” Melody greeted, looping her arm through yours. “You having fun yet?”

Your mind drifted back to your blue-eyed stranger, “A little.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this. But the point of speed dating is to, you know, find a date. I was watching you, and you gotta talk to more than one person,” she sassed.

Your mouth turned down to a frown for a brief moment, “I talked to someone.”

“Oh yeah? What was his name.”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you realized quickly you’d never even got Mr. Blue-Eyes name, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t even get Mr. Blue-Eyes name!”

“It’s Bucky.”

Turning around there stood Mr. Blue-Eyes himself, err… you meant Bucky. There was no doubt your embarrassment showed on your face, but the little nervous laugh that slipped out sealed the deal.

Bucky smiled at you, “That is if it’s me you were talking about?”

Wetting your lips you shifted, suddenly nervous before meeting friendly blue eyes, “Yeah,” you squeaked before clearing your throat. “I mean, yes. I’m sorry I missed your name when we talked.”

He was nodding for a brief moment, his eyes darting over towards the bar before taking a few steps closer to you and leaning down. “There’s a restaurant down the street. They’ve got pretty good sushi. You want to get the hell out of here?”

“Oh, my god yes!” The tips of your ears felt hot as you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole but Bucky didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he offered up his right arm and you looped yours into it without hesitation.

Melody’s brow shot up out of surprise, “B-but that was only the first round! There are still two more.”

“I don’t think we need a round two,” Bucky said, the same charming smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah,” you laughed, in a teasing tone. “This round just might go to Cupid after all.”

Three years later.

Lights twinkled in the living room of your apartment, it was god awful early and you’d carefully planned today. Christmas day and you’d been waiting for this moment for two years now. Quickly and quietly you snuck out of the bedroom where Bucky lay wrapped up in the blankets and made your way to the front closet.

It was hard being sneaky when your boyfriend was a super spy. But after a lot of careful planning, misdirections, and a lot of help from Sam, you’d managed to do it and Bucky was none the wiser.

Tiptoeing towards the hall closet that Bucky never used you opened the squeaky hinged door in just the way so it made no noise. Reaching blindly into the black of the closet you felt around, past the dozen unused coats, jackets, scarves, and hats your hand met the back of the closet wall. Sliding quietly until your fingers brushed the cold metal you were looking for.

Jackpot.

Fingers wrapped around your prize as you gave a firm but gentle tug. A pristine, adult-sized, bright red and creamy wood seat Flex Flyer sled emerged complete with an enormous red bow.

Stifling a giggle you set it down.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek tore out of your throat as you jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air.

“James Barnes,” you scolded, heart beating a million miles an hour. “What have I said about sneaking up on me?”

“You were being sneaky first,” he said, brows drawn together as he tried to look around you. “What you hiding doll face?”

“Nothing!” You lied, spreading your arms and legs to hide your surprise gift.

It was at that moment you heard the vibration from Bucky’s phone clutched in his hand, the man tried to not look sheepish as he not so covertly pressed the silence button.

Suspicion immediately filled you, “Bucky? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He shot back, his brow knits in suspicion.

It was a standoff.

The two of you staring each other down in the dark of the hallway in your matching Christmas pajamas. Someone knocking on the front door startled you both before Bucky cursed under his breath, pointing at you, “Don’t follow me.”

His instruction surprised you as he brushed past you in the small hallway. You scoffed under your breath, “You’re in your PJ’s Buck, how far are you going?”

Bucky paused before going around the corner, “I mean it.” There was another soft but hurried knock and he cursed before disappearing.

A tisk of disapproval escaped you, but urgency filled your movements the second he was out of sight. Hands shaking slightly you hurried, pulling the sled out from the closet with as much silence as you could muster before dashing the Christmas tree. Stuffing the sled behind the tree, a few bulbs swinging back and forth as you fumbled to fluff the crumpled bow on Bucky’s surprise.

A cacophony of hushed grumbles and whispers came from the front door, you could have sworn you heard Sam as the door closed with a thunk and the lock turned. In a matter of seconds Bucky was coming around the corner again, an enormous gold box gripped in his hands affixed with a brilliant glittering green bow.

It was clear that Bucky didn’t see you immediately as he juggled the wobbly box and tried to remain quiet as he did so.

“Whatcha, got there?”

Bucky startled, socked feet skidding to a halt just at the corner of the couch as the box wobbled in his hands again. Frustrated and accusatory blue eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

“What are you doing in here?”

“You better not be shaking presents.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll have you know I haven’t shaken a present since I was ten. What’s in the box, Jamie?”

Bucky flinched a little, his one weakness was when you called him Jamie. His shoulders sagged a little as his grip on the box tightened, “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh I’m surprised,” you said with a laugh. The mantle clock began to ding for the early morning hour. Five AM came so early now. “Do you want to open our gifts now?”

Bucky pursed his lips, body jerking as the box tried to throw itself from his hands. “I think now is best.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the prospect of what the box could contain. But your eyes flitted over to the space behind the tree where you’d stuffed Bucky’s surprise and the anxious feeling grew tenfold as you thought about the question you were going to ask him once he’d seen it.

Clearing his throat Bucky nodded towards the Christmas tree and the traditional present opening space. Dutifully you sat down in the chair, eyes darting over behind the tree to where your gift sat. “Um, mine's not wrapped.”

“That’s alright,” he said, setting the box at your feet as it rattled all on its own now that it was on the floor. “Where is mine and we’ll do them on the count of three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers tapping the edges of your box. “Yours is behind the tree.”

You saw his eyes dart over to the tree and then back down to you, “On three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers poised to rip at the bow on top of the gift. “One.”

“Two,” Bucky echoed, taking a step closer to the tree.

“Three!”

Your fingers began tearing at the bow on top of the gift box as it rattled against the floor. Pushing back the loose gold paper and terrible tape job before, POP!

Two of the most adorable brown eyes you’d ever seen stared up at you. You were stunned for a moment, staring down at the cutest little paws and wet nose you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“OHMYGODAPUPPY!!”

The shrieking sob spilled past your lips as you pulled the squirming pup into your arms, its tiny tongue licking and sniffing all over your face and mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as the little bundle in your arms wiggled, squirmed, and kissed your face everywhere; its bottom wiggling so much they tumbled out of your arms and into your lap.

“Oh my god,” you blubbered, holding the precious little one to you. “Bucky! He’s so cute. Oh, it’s a she. She’s so cute, James. Oh god! Oh my god, I love her so much. I can't—I can’t believe this! This is real right? Do I get to keep her? Bucky?”

Looking up Bucky was angled away from you, the lights of the Christmas tree gleaming off of his arm as he held onto his new sled. His fingers found the tag as he stared at it in the dim lighting.

He sniffled briefly before he began to read, “Roses are red, violets are blue, do me the—the honor—the honor of spending my life with you?”

Teary blue eyes turned towards you as you held the squirming puppy in your arms. “Doll,” he squeaked out with a sniffle as a few tears began to slip. “You…”

Looking up at him from your seat you reached into the side table drawer pulled out a distinctive black ring box and opened it. Inside, a single simple gold band that had Bucky’s breath catching.

“Will you,” you croaked out, clearing your throat a little more and juggling your new bundle of joy in your arms. “Will you marry me, James Buchanan Barns?”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he lowered the sled to the floor, and then himself. Bucky knelt before you, down on one knee, and reached forward towards the little puppy squirming in your arms. His fingers brushed against a tiny piece of string attached to the bow, you’d missed it but he lifted the dangling object for your inspection. A beautiful golden ring with what had to be the most enormous diamond you’d ever seen.

Your shocked watery gaze met Bucky’s impossibly blue eyes, “Only if you say yes too.”

The puppy leaped down from your lap, content to explore their new apartment as you slid down and onto Bucky’s lap. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him harder than you ever had before. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s lips parted briefly with a light moan, kissing one another with dizzying urgency.

Gasping for air the two of you parted briefly, planting pecking kisses against one another lips.

“Is that a yes,” he husked, his hands sliding up and down your back.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jamie.”

Grinning up at you, Bucky cradled you against him, “I didn’t know if you’d say yes.”

“Of course I’d say yes,” you whispered, holding onto him tightly. “After all, you did get me that puppy I’ve always wanted.”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he held you tightly and buried his face against your chest, his shoulders shaking in what could only be a relief, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”

END

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu #TFWS #winter soldier #avengers #bucky barnes #marvel

909 notes · View notes

violet-harmon2011 · 5 months

Text

the evans x short reader

for all my short queens <3

p.s. please let me know if you think any of these are incorrect

p.p.s. send in requests for more hc's & fics!! also lmk if you wanna be tagged in any of my writing :)

tate langdon

would occasionally be the big spoon bc you're so much shorter

gently pokes you in the forehead or cheek to get your attention

loves it when you wear his sweaters and the sleeves are extra long so you wrap your hands up like they're mittens

just envelops you in his arms after you've had a tiring day at school

bear hugs so he can rest his chin on top of your head bc you're the perfect height <3

plants a million little kisses in your hair when you're cuddling (and sniffs your delectable shampoo in the process)

kit walker

would lift you onto the kitchen counter to make out

would get things off high shelves for you after putting them there so you would ask for his help

stooping down to kiss your neck

forehead kisses in the kitchen

loves braiding your hair

"short stuff"

frat kyle

would call you "shortie" and chuckle when you thwack his arm

always has an arm around your shoulder at parties

franken kyle

would give you "uppies" to reach high shelves

random piggy back rides around the house bc you're his "lil princess"

cuddles 24/7

jimmy darling

straddling him while you make out

“shortcake"

feels so protective over you

likes knowing he can keep you safe

loves holding you in his arms (you fit so perfectly <3)

always whispering filthy things into your ear

loves it when you lean up and kiss his jaw

james patrick march

always carrying you everywhere bridal style

spoils you with lavish gowns that he pays to have hemmed

buys you all the high heels you could ever want

kai anderson

would enjoy the fact that he's taller and more powerful than you are

would call you "bunny" and "doll" (pretends it's degrading, but he actually thinks you're adorable)

when you've been extra good, he pats his lap "c'mere little lamb"

ruthless short jokes

amused when you try to reach things off high shelves and fail

peter maximoff

would throw you over his shoulder and dance or run around

head pats

"babygirl"

lifts you off your feet when he gives you hugs

240 notes · View notes

highvern · 6 months

Text

Sales Pitch II

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader, feat. Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, spitting, unprotected sex, cream pie, snowballing, dom/sub themes, masturbation, multiple sex positions, impact play, choking, take me to paris wonhui!

Length: ~5k

Note: for all legal purposes, im still on semi-hiatus! this is just more torture for my bestie @wenjunehui patterns is still shelved until further notice, don't ask me about updates pls :) as always lmk what you guys think! also please ignore any errors i cracked this out in a lust fueled haze for pathetic bratty sub jun

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Your back meeting the cool wood of the door muffles the click of the lock. All you can feel is Wonwoo; the weight of his body, his lips trailing across your jaw, his hair curled around your fingers. A sharp tug lets you feel more, urging him to grind his half hard cock into your core.

Darkness encases your intertwined figures on all sides. Only the faint light about the stove casting a hazy yellow that fails to reach the far corners of the room. You like it better this way. More anticipation in every touch. A flash of Wonwoo’s pale skin when your fingers drift under his sweater, or the dim shadow of his form dancing across your shut eyelids as he moves you further inside.

He doesn’t waste any time rushing towards the counter, lifting you up easily and shoving a hand up your short skirt. Wonwoo finds what you both knew he would; soaked and pantiless with arousal smeared between your thighs. You’d played the game all night, biting your tongue each time his finger tips skimmed the inside of your knee during the movie. Or at dinner when he watched you with an unimpressed gaze over the rim of his wine glass. All of it built up to this.

A finger dips in; barely breaching your entrance before retreating. The tease makes you desperate; tightening around each thrust to convince him to stay and press deeper only for Wonwoo to chuckle and leave you gaping again and again with more slick dripping down his digits each time.

“C’mon,” you huff. You're quick to snag his wrist, using every ounce of strength to force in place as your hips grind up.

Wonwoo needs no more encouragement after the first sharp whimper of satisfaction you release. Instead, he presses hard with another finger until you can feel him in your lungs. The suffocating heat of your top results in its swift removal. But the relief is short lived as teeth nip at the curve of your breasts before dropping to suck a nipple through the lace. Thighs muffling the debauchery, you pant into his hairline while his own mouth focuses on bruising your chest.

Skirt belting your hips, Wonwoo drops more fervent kisses as he descends lower and lower. The granite of the counter is cool against your sweat back but unforgiven when you arch at the first timid flash of his tongue through your folds. The mess between your legs turns obscene under his mouth, lips smacking with each lash against your clit.

But it’s all still a tease. Nothing but a show to prove he can give and take and give and take until you’re willing to cry for more. Or at least until the man watching from the shadows caves and blows the illusion.

In your peripheral, Jun stands out in the arm chair at the far end of the room. If you didn’t know he was there then you’d never guess. The kitchen and living room connected in what is really a singular large space, uninterrupted by anything that could distract the view. And what a view he has; you topless, nipples shiny and spine curled while his roommate eats you out on the counter.

You won’t look where you know he’s sitting, no doubt cupping himself over his jeans in desperation. Jun is a good boy. He touches when he’s told and sits on his hands when he can’t help it. But you’re spread like a feast under Wonwoo’s mouth and Jun is just a man.

Wonwoo plucks and strokes, nips and sucks, driving you inch by desperate inch to the brink. Warm and worn under his mouth, another finger sinks in easily but Wonwoo goads anyway.

“Fucking tight,” he jests a little too loud for the small space between you but he wants Jun to hear. It’s sick.

Especially when you hear a sharp inhale from where he sits.

The flat of Wonwoo’s palm lands on your stomach, skin sticking to skin as he forces your hips down. You don’t take to the warning. With your coworker slash friend with benefits who you occasionally go on dates with but not saying anything, you call all the shots. If you want to hump his face until he passes out from lack of oxygen, Jun will beg you to do it. If you want to sit on his cock while he counts the register, well it might take him five times to get the numbers in order but what his queen wants, she gets.

Wonwoo isn’t as eager to let you take charge and lets you know with the impact of his hand on your cunt.

“Fuck!”

He massages away the sting, thumb dipping to replace his tongue at your clit. “Stop moving.”

“Fuck off.” You bite.

The air cracks with tension. You’d take the amused twitch of Wonwoo’s lips as a challenge if it wasn't for the plan hatched during the car ride home. A sure fire way to get Jun so riled up he’d ruin his record of perfect behavior and give you and Wonwoo the chance to punish him the best way possible.

Your back talk goes as planned. Wonwoo rises, a tight grip at the back of your neck while he drags you up. It looks worse than it is. Another tease at Jun, taunting him with the idea of you giving him the same treatment.

But instead of fucking you over the counter like originally discussed, Wonwoo fumbles towards your room, out of Jun’s sight. You can hear him rise to follow with rushed footsteps but the door slams shut in his face before he can stop it. The lock clicks just as quickly and your left stifling amused cackles with Wonwoo doing the same.

“What the fuck guys?” Jun calls from the other side, rattling the door knob desperately.

Is it better to acknowledge his frustration or pretend he doesn’t even exist? Jun calls again, a timid knock punctuating his plea.

“Yeah?” You call, back settling against the door louder than necessary. Wonwoo takes back up the work at your chest, sucking a taunt nipple between his teeth while you do all the talking.

“I’m locked out.”

Your head thuds back as Wonwoo licks his way to your neglected breast, responding with more breath to hint at what's transpiring out of his line of sight, “We’re kinda busy.”

“But—” he starts, only to be silenced.

“Oh, Wonwoo! Fuck.”

His fingers aren’t as deft as Jun’s and neither is his tongue but you’re spurred by the frustration in Jun’s tone. The metal of the knob continues to rattle, more erratic with every whimpered plea for more from the man in front of you. Turning around, your face melts against the wood while Wonwoo unzips his pants and presents himself.

“You’re so big,” you coo.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the obvious bait but plays right along. “Yeah? Think you can take it?”

A bang near your head sends you into the air.

“Let me in!” Jun demands.

His voice is hard. Steeled with a tone you’ve never heard before and it sends a chill down your spine.

But Wonwoo seems undisturbed as he bends you at the waist. “She’s busy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jun bites before melting softer. “Y/N, you said I could watch.”

The head of Wonwoo’s cock nestles against your entrance. He waits while you figure out your next move. Wonwoo agreed he’d go along with whatever you decided but the ghost of being split full makes all the choices bleed into one.

“You’re not even asking right.” You say. “Maybe if you ask like a good boy we’ll let you in.”

“Please? Please let me in. I’ve been good. You said I could watch, baby. Please.”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Woo?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he shrugs. And then Wonwoo spits where his dick rests and rushes inside.

You know Jun hates it. He can feel Wonwoo fuck you into the door, every thrust leaving the wood to groan under the additional weight. If that wasn’t enough he can hear everything too. Your breathy moans, the slap of hips against your body, the sound of your sopping pussy.

The few times he’s worn a blindfold proved he doesn’t like to be teased; a trail of broken cuffs and other restraints left in his wake. He’d rather be overstimulated until he’s cross eyed and barely breathing than edged. The one time you tried left your ass sore for days from bites and spanks.

With each ticking second a repeat inches closer. And maybe with Wonwoo in the mix, Jun will be even more possessive. It certainly sounds like it as he grows exasperated in his pleas.

“Shit you’re so wet.” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish you could see it. Don’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

You catch the telltale rasp in his voice too easily. Jun isn’t even trying to pretend.

Smacking your fist against the door, you fume. “Are you fucking serious?”

Wonwoo freezes. A trickle of fear he’s over stepped rushes his spine until your ass pushes back into the cradle of his hips. Your reprimand isn't’ for him. It’s for the brat jerking himself off like you don’t own his cock.

“You didn’t let me in.” Jun teases, moaning boldly.

Jun gets what he wants. The door unlocks and you find him with his pants around his thighs, the tip of his cock shiny as it peeks through his tight fist. He doesn’t even stop the flutter of his wrist when your eyes find his face, ready for whatever punishment you might throw his way.

You step into his space. So close his length digs into the softness of your belly while your hand traces along his neck. Jun isn’t stupid enough to think you’re apologizing but your next words make him shudder.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You bite, teeth digging into his neck to leave a mark.

Wonwoo’s eyes burn across your body from where he sits on the bed, watching every move. You won’t be bested by Jun while someone else is around to witness so your touches turn possessive; nails raking across his skin, fingers pinching his nipples until he cries for mercy. The beginnings of a bruise blooms across his throat. And Jun’s wrist still never stops.

“Go sit on the bed.”

A trail of clothes flutters in his wake. About a foot of space sits between him and his roommate. Wonwoo maintains his cocky expression while waves of frustration waft from Jun. But neither speak as you dig through your side table for a bottle of lube.

You approach where they wait, turning so you back meets Wonwoo’s chest as you sink into his lap. He curls both arms over your stomach and traces your shoulder with his nose.

“Jun, come here.”

He’s in front of you in a second, cock bobbing right at your chest.

“Wonwoo is gonna fuck me and you’re gonna watch.”

“No.” Jun states.

Even Wonwoo stops at the sudden refusal. “No?”

“I wanna touch you too.”

His fingers twitch at the idea, desperate to feel you on him after being denied the promise to watch.

You hope your idea will calm his disobedience for now. Gazing with soft features, your hand finds his hip and strokes gentle circles into the skin. “But you broke the rules, baby.”

“So did you!”

You circle his cock in your hand, slowly working him just the way he likes until the quake in his legs nearly sends him to the floor.

“If you don’t cum, then you can fuck me. But if you do, then you don’t get to touch me the rest of the night. Deal?”

He opens his mouth to object but you beat him to the punch.

“Or Wonwoo and I can have fun and you can go sit in the living room until we’re done.”

Maybe it's the way your thumb swipes at his tip, or the dip of your head to lap away the mess. Or it could be how you look at him, hopeful he’ll agree because you’re not done playing with him yet. But it's probably because you leave a gentle peck on his stomach to hide the whispered ‘please’ for his ears only.

“Okay.”

Before you can praise him, Jun pulls you up into a searing kiss. It’s messy and sloppy in the best ways. His tongue licks into your mouth, gliding across yours and lapping away any noise you both make. Not even the discomfort of his nose burrowing into your cheek manages to distract you from the new dynamic. The heat makes your toes curl embarrassingly; like a teenager getting her first kiss with the boy she’s crushed on for months. Maybe it's a closer description than you’d like but you don’t dwell. Just rise on your knees to chase him for more, more, more until you're floating.

And considering how his fingers curl around the arch of your jaw, Jun clearly plans to stay a while.

But it also makes you remember it’s not Jun’s hands at your chest. It’s definitely not Jun’s cock sinking inside you because you still have him leaking in your hand. The image of Wonwoo sitting beneath you, watching as you and Jun dissolve into a matching set of needy desperate messes brings you back down from the clouds.

The bottle of lube enters the playing field again, its contents cold and slimy as you squirt it over your breasts. Wonwoo jostles you in his lap with every stilted grind as he searches for his own pleasure. Roused by the commotion, Jun sits back to see what you have planned. His love for your tits excels beyond casual interests and verges on perversion. A hand raises to help massage the soft skin but he stops short and remembers what you asked. But the drool slipping out the corner of his lips can’t be helped when squeeze them together and the flesh bounces.

He knows you have more up your sleeve than a lewd show although he’d happily empty his load on your chest and watch you rub it into the skin as well. Mark you as his even if Wonwoo gets to dump his spend in your cunt. Jun’s done it before and he’ll get to do it again and again long after Wonwoo’s out the front door.

Hot and wet, the tip of his cock grazes your nipple when you lean forward; both twitching at the contact. Jun steps up and lets himself rest on your sternum, releasing a pained breath while you press your tits together to squeeze him tight. More lube helps the first slide and leaves his pre-cum dappling against the hollow of your throat.

“Jesus—shit,” he puffs.

Wanting to hear more, you lap at the head of his cock on the next downstroke and are rewarded with your chin glossed in pearly white.

Wonwoo paws instantly at your ass and hips, refusing to ask for you to dedicate an iota of attention to his blight. Wedged so deep inside you, you nearly rise all the way up on your knees before sinking back down. Every drop leaves you stuffed with two cocks and you can’t help but wonder if more preparation could make you even more full next time.

“Want you to cum, kitty.” You coo, lips puckered on the next suck.

His head drops back, lip bruised between his teeth. “Can’t.”

“But I want you to,” you hiccup in a feign of innocence. “You’ve been so good. You deserve it baby.”

Your words are sweet like honey. Jun wants to cave, it's painted so plainly on his face. Eyes screwed tight, lip quivering, hands fisted at his sides while his body wages war with his mind. But one lube slick finger dipping beneath his balls and going for the soft spot just before his ass finishes the battle.

His stomach caves as he cums, rogue without aim. You manage to catch enough on your tongue to satiate your need for him but the rest drips and trails across your face and torso as you continue to bounce on Wonwoo’s cock without so much as a missed breath.

Sweat beads along your back and Wonwoo’s chest suffocates your skin even further. Leaning back, he accommodates your wish and falls to his elbows without missing a beat; feet planted on the floor so he can buck up into you.

Jun can only stand and watch, the evidence of his failure shinny across your chin, neck, and chest. Rounded eyes brimmed with disappointment meet his own as he falls to his knees to clean up the mess.

He’s breaking the rules again but you honestly can’t care with the way he sucks away his own cum. You’re not too keen on it going to waste so before he can swallow you pull him up, split his lips open with your thumb, and get a taste for yourself.

Your chest is covered with his mouth again before he rises and spits his haul into your waiting tongue. Jun keeps going. He doesn’t stop until there's nothing left and even then he presents his own tongue for you to spit on when he’s done.

“You’re so nasty,” you pant as he gulps down your present.

Jun focuses on leaving a brand of his teeth below your jaw, grunting when you grab for his limp cock again. He can give you more. He always does. A final kiss satisfies Jun’s needs before you send him back on his haunches to wait.

Wonwoo barely registers as an afterthought, his presence eclipsed by Jun’s desperation and your eagerness. But he deserves to get what he came for. The quicker the better because you still have unfinished business with your coworker turned fuck buddy.

Slipping from his lap, his cock falls against his stock. Rigid and coated in your arousal, you rush to face him and sink back down.

He sighs at the relief, “finally” before dropping fingers to your clit while the other circles your throat.

Your back meets the sticky sheets swiftly. Wonwoo presses deep and firm, stretching you to the limit. Jun still sits in the back of your head even if you can’t see him. You know he’s watching and it's enough to make you shy. But there's no room for it as Wonwoo hooks your knees in the dip of his elbows and spreads you wider, no doubt making Jun privy to your wrecked cunt.

“Harder,” you choke.

Wonwoo gets lost in the motions and nearly crushes you into the bed for it. Your fingers find his stagnated ones, brushing them aside to swipe against the raw bundle of nerves.

Teeth tug at your earlobe, biting into the softness as the end breaches over his spine. You retaliate with the sting of your nails down his back, digging harshly when you reach his ass to force him deeper.

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans, voice breaking. Another harsh press of his hips sends you up the bed from the force. “C-c-cuming. Fuck, I’m cuming.”

Hot rope after hot rope creams your insides as Wonwoo works through his orgasm. You feel something dripping down your slit to your ass and assume he’s stuffed you with more than you can take.

He pecks your cheek in thanks, signing off with a press of his nose before rolling away and leaving you empty. And the other discussion from the car comes back.

“I can’t believe it was Jun’s idea for me to take you on a date.” Wonwoo snorts.

“Why?”

“Because what guy wants another man taking out his girlfriend.”

You sit in uncomfortable silence, unable to admit the truth. Jun isn’t your boyfriend. And the entire charade tonight doesn’t seem to point that his interests even point remotely in that direction.

“So you and Jun aren’t dating?”

“No.”

“Well this is gonna go great.” Wonwoo quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but be defensive but before you can get an answer he’s pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

The wet of Jun’s lips glide across your ankle, up your shin and over your knee. His hands find the crease and he pushes until your legs dangle over his shoulders. Every touch is devout, an attempt to soak in your presence without the previous interference. One of your palms finds his cheek and Jun is quick to drop a lazy kiss to it before setting to work between your legs.

He doesn’t rush. If Jun wanted you wailing and twitching he’d have you there already. Instead, slow strokes bring you back to life bit by bit while his hands keep kneading the meat of your thighs and stomach.

Melting under the attention, you don’t even notice Wonwoo begins to rise until he speaks.

“That was fun.”

Neither of you acknowledge him. Too lost in one another, if you focus hard enough you can completely ignore the sound of him collecting his clothes.

But Jun can’t.

Every shuffle earns a harsh lick against your sensitive clit. He doesn’t stop when your thighs nearly crush his head or your fingers tug at his hair. For the first time, Jun doesn’t listen to your silent instructions at all.

His fingers lack the same timidity as his mouth. Three spear you immediately, curving and scissoring until your vision goes fuzzy at the edges. More of Wonwoo’s cum leaks out and Jun is quick to lap it away and spit it into the bed sheets away from where you lay.

“Now that’s just insulting.” Wonwoo calls. You find him lent against the door frame, dressed with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jun doesn’t let up. If anything, the sound of his roommate's voice spurs him on.

You gesture vaguely towards the door with a gasped, “get out,” before you fall back under Jun’s spell.

He focuses on cleaning away any proof Wonwoo was ever there. His fingers soak in your ruined cunt to pull away the excess before his tongue sneaks inside

“Oh my god— J–Jun.” You beg, body kicking in a tantrum while tears curl in your eyes.

He offers a hand to hold on your stomach while he continues to prove whatever point he hopes to make in the crux of your thighs. You grip on for dear life, nails leaving crescents on his skin while his thumb brushes against your palm in time with his tongue teasing lower and lower.

“Tell me I’m better.”

You barely make out the words muffled in your cunt. Immediately you think he’s asking for more praise, the kind he gets when he cums twice within minutes. But you can’t wax poetically about how good he is with the way brands his tongue into your heat. All you can do is moan and whine with gusto and hope it's enough.

Jun rises, face coated in your arousal and eyes lazy. He doesn’t reject your kiss, or the shy way you prod the seam of his lips with your tongue. Tonights different in a million ways and the fact you feel nervous underneath him makes you even more skittish.

Hips cradling his, Jun slides his cock deep without the usual stretch thanks to the hours of play. Jun anchors your legs wide to watch you take him inch by inch. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your chin dips to see the display as well. Not the first time he’s fucked you raw but the constrate of his skin against your own never grows dull. Trailing your eyes up further, you observe the twitch of his stomach every time you clench around him until Jun crushes you into the sheets.

You're both desperate. Breath puffing into eachothers mouths as you meet in a pathetic kiss. Sweat slicks your belly against his own. Jun covers every inch of your body he can like he wants to melt together and stay that way forever.

“God, Jun!” You cry. “Shit, shit. G-gonna cum.”

Riled beyond belief, you need to cum. If it’s on his cock, or his fingers, or his face, you don’t care. As long as he’s there to help you through it.

“I’m better than him, right? You want me more?”

He’s right in your ear, clear as day. Hours of build up freezes and shatters in half a second.

Your legs lock around the smell of his back, slowly his frantic pace until he’s calm enough to take a breath. His embarrassment hides in the curve of your throat. Jun paints apologetic kisses across every stretch of skin he can find while you wait for him to speak.

“Jun?”

Nose cutting into the soft space under your jaw, he whispers, “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

Your gut tugs defensively. How dare he? Wonwoo was Jun’s idea, not yours; his roommate who made one joke about hearing you two fucking into the early hours of the morning. It was Jun who asked to invite him in. But before you can remind him of the fact, he frees his next truth.

“I want it to be just us.”

Hot and cold flash on your skin and a pit the size of an elephant explodes your stomach. There's too much ambiguity in such a statement. Too many what ifs. Considering his cock is still pressed between your legs, you refuse to be hopeful he’s asking for more than exclusive permission to your body.

“Okay.”

He jumps away from his hiding place, face wide with amazement. “Really?”

“Sure,” you swallow. “We won’t fuck anyone else.”

“That isn’t…I want it to be us. Us? You and me?”

“Like dating?”

He nods mutely.

A smile tilts the corners of your mouth, splitting your face ridiculously. You whisper again, “okay.”

Shy smiles and avoidant eyes are out of place giving what you’re doing. Given everything you have done. But you like Jun and he likes you and now you're both nervous because being naked means more now than it did twenty minutes ago.

You forge the courage to kiss him with gossamer drags of your lips over his jaw. He giggles when your breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, folding his head down to his shoulder to stop the maddening sensation and you can’t help but glow from the absurdity.

Pouting playful, you rope him into the fun with a taunt.“Kiss me.”

Jun doesn’t play around the demand. He seals his lips over yours, only interrupted by a grin that turns the connection into teeth from the twin smiles illuminating your faces.

After the initial giddiness dims, Jun seems to remember he’s still inside you with a cursory thrust. It’s the same way he was fucking you before but now there are feelings and everything has an indecipherable edge.

His mouth avoids the sensitive parts of your chest, focusing on rubbing his lips across your skin and soaking in the feeling rather than soliciting a response. He’s aimless in his pursuits but you enjoy the attention all the same.

A sigh of your name signals his end. But Jun won’t cum a second time. Not while you still haven’t had your first.

Steady on one arm, he sucks his thumb into his mouth before slithering it where you meet. Everything quakes under the pressure, hours of teasing rising to a boil without preamble. Tremors ripple from your sore clit through every muscle. Growing stronger and stronger until you're bucking wildly.

“Please cum, need it baby.” Jun whimpers, veins raising on his neck from the strain to hold back. “Been so good. I listened! Please, please, please.”

He’s pathetic. Weak for good pussy and a dom who’ll give him the direction he needs to please. And you’re even more pathetic because you’re cumming on the next whiny breath he releases.

Jun tries to fuck you through it, but the lewd mix of lube, arousal, and cum proves to hinder rather than help. He slips out and leaves you aching at first, two sets of hands scrambling to slip him back home. In the deep end of bliss, you crave the closeness rather than need it but it doesn’t stop Jun from huffing with frustration.

You grow boneless and pliant through the next strokes, eager to see him make another mess. Nothing feels as good as he does on your skin. Managing two handfuls of ass, you pull him deeper until he cries.

“Wanna feel you make this pussy yours.” You beg into his shoulder. “Will you do that for me? Fill me with your cum?”

His response is a raw moan, pathetic at your offer. The flutter of your walls around him unravels the knot of his second release until he’s rushing forward, forcing you down until you can’t breathe while he ruts every drop of his spend as deep as possible.

You already know what he plans to do when he attempts to slip out. He's a freak in the most predictable ways. But a ghost of your foot along the sensitive back of his thigh and a coo for his return quell the hunger for further depravity.

Relishing in the silence, you both find places to stroke and explore. The calloused pad of Jun’s thumb follows the bow of your lips, swirling across the sensitive skin with an occasional pause; only to start again when you bestow a gentle kiss.

“Can we sleep on the couch? It’s fucking nasty in here.”

Scoffing, you force him out of your chest with a palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry, who was the one spitting cum earlier?”

“Shut up.” Jun pouts, kissing his point across.

Dozing on the couch, Jun lights the pre-roll from his overnight bag. A few puffs are all it takes to melt the lingering jitters from his confession. Somehow this Jun, cozy in his sweats with damp hair and a lazy grin, is more imposing than the one who left the mess still staining your panties. But he doesn’t let you stay at the far end of the couch for long. Planted between long legs, back to his chest while his fingers tangle together on your stomach, you find it all feels right.

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

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indecisivekitty · 9 months

Text

The Anxiety of Proposals

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x reader

wc: 607

genre: fluff

warnings: uh none unless ur allergic to fluff ig

“Mate, you alright?” Gaz asked with furrowed brows. He’s noticed Soap staring at the wall for more than five minutes while fidgeting with his dog tags. “You’ve spaced out like what? 3 times now?”

Soap blinked and turned to Gaz after realizing someone was speaking to him. “Aye, just thinking ‘bout somethin’.”

Gaz tilted his head slightly with mild curiosity, then sat down at the table where Soap was sitting. “Care to share?”

The Scot bit his lip anxiously before letting out a breath. “Thinkin’ of proposin’ today once I get back home to me lass.”

Gaz smiled and leaned over to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Ay, good on you, yeah?” Soap let out a small laugh and rubbed his neck with a small nod in response. Arms folded and comfortably leaning back in his seat, Gaz asked, “Nervous?”

“Aye.” Letting out a breath, Soap ran his fingers through his hair. “Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it. Am excited though—can’t tell ye how long I’ve been wantin’ to wed ma bonnie lass. Want a bairn and have a pretty little family too.”

Soap pictures you and him, who knows many years in the future, married and with kids. Aye, he thought, the perfect dream. Feeling the other man’s gaze still on him, Soap looks over to see Garrick giving him an earnest smile before nodding at him.

“Let us know how it goes, yeah?”

MacTavish felt his eyes crinkle, along with a smile forming eagerly on his lips. “‘Course I will.”

Walking up to the front door of the flat you shared, Soap cursed as he fumbled with his keys. The nerves were already getting to him as he counted down the seconds he had left until he was back in your presence, something he constantly found himself doing.

“Bonnie?” he called out, dropping his bag on the floor and attempting to quickly take off his shoes, throwing a glance around the room to find your whereabouts. Frowning, he walked into the room you shared, wondering where you were from the lack of a response. “Lass-?”

“In here!”

Following the sound of your voice in the closet, he blinks when he sees you sitting on the floor with piles of clothes.

Beaming at the sight of your boyfriend, you smiled. “Hi, Johnny. How was work?”

Still confused, he utters, “Was fine, bon.” You hummed contently with his answer before looking at a box of old trinkets you owned. “Now, what exactly are ye doin’ on the floor with all yer clothes everywhere?”

“Well, I thought it would be nice to clean out some of my clothes, and then I saw an old sweater I forgot and decided to try it on, but then I saw an old shoe box of letters-”

“Love-”

“-and decided to read all of them—because hello?? I forgot I had them, so why not go down memory lane? Then I found-”

“Okay, okay, lass.” Kneeling to your level, he studied your face and reached out to caress your cheek. “Got distracted, aye?”

Huffing, you let out a small, "Yes."

Johnny couldn’t help but smile at you, his heart beating wildly at how beautiful you looked—even on the ground with all your clothes thrown about. How could he ever be nervous about proposing to you? He licked his lips. “Marry me, lass?”

“Wai-”

Smiling wider, he brought his hand down to rub your mouth gently. Softly, he whispered, “Marry me?”

His bright blue eyes stared into yours. His gaze was nothing but soft and loving, feeling just like home. Your eyes softened as you memorized how he looked at this moment.

“Of course, Johnny.”

a/n: sorry for lack of writings LOL busy trying to have a productive year while also trying to actually have the motivation to write

#— 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x reader fluff #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #call of duty #cod mw #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw3 #soap cod

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sadesluvr · 9 months

Text

Black Christmas - S. Raglan x Reader x M. Schmidt

Mike’s job as a park ranger becomes interesting when a mysterious couple stay five nights in a winter lodge.

A/N: HOLY FUCK. This is my longest and most tiring fic in a while (for all the right reasons) and I’m really excited to share it with you! It was loosely inspired by the req and work by @dilfbabie (HERE) but this has a festive, darker spin. This is for the people who voted for a Steve/William aligned reader, and is porn with plot. Further details in the tags, but this is reminiscent of a Jordan Peele film (aka the best kind of film), so dark themes lie ahead. I really hope you all enjoy it, consider it a Christmas gift ;)

Word count: 5.3K

Tags: SMUT (Porn with plot) / Slow burn / Fem! Reader / Threesome / Brief mentions of abuse / Alcohol usage / Oral sex, male receiving / Fingering / Blowjobs / Voyeurism / Cowgirl (position) / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Psychological manipulation / Deception / Dub-Con (if you squint) / Cheating --- MINORS DNI

MONDAY

Mike had grown to find that being a park ranger was far more amusing than working as mall security. He loved being surrounded by the natural world, and the relatively isolated nature of the job - outside of being with his colleagues - meant that he had time alone. Time to think.

It was even more enjoyable in the winter, specifically the Christmas period, where he revelled in the contrast of the bustle of the shopping district with the tranquil sightings of caribou and squirrels.

It was standard procedure for the rangers to meet the guests of the lodges they inhabited, simply as an act of trust building. Today was no different, except for the fact that he was standing at the door of one of the largest and lavish buildings in the resort, which only meant one thing…Snobby, rich inhabitants.

When you answered the door, your lips parted in a brief moment of shock, adjusting your relaxed posture so that you were upright.

“Hi…” you said, an unplaced smile appearing on the corner of your lips. “Can I help you Officer…?”

“Mike,” he quickly added. “I’m sure you’ve seen me in the pamphlet, but I’m your designated ranger for this district. I’m here for your safety,”

You seemed somewhat confused at this, but also rather appreciative.

“Thanks…” you replied, absentmindedly fiddling with your necklace. “We— Uh, we haven’t looked at that much yet, actually…”

Mike nodded. You’d probably just moved in, likely more desperate for a shower and a nap than read pages of menial information.

“My pager codes should be taped to the wall in the kitchen. Outside of patrols and emergencies — weather, rabid animals, that sort of thing — I’ll shouldn’t be in your hair,”

You cocked your head, seemingly interested in something about him. He was cute; boyish in contrast to his position that was usually reserved for those with blatant machismo. You wondered how he got it in the first place.

You nodded back, fingers lingering on the door as you swung it. “Oh, well that’s great, thank —“

“Babe? Who is that? You’re taking an awful while to — Oh, hello Officer…?”

Your interaction was interrupted by an older, taller man who emerged from the stairs behind you. He was dressed in an off-yellow utility suit - likely for skiing - in which a purple sweater peeked out from underneath. His hair was groomed and he wore large, slightly out of fashion glasses. He rested an arm above you, leaning it on the doorframe, and Mike squinted as he noticed that you’d shifted uncomfortably at the movement before trying to compose yourself.

He was lost in his thoughts, temporarily oblivious to the fact that the man was staring at him expectedly.

“ — Mike, “ he stammered, giving the man his name.

“Your badge says Michael,” he replied, matter of factly.

“I prefer Mike,”

“Hm,” the man mused, the grumble seemingly coming from the depths of his chest. “That’s odd. Usually you guys are referred to by your last name…”

Mike wasn’t sure about you, but this mysterious man was definitely a rich asshole. They always assumed they knew everything.

“It’s Schimdt — Michael Schmidt…but please, Mike is fine,” he replied, shifting his weight and pursing his lips. Strangely, the man’s blue eyes widened, and he cocked his head, softening his demeanour. Your gaze was fixed to the floor uncomfortably, and Mike could only decipher that you were embarrassed by the man’s insistence. The entire thing was borderline uncomfortable.

Yet, at that moment, he smiled.

“The name’s Steve,” he perked up, extending his hand for the smaller man to shake. He took it, and the man’s grip was firm and assuring, leading Mike to believe that he was some kind of businessman.

“Thank you, Mike,” continued sincerely, his voice noticeably soft. “Hopefully we’ll see you around then,”

Mike blinked and glanced at you. You were still, almost motionless, with Steve protectively hovering over you. He could tell he’d interrupted something.

“You too,” he replied, beginning to back away as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Happy holidays.”

TUESDAY

During the ins and outs of his job, Mike had been trying to rack his brain, wondering if he’d ever come across this ‘Steve’ before, but to no avail. Perhaps he’d just gotten the wrong person. Michael was a very common name, after all.

He wondered about you, though. You were certainly younger than him, and although he’d come across his share of problematic couples, there was something far more striking about you than the rest. Steve’s authoritarian presence, coupled with your seemingly shy, introverted own, was usually a cocktail that led to disaster. He wasn’t a cop, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep tabs on you, would it?

It seemed that the time would come quicker than expected. The next morning he’d received a ‘111’ message from your residence, and hadn’t wasted time in making his way up to see you.

Upon being let in, he quickly found out that you were alone, with Steve having run out for groceries. Apparently, you’d been hearing ‘rattling and shaking’ in the vents, and simply feared being home alone with the threat of a robbery looming over your head. He’d checked the vents, scoping the interior out for signs of damage or entry, quickly finding out that badger had made a home inside the walls, earning a good chuckle from the pair of you.

“I’m so embarrassed!” you’d gushed, and Mike had smiled slightly at your flustered demeanour. You were dressed rather nicely for an early morning, in a chic turtleneck, pants and a pair of Moon Boots. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that you either came from, or was in contact with a lot of money.

“No problem…” he chuckled, feeling the quiet instinct to pry. “So, Steve just left you here, even with the threat of an intruder?”

Your shoulders visibly dropped at the fact.

“Pretty much…” you sighed, masking your nervous energy by removing a mug from the coffee machine, pouring some fixings into the liquid before taking a sip, exhaling deeply.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you sighed, and Mike stiffened at the way you were so sincere, eyes locked on his own as you seemingly read his mind. “You have a point, but I like that he doesn’t baby me. But it does scare the shit out of me, knowing that we’re basically in the wilderness. Anything could happen…!”

He nodded.

“Well, you’re more likely to be attacked by kids at Santa’s Grotto than a bear,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t worry…”

You smiled, gaze unwavering as you sipped the drink, admiring the rich taste on your tongue. It was as if you were a siren, beckoning him towards you with an indescribable aura. There was more you wanted to say, but you couldn’t say it.

Biting the bullet, he cleared his throat.

“Hey — This may not be my place, but is everything okay? When he came down the other day I saw you tense up,” Mike finished, and you let out a low hum as you contemplated the implications of his statement.

“We’re having a few issues,” you said, rolling your eyes, apparently brushing the situation off. “We’d been arguing a lot back home, and he booked this trip so we could regroup and stuff. I’m grateful, and I might even love him – but it doesn’t make me any less paranoid. I never know how he’s feeling, y’know? He’s a bit off sometimes…”

‘Off’.

That was certainly one way to put it, Mike thought.

“...Does he hurt you?”

“God no,” you insisted. “He’s just — Well, let’s just say that he’s not all that open about his past,”

Silence.

Mike let out a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips, musing on what you could’ve meant. He averted his gaze to glance around the cabin. It was rather lush, with floor to ceiling windows, marble countertops and rich oak accents; perhaps you were living beyond your means? Every item in his sight seemed relatively normal, blankets, keys, even a small Christmas tree with a few presents underneath. Still, it meant nothing. After all, nobody kept their secrets on display - no, those kinds of things were reserved for a bedroom…Or basement. Or the trunk of a car. Or in the psychological prison of the mind.

“…I should finish getting ready,” your voice interjected. “Thanks for the help, Mike,” you said sweetly, and he nodded before turning around and making his way to let himself out. As he placed a foot down the first step, something turned him around, and he was shocked to see that you weren’t far behind him. He hadn’t heard you follow him.

“By the way —“ he said, clearing his throat again. “I’m doing a patrol on Thursday, so I’ll be around…Just if you need to talk…”

He hoped he wasn’t being too forward.

You smiled, and this time Mike could see the emotion in your eyes.

“Good to know,”

WEDNESDAY

One of the best things about the job were the treetop viewing platforms. It gave a 360 view of the resort, and Mike was able to see near and far with his pair of binoculars. It was certainly a task that Abby would’ve loved, if she were ever allowed to see him work.

On this particular morning, he was scoping out the usuals - people on the slopes, those taking photos, and the general assortment of vehicles that came in and out of the building. Still, he found himself looking westward toward the lodging you were living in. Call it paranoia, or call it doing his duty, he couldn’t pry himself from the familiar outline of the building.

All seemed normal, until he’d focused on the top window, the largest one of the house that sat behind a balcony. There was no sign of you on the outside, other than the table and chairs, but it was what was enclosed behind that glass that worried him.

Sure enough, you and Steve were there. He couldn’t make out from the resolution, but your face was pressed to the glass, with Steve behind you, clearly leaving little room for you to move. Mike felt his chest constrict, tongue swiping over his lips as he zoomed in, silently praying that you weren’t being hurt.

It turned out that hurt was the complete opposite of what you were undergoing. There you were; totally nude with Steve’s large arms around your throat, kissing your neck as he jerked, your body writhing about as he did. Mike knew all too well what you were doing, and it didn’t take long for the blood to rush from his cheeks to his cock, praying that his growing bulge wouldn’t be visible to anyone.

Your eyes were half lidded as you scrambled to hold onto something, and Mike couldn’t help but wonder what your moans sounded like. Were you a screamer or a whimperer? Judging by the way the older man was ravishing you, it seemed to be somewhere in between the two.

Swallowing, he lowered the binoculars, pinching the bridge of his nose as he contemplated what he’d just done. There was no ridding the image from his mind, certainly not when he’d taken in every crevice of your body. He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets to try to suppress his base urges, storing the image securely for later.

THURSDAY

Mike rubbed his eyes as he slid into the company car, ready to do his rounds. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.

His grip remained firm on the steering wheel, carefully navigating the elevated roads. A fresh layer of snow had settled over the past day, and the last thing he needed was to skid off into the trees. It was funny that the winter wonderland around him couldn’t mask the fact it was in a place like this where his family’s life had been turned upside down — where his brother had been cruelly and callously taken…All under his watch.

Sometimes he couldn’t live with himself.

He was at the bottom of the final stretch of lodges when he noticed two figures trudging down the hill. Their arms were outstretched and faces scrunched - and Mike recognised you instantly. Steve was following after you whilst your arms were crossed, clearly having a temper tantrum of some kind. Squinting, he tried to make himself unnoticeable as he listened in.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want me to see her! I love kids!”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to see her, it’s just — Well, it’s not that easy…”

“How could this be difficult? I’m your girlfriend. She’s your daughter. Someday we’ll have to cross paths, right? Unless I’m some silly fling to you…”

“You’re not, okay? You know I love you. It’s complicated - Vanessa, she’s a little volatile —“

“I wonder where she gets that from,”

Frowning, Mike came out of the car, slamming the door with force to alert the two of you. He crossed his arms around his chest, scatters of snow crunching under his boots as he made his way towards you.

“Is there a problem?”

“Mike,” Steve said, any specific emotion unreadable in his voice. He looked the man up and down as if to intimidate, but Mike didn’t budge. “…What’re you doing here?”

“My job,” He said sternly, to which you smirked. His eyes darted between the two of you, and he cocked his head. “Is there an issue here, or?”

Steve cast you a frosty glare, to which you rolled your eyes. Shaking yourself off, you assumed a stricter posture before focusing your attention onto the smaller man in front of you.

“Mike —“ you said, matter of factly. “Be a dear and give me a ride to the leisure centre. I need a masseuse… I have a knot that just won’t go away,”

There was nothing but fury in Steve’s eyes as Mike nodded, stepping to the side to allow you to pass through to the vehicle. As he opened the passenger door for you, he could feel the older man’s stare, burning a hole in his neck and seeping out his insides. Shutting the door, he walked round to the other side of the car, jaw ticking and lips pulled into a straight line. He barely knew Steve, but what he did know was that he was an asshole.

The car ride was silent for all of two minutes when Mike perked up, clearing his throat whilst his eyes remained on the road. He’d only snuck occasional glances at your thighs, and even then he was unable to rid the image of you nude.

“…Who’s Vanessa?”

You scoffed, slumping back in your seat as you lay your head against the car window.

“So you did hear,” you chuckled defeatedly. “His daughter. He doesn’t want me to see her,”

“Oh,” was all Mike could say, and he decided to let you draw the emotion out of your body yourself.

“I hate when he does this!” You exclaimed, arms folded. “He makes me feel so dirty! Like, what the fuck is he saying? That I’m not good enough to meet her?!”

“I’m sure that’s not the case…” Mike said softly. “I mean, if it were down to me, I know I’d love for my daughter and girlfriend to hang out, especially during the holidays,”

The statement caused you to smile, and you shook your head defeatedly.

“I’m shacking it up with her father during the best time of year…” you said incredulously, looking out onto the icy white paradise around you. “She probably hates me…”

The thought of a girl being without her father on Christmas was enough to make you sob, salty tears pricking your eyes and eventually running down your cheeks. Covering your mouth, you let out a little whimper that alerted Mike, his kind brown eyes briefly leaving the road to watch your face. He wasted no time in pulling over, making sure the car was locked in position before he placed an arm on your shoulder, the sudden contact making you break down even more. Before he knew it, you were crying on his shoulder, hiding your face in the fleece-like insides of his jacket. The man remained quiet, but rubbed your back, narrowing his eyes as he tried to piece together your relationship.

He was beginning to lose himself in your scent when you pulled away, eyes red and slightly watery. Your faces were close, and you stared at him in a way that both made him feel guilty and aroused, eyes wide but enigmatic. He followed your gaze to his lips, and he slowly parted his own to exhale, hyper aware of the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

Brushing your fingertips across his cheeks, you leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, your taste bittersweet as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. He certainly hoped Steve wasn’t close behind, as he didn’t let go, instead parting his lips to whisper your name as your tongues began to dance against the others’. His hands were all over your body, and he was fairly certain that your hand had made his way to his pelvis, threatening to brush his cock.

He cursed himself when he gasped at the motion, which had caused you to pull away. As if you’d been under a spell, you felt flushed, stuck between wanting to leave the car and staying with Michael.

“Thank you…” you whispered, glancing down before looking out of the windshield. The reception to the rest of the resort wasn’t far from here, and you decided you needed to clear your head. “You’re a great guy, Mike.”

FRIDAY

It had been twelve hours since you’d shared a kiss with Mike, and he was beginning to think he’d known you forever. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, even when they’d received a severe weather warning at midday. Needless to say, he was excited to ring your particular lodge…Just as long as Steve didn’t answer.

“Hey, it’s Mike…We’re expecting a snowstorm in a couple of hours and we’re instituting a 7PM curfew,”

“Shit…Really?” You’d said, somewhat muffled, and Mike could hear you biting down on the fingertips of your thumb. “ I didn’t hear anything about this — Steve’s down at the casino…”

“I’m sure word will get to him,” he insisted. “Stay safe —“

“Wait, Mike? C-Can you come over? I want to make sure everything’s reinforced…”

It was apparent that you and Mike both knew that the lodges, especially the ones you were living in, were more than secure. You’d smiled and let out an exasperated, somewhat overdramatic ‘Thanks’, and had clasped your hands in front of you, leisurely strolling around the building as he confirmed the obvious. You seemed more free, whimsical even, dressed in a deep red couture tracksuit, perfectly painted toes on display. Perhaps the kiss, and Steve’s absence, had brought out the real you.

He didn’t know he could have such an effect on someone.

As he clicked off his flashlight, he smirked at you, to which you returned, and drummed his hand on the countertops.

“Is everything okay, Officer?” you lulled.

“A-Ok,” he hummed, watching as you walked closer towards him, a mischievous grin in your eye. He froze slightly when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his front, but found himself relaxing into your touch, his own hands finding your hips.

“We have the house to ourselves…” you purred, beginning to stroke the back of his neck, causing him to twitch. He was simply too cute. “…And the view is lovely. But the company’s better…”

He nodded, lost in the way you began to pepper kisses to his neck and breath gently into his ear, that he hadn’t realised that the snow was beginning to fall…and it wasn’t about to stop.

“Shit…” he said under his breath, ruining the mood as he scrambled for his radio. He should’ve been back to the base a while ago.

“This is Mike calling in. The storm came in earlier than expected. I’m holed in at Lodge 305 waiting it out,”

“Received,” the static said. “Keep us updated.”

You could barely contain your enthusiasm at the fact, and Mike chuckled as you excitedly raced to the wine cabinet. It was going to be an interesting few hours.

LATER

“…Part of me hopes Steve never comes back,” you slurred, wine bottle in hand as you sprawled out on the king bed, your tracksuit top since stripped, leaving you in a vest. It was obvious to Mike that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, neither.

Mike snickered.

“You’re still mad at him?”

“Yup,” you said, popping your ‘P’. “Asshole tried to propose to me at dinner yesterday. I said no,”

He was astonished that you said it so casually.

“Woah…”

“I know,” you grinned. “Wine?”

He looked up at you uncertainly. Not necessarily because it was wrong, but because he had no idea where the night would lead him if he took even as much as a sip. “I-I can’t, I’m on the job,”

“Just a little?” You whined. “For me?”

You watched him intently as he gave in, sipping the drink and holding it on his tongue. When he realised you were staring at him, you broke into a smile, edging closer to him on the bed.

“I love that you take your job so seriously,” you cheesed, running your finger down his arm. “Was this a boyhood dream?”

“Far from it,”

“Hm,” you said curiously, cocking your head. You’d been trying to figure Mike out for a while now. “So what’s the goal?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Just to see my sister happy, I guess,”

Your heart fluttered, and there was an incomparable sensation in your loins, biting up towards your stomach. Whether it was the alcohol, the heating, or something else - your body swelled, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You’re so sweet,” you cooed, in that oh-so famously position in front of his face, arms entangled in his. “I love that about you, Mike,”

“Love?”

“I wish all guys were like you,” was all you said, and you thrust yourself on top of him, his back flat against the mattress. He didn’t stop you; letting you take charge as you straddled his torso, pressing your breasts against his chest as his hands found your body. He was insatiable, greedy yet very needy, and found himself succumbing to your every whim.

Mike let out a whimper as you rubbed yourself gently along his clothed cock, growing irritated at the layer of fabric between you two. You nipped at his ear and giggled, dancing your hands along his body before you reached his bulge, giving it a gentle squeeze before you went back to teasing him with your hips.

“D’ya want me, Mike?” you purred. “Say the word and I’ll be yours…”

“Mmfh…” he grumbled, trying and failing to pull himself away from you, particularly as his hands found your hardening nipples, desperate to take one between his teeth. “What about Steve?” He said from below you. “I could get fired, I —“

Cupping his face in your hands, you stared him down, voice almost emotionless as you spoke.

“Mike, you may not know it, but when you’re rich, you can get away with anything…”

That was enough confirmation as he needed as he arched his back, angling himself up into your kiss. He was both surprised and aroused at how firm your grip was on him, legs quite literally locking him down below you. Your wanting mouth was wide as your chest heaved, grinning down at him as you slid your arm back, down his pants to touch his hardened cock.

Mike shut his eyes and groaned as you tugged on him, expertly sliding your hips down his body, fixing yourself into position so that you were level his penis, your ass in his face.

“Touch me, Mike,” you slurred as you took him in your mouth, giddy as he pulled down your sweats a crack so that he could massage your ass, fingers lingering by your lacy underwear. His touch sent chills down your spine, prompting you to take him further, tongue flat against the underside of his organ. His index finger slipped into your crevice, stroking your walls before he slid a finger into your pussy, making you whimper. It had been so long since Mike had been touched - and had touched someone in such a way - that he wasn’t planning on letting go of the feeling any time soon.

Even if your boyfriend came in.

“Babe? I’m sorry, I got caught up in —“

“Steve!” You said sweetly, releasing Mike from your mouth with a ‘pop’. “How nice of you to join us!”

The wording struck Michael as odd, but he chalked it down to the thick layer of condescension in your voice.

Steve stared right past you and towards Mike, narrowing his eyes. The younger man swallowed, wanting to push you off of him, but found himself drawn to the silent aura of the man, much more the way a bulge was visible in his pants also.

“I can explain—“ he stammered, exasperated as you played with him in your hands, index finger and thumb squeezing the tip as your eyes darted between the two men. How were you so relaxed about this?

“No need to worry about it, Mike,” Steve said, his tone surprisingly sympathetic as he zipped down his own pants. “I don’t mind sharing her...In fact, I love showing my darling off,” he grinned, almost sadistically as he bared his teeth and dimples. Steve placed his larger, calloused hands on your neck, his thumb brushing your cheek affectionately as he did. Mike felt somewhat betrayed by the way there was a glint of happiness in your eye; much more the way he pulled you into a sloppy, passionate kiss as you stroked the older man instead of him.

Once the pair of you pulled apart, his blue eyes were clouded with lust as he patted your cheek, thumb tracing your lips before he pulled away. You kissed the digit tentatively, chin in the air as you glanced down at Mike, silent, but smiling.

Ironically, you were a healthy couple playing a twisted game, and you’d been in on it all along.

Steve cleared his throat, loosening a button on his shirt as you span around, your own pelvis holding down Mike’s own. Mike should’ve despised the situation in its entirety, but the way his cock twitched was undeniable. It was as if this fucked up situation were unlocking something within him, and he didn’t know for how much longer he could hold it back.

“…I love the way men like you look at her and want nothing more than to fuck her brains out. Do you know what it feels like to win? To know that she’s yours?” Steve drawled, watching almost in admiration as you pulled off your sweats, sliding your underwear to the side as you lined up Mike’s cock with your entrance.

“Of course you don’t,” he said condescendingly. “...Your life is about to be hell, Mike. You deserve something good…” The older man hissed, coincidentally aligning with the hiss from Mike’s own mouth who was too much in a state of ecstasy to register the comment. His precum was dribbling on your wet folds, and he longed for a bit of friction.

You placed a hand on Mike’s chest, smiling down at him with the same expression he’d come to fall for in the first place, paired with your soft, unsuspecting voice.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Mike? I bet you’d make me feel so good…”

“Y-Yeah..” he whimpered lowly, and he moaned as you sunk yourself onto his bare cock, gripping your body at the tight, wet pressure of your gummy walls. Steve hummed in amusement as he watched you begin to ride him; slowly at first, giving him enough leeway to insert himself into your mouth.

He’d had you a million times before, but he never grew tired of the sensation. He gripped the back of your head as he moved your face up and down his shaft, groaning as he fucked your mouth in tandem.

“You’ve always been a maneater, haven’t you baby?” Steve cooed. “My little slut,” he spat, and Mike furrowed his brows, feeling his cock twitch in you at the statement. You were clearly just a few rich people with a perverted pastime, and he’d been taken as collateral. He’d probably feel disgusted in the morning, but as of right now he was in heaven.

You steadied yourself on Mike’s cock, pressing down a hand into his pelvis as Steve’s grip tightened on your face, greedy as one hand reached down to grope your breasts.

“Go on, Mike,” he chuckled arrogantly. “Give em a feel,”

You took Mike's hand in your own, throwing your head back at the sensation of being fondled and prodded by two men simultaneously. Steve’s cock was hitting the back of your throat, your nose buried into the fabric of his clothes, stray grey pubic hairs tickling your nose as he did. Mike’s dick was buried in you, and you were 99% sure you’d sheathed himself to the hilt. You hadn’t even needed to move your hips for that long, and Mike had begun to take agency as rock his hips up into your own, the skin-on-skin sounds borderline pornographic.

“Shit,” Mike whispered, feeling his stomach begin to knot up, and you gasped, talking around Steve’s cock that sent vibrations through the spectacled man’s lower half.

“Are you gonna cum, Mikey? You wanna fill this pussy up?” you teased, circling your hips uncontrollably, Mike’s penetrative thrusts becoming shallow but frequent. He groaned in response, and Steve chuckled, one hand your back so he stabilised you, making sure your lush lips were still attached to his shaft. Mike may have been getting the goods, but he owned you, and his pleasure came first. Even in a group of three.

Feeling closer to your own orgasm, you slammed your hips down onto Mike, holding him in position as he came; desperately clutching the sheets as he spilled into you, mumbling to himself incoherently. Steve was gracious enough to pull himself from your mouth, a bridge of spit connecting you two as he did. Instinctively, you jerked him off, your warm hands sliding up and down effortlessly on his sloppy dick, still grinding your hips on Mike as he was beginning to come down from his high.

Steve came with a grumble, and it wasn’t long until you followed him after, grinning mischievously as fresh white trails of his seed painted your face. Glancing over at Mike - who looked totally spent - you ran your tongue along Steve’s pink shaft to clean him up, writhing as you stimulated Mike’s softening cock, producing a groan from the brunette.

You were light headed as you fell back onto the sheets, smiling as Steve stroked your semi-nude body adoringly, lulling you off to sleep.

THE MORNING AFTER

Mike was awakened to a banging on the door, swearing under his breath as he contemplated how this looked. Sitting up, he scanned the room for a sign of you, or even Steve, but to no luck.

He looked out of the window. The snowstorm was over.

Perhaps you’d just gone out for breakfast.

He hurried his clothes on, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to shake the hazy memories of the night before. He was just in time as an officer entered, worried as he saw his colleague enter with guns.

“W-What’s going on?” he asked, squinting.

“We have a warrant for a visitor's arrest,” he drawled. “A Mr William Afton…?”

Mike frowned. The name wasn’t familiar.

The officer raised a brow, leaving the room once the coast was clear. As he did, Mike caught a glimpse of the poster in his back pocket, the face painfully recognisable.

WANTED: Child abduction and murder.

#florence writes!!#william afton x reader x mike schmidt #steve raglan x reader x mike schmidt #fnaf smut #william afton smut #steve raglan smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #dark! reader #fnaf x dark!reader #mike schmidt x dark!reader #dark fics

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers.

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors.

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning.

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court.

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out.

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot.

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going.

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media.

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one.

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism.

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy.

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks.

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent.

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it.

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek.

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him.

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat.

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you.

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you.

You’re not ready for that.

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you.

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him.

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen.

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks.

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking.

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand.

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in.

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt.

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his.

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping.

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek.

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

Smallville Masterlist

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@sleepyqueerenergy @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

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#Miss Professor #Assistant Hottie Sequel #Jason Teague #jason teague x reader #jason teague x female reader #jason teague x you #jason teague fics #smallville #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #lana lang #smallville clark kent #clark kent #zepskies writes

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moonlits-ocean · 9 months

Text

Long Way Home [Part VI]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here.

Read Part 5 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part VI

The villa didn't have a terrace, so I had to find a place at a higher elevation to watch the Star fall. There was a clearing if one followed the upward path of the stream, and it was the perfect place to keep watch.

On the said night, I bundled myself in a thick sweater, trousers and a cloak against the cold. Then I carried a picnic basket and a mat to the clearing. I settled myself comfortably against a boulder and opened a bottle of orange wine just in time for the initial stars to fall.

If I had been with father, we would've been watching this from our terrace. And if I had been in the House, then I'd be in the midst of a party, dancing and revelling with others in glittery dresses.

It was lonely to be here, but it was necessary. Something broke within me when Azriel rejected me, and it was a gradual process to heal it and get myself together. I just had to wait, and nurture myself like I would take care of a child.

The sky was filled with the stars now, and my surroundings were bright with their light. I had finished my food and two bottles of wine a long time ago, now I was just watching the lights with my eyes glazed over. I let my thoughts flow freely, not acknowledging anything.

A sudden thought made me jerk into attention. What if Azriel was partying among the other fae, unaffected by all this? What if he was dancing with Elaine at the moment, not even thinking about me—

I shook my head and let go of the thought. No use thinking about it now.

As I watched the sky, I made out a faint trace of a shadow among the lights. Maybe I was imagining it, I had too much to drink anyway. I blinked a few times, but the shadow was still present, zig-zagging among the lights and getting larger, coming closer.

Before I fully grasped what I was looking at, it landed on the mat next to me.

It was Azriel.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 7 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

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labrxnth · 7 months

Text

Prison Break- Part 10 (Leon Kennedy x Reader Series)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER

Tag list:

WC: 5348

CW: Alcohol, SMUT VERY MUCH SMUT, oral, vaginal, dubious consent (If you squint. They both had like one drink)

A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, take this as my apology. This is also my second time ever writing smut so uhhh take it as it is.

Summary: You and Leon go to a holiday dinner hosted by your friends. But surprise, you're feeling melancholic.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The freshly fallen snow had covered the surroundings of Washington D.C.. Looking like icing or a weighted blanket, it brought a chill yet a warmth. This season had the tendency to do this to you, after all this was the holiday for nostalgia.

Your footsteps crunched on the snow as you made your way through the hip level gate into the front yard of the small house. Being from the north, “farming country” as the people in Boston called it, it always amused you what people would consider a yard. For most of America it meant a small area in the front of the house covered with dead grass. There were no woods here.

There was no place to run like you used to as a kid.No place to explore uncharted, besides people.

You would rather deal with the isolating darkness in the woods than try to figure out people. But, you were trying and that’s all that mattered.

A hand brushed up against yours, finding it and slipping into it. The warmth being spread even through layers of gloves and mittens caught your attention, bringing you back to reality.

Your head turned to your right as the one person you may have just figured out stood next to you.

“You okay? You seem a little spacey,” Leon’s voice asked, a billow of smoke coming out of his mouth into the freezing cold.

“Yeah, just homesick,” You replied.

Leon’s eyebrow raised, asking a silent question. Wasn’t this your home?

With a sigh, you leaned closer to him, shoulder to shoulder and still walking in tandem. “As much time as I spend here, I’m not sure it’ll feel like home,” You said.

“Maybe that’ll change,” He replied. His arm raised to wrap around your shoulders and pull you into his warmth more. “But I get it, I still miss my life from before… everything.”

“Will it change?” You asked as the two of you stopped on the small wooden porch. Your eyes met his.

“The way I’ve learned it is that connections make a place home. You have friends here now, at least more than you used to,” Leon said and shrugged. “And y’know, you have more important people too.”

You stared blankly at him, confused at what he was hinting at. After a few seconds of silence between the two of you, Leon looked away,

“My girlfriend doesn’t think I’m important to her,” He added, feigning offense.

Your eyes widened as your arms wrapped around him in an apology. “You confused me,” You said, frowning at him. “I thought you were talking about a family member or something,” You grumbled.

Leon stared back at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh so I’m not a-”

He got cut off by you grabbing a fistful of snow and throwing it at him.

“Jesus (Y/n), you are a thirty-two year old woman,” Leon said, wiping the snow off and spitting the parts that got in his mouth out. You would've thought he was being serious if it weren’t for the glint in his eyes.

“Don’t be a dipshit,” You said lightly and helped him get the snow off his face.

“I thought you like my wit and charm,” He said, his voice carrying that teasing cadence that you had come to learn.

“Who told you that? I’m only dating you for your looks,” You said facetiously, a grin on your face.

“I don’t blame you.”

You were about to say something back when the front door suddenly opened in front of you. In the door stood Chris Redfield. He had on an ugly Christmas sweater with a garble of words on it that you couldn’t make out, a reindeer antler headband, and a flat expression on his face.

Your hand covered your mouth, trying to hide the giggle that was almost coming out. In your peripheral, you could see that Leon was grinning almost ear to ear, amused at Chris’s appearance.

“You two are late,” Chris said and glanced at Leon.

“Why are you looking at me? It’s not my fault!” Leon said.

Chris looked at Leon, not believing him for a second. “I know (Y/n), it was definitely not her fault.” He said, crossing his arms and looking at Leon amused. “Anyways, everyone else is inside, leave your shoes at the door.” He turned to walk back into the house.

With Chris’s absence, you could feel the warmth emitting from the house. It beckoned the two of you inside. Leon let you go in first, closing the door behind the two of you. You kicked off your snow boots and smelled the familiar smell of a heater running.

You went to take your scarf off, but Leon beat you to it, spinning you slightly as he did so. The spin brought you closer to him and his body, leaving only a few inches between your faces.

He had a knowing grin on his face, seeming amused with himself for being able to do that.

“You know we’re with other people, right?” You asked and raised an eyebrow.

Leon Kennedy was a gentleman at heart, but you knew that when he was being over the top it usually meant he wanted attention. He was a gentleman, but also somewhat like a male bird. Always wanting your attention and doing things to get it.

“I know, gotta show off how good of a boyfriend you have,” Leon replied and kissed your cheek. Your fingers laced together when you and Leon’s hands found each other naturally.

After a swift kiss, the two of you made your way into the living room, placing a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey on the counter. You didn’t expect the company to notice you walking in, but everyone said something of a greeting.

Jill was on the couch with Chris, she smiled in recognition at you and your heart fluttered a bit.

Had you mentioned before that Jill looked a lot like Leon and it confused your little heart? Not to mention her completely badass “get shit done” attitude made her very impressive.

You watched as her arm draped across Chris’s shoulders and the two of them smiled warmly at each other.

Leon started chatting with Claire while you found a spot on the floor next to your favorite Professor, Rebecca Chambers. Ever since you met the woman, you had a lot of respect for her; she was a biochem college professor, a PhD doctor, a previous S.T.A.R.S. member, and a kickass combat medic. She also had a warm attitude that made any situation more manageable.

You had come to be friends with her after that whole mess with Glen Arias.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n),” Rebecca said and gave you a warm smile.

You said the same back and the two of you began talking about how the past few months had gone. It had officially been five months since Alcatraz and while you wanted to keep in touch, it took a nudge from Leon to reach out to people.

The living room was filled with a type of warmth you hadn’t experienced since before your world came crashing down around you. You hadn’t felt like this since…..

Since New Hampshire…

Home.

“Okay guys, onto our first holiday tradition!” Claire said with authority, standing up.

“Do we have to this ye-” Chris started.

“Yes, we do, don’t be a grouch!” Claire said, staring at her brother.

You looked at the two of them and lightly smiled as memories flooded you.

You had a family. You knew they were still alive, but they didn’t know you were.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

February 24th 2009

The snow felt different here than you were used to. What was a beautiful blanket of snow in your small apple farming town, was a bitter, sharp, force of nature in the city.

You always had mixed feelings about Boston, on one hand it was fun to have a major city an hour away from your house, but on the other hand you liked the distance. You tended to keep a distance, a separation between the city and your hometown.

That’s what your parents did anyways. They came from the city, opting for a small town with good education to raise you and your brother. But now, you were back in the cold city, your usual coffee order sitting on the table in front of you while your eyes searched for anyone familiar.

Your head leaned on your hand as you thought about this time of year. Your birthday was a month ago, but it wasn’t celebratory. You got a pat on the back from your Captain for making it one more year around the sun.

If your captain knew you snuck out, you’d be discharged, your thoughts ran wild. And if you get discharged, you catch the discharge out of a gun, you know too much.

Your leg started bouncing up and down, something you had started doing since joining USStratcom.

If you didn’t see them, it wasn’t worth it. The torture you were put through every day wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t just see the people you did this for.

When the government found you after what happened in Manchester, your options were either to join USStratcom and get trained to fight whatever horror you saw that night or to decline. If you declined, you would’ve been checked out of this world early, your blood spilling on the ground and your family would soon join you.

The U.S. government didn’t like loose ends.

Your eyes searched the sidewalk as you finally saw a glimpse at who you came here for.

Across the street, a woman threw back her rain coat’s hood, revealing the same face that was your own, only more aged. Your mother reached into her purse to find something, then produced a key. She put it in a door and walked up a flight of stairs and out of sight.

Just like that, she appeared and was gone. Within the span of thirty seconds. She was just passing, going into her apartment like she did everyday. IT was something so small, but to you it meant the world.

You saw a light turn on in a room on the fifth floor. From your seat, you could see the curtain moving and the sight of a man around your age appeared in the window.

They were alive and living their lives, unaware of what happened to you.

The government didn’t answer any questions about you to your family, they just took you as soon as you agreed to join USStratcom.

You brought your coffee out the door with you, taking your umbrella out and opening it. Using the crosswalk, you walked across the street and looked at the door your mom entered.

It was almost like you could feel the red dot appear on your back as a bead of sweat rolled down your face. You shouldn’t go in, you shouldn’t have even seen them.

But you wanted them to know you were okay….

The rain hit the sidewalk and the sound of the doorbell could be heard inside of the apartment. However, when the woman opened the door, the person who rang it was gone, leaving only the ghost of memories and a single flower on the welcome mat.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“(Y/n)?” Leon’s voice cut through the memory, bringing you back to Jill’s house.

You blinked a bit, shaking your head slightly and looked down at the table. Somehow, while enthralled in the memory, you had sat down at the dining table and started playing a board game with everyone else. It would be impressive, if it wasn’t scary how good you were at that.

Your eyes looked down at the money you owned in the game and you rolled the dice. Your turn went quickly, as you wanted this to be done.

It felt like you had gotten ripped out of a separate reality. And for all intents and purposes, you did.

Leon’s hand went to the back of your chair and he searched your face, knowing something was wrong.

“Hey, Redfield, play for me. And Jill, play for (Y/n).” Leon said and stood up, nodding to the other room.

You followed him as you heard Chris grumbling about not wanting to play.

The voices and the light from the dining room started getting more distant the further you went into Jill’s house. Leon motioned for you to head into the guest room and you did without question.

When Leon walked in, he closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked and looked down at you. His hand came up to stroke your cheek and he cupped your face.

“It’s nothing… just a memory,” You replied, your gaze sinking to the floor.

“Just a memory? Raccoon City could be ‘just a memory’. Nothing is small if it affects you this much.” Leon replied, now holding your face with two hands.

He tilted your head up so you were looking at him. “Please, tell me. We promised to talk to each other.” He added.

If anyone could melt your heart easily, it was Leon Kennedy. Even as a late 30s year old man, he could act like a little puppy. Especially now when he was giving you the stare that unwound your heart.

“It was a memory about sneaking away from training and seeing my mom.” You replied, your arms reaching out for him. He pulled you closer and leaned his head on top of yours.

“She knows you’re alive?” Leon asked.

“No. I made sure she didn’t see me. This life is too hard to have a family in.” You answered and nestled into him. “Except for maybe other people that know this life.” You added and looked up at him. To add a certain element to it, you bat your eyelashes at him, hoping he would fall for the bait.

“Very cute, but I’m not falling for it,” Leon said, a smile on his lips. “We’re not leaving early.”

You pouted at him. “That’s not what I meant…” You grumbled.

Leon’s lips met your forehead in a quick kiss, then his lips met yours. The softness of his lips against your skin set everything in you ablaze. He was your warmth on a cold day like today.

“Is that what you were looking for?” He asked.

“Actually, yes,” You replied and chuckled. The two of you stared at each other with the magnitude of two planets coming together. His soft blue eyes met your (e/c) ones.

“I don’t know what to do with you sometimes,” He said, sighing. The usual smirk was plastered on his face. “But seriously, we promised to be communicative with each other, and I want to know what’s going on in that pretty brain of yours.”

His lips met your temple in a quick peck.

“Okay,” You replied. Your hands wrapped around his waist and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Feeling better?” He asked. His hands ran up and down your arms, soothing and warming you up.

You nodded in reply, your face moving against his shirt.

“Alright, let’s head back in there and get drunk,” Leon said facetiously and kissed your cheek again. “I’ll even let you sit on my lap if you’re good.” The grin on his face was enough for you to playfully slap his arm.

“I'll take the offer but don't be weird about it,” You answered and stuck your tongue out. The two of you made your way back to the table and it was like walking into a battlefield.

It wasn’t hard to determine what happened, Claire and Chris were scrubbing the carpet with sponges, Rebecca was picking up broken glasses, Jill was picking up the board game that had been scattered on the floor. The table was tipped over and Chris had a guilty look on his face as he scrubbed away at the coffee and alcohol stains on Jill’s carpet.

You and Leon helped put the table back and Jill put cards on the table. “Christopher, I swear to God if I have to ban you from playing fucking cards, I will,” She said and glared at him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The cards were dealt and the alcohol was poured. You were watching Leon play, as you were never one to play Texas Holdem; you could never get the rules down unless you had the chart of what was most valuable by your side.

You were seated between Leon’s legs, your back against his chest. His head was leaned on your shoulder as he studied the cards in his hand. Your eyes looked at the cards as you took a sip from your glass. The alcohol smoothly went down your throat, surprising you. Whiskey usually didn’t appeal to you, but then again neither did wine.

And your choice was one of the two.

As you kept sipping from your glass, Leon’s arm around your waist tightened. “Slow down,” His voice gently warned you.

You were used to drinks that you would shoot, and Leon could tell you would be in for a rough morning if you continued. Thanks to his words, you put the glass back down on the table and watched the game play out.

Claire won, as usual, and she collected the total of 5.00$ from the pile. You got more comfortable, squirming around in the chair as you did so. What you hadn’t taken into account was how close you were to Leon and that when you moved, you slightly rubbed up against him, earning you a slight, sharp inhale from your boyfriend.

“Can you sit still?” Leon asked quietly, looking at you. You nodded in reply, noticing how his ears were red with blush.

An idea came to your head.

Was it fueled by the slight amount of whiskey in your system? Maybe, but it wasn’t abnormal for you to mess with Leon. If he was allowed to tease you, then certainly you were allowed to tease him.

Without catching anyone else’s attention, you moved slightly, pressing your ass against his pants more. You moved slightly side to side, which caused Leon to slightly hiss and move his free hand from your waist to your hip to hold you still.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” He whispered in your ear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at how bothered he sounded. Maybe you were playing a dangerous game, but you were certainly ready for the consequences of your actions.

You moved a little more, pressing yourself against him more-

With a pap!, Leon’s cards were put face up on the table. “Well guys, thanks for having us. Me and Sadie still have work tomorrow, so we’re actually gonna head out,” Leon’s voice said.

“Really? In the middle of a game?” Jill asked, her eyebrow arched.

Leon nodded adamantly. “The bosses want us in bright and early. (Y/n) doesn’t do mornings well, so it’s best to head home early. We’ll see you for New Year’s,” He said and tapped your hips to get you up.

You stood up and he grabbed your hand leading you to the door to grab your shoes.

“Bye! It was really fun, thanks for inviting me,” You said with a smile.

“Of course, you’re part of the family now,” Claire said, matter-of-factly.

Family….

The word rang in your ears and you thought about it, lingered on it so much that you hadn’t even noticed you were now getting out of your car in the parking garage. Leon’s hand was in yours as the two of you walked to the door.

Claire had said family, you belonged.

The thought could have brought tears to your eyes if you weren’t also thinking about your current situation.

Suddenly, you were in your apartment, the door closing behind you and Leon pinning you to the door.

“Really?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His large, muscular forearm was right next to your head.

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence.

He stared at you. “I told you that you were playing a dangerous game,” He added.

A grin pulled at your lips as you slightly bit your bottom lip. “I know,” You replied.

Leon pinched his nose and sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes,” He said. His eyes then locked with yours and he leaned in, leaving only a few inches of space between the two of you. “But other times, I know what I want to do to you.” His eyes turned into a fire, something you were now all too familiar with.

“And what would that be?” You asked, tilting your head up to him.

He leaned in close, almost like he was going to bite your neck, his breath hot against your neck.

“I’m going to make you cum on my mouth, then my dick,” He said.

Your face turned a deep shade of red at his words. “Is- is that a promise?” You asked, still trying to remain in control of your heart and emotions that were dialed all the way up.

“You’re so cute when you try to fight how flustered you are,” He hummed and kissed your neck. His teeth lightly bit down and his lips left a mark as he pulled away.

He picked you up by your waist, earning a yelp from your lips, and carried you through your apartment to the bedroom. He dropped you gently on the mattress and his lips were on yours in an instant.

His knees were on either side of your legs and one of his hands was on your hip while the other one kept him upright on the bed.

Your lips crashed together, begging to taste the other. Leon’s teeth lightly bit your bottom lip, asking for permission. You opened your lips and his tongue entered your mouth, searching for your own. Your tongues locked together and twirled in a way that could only be described as dancing.

As you pulled away for a breath, you noticed his hands were already working on taking your pants off, the jeans being halfway down your legs. Leon’s eyes locked with yours again as a slight, cocky, smirk graced his face.

“Tell me what you want,” He mused, his hand pulling your pants off all the way. Then, his hand came up to your hair, running through the strands. “Use your words, we promised to be communicative,” He added.

“I need your mouth between my legs,” You said breathlessly. He took your words as a green light and almost ripped your panties off.

Leon was a gentle lover most of the time, especially when you wanted him to be, but playing with him and getting him all riled up was the easiest way to make him intense. You had made the man desperate for you undone, wrapped around him.

He moved lower, his lips trailing down your shirt and stomach. As he moved lower, his body inched lower, making room for him near your core.

He grabbed a pillow and put it at the small of your back, angling your, now uncovered, entrance towards him. With a slight hum, he kissed the inside of your thigh, teasing you.

His lips felt like feathers, then a sudden pain shot up your body. Leaning up on your elbows, and looking at him, you could see that he had slightly bit into your thigh, leaving a mark. He kissed your body like a man starved, like he had been deprived of a core need his entire life. Even though your sex life was colorful and frequent, he always treated you like he was tasting and feeling you for the first time.

A jolt of pleasure finally hit you as his tongue found your clit, swollen in anticipation and arousal. A small moan escaped your lips as your head hung back, looking up at the ceiling.

You could almost feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed your vulva, making sure to worship all of your parts and give them what they craved. His arms hooked around your thighs, bringing your body closer to his face.

Your back arched against the pillow as another jolt of pleasure surged through you, feeling his tongue and lips paying attention to every part that needed it. You two had been together long enough for Leon to know where and how to pleasure you. He knew your body like his own, wanting to leave you so satisfied that you couldn’t talk.

“Babe, babe, slow down!” You whimpered, your hand digging into his hair and pulling it slightly. “I’m gonna-” You were cut off by a moan leaving your lips. Your eyes met his and it felt like you were prey stuck in the gaze of a hunter.

He pulled away slightly, giving you a bit of respite, and he titled his head. “Do you actually want me to slow down?” He asked, his eyes turning softer.

You shook your head a bit and he nodded, leaning up to kiss your cheek. “I said what I wanted to do to you, don’t deny a man his partner’s pleasure,” He said and moved back down, assuming the position he had before.

He kept lapping at your clit, making you flex your thigh muscles. The pleasure ran through your whole body as you hit your orgasm. A moan left your lips as you could feel your pussy clenching around something that wasn’t there, aching for him. Your body instantly relaxed into the mattress as you were coming down from your climax. Leon sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, licking his lips to clean up any of your cum from them.

He pulled you closer to him and kissed your cheek again. Your hands found their way to his chest and ran over the muscles there as he started to take off his pants.

His pants were off in a few seconds and the same with his boxers. You sat up and your hand went to feel his shaft, but his hand stopped you. He kissed your cheek again, his words hot on your ear. “Not tonight. I want to please you tonight,” He said quietly.

His hands lifted your shirt over your head and his mouth was on your breasts. His hands wrapped around your back and unhooked your bra, leaving you completely bare to him. Your breath hitched as his lips made their way back to your neck.

With ease, Leon had you in his lap, facing him. The two of you loved this position, being as close as you possibly could, facing each other. It felt intimate and it could be rough if the night permitted it.

And tonight did permit it.

Leon only took a few seconds to coat the tip of his dick with your climax. He teased your entrance, then slammed into you. A moan escaped both of your lips as his dicks slid effortlessly into you, your walls being accustomed to his size and shape by now.

Your face leaned into his shoulder as he started snapping his hips into you. The movement made you wrap your arms around his neck like you would fall off. His hands went to your hips, making you move in opposition to his movements, making the come together all the more pleasurable.

Leon moved your hair out of your face with one hand and he smiled at you. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. And only I get to see you this way,” He said, kissing your forehead.

His words were enough to make your pussy clench around him more, causing a moan to fall out of his lips.

“You take me so well, holy fuck,” He said breathlessly.

All that could be heard in the room was obscene sounds and Leon praising you between the two of your moans.

The hot pleasure was building inside of you, and you could feel Leono’s dick twitching inside of you.

“Where do you want it?” He asked quickly, trying to get the words out.

“You can stay in,” You said, your eyes meeting his. He nodded, his eyes half squeezed shut from a nearing climax.

In a moment that came together perfectly, pun intended, you reached your orgasm. You made a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a moan, pulling yourself closer to Leon in the process. You saw stars as you got sent over the edge, feeling your pleasure explode within you.

With a slight haa Leon kept going, feeling his dick getting squeezed by your walls. “I’m gonna-” He got cut off by his own moan and he buried his face in your shoulder and snapped his hips into you a few more times.

You felt his cum drip into you, evident by Leon panting and the back of his neck being red with a blush. Your hand gently ran through the hair on the back of his head, soothing him through his own orgasm.

After a few minutes of being in your arms like this, he came back to. “I’ll go gr

After a few minutes of being in your arms like that, he came to. His breathing got more regular, going from a pant to barely being audible. His muscles relaxed and his grip on you got looser.

“I’ll go grab you a towel,” He said and pulled out. Both of you winced at the sudden stimulation again and he got up to grab a towel from the bathroom.

He came back with a bowl of fruit, some water, and a towel. Climbing back on the bed, he put the water and fruit on the nightstand and gently cleaned you off with the towel. His hands made quick and easy work, making sure to clean off your sweat as well.

After, he settled down next to you and pulled you into his arms. His arm wrapped around your waist and the other grabbed your snacks as he kissed your head.

“How’re you feeling, (Y/n)?” He asked softly.

“Good…” You mumbled and popped a raspberry in your mouth.

The two of you laid together, regaining whatever energy you could in each others’ warmth. Leon tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled warmly at you.

“I think I found something I’ve been looking for for a long time,” He said blissfully.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“Someone that’s my family, someone I belong to. And someone that belongs to me,” He explained.

Your eyebrows relaxed as you smiled at his words.

Thinking about the past few months with this man, no the past few years, was enough to give you that same sense of warmth. He took you under his wing as a field partner, he never pried about your past until you wanted to open up to him.

The endless amount of bar hang out, the numerous missions, all of came to mind. And you were finding yourself of the same mind as him.

No matter your past, you were part of his family now, and he yours. The two of you were unstoppable on the field and in your relationship. You didn't know how to say all the thoughts and words swimming in your head, so you opted for three words that would sum it all up.

“I love you,” You said quietly and leaned into his embrace.

His smile widened and he squeezed you closer. “I love you too,” He replied.

No matter what fucked up bioweapon came your way next, you were certain that you could always come back to your family- Leon Kennedy.

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy

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aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

Note

hi V3 I am so sorry i am BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX OMGGG but I totally forgot the character Id like is Hobie, I think cause I was talking about him I thought I said his name but i forgor ty bae ily 🤗🤗🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️

HOBIEEE gotta be my fav 2nd to Miguel, i’m working on a fanart of that cool mf too. He’s such an interesting character to write, i’m honestly pretty sad i only thought something so short for this HC’s T-T I hope you enjoy this though big man, Hobie is definitely the type to hang out with you when youre going through those rough times <3

"Anythin' you wanna be."

Tags: Hobie Brown & ftm!Reader, fluff, dysphoria, Headcanons, going through those tough times, Hobie being the Homie he is, Reader is implied a Spider-person, But also up to interpretation, Comfort and Fluff, no angst

Hobie Brown headcanons for anyone that’s going through those dysphoric episodes <3

first of all, let's get one thing straight here: Hobie FULLY SUPPORTS you being trans

He doesn't see you as anything fem aligned unless said otherwise

lets you crash in his universe, especially when you need it

he thrifts a lot of big and baggy jackets and sweaters, only to give them to you saying he "bought the wrong size"

There's definitely a couple of sweaters from his own wardrobe that you've stolen

you've definitely worn his jacket that he usually wears over his spidey suit, it makes you feel as cool as him

he made you your own jacket, with a trans pin and another with his Spidey logo

lets you borrow anything you want because he knows it makes you feel good

the type to check in on you if you've been binding the whole day

When things get too much and you feel bad in your own skin, Hobie would spend time with you in his universe

he makes you a comfy fort blanket where you can stay and watch anything you please while he plucks the strings of his guitar on the floor

definitely, the type to get you anything you wanna eat when you've lost your appetite

stays by your side, letting you lean on him when you seek comfort

If it gets too much as tears start to fall, he’ll hold you through it, brings you into his arms while you let all those feelings out

Rakes his fingers through your hair or just likes softly petting you if it helps you calm down

completely understands if you need some alone time when dealing with dysphoria, making sure you have enough snacks and water before he leaves to hang somewhere else

he's the spokesperson whenever you wanna be left alone, making sure the others won't bother you too

Says "You're cooler than me mate, cooler than Miles too,"

says dumb shit like; "You are the manliest man to ever man," or "No one does a better job being a boy than you," Just to make you feel better

his side-eye game STRONG 💪dont look at you weird or he'll give them a bone-chilling, soul-crushing, ‘wish I was dead’ side eye

He and Pav is the type to make little trinkets for their friends tbh, he deff makes pins from bottle caps and gives them to you

His favorite spot to bring you when you feel down is near the top of any tall building, bringing snacks and a blanket. He says it makes him feel better knowing everyone is so small, and the world is huge, so in the end, nothing really matters and so be whatever the fuck you wanna be.

Requests are open! Reblogs are appreciated <3

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown & reader #hobie brown x trans!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x ftm!reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown hcs #hobie headcanons #hobie x reader #hobie x you #hobie my beloved #across the spiderverse #hobie brown across the spiderverse

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faggot-vampire-dies-epicly · 4 months

Text

Respite

Summary: After a really bad argument with your brother Mike, you are left feeling distraught after both of you said things you shouldn't have. As you're struggling to come to terms with what happened, you find comfort in the person you least expected. | Words: 4.225K. Requested by @xxinmyfnafworldxx.

Warnings: Mentions of child disappearance. Mentions of poverty. Cursing, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, family drama, family issues, unresolved romantic tension. Smoking. A bit of an age gap, since Reader is younger than Mike and Vanessa. Fem!Schmidt!Reader.

A/N: Okay, yeah, I know this took long but I was busy, sorry. School is beating my ass, my cousin got into a car accident and a stray dog bit me in the leg. It may not have the same quality as the last one, but I did put in a lot of effort, and I do like how this turned out, so I hope you guys like it too.

Main Masterlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

Nebraska, 1987.

“During autumn, Nebraska is colder than at home. So don’t take off your sweater.”

That was the first thing your dad said when he helped you get out of the car.

Garrett and Mike were already playing tag around the campsite. You chuckled and ran after them, following them into the woods.

That night, at the police station, as you sat beside the only sibling you had left now, you realized your dad was right. Nebraska was indeed colder than Hurricane.

November, 2000.

The past months had been rough.

With Max’s disappearance, you had no choice but to quit your job and stay home to look after Abby while Mike was at work.

After all, Mike had an accident (that he didn’t want to tell you anything about) which caused him to lose another job, which meant even more cost-cutting since he couldn’t keep one job for too long, nor get a high-paying one.

Abby had been there with him the night of the “accident” and she didn’t want to say a thing about it either.

It was driving you insane.

At least things with Aunt Jane had gotten better. But that only was because you had found her passed out in the living room the same night Mike had been injured, and she never came back to bother you and your siblings ever since.

So currently, you were struggling financially, like you always did.

Mike always got the worst of it.

The smallest portion at dinner, the cheapest clothes, the most worn-out shoes.

You lived in a perpetual state of worrying about him. He would just give you a tired smile, and say, “It’s alright.”

You knew it wasn’t.

Everything changed after Mike lost his job at that old restaurant.

Mike and Abby’s relationship had been magically fixed, or at least that’s how it felt.

She wasn’t shutting both of you out anymore, and Mike had become more calm and understanding.

There was also Vanessa, the police girl who had stayed a couple of weeks at your house. She was Abby and Mike’s friend and had also been involved in whatever happened in that old place.

Mike had let her stay in the house while recovering from whatever injury she had suffered.

She had slept on the couch. Sometimes you would go to the kitchen for water in the middle of the night, and you would find her awake, looking through the window.

Vanessa never talked much, at least not with you, she seemed to like Mike more. But you would still stay with her until she whispered goodnight and slipped under the blankets.

Sometimes, you would stay even after she had fallen asleep. You were the only one who could wake her from her nightmares after all.

Then she had moved out and you barely saw her. Sometimes she would drop Abby off from school, or Mike would invite her to dinner.

Vanessa was… fine.

It’s not that you didn’t like her.

No.

You liked her very much.

But you didn’t have time to acknowledge what that meant. Much less let her know.

Not that you were thinking of actually doing it.

After all, it seemed like everyone's life was improving, except for yours.

You still couldn’t go to college like you wanted to, since there were no babysitters around to look out for your little sister.

Mike was still jumping from job to job, getting paid barely enough to help with the mortgage and the basic groceries. And you couldn’t help with that either, since nobody wanted to hire you just for the part-time, and even if they wanted to, Mike wouldn’t approve of it.

And even worse, you couldn’t even go out to make friends, because, even if your older brother had changed, he was still as overbearing and overprotective with you.

You were sure that if you went to look at the meaning of overzealous on the library computers, his name would be the first thing to come up.

It always drove you nuts.

Even if you were young, you were already an adult. You didn’t need him to always keep an eye on you.

You understood it was just a trauma response. You really did.

You were there the day Garrett was kidnapped, after all. You recalled the horrified look on Mike’s face as they were interrogating him. His cheeks were tear-stained, his eyes red-rimmed, and he was so pale anyone could have mistaken him as a ghost.

You could remember him saying, “I just looked away for a second. I swear it was just a second,” to your parents' sorrowful faces over and over again.

Still, it didn’t mean you had to suffer such consequences. You wanted to live a normal life, as normal as you could, regardless of what had happened.

Abby sighed profoundly and shifted on her seat, frowning at her drawing.

You were in the kitchen, making dinner, and close enough to her to notice her discontent, so you pushed the salad you just finished aside and looked at her.

“What’s wrong, Abz?”

She made a face, meeting your gaze. “My friend from school invited me to have a sleepover tonight, but Mike won’t let me go.”

You frowned. When did this kid make friends at school?

And why were you just finding out about it?

“Well, uh,” you trailed off. “Did he give you a reason? Like, is he going to stay late at work tonight?”

Abby shook her head, looking back at her drawing, and put the crayon she was holding down on the table.

Just then, as if you had summoned him, Mike opened the door and stepped into the house.

Abby and you turned to look at him as he took out his jacket, and stepped out of his shoes.

He smiled at Abby, first, ruffling her hair, and looked at her drawing.

“That’s a good one,” he murmured, looking at Abby. He then turned to look at you.

“What’s with that face?” Mike asked casually.

“Abby told me something interesting,” you said, focusing on the salad again.

Mike hummed, peeking into the pots on the stove, and checked what you were cooking. “What did she say?”

You huffed, setting the salad to the side again.

“Well, first of all,” you turned to look at him. “I have just been made aware that she has a friend in school.”

Mike chuckled softly, leaving the pots alone to face you. “Ah, yes. It’s true, she has a school friend.”

You huffed, frustrated. Did neither of them feel like this was important information? After all the time Abby had struggled to make real friends?

“And also,” you continued, “her friend invited her to a sleepover, and you didn’t allow it.”

Mike sighed, already tired from the conversation. “Yes, that’s true, too.”

“So, why can’t she go?” You crossed your arms.

Mike shrugged. “It's not safe for her.”

You scoffed. “You're unbelievable. It's just a sleepover. What's the worst that could happen? Kids consuming too much sugar? She asking her friend's mom to call you because she misses her room? ”

Mike huffed, shaking his head, and tried to walk away from the conversation.

You followed him across the hall and into his room.

“Come on, Mike. What's the worst that could happen? Seriously.”

Mike sighed, turning to face you while he tossed away his tie. “I don't know – I mean, we don't know these people. God knows what strange habits–”

“Are you hearing yourself?” you said, disbelief clear in your voice. “You’re accusing people you don’t know of being,” you gestured with your hands, “weirdos, just because you’re afraid of letting Abby out of your sight!”

Mike rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I'm not afraid, I'm just being careful! It's my job as an older brother–”

“You won't have control over her all her life. You know that, right?” You argued back. “She might be a kid right now but she’ll keep on growing and things will get out of hand, Mike.”

The conversion was turning into a whole-blown argument. You knew you shouldn't press Mike's buttons further, but it was too late to care about that.

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. “Don't start this again.”

You scoffed, “Start what, exactly?”

“You know what. I'm not in the mood to argue.”

“You're never in the mood for anything!” You snapped at him. “All you do is work,” you continued. “Or rather, try to keep your job and watch over us like you're our bodyguard. You are going to asphyxiate us with your intensity.”

“I'm just trying to keep you two safe!”

Your voices were raised so high that Abby could probably hear the discussion from the living room.

“Keep us safe–”

“Oh, please,” he practically mocked. “You know I have reasons!”

Before you could argue back, he continued.

“Abby is a kid. She doesn’t understand the dangers she could be in, and you,” Mike met your gaze, “you think I don't notice how you look at me sometimes? Like I'm ruining your life? Like you hate me?”

You huffed, “I don't hate you! I just– I just want some space, okay?”

Mike scoffed, but you ignored him.

“I want to be able to go out at night, to have a job, and make money not only for us to have something to eat, but to buy things for myself too. I want to stop worrying so much about you!”

You took a long breath, trying to calm down.

“I want a normal life. A normal, relaxing life, Mike. Where I can make friends and go on dates without having to sneak out because you won’t agree.”

“Y/N–” he tried to interrupt.

“No!” you cut him off. “You think I don’t know who I remind you of? You think I don't know that when you look at me, you think of Garrett? You think I don’t hear when you tell Abby I look just like him?”

“That’s not true!” he shook his head, now seemingly hurt. “Look, I'm just trying to look out for you! For you and Abby. I'm your big brother–” he said, exasperated. And that was your last straw.

“We don't need you to protect us! Did you forget what happened the last time you tried to look out for one of us?”

A deafening silence followed. Mike deflated, his words dying in his mouth.

You looked at each other for a second before you realized what had been said.

“Fuck,” you exhaled. “Mike, I'm sorr–”

“Get out.”

“But–” You approached him, and tried to take his hand but he cringed, pulling away.

“Please, just…” he trailed off, not looking at you. “Just leave.”

You looked around, thinking of what to do.

Something, anything that could change the situation you were in.

But of course, there was nothing to do, at least not until Mike had calmed down.

So you left his room, looked at him one last time, and closed the door.

You stood still outside his door, letting everything sink in. You were still angry, but you also felt guilty.

Using Garrett’s kidnapping as an argument during the discussion was a low blow. If there was a hell, you were fucked.

Running your hands through your hair, you approached the living room.

Abby was still sitting at the dining table, eyes fixated on her now-finished drawing.

“Abby?” you called, softly.

She didn’t react. It was one of those moments when she felt stressed so she wouldn’t acknowledge you– or anyone, for that matter.

You sighed, took your jacket from the coat hanger, and stormed out of the house.

You walked for a while, just following the river.

After a good fifteen minutes, you stopped. It was cold, and your jacket wasn’t warm enough.

You sighed in frustration, kicking rocks into the water, and finally decided to sit on the grass.

“Was it really that serious?” You thought. After all, even if it was annoying, Mike's overprotectiveness had probably saved you from a lot of trouble.

You ripped up handfuls of grass as you stared at the water.

“Yes, it is,” you said out loud. Blaming him for Garrett’s disappearance was shitty, but you knew your anger was justified. Mike couldn’t keep being like this.

Not with you, and not with Abby, either. He needed to understand. To learn.

But how would he understand and learn if you only told him about your frustrations after bottling up and then exploding?

It wasn’t fair to him, either. Mike would just feel like you’re being antagonistic.

Grumbling, you rummaged through your jacket’s pockets. The wind had started to pick up and you needed something to warm up.

You pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter from the front pocket of your jacket.

You huffed. Mike would kill you if he found out.

Lighting the cigarette, you took a quick drag and as you put the items away again, you felt something strange in your pocket.

Frowning, you placed the cigarette between your lips and reached into your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

Humming, you unfolded it without care, not remembering what it was.

You almost choked on the smoke.

It was a drawing from Abby.

She had given it to you a few weeks ago after you picked her up from school.

It was a drawing of you, her, Mike, and a little airplane toy. Garrett's favorite.

“God-fucking-dammit,” you said, putting the cigarette back in between your lips to avoid getting ash on the paper.

“Language,” a voice behind you said, and you jumped, turning around.

Standing there, with her blonde hair swaying slightly in the wind, was Vanessa.

“Great,” you thought.

Out of all the people you could have run into this situation, it had to be her.

You noted was wearing civilian clothes: jeans, a cheap-looking sweater, and a jacket. Her hair was also down. Very different from her usual everyday look.

“That’s bad for your lungs. You know that right?” she said, pointing to the cigarette between your lips.

You grumbled, turning to face the water again, and she took it as an invitation to sit beside you.

“I mean that,” Vanessa said, staring at you.

You took a drag and blew the smoke away from her. “I know.”

She hummed. “Does Mike know?”

You frowned, looking at your shoes while the cigarette slowly burned in your hand.

“There’s a lot of things Mike doesn’t know about me,” you answered, meeting her gaze.

You stared at each other for a moment before she spoke again. “Can I?” She said, pointing to the cig. You handed it to her, and she took a puff from the cig.

You smiled. “I thought you said it’s bad for your lungs. What changed?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, blowing the smoke. She took another puff, then looked at you.

“Nothing has changed, it’s still bad,” and as she said it, she threw the cigarette into the water.

You gasped. “Hey, those are not cheap!”

It was her turn to smile then. “I know.”

You huffed. “Between this and Mike’s pills, I think you can be considered an environmental terrorist.”

Her smile faltered. “He told you about the pills?”

You nodded slowly, humming. “Mike tells me everything,” you said with a smile.

You paused, your mind returning to the night that he arrived limping and with several superficial wounds and scratches, and with a trembling Abby beside him.

“Almost everything,” you thought out loud.

Vanessa looked at the glistening water. “What makes you say that?”

You scoffed. “Come on. Something happened to him in that old pizzeria, and he won’t speak about it. Neither will Abby.”

You looked at her. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

“And I’m assuming you won’t, either.”

She cleared her throat.

“It’s…” She paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just something I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

You sighed, looking towards the water again. “Called it.”

You two stayed silent for a moment before you spoke up again. “How did you find me anyway?”

Vanessa sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Of course.”

Mike had told her to find you.

“He's your brother, Y/N,” she said softly. “I'm sure he only wants what's best for you.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Yeah sure..." you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "He's always known what's best for me. Like when he convinced me to leave my job so I can stay home and be a housekeeper.”

Vanessa's brows furrowed. “He did?”

You sighed. “It's… more complicated than that, but… that's how it feels.”

A beat passed in silence.

“I know he's doing it because of Garrett,” you murmured.

“Doing what?” Vanessa asked carefully.

“This. All of this…” You sighed. “Not letting Abby hang out with her new friend, convincing me to stay home and take care of her...”

She watched you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“I can't go out at night, he's constantly barging into our rooms, I can't date anyone,” you sighed, and she seemed to understand, her expression softening.

Slowly, Vanessa reached out to you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"I understand that Mike can be overprotective at times, I can't deny that,” she said softly. "I know it must suck not being able to go anywhere or do anything without him always checking on you..." she sighs, looking you in the eyes empathetically. "But we both know he just wants to protect you, even if he’s doing it in the wrong way. He loves you dearly.”

You avoid her gaze, your eyes focusing on the grass underneath you.

“It's worse with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

You smile bitterly. “Because apparently, I’m the only one who looks just like Garrett.”

Silence.

“I–” She began but cut herself off.

“I just wish,” you continued, “he could just try to move on. At least now he's aware it wasn't his fault, but,” you took a deep breath. “I feel like he's still stuck trying to be a protector instead of just being our brother.”

Vanessa stayed silent, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t feel like hearing fake reassurances while talking about Garrett or his disappearance.

“Every time we try to talk about it, it just turns into an argument,” you whispered

“And why's that?” Vanessa squeezed your shoulder. You felt your heart flutter at the gesture.

“I guess… because we're both too stubborn to hear each other out,” you chuckled tiredly, running your hands through your hair.

Vanessa opened her mouth, but you interrupted her.

“I fucked up today,” you turned to face her. “I kind of… blamed him for Garrett's disappearance.”

Vanessa seemed shocked by this. Then she sucked in her breath between her teeth.

“That's–”

Your expression turned bitter as you felt your face flush in shame.

“I know, you don't have to tell me.”

You hid your face in your hands. “He seemed so distraught, so hurt, I can't… I can't stop thinking about it.”

You felt your nails dig into your scalp. “I can’t stop thinking about the pain in his eyes, I can’t unsee the way he just… shrank.”

Carefully, Vanessa rested her hand on your back, and when you didn't protest, she started rubbing small, comforting circles.

You feel a knot form in your throat.

“I…” you swallowed. “I remember it. The day he disappeared.”

A pause.

“I remember it so vividly,” you huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “I sprayed almost the whole bottle of ketchup on my sweater. Mom guided me to the tent so I could change,” a shaky breath slipped from your lips, and you felt her stomach churn.

The dread, the fear you felt that day would never leave your system.

“Next thing we knew, Mike was running and yelling, desperate. You closed your eyes, the memories flooding your mind.

“Mom, Dad! Help, they took him! They took Garrett!”

You stayed with your eyes closed for a few seconds, as Vanessa kept rubbing your back reassuringly.

“Did you know I had a brother?” She began.

“Really?” You asked with surprise in your voice.

“Mhm,” you could hear her smile in her voice, “we used to be really close. He was always looking out for me.”

“What happened to him?”

Her hand stopped. You tensed up.

“He… disappeared. Many years ago. Just like Garrett.”

You pulled slightly at your hair. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…”

“It's okay,” she said in a solemn voice, but with a small, resigned smile on her face.

“Why are you telling me this?” You finally faced her again.

“Because you can never take your family for granted. You shouldn’t say hurtful things to each other, and if it happens, you should let it cool off and then talk about it, not run away.”

Oh, now she was scolding you.

“I didn't–” you cringed. “Mike asked me to–”

She giggled. Giggled.

“I'm not saying it only because of you. Mike needs to understand that you're an adult now, that he won't always be able to protect you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Will you help me, then? Will you talk to him?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, Y/N. You two need to sit down, talk, and finally start listening to each other.” She gave you a small smile.

You sighed, nodding.

“Come on,” she said, standing up, shaking the dirt off her jeans, “I'll take you home.”

She extended her hand, and you took it without thinking twice.

Vanessa parked her car in front of your house, sighing softly before turning off the engine.

She looked at you, and after a few seconds, you met her gaze.

“You know,” she smiled, “I’m pretty sure you two can actually come to an agreement.”

You huffed, “That’s easier said than done.”

You pushed the car door open.

“Wait,” she said, holding onto the back of your jacket. You stayed still.

“I mean it, Y/N,” she gave you a soft look.

“Just talk to him. No yelling, not arguing,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “talk. Really talk…”

You stared at each other momentarily before she let go of your jacket.

“Hear him and… make him hear you,” Vanessa added, a whisper more than anything.

You nodded, climbing out of the car, and closing the door.

She lowered the window. “Good luck, I guess,” she smiled.

You felt your heart speed up. Was this really the end of it? Would she only speak to you when Mike asked her to? So she was just being nice, right?

You swallowed. “Yeah… Well.”

You felt heat rising up your neck, reaching your cheeks. Shame.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way,” you scratched the back of your neck, trying to get rid of the sensation.

“No problem.”

You nodded, and just as you were about to push the front door open, Vanessa called your name and you practically rushed to the car window. “Yes?”

Vanessa let out a breathy laugh and you almost melted on the spot. She opened the glove compartment and took out a notebook and a pen.

She started to write something down.

“In case you and Mike keep having trouble…” She trailed off as she handed you the paper, which had a phone number written on it.

You raised your gaze to meet hers. “If it doesn’t work out, you can call me and I can give you some advice,” she grinned at you.

“And if it does?”

"Maybe we can go for a coffee, then?"

“I don’t like coffee,” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm up.

Vanessa's smile grew wider at your reaction and she chuckled softly. "Well, how about tea then? Or maybe we could just go for a walk instead?"

Her tone was playful and her smile was contagious, making it impossible for you to stay embarrassed for long.

You stayed silent, not sure how to respond. All you knew was that it was supposed to be cold outside at this time of the year, but you were sweating.

Vanessa shook her head, still smiling, and her playful tone turned into a sincere one. “We don’t have to if you don’t want–”

“I want to,” you interrupted her. “I do.”

She seemed to perk up.

“I’ll call,” you said, without a doubt. “I promise.”

Vanessa gave you a soft smile before turning the car on, and slowly drive out of sight.

You sighed, turning to push the door open, and to your surprise, Mike was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, and Abby peeking at you from behind him, smiling.

He met your gaze, and against all odds, he smiled at you. “I guess we need to talk.”

You smiled at him. “Yeah,” you looked down at the small piece of paper in your hands and swallowed. “Yeah. We do.”

Mike sighed, gesturing for you to come inside.

“So you heard all of that?” You said in a weary voice, and Abby giggled.

Mike shook his head. “Maybe we should eat first, I’m about to pass out.”

Right, you still hadn’t had dinner. Your stomach grumbled.

As you followed your brother into the dining room, you had the sensation that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

A/N: Reblogs are not only appreciated but also encouraged. Reblogs are what keep the fandom going.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly #schmidt!reader #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #elizabeth lail

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sanemisstalker · 1 year

Note

I descend from yuri heaven with a message from god, she says you need to be hornier on main about women, she also requested Fem!reader x Mitsuri, not me I'm just a humble messanger it's god's will

Listen!!! Listennnnnn, I struggle to write about women because I get like, pussy mind fog. I think about vag, and I become a dumb slut, and it's impacts my writing so all of it sounds like I have my hand down my pants :'p

(Also I may or may not have a multi part Shinobu cuck thing in the works, you never know XP )

Regardless, my boss gave me a Victoria's Secret gift card for my birthday, and I'm very excited to use it, but you know who I'd loveeee to go bra shopping with???

NSFW CW// FEM/AFAB/BREASTED READER/ Public sex / Implied Flashing / Dom/Sub dynamics / Ownership

"I don't think they'll have it in my size." Mitsuri fretted, running her hands over the baby doll piece in search of a tag. "I mean, look! These are all so small!" She groaned as she rustled toward the back of the wall.

The item was lace and string, all pillowy and pink, and you'd desecrate the world to see your loving girlfriend in such an item. With a sheer pink fabric split by a thick line, you knew all she'd be able to talk about, the entire time, would be the way it rubbed her.

You were doing your best not to wear your thoughts on your face or verbalize them. This wasn't a date, Mitsuri had pointed out. It was a girl's night out, but fuck were you praying it'd end with her legs around your head because this was torture.

It was your third lingerie store, and she'd purchased something in every. Single. One. Insisting that you not only help her get into each item, but that you help her take it off. The last five hours of your life had been an edging game the likes of which Satan himself couldn't conceive.

It was very easy for Mitsuri to conceive, though. After all, it was a punishment of sorts. You'd gone out clubbing and slutting without her while she rotted away on an art project, an unforgivable betrayal. You swore you only kissed girls while you were out, but that gave Mitsuri no peace of mind. Especially not when she'd gotten a call a day later with a rather unsavory tone.

This was intentional torture, even if it was really hard when you looked so cute and pliant, Mitsuri had reserved herself. She had made her intentions clear (to herself) and was going to stick to them, no matter how hard you whined or begged.

"Ah!" Mitsuri bounced. You swore your eyes were going to pop out of your sockets, and your uterus with them. "Perfect!" She plucked from closer to the back, revealing the full expanse of the abysmal amount of fabric.

"That's really cute." You croaked, doing your best to be girl friend and not girl friend. You resorted to biting your fingers as Mitsuri turned back to the racks. "Under or over?"

"If I pair it with that pink sweater dress I have, it'll probably look really cute over, but it might give me a back ache if im trying to dance." She worried. "I wouldn't want to wear a bra underneath, and if I don't wear a bra, I can't just wear the matching panties-"

'Fuck, she knows what she's doing.' The thought finally donned on you, and you felt sweat begin to form.

Mitsuri wasn't very... dominate. She wasn't predisposed to it, and you found when you asked, she wasn't necessarily the most... capable. She was a very gentle lover, but occasionally, she'd get this... look on her face.

The last time you'd seen it, you were at a fourth of july party with her friends, not yours. You'd laid eyes on her 'friend' Tengen, or rather he laid eyes on you, and while Mitsuri caught up, you and the man discussed... Music, probably, you couldn't remember. It was platonically intentioned, all things considered.

Though you and Mitsuri were quite open, she was... prone to bouts of jealousy. Just here and there. Nothing extreme, but her measures she would take in response were.

The night had ended with you by the bonfire, Tengen watching with one of his, apparently three, girlfriends, as Mitsuri had knocked you on your ass and fingered you open. She'd began probing you about whether or not you wanted his dick- wanted to be in his supposed harem of women. Obviously, since you were having such a chummy time with the man, that was your desire.

She wouldn't let up until you began sobbing, only capable of sputtering out her name and well meaning apologies. She told you to recall who you belonged to- The gap was so stunting you couldn't help but heed the advice.

And she had that look there, and she had it here, and it made your knees weak with remembrance. A thin smile that made you feel like a deer in wait, pulled over, low cast eyes like that of a lynx, and then her motions. The typical Mitsuri motions filled with grace and leisure had become sultry- deliberately tempting you at every turn and flex.

Oh, you realized, you were a fucking moron. A fucked fucking moron.

You, of course, couldn't remember your blatant sins. So when she got that call from Tengen, his voice intentionally goading and laugh particularly grating, Mitsuri gathered herself and decided today wasn't going to be a very good day...

For you, that is. She'd been reeling at the way you were looking at her all day, basking in the almost dopey, lost look on your face, and that insatiable stare. She had to hold back her giggles everytime you clenched your thighs together in search of reprieve. Had to keep her mouth shut when she'd intentionally grazed your nipple while holding up a bra to your chest. You'd nearly whimpered.

She was having a whale of a time with her own antics.

"You know, we should get you something. I've always wanted to go to a rave- and dress like those rave girls! They look super cool, don't you think?"

"The like- the like string bikini ones?" You sounded like you were on your fifth day through the Sahara, this you knew. You couldn't help it. The realization had made you all the more desperate, and the image of your girlfriend in even less?

"I think I'd just wear pasties, I don't know though; I might get a little shy." She'd giggle.

"What for? You're... you have nothing to be shy about." You wanted her. You needed her. She was being deliberately cruel, how exciting.

"You don't either!" Mitsuri rushed, feeling the urge to let up on you rear its head. She stomped it out quickly, thinking about Tengen's daunting tone. "Y-You know what we should do- we should get matching pieces, don't you think?" She posed.

"Matching?" You returned.

"Yes!" Mitsuri didn't give you time to process, instead dragging you to the other side of the racks.

There was slutty, and then there was string. Mitsuri had done herself a favor in picking out something that, though it left little to the imagination, still required a bit of maneuvering to get by-

The item she pulled off the rack for you would be gone in a snip. You couldn't even fathom what it was at first-

Thin strings, all that gathered to thin even further at your pussy, each nipple only garnered with a bow akin to that on the front of a pair of panties- nowhere near enough to even cover a fraction of your nipple- anything and everything would spill in such an item.

An icey, silver tear drop dangled where your clit would sit.

You gaped.

"This is so cute!" Mitsuri flushed, doing another unnecessary bounce.

"O-on me?" You stuttered.

"Of course! Come on! Let's go try them on!"

Mitsuri had you corned in the changing room in seconds, her intentions all too clear in the rush of her motions. With the strings and lace still swaying on the hook, The top you'd been wearing had been essentially ripped off, the sudden rush of cold air hardening your already stiff nipples.

"M-Mits-"

"Hm?" She interrupted, already tugging down your jeans. As you went to step out of them, Mitsuri grabbed your leg with a steel grip. You froze in place.

"B-baby, are you- are you mad at me?" You whispered.

"Mad? Oh honey, I'm not mad." Mitsuri assured. "Well, maybe a little peeved, but I'm not mad."

"What'd I- what'd I do?" She just giggled in response, the daunting noise going right to your pussy. "Baby, please tell me what i-"

"You remember Tengen, right?"

"T- what does this have to do with Tengen?"

"You remember," Mitsuri said, spinning you around. Her hands caught in the waist band of your panties and gave them a violent, exposing, and all too audible rippppppp, "Him and his girlfriends? How he had three of them?"

"Yeah-? I remember, yes." You clarified, fearing your unsure tone would drive her actions further. Mitsuri ripped further through your panties, exposing your wet inner thighs and begging cunt to her unforgiving eye.

"You remember when you went out the other night while I was slaving away over some wax pieces?"

"Y-yes- I- I didn't even see Tengen there, if that's what you're asking- I- I told you I only kissed some girls-"

"Did you stop and question... their names by any chance?"

"No- no I didnt."

"Well, I got the funniest call, Y/N!" She reasoned, slipping a hand between your legs, "Tengen rang me, oh you're dripping, he called me, and I got told something so funny."

"F-funny?"

"You actually made out with his girlfriends! All three of them! Isn't that funny?" Her tone made it inherently unfunny. You knew she found no comedic value in such a thing.

"I-I didn't mean to do th-that."

The fitting room is silent as she ties on the sorry excuse for lingerie. It sits uncomfortably on your exposed nipples, clit now bedazzled and starring at you- almost like a target. Mitsuri stands behind you in the mirror, face presenting warm but feeling cold.

"So Tengen calls me-" Two fingers jam into your core. A pain rockets up your cunt that makes your legs threaten to give out. You can't stop the yelp, even with your hands flying up to your lips.

"He- he did?"

"He calls me, and starts saying how he's having all these indirect kisses with you, and, I don't know, Y/N-" Her fingers are brutal, complete negligence of your clit driving small whimpers from your throat with each push. "I just don't know why that makes me so upset!"

She knew exactly why it made her upset, but she wanted to hear you say it. You know she did, but talking was hard when she was practically fucking you open- and infront of yourself nonetheless.

"I-I shouldn--- ngh--- ah! I should- fuck, Mi-mitsuri p- princess, please-" Mitsuri's heart swelled at the name. She pouted a bit and slowed her assault. Even granting you the gentle graze of her thumb over your peaking clit. How kind.

"What was that? Say it again?"

"I shouldn't've- I should've stayed in with you! I'm sorry, I'm so sorr- ngh!" Mitsuri stood abruptly, her fingers still tucked in your clenching pussy. She hoisted one of your legs with her. You struggled for a moment, before she took to pining you to the mirror of the dressing room.

Her fingers began another rush, your legs jolting out in response... because this time she wasn't ignoring your clit. Every bit of muscle she had in her fingers was set on rubbing your nub and fucking you deep. The teardrop shuddered with each thrust.

You were losing vision- losing the sight of her behind you-

"You should apologize for being a complete slut." She added, voice becoming all stomach, no throat. Her cherry pink braids sat atop your shoulders, ends pressed between your tits and the mirror. Mitsuri's flesh was thick and consuming- plush yet intimidating.

It was times like this where you were reminded that Mitsuri could do whatever she wanted to you, whenever she so pleased. Times like this when you remembered that, no matter how many people you kissed, you belonged to somebody.

You were really happy about that, in a weird way. Your pussy was especially happy- Even if it was proving more than difficult to fill her requests at a socially acceptable noise level for a fitting room.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm a slu- nghh! I'm sorry I'm a slut!" You tried to whisper, failing tremendously and sounding so much like the thing you were apologizing for being. The position you'd be splayed in had completely freed your breasts from their miniscule confines. Your warm nipples rubbed against the cold glass-

The build bubbled in your stomach. Thin fingers threaded your hair. A quick spin of her wrist formed a leash. You were yanked back only far enough to see the full expanse of your face- of your pussy getting ruined by her fingers.

The sight of it pushed you over the edge. Mitsuri's fingers worked gushes of cum from your pussy. With one ankle still locked in your pants, you shivered as your cum ran down- wetting the fabric.

You twitched against the mirror. Mitsuri dropped your leg and moved to your waist.

You whimpered as she pulled your pants up over the lingerie. The fabric was drenched- you'd been insanely loud. Even as Mitsuri pulled your top back on, the bows were so present through the miniscule fabric of your shirt-

You were a slut.

As Mitsuri guided you to the cashier with her arm around your waist, you turned blood red.

"Princess, I c-"

"Hi! Did you all-" The cashiers words cut off immediately, seeing the state you're in. Her face paled, and she lost control of her eyes. She took in everything- From the way your nipples stood at high alert, to your deerish way of walking in your came on jeans-

"Everything is great! She'd going to wear it out if that's alright?" Mitsuri pushed you forward, the tag for the strings just barely hanging out the side of your jeans.

With hesitance, the cashier, who already held the scanner, scanned the item. Mitsuri handed her the lingerie she'd picked out for herself, and as the seond item rang up, her face dropped further.

"We-we're actually having a two for one s-sale. So you can- go and pick something else out for free, if you'd like."

You looked over to Mitsuri, whose eyes grew wide with a joy only predators could experience. You swore you felt your ovaries shake at the sight.

Her hand found perch on the band of your wet jeans-

"Oh! Do you have this one in pink?-"

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #hashira smut #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri smut #mitsuri x you #mitsuri x y/n #shes cracked out on yuri cocaine

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mins-fins · 11 months

Text

I WISH YOU WOULD (P.WB)

SUMMARY . . . there's so much more he could've done, so much he could've said. he hates what a stupid mistake he made, and how ashamed he was. what does scrutiny matter if he couldn't even get his feelings out in the first place?

PAIRING . . . park wonbin x male!reader

GENRE . . . angst

WARNINGS . . . internalized homophobia, homophobia in general

WORD COUNT . . . 0.9k

NOTES . . . HAPPY FRIDAY!!! 1989 tv comes out today and i wish you would has always been my favorite song on 1989 so um this is what spawned because of it 👍 i'll be back in half an hour im gonna go watch that scary robot movie lol‼️

. . . lomls @partiallyderived and @jinkiseason asked to be tagged (they wanna make me cry so bad thats so crazy 🤣) (im listening to cherry bomb)

"i love you".

if wonbin could go back, trust he would.

there's something disappointing about falling in love with your fellow trainee, your fellow trainee who is also your best friend, your fellow trainee who is also a boy. he wishes he could rewrite time and not convince his mom to change his class at school, because then he would never have met him.

and now that sounds downright ridiculous, it can't possibly be that bad can it? i mean— falling in love with your best friend as a whole is an entire kind of situation that happens in books and usually has a happy ending. what's wrong with his best friend?

nothing, there's nothing wrong with him.

it's wonbin that's wrong.

having conflicting feelings is normal, obviously, everyone experiences it when they have a crush, but wonbin didn't want to have feelings for his best friend, wonbin didn't want to have a crush on a boy.

y/n was probably one of the best people he's ever met. he's kind, and understanding, and beautiful, and humorous and pretty much attractive to anyone with two pairs of eyes, he's the perfect boyfriend material, he's just perfect.

and maybe that's what felt so wrong about having feelings for his best friend, intimidation.

well, wonbin liked to lie to himself.

yeah, that's the reason your afraid of having feelings for your best friend, your "intimidated" by his perfection, not because your scared of what others would think, other trainees, management, your parents, the world, that's not the reason your afraid of having feelings for him.

wonbin had never really spent a lot of time thinking about it, and he hates how he can practically hear the responses from people the moment he realizes his feelings for y/n.

they're staring at him like he's disgusting.

and what's worse than having people judge you? judge you for something you yourself can't control?

it's what keeps him up at night, those worries used to be planted at the back of his mind, because how would it even become something of relevance in his life? it'd never actually become real.

and maybe he's wrong for thinking such a way; after all, he can't just let others dictate who he loves or doesn't love.

but it's the thoughts in his mind slowly eating away at him that make him feel like everything's spiraling out of control. he can't date y/n, in a company like sm, in a country like korea, where if someone ever saw them together he'd be scrutinized and black-listed from the idol industry despite how hard he's worked?

it all makes him feel sick to his stomach.

how was he even supposed to tell y/n? he knew y/n wasn't homophobic but.. then there's the fear of rejection, he can't even imagine the kind of look y/n would give him if he found out. not out of disgust, but out of surprise, shock.

somehow, his mind thinks of every bad possibility as an outcome.

and just staring at y/n, sweet beautiful y/n who has no idea what he's fighting in his head, makes him fear confessing even more.

the two of them are already what i guess you'd dub "over affectionate". they do a lot of couple-y things like have matching rings, cook for each other, help run errands together, cuddle, steal each other's sweaters, cling onto each other like they were lifelines.

if everything stayed like that, wonbin would be just fine.

but of course, when has life ever been nice to him?

wonbin can't really stare at y/n without feeling like he wants to break down into tears and sob, they could be having the best time ever and he'll still have this overwhelming wave of sadness wash over him when he remembers his feelings.

it disappoints him in a way that it shouldn't..

and y/n clearly picks up on his sudden change. his flushed cheeks, mutters, and the way he seems to enjoy avoiding eye contact with him these days.

is his unusual clinginess noticeable?

wonbin usually isn't self conscious about things that like, but he guesses falling in love with your best friend makes you begin seeing things in a whole different light. he can't help but notice the uncomfortable shift in the air between him and y/n.

nothing has even been said.. so why is his anxiety through the roof?

wonbin finally snaps out of whatever dream he was having when he feels nails dig into his shoulder, squeeze them like his life depends on it. that's all it takes for wonbin to flinch, and he hates the way his reaction is so immediate, it's just more obvious that way.

y/n blinks, startled by the way he suddenly flinches. "you okay?" he inquires, and wonbin wants to kiss him so bad it infuriates him.

he shouldn't want to kiss him.

he feels like he's being pinched, and somehow he forces out a response; "yeah i'm just tired".

y/n doesn't buy his lie, it's evident in the way he stares at him for a specifically long time. "you should be fine".

wonbin pauses. "what?"

"your gonna debut, i wouldn't worry about it" y/n mutters, and he brings his knees to his chest as he rocks back and forth.

wonbin stares, hopefully not for too long, because then he'd just be looking too obvious and then y/n would ask more questions.

he really wants to punch himself at the moment.

he shouldn't feel so disgusted about being in love with y/n.

but he does.

#park wonbin #riize #riize wonbin #wonbin riize #park wonbin imagines #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #park wonbin x reader #riize x reader #riize x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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holllandtrash · 2 years

Text

for the better | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 6 to better left unsaid (the better series)

you never planned on finding yourself caught between two drivers and you certainly never thought that you'd have to make a choice, but your options aren't lando or pierre...it's them or you

word count: 5.6k tags: bro its just pure raw angst, max is the only real one and i apologize in advance

It was unnerving how quiet Pierre was the rest of the time you were in the paddock. And he was only quiet towards you. He interacted and spoke with everyone who stopped him and acted as though nothing happened. If you were standing near him, he would still be holding your hand or touching your back, putting on the charade that he hadn’t just caught you leaving the McLaren motorhome in tears.

You couldn’t tell what he was feeling towards you. Was he upset? Disappointed? Frustrated? It was impossible to get a read on him.

Even at the end of the day when you were finally leaving the paddock, Pierre held the passenger door of his car open for you to climb in. You flinched when he shut it harder than required, but maybe you were reading into it too much because you wanted to. You needed something from him.

You would have preferred if he had said something, then you could get an idea as to what was going through his mind based on his tone. But for the first ten minutes of the car ride, Pierre kept his mouth shut.

But he also didn’t reach over the centre console to hold your leg like he had every other time you got into his car. Maybe that was an indication as to what he felt.

It didn’t help that you were still wearing Lando’s sweater. You didn’t have a choice though, it was the only thing that could cover up the mark on your neck. And you knew Pierre wasn’t an idiot, he probably figured out where the jumper came from seeing as you didn’t get it directly from him.

You rested your arm against the inside frame of the car and dropped your chin to your hand, trying to think of what you could possibly say or do that would make things easier right now because this unspoken, heavy tension was eating you alive.

“Can you just say something?” You turned your head to face him. Pierre kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t even glance your way or make any sort of hint that he heard you, which you knew he did.

You continued to stare at him, anticipating what would come out of his mouth, but you didn’t expect to see his grip tighten on the steering wheel. At least that helped you understand him a bit better. He certainly wasn’t happy.

After what felt like an eternity of holding your breath, Pierre shifted against the seat and licked his lips, “What did you want me to say?”

You hadn’t actually thought about that.

You were the one who made the mistake and while you hadn’t been given the chance to explain yourself yet, Pierre hadn’t asked what happened. Either he didn’t want to know or he already had a fairly good idea and didn't want to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking out the window again. There was still another thirty minutes until we were back at his place, maybe you should have just waited but you had already opened your mouth so there was no going back now. “I shouldn’t have left Alpine.”

“I agree,” Pierre nodded once but didn’t add anything to that point, leaving you to keep this conversation going.

“He was upset after qualifying I just thought-” were you really trying to defend yourself right now? You switched directions, “My intentions were good, Pierre. I only wanted to check in on him and make sure he was okay.”

Pierre nodded again. Did he get where you were coming from or was this just another attempt to remind you that he didn’t want to talk?

It wasn’t working, clearly.

You were desperate now, “Pierre, I need you to say something.”

“And I needed you to not lie to me,” Pierre spoke so casually, you almost missed the underlying betrayal in his tone. You almost missed the pain in his voice as he called you out.

But you didn't follow, “When did I lie?”

He finally turned his head towards you. Only for a few seconds, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye before he turned back to the road, “When you told me that you wanted me.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“Well you can’t have both of us, chérie,” he said, as if that was going to solve all of your problems. “I want to make this work, but I shouldn’t have to fight for your attention.”

And you wanted to give Pierre all of you. You didn’t want to be holding onto Lando anymore, but there was history with him. Years of friendship that was nearly impossible to move on from, even if you thought you could.

“I made a mistake,” you admitted. Again, Pierre nodded. He wouldn’t fight you on that one.

He actually wouldn’t fight with you at all for the rest of the car ride. You gave up on your attempts to have a conversation and decided that it would be best to try again when you got back to the house.

Which meant the rest of the drive was filled with deafening silence. There wasn’t even any music. Just the two of you sitting quietly, waiting with dread for what was to come next.

It was easier to turn your phone off than try to navigate through any notifications. Fans were throwing out their assumptions left and right, especially since photos immediately surfaced of you leaving McLaren.

But they had no idea what happened. You were still trying to figure it out.

Pierre pulled into his driveway and grabbed his bag from the backseat. You followed him towards the door, but even when you stepped inside, he still didn’t initiate any type of conversation. He just tossed his bag down and headed towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

You leaned against the island counter and watched his actions, waiting to see if he would in fact say something.

He took a few sips and leaned against the fridge, watching you as well.

More specifically, he was eyeing up the black jumper you still had on.

Pierre finally opened his mouth, “Do I want to know why you’re wearing that?”

With your arms resting on the counter, you glanced down at your hands as if your nail beds were the most interesting things in the world, “Probably not.”

Pierre took another long sip of water. His glass echoed when he placed down on the surface next to him. You held your breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Take it off.”

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Take the sweater off.”

“Pierre, I-”

“Knowing Lando, he’s probably childish enough to leave some sort of hickey in plain sight,” his eyes dropped to your neck and you involuntarily reached for the collar of the sweater, tugging it up higher. “Just take the jumper off, chérie, let’s see what sort of mark he left on you.”

You froze, unsure if Pierre was just messing with you or not. He seemed so…unbothered? Like whatever move Lando made didn’t mean anything in the long run.

You grabbed the hem of the jumper and slowly peeled it off your body, letting it fall to the ground next to you. Not that it mattered, but you ran your fingers through your hair to smooth it out as you tried not to pay attention to the way Pierre’s gaze focused in on the dark purple bruise.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move as Pierre pushed himself away from the counter. He walked around the island and came to a stop in front of you, grabbing your waist with one hand and pulling you to face him. With his other hand, he gently pushed your hair out of the way, letting it fall down your back.

His touch was so careful as he tilted your chin upwards, his fingers barely grazing your skin as they trailed down your jaw and stopping just below your ear, right where the mark was.

You swallowed as he brushed his thumb over it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers found a home on the other side of your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure. He could have, but he just left his hand there, reminding you that you didn’t have any control in this conversation right now. You gave up any bit of control the second you left to talk to Lando.

Pierre raised his eyebrows, “Just the one?”

You nodded and he titled your head the slightest bit. His gaze narrowed in on it. You had no idea what was going through his mind. Was he thinking about how you ended up in a position where Lando was able to attach his lips to your neck? Was he wondering how much time you spent with the British driver?

“He’s immature,” Pierre said. “And I don’t like sharing either, chérie, but if you needed a reminder as to who you belonged to, there are other ways.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” this was the most confident you’ve sounded all day. But if there was one thing you would stand behind, it was the fact that neither of these men had the audacity to claim you.

“No?”

“No,” you were firm. “And weren’t you the one who said I wasn’t a trophy?”

Pierre hummed, but he disregarded your words, his words. “So you don’t belong to Lando?”

“No.”

“And you’re not mine either?”

“I-” your voice caught in your throat. He seemed to like that you were speechless because the corner of lips turned upwards into a smirk.

You wanted to be with Pierre, you knew that much. You wanted to be done with Lando.

“Oh I get it,” Pierre’s hand on your waist slipped, his fingers pressed against your skin and pulled you closer against his body. He dropped his face and hovered his lips right above yours. “You want to be mine, don’t you? But you’re worried that this-” he applied the smallest bit of pressure to the hickey, “-has messed things up for us?”

You nodded because there was no damn way you could say anything anymore. Not as he held your body so tight against his that you could feel his cock being restricted by his trousers. He slid a knee between your legs, spreading them slightly and you relied on the counter behind you for support, knowing your knees could give out at any second.

It was almost impressive how quick this conversation had taken a turn. You were expecting Pierre to lose his temper on you or tell you to get out of his house. You hadn’t expected him to flip a sudden switch and be eyeing you up as if he was about to destroy you.

When Pierre’s phone started to ring from his back pocket, you could see it in his eyes that he just debated letting it go to voicemail.

But he released his hand from your neck and stepped away from you. He barely gave you a second look before answering the phone call and stepping away into a different room.

You felt frozen against the island counter, feeling your heartbeat creep up your throat until it felt like you were going to vomit. You still weren’t sure how Pierre felt about the situation you two found yourselves in but it was safe to say he didn’t want you spending any more time with Lando.

Eventually you shuffled away from the kitchen and curled up into the corner of the couch. You could hear Pierre’s muffled voice from down the hall, but when the sound of a door shutting echoed through the house after a few minutes, you let yourself relax.

You had a bit of time to think things over for yourself, not in the presence of Pierre.

Part of you was worried that it would always be like this. You’d put the effort in with Pierre, or anyone, and then Lando would show up out of nowhere and remind you that you still love him. Unless you made the decision to permanently rid your life of one of your oldest friends, you risked him always ruining your chance at happiness with someone else.

But how were you supposed to do that? How were you supposed to throw away years and years of friendship? You’d lose Max. You’d lose his family. You’d lose so much of your life that he was connected to.

Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted his jumper balled up on the floor.

You had so much of his stuff at your house. So many of his t-shirts, jumpers, miscellaneous items that he just left over time. Lando infiltrated so many parts of your life and even just thinking about starting over without him was difficult.

And what about if you were to continue this relationship with Pierre? He’d want you to come to the races and other events where you’d have to see Lando. He would be impossible to avoid.

If he was going to keep popping up, you’d never move on.

You looked down the hall. The door to the room Pierre was in was still closed. You had no idea how long he’d be on the phone, but maybe that was for the best. What were you supposed to say to him anyway? ‘I do want to be with you but I’m worried that I’ll always love Lando’ ? That wasn’t a conversation he’d want to have, especially during a race weekend.

So you opted for no conversation.

You slid off the couch and quietly made your way down the hall towards the master bedroom. All of your items were in there, your clothes, makeup, skincare. It wouldn’t take you long to pack it all up seeing as this was only supposed to be a weekend trip anyway.

You found your duffle bag and started to throw all of your belongings in, making sure your wallet and passport stayed out. You already had a flight voucher to go home, it would be easy enough to book a seat when you arrived at the airport.

You paused.

Was this really what you were doing? Going home?

It was the easiest choice, there was no arguing that. No matter what, this was going to be complicated and messy and as much as you didn’t want to leave Pierre, staying with him for the rest of the race weekend was undoubtedly going to lead to more chaos.

So yes, you were going home.

You stepped into the ensuite and scooped up the travel sized containers of skin care you had brought. While you were looking at them to make sure you weren’t missing anything, you had completely missed Pierre walking down the hall towards you.

He leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on your half packed bag before watching you trying to carefully tetris everything in your hand to fit. Pierre crossed his arms over his chest, not saying anything as to not interrupt you.

You made up your mind, you were leaving. Pierre wasn’t going to stand in your way.

When you looked up from your bag, you flinched and clasped your hand to your chest, startled to see Pierre just standing there.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He didn’t need one, but you felt the need to give him one anyway.

“It’s not-” It’s not you, it’s me? Try again. You swallowed, “I really do like you, Pierre, please don’t think that I don't.”

“You packing your bag tells me otherwise,” he nodded his head towards the edge of the bed where all of your stuff was.

“No it’s not-” you shook your head. Why was this so hard to explain? “It’s not fair to you. None of this is fair. This isn’t how it should be.”

Pierre knew what you meant. Being with someone should be easy, it should be you and them against the world. You weren’t even dating Pierre and already you could feel the weight of all of the external factors crashing in on you.

It was suffocating.

You turned away from him to finish packing, ignoring the way his heavy sigh filled the room.

“Pierre, you should be with someone who can give you everything. There shouldn’t be any doubts, you should be able to trust them with your heart.” You kept your back towards him and spoke just loud enough for him to hear you. Your chest tightened when you heard his footsteps start to approach you slowly. “And that's- that’s not me. I can’t give you that, not when-”

You felt his chest press against your back. Pierre slid his arms around your waist and gently pulled you against him, dropping his chin to press a kiss to your shoulder. He swayed the two of your back and forth slowly and you wished that was enough for you to no longer have any concerns.

You inhaled a quiet breath, resting your hands overtop of his, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a competition but until I’m completely over him, it always will be.”

His stubble against your skin sent a shiver through your body as he nodded, understanding what you were trying to say. But he still didn’t let go.

“Pierre-”

“Shh,” he squeezed you a bit tighter, kissing your exposed skin once more. “Let me have this, Y/N. I don’t know when I’ll get it again.”

God that broke you.

You felt so comfortable in his arms. Your body melted against his perfectly, like they were made to fit with each other.

So you let yourself have this last moment with him, both knowing that it wasn’t going to last. The second he let go, you’d finish packing and be out the door. Away from him, away from Lando and away from this mess you didn’t mean to find yourself in.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, raising one of your hands to rest against the side of his cheek. Pierre turned his face and kissed the inside of your palm which only resulted in your heart sinking further into your chest.

“You know what the worst part of this is?” You whispered. Pierre softly chuckled in response, probably because he could think of about ten things that could be at the top of that list, but he didn’t try to ponder a guess as to what was running through your head.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, saying it in a way as though he was wanting to take whatever burden you were feeling and put it on his shoulders instead. You didn’t deserve this man.

He had spent weeks after countless weeks becoming your friend, earning your trust and respect. He learned all the ways to make you laugh, how to bring a smile to your face. He wanted to familiarise himself with you and every aspect of your life before stepping into a bigger role.

And the second he had, you ruined it by running right back to Lando.

Pierre kissed the side of your head, encouraging you to finish your thought.

You turned in his arms, placing both of your hands at the back of his neck. Playing with the loose strands of his hair didn’t help, neither did having his bright blue eyes staring right through you, but you had to say this face to face. You needed him to know that whatever you had, however brief, however sudden, was real.

And it wasn’t his fault it wouldn’t last.

You stared at his face, trying to memorise every last detail before your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping. Pierre watched as your tongue poked out to wet your lips and waited, his arms not moving from around your waist, until you painfully admitted what the worst part of all of this was.

“I really think I could have fallen in love with you.”

There were a few hours until the race started. Lando was walking down the paddock with Max at his side after just having changed into a McLaren polo tee. He had a good morning, or at least that’s what it seemed like to everyone he passed. He wore a bright smile on his face, he was chatty, he was ready for the race.

And he wished the race was the only thing on his mind, it should have been, but every time he caught a glimpse of a girl who looked remotely like you, Lando lost his train of thought. He was using every excuse in the book to leave the McLaren motorhome, just on the off chance he’d see you somewhere in the paddock.

Max caught on pretty quickly, and he tried to remind Lando that you asked for space, but Lando didn’t want to listen. He wanted to find you, talk to you, remind you why you belonged in his life.

“She hasn’t posted anything,” Lando pointed out after looking at your social media pages for the tenth time since waking up this morning. “Usually she posts when she's at a race, why hasn’t she posted anything?”

“Why do you care?” Max rolled his eyes, pulling out his own phone because curiosity got the better of him too. Lando was right, you hadn’t posted anything.

Lando didn’t answer, mostly because he didn’t have a good enough answer. Nothing that would explain why he wanted you here, now, when he knew that if you were here, it would be for Pierre.

“Does she-” Lando felt like an idiot as the thought crossed his mind, but he stopped walking. So did Max and his friend looked at him with his eyebrows raised, wondering what ridiculous question would leave his mouth next. “Does she still share her location with you?”

Max groaned, “Mate, come on.” This was crossing a line. The shared location feature on iPhones wasn’t something to be taken advantage of. It was in case anything happened during a night out, or when one of you got into the back of an uber. It wasn’t so Lando could keep tabs on you.

“She stopped sharing it with me!” Lando explained, as if that made up for wanting Max to check for himself.

“I’m not getting involved.”

“It takes two seconds to check.”

Max slid his phone into his back pocket and held his hands up in defence of his choices, “Why’s it matter? If she’s here, it’s for Pierre.”

“But if she’s not.”

“I think the important takeaway from this is that wherever she is, she’s not with you.”

“Well no shit.”

“No,” Max needed to get the point across more directly. “She’s not in the paddock with you. She’s not watching the race for you. She didn’t tell you where she is and she stopped sharing her location because you don’t need to know, Lando. Y/N said she needed space and you bending over backwards right now, trying to figure out where she is, is not giving her space.”

A young fan wearing a papaya shirt ran up to Lando right as Max ended his speech. He watched as Lando plastered a smile on his face and bent down to the fans level to sign the back of his shirt and answer a few questions, but Max knew that he was only putting on an act.

Lando did love his fans, but he lost you as his biggest supporter. He could sign a thousand autographs and thank hundreds of people for showing up, but at the end of the day, you weren’t there for him.

When Lando stood up again, Max patted him on the back as a type of consolidation.

They walked further down the paddock and if Lando was being honest, he was looking for a way to bring you up in conversation again, but luckily for him, Max was also thinking about you. More specifically, this fucked up situation his two friends were in.

“Why didn’t you do anything earlier?” Max asked, noticing how Lando’s features tensed as soon as he was called out. “I just don’t understand, is all. You waited until Pierre showed interest before doing anything. It was kind of a dick move.”

Lando shrugged his shoulders, earning a smack upside the head from his friend. If he was so adamant on figuring out where you were, the least he could do was explain where the sudden interest came from.

“I don’t know!” Lando exclaimed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears. “I just- I don’t know, Max. I don’t like seeing her with Pierre.”

“Pierre makes her happy.”

“She was happy enough before him.”

Max rolled his eyes. That was such a shitty response. And Lando realised it as soon as the words left his mouth. He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“She waited for you, Lando,” Max said. He wasn’t trying to hurt his friend, he just needed Lando to know how much he had hurt you. “She waited, got tired of waiting, you missed your shot and now you need to live with that.”

That didn’t sit well with Lando, “But what if she’s supposed to be it for me? What if she’s the right person and I just didn’t see it until now?”

“I think that you asking these questions proves that she isn’t the right person.”

That stung, but Max had a point. There shouldn’t have been any doubt. If Lando loved you the way you once wanted him to, truly loved you, he wouldn’t have taken so long to show it. It shouldn’t have taken him seeing you with Pierre for him to realise his own feelings.

Because that wasn’t love. That was the fear of losing you masked as desire.

Max cleared his throat, “Twelve ‘o’ clock.”

Lando, stupidly, looked at his watch, “It’s half past one.”

“No you idiot,” Max huffed under his breath. “Pierre, headed our way.”

Sure enough, Pierre was walking right in their direction. A pair of black sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, but it did little to hide his expression. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his jaw was locked, even his hand seemed to have an unusually hard grip around his phone.

Lando hadn’t even noticed he stopped walking until Pierre was right in front of him.

What was Pierre going to do? Hit him? He wouldn’t cause a scene in the paddock. If he had an issue with Lando, they’d deal with it privately.

But that didn’t mean Pierre was just going to walk by without saying anything.

Max looked between the two drivers and as soon as Lando opened his mouth, Max was already shaking his head, wondering why he had to be the one to speak first.

“You alright?” Lando’s greeting was polite, both men smiled at each other. It was forced, but it was a smile nonetheless and anyone who walked by wouldn’t think twice of it.

“She’s not here, mate.” Pierre told him, knowing that’s what was on Lando’s mind. Pierre had seen Lando’s wandering eyes when he spotted him, curious to know if you were nearby.

“Who?” Lando played dumb. Max, who had already had enough of his childish behaviour, muttered something under his breath about him needing to grow up before stalking off down the paddock, leaving Lando without any back up. Not like he’d provide it anyway.

Pierre chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth, “I was going to tell why she’s not here but if you can’t be bothered to even remember her name then I don’t need to waste my time.”

Pierre wasn’t going to let Lando get to him. Not on the track, not in the paddock, not in his head. Since day one, Pierre had seen the treatment Lando had given you and he wasn’t going to put up with it on your behalf.

He started to walk past him, accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, bumping his shoulder into Lando’s as he passed. Lando glanced at the contact and then craned his neck to watch Pierre walk away.

He should have let Pierre keep walking.

But Lando just didn’t know when to quit.

“So where is she?” Lando asked. Pierre came to a halt. Lando wouldn’t have been shocked if Pierre ignored him completely, but when he turned around and walked back, Lando stood up a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.

Pierre eyed him up, even with the sunglasses on, Lando could see the disapproval.

“She went home, Lando.”

But the weekend wasn’t even over. You left without saying anything to him?

Lando tried not to let that thought bother him. You were allowed to leave without a goodbye, you didn’t owe him anything. “Home?”

“Last night,” Pierre nodded. “Didn’t even let me drive her to the airport. She took an uber.”

Not saying goodbye to him was one thing, but Lando couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to say anything to Pierre either.

“So you-” he didn’t even know what to ask. “You two…it’s- you guys are done?”

Pierre’s jaw tightened, “It appears so.”

“Because of yesterday?”

Pierre laughed. He actually laughed at Lando’s idea that a childish hickey was what ended things.

“Because she’s still in love with you,” Pierre said, because Lando didn’t have the ability to come to this conclusion on his own. “She doesn’t want to be, but she is. And until she gets over your self-absorbed ass, she figures it’s better to be alone.”

Lando should have been overjoyed at this news. You loved him. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want you with anyone else.

But you were gone. Pierre was right, you didn’t want to love him. You didn’t leave Pierre and go straight to Lando, you went home. You wanted to put distance between yourself and him, you were ready to put him behind you.

Pierre could see the gears grinding in Lando’s head. He could tell he was already thinking about ways to reach out to you after the race, how long a flight to London would take. Pierre pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt, shaking his head at the younger driver.

“You don’t love her,” Pierre stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. One that Lando wanted to ignore. One that you had hurt you time and time again.

“I could.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” the Frenchman stepped closer. “You should have realised how important she was earlier. You had every opportunity to love her, to cherish her, to be the man she wanted you to be and you did nothing. In fact, you waited until she was starting to move on to finally do something and even then, Lando, you still didn’t love her.”

It was easier to pretend that everything Pierre was saying was for his own benefit, but Lando couldn’t disregard the painful truth behind his words.

“You don’t know the type of relationship we have,” Lando tried to argue. “She’s my best friend. I know what’s good for her, what she needs-”

Pierre instantly cut him off, “What she needs is for you to let her go.”

“Why?” Lando scoffed. “So you can swoop in? Save the day?”

“I already tried that,” Pierre chuckled, but his laugh was bitter and cold. Nothing about this was funny. “Or did you already forget about the night at the club?”

Lando stayed quiet. If he could do anything, it would be to go back in time and redo that entire night.

“But here’s the thing,” Pierre started off, his gaze not dropping from Lando. “Y/n doesn’t need saving so the fact that you think she does says a lot.”

He shook his head. This conversation was coming to a close and Lando had contributed nothing beneficial to it.

“Just do her a favour and let her move on,” Pierre’s tone wasn’t demanding, but Lando could tell there wasn’t room to counter his words. “Stop giving her false hope, stop getting in the way, stop making her think the only role in her life that matters is yours. The only person she should be worrying about is herself and for years you’ve been too selfish to let that happen. Let. Her. Go.”

Pierre slid his sunglasses back on his face and turned around, not giving Lando the chance to get the last word in.

Lando couldn’t understand how Pierre was so unphased by your decision to leave before the race. He couldn’t comprehend how Pierre could let you leave so easily without so much as a fight.

But that was the difference between the two drivers. Pierre was right, Lando had always been selfish whereas Pierre knew the only option was to let you go. If one day you wanted to return to one of them, that would be your choice to make.

The only question now was would that day ever come? Or would Lando be left wondering about the what-if’s for a change? Would Pierre be left debating if he made the right choice by not trying to change your mind?

Whether you meant to or not, you had an impact on both of their lives. Pierre’s was sudden and fast and you were gone just as quick as you arrived. But you were there long enough for it to now feel wrong that you weren’t.

And Lando didn’t appreciate what he had until it was too late. You were a constant in his life and in the blink of an eye, he lost you. He knew how important you were, how amazing you were and he let you slip right through his fingers.

They both had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t theirs. You might never be.

part 7 here read all parts here

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