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notnctu · 4 years

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backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @yunoyeol ; @lanadreamie ; @ta3ilmoon ;

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):

While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.

Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.

Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.

But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.

“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.

“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.

You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.

“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.

Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”

His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.

The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.

But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.

When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”

“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.

“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.

However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.

“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”

“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.

He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.

“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”

You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”

“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.

“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.

Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.

Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.

Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?

Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.

“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.

Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”

Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.

“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”

The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.

But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.

“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”

The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.

Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.

Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.

You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.

Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.

You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.

“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating.

“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.

His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.

You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.

“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.

“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”

You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”

Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.

One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”

Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.

The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.

He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.

While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.

“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.

“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.

“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.

“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.

“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.

The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.

But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.

No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.

This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”

“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.

“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.

“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.

“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”

“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.

“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”

It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart.

Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.

In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.

“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.

“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.

“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.

“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.

“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.

“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.

“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”

“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”

“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.

You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.

Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well.

However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.

“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.

“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.

And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.

“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.

“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.

His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.

Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.

“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.

The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.

He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.

The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.

“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.

Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”

“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.

“No, you called me honey.”

Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”

Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.

This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.

“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”

The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.

“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.

“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”

Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.

Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”

Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.

“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.

“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.

“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”

“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.

He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.

“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.

“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.

“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.

It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.

“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”

“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.

“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.

Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.

Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.

But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.

“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.

“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.

“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.

“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.

“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.

Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.

Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”

“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.

“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.

“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.

Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.

“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”

During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.

“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.

Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”

Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”

You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.

It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.

“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.

“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.

But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.

Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.

The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.

Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”

He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.

But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.

You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.

Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.

His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”

“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.

Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”

You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.

“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”

He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.

“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”

“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.

His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.

“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.

“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”

Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.

Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”

All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”

“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.

“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.

“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.

“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.

“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.

He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.

He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.

You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.

He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.

“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.

“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.

Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.

It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you.

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct dream series #ridinclub

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Sext - JJ Maybank

Request: I know you got a lot of requests already but if possible, could you do JJ x reader where the reader sends him a dirty text while they’re hanging out with the pouges?

A/N: I’ve never sent a dirty text and I’m terrible at them!!

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat on the other end of the couch, Pope in between the two of you, Kiara, Sarah, and John B on the other couch as the five of you watched the movie Sarah had chosen for movie night. Kiara had been the first to suggest having a movie night, just the five of you relaxing, no parties, while your parents were out of town. You leaned back on the couch, looking over at JJ as he tried to jam a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Not exactly the most attractive thing in the world but you had known JJ long enough to have seen him in some fairly compromising positions. Shoving popcorn in his face wasn’t the most attractive but it wasn’t the least attractive either.

You glanced his way again as the movie continued and JJ looked over, winking at you before turning back to face forward. Though neither of you had said anything to your friends, you and JJ had been dating for a few weeks now, since he’d slept over at your house for a couple days to stay away from his own. You had both agreed not to tell anyone, at least not yet. He’d sat further away from you, seemingly on purpose, but that didn’t mean you had to sit through this boring movie without bothering him just a little bit.

You sat up a little, pulling your phone out of you back pocket. JJ was exceptionally good at dirty texts. He sent them all the time, on an almost consistent basis, and you never knew what to say back. Usually you just sat there flushed, staring at the screen until finally you just gave up and tried to start a new conversation. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be good at texting JJ like that, you thought about replying all the time, thought about being able to make him squirm the same way he made you squirm.

-I wish we were alone right now-

It was a weak start but it was something. You didn’t want to jump in wholeheartedly but you had taken some pictures a few days ago and as often as your mom sent you articles about ‘the dangers of sexting’ you’d taken them with the express desire to send them to JJ.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, seeing your name on the screen and glancing over at you curiously, before unlocking his phone to read the message. You did your best to keep yourself facing forward, watching the movie instead of being obvious and watching JJ. You wanted him to retaliate just so you could keep messaging him, go further into this moment where the two of you could exist alone while your friends sat right there, completely unaware.

-Yeah, whys that?-

Now was the real hurtle. The dirty talk part you were so bad at that you should’ve known better than to start this. It was definitely something you couldn’t finish. You tried to think of a reply that sounded even remotely sexy, everything you’d read online, and you’d done an embarrassing about of research on the topic, only felt cheesy and lame and you definitely would’ve broken up with you if you read one of those. And afterall, this was JJ, who shoved popcorn in his mouth and said dumb shit to you all the time that was arguably more embarrassing than a few texts about why you wanted him alone. You knew why. But the saying it part was hard, because despite all the dumb stuff JJ said, he could be pretty descriptive when he wanted to and it never sounded lame.

You should’ve just sent him a picture, you had a fairly decent collection, most taken Kylie Jenner style on the floor of your bedroom in front of the mirror, but now it would seem out of place, or maybe you were just over thinking things.

-cat got your tongue?-

JJ texted you again and when you looked over at him he grinned. It was that sure fire, ‘you started this’ look that he always gave you when you tried to flirt and failed miserably. You angled your phone away from Pope because if you were already embarrassed you’d be even more so with him sitting there between you, catching a glimpse of your phone as you pulled up the camera roll. You found one that didn’t quite give everything away, you sitting just so that you were covered but also naked. There were others with lingerie on but maybe you’d save them for random whenever’s. You sent it along with a promising ‘pictures worth a thousand words’ hoping that was okay.

You peeked over, watching for JJ’s reaction, smiling when he sunk down further on the couch, biting his lip.

-when did you take this-

He’d been at your house the last couple days and he definitely would’ve remembered you having a photo shoot. You didn’t answer, just sent another one. Angled again, but giving away more than the last one. He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable in a good way, as he looked over at you. This time though, you kept your eyes on the movie, phone turned over in your lap as you tried not to give him the satisfaction of your gaze.

Before he could answer, simply because you were enjoying having him be the one who was flustered and looking like he didn’t know how to proceed, you sent him the full on picture that you had been completely embarrassed to take but had resolved yourself to. You put your phone back in your lap, face down so no one could see if JJ texted you back and you glanced over, watching him open it, his whole face going red as he shifted in the seat again.

“Dude, stop moving,” Pope elbowed him, glaring at JJ. He’d been squirming in his seat since the first text you sent and he was sure he annoying everyone but he really didn’t care about anyone but you and the pictures you’d sent him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He got up hastily, phone clutched his hand so fiercely that his knuckles were white. You heard the bathroom door slam down the hall and Pope stretched out, happy to have more room now that JJ was gone.

You waited for anything. A text back, some kind of appreciative message confirming that he liked the pictures. Instead there was nothing, no reply since the first picture and even that hadn’t been anything other than a piqued interested in when the picture was taken. When more than 15 minutes passed and Kiara mentioned that JJ was still holed up in the bathroom, you offered to check on him.

“Be careful.” John B joked and you rolled your eyes as you headed down the hall. The bathroom was toward the end, far enough away that no one could see the door. You knocked, looking back down the hall as a somewhat out of breath ‘one minute’ sounded on the other side of the door.

“Jay?” You asked, ready to knock again when the door flung open and JJ pulled you inside the bathroom. You bite back a surprised yelp, knowing that alerting the others would not bode well for either of you. He let the door swing closed again as you pushed you up against the sink, lifting you so he could stand between your legs. Hands on your bare thighs and you didn’t even get a moment to breath when he started kissing you, feverish almost and you grabbed the back of his head to keep him there. It didn’t last long as he left a trail of wet kisses down your neck, doing his best not to leave any visible marks on you. “And here I was, worried you didn’t like the pictures,” you teased, slightly out of breath as you spoke.

JJ pulled away so he could look at you, leaning in close as his hands moved from your thighs to your ass, trying to shimmy your body into his. “Are you kidding? Fucking hell, you can send me nudes any day. In fact,” he kissed you to punctuate his new idea, you should send me like one nude every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Assuming we live for a while…I’ll probably get old and wrinkly.”

“Don’t care.” He shrugged.

“How romantic,” you teased, tapping his shoulder, “we should go back out, they’ll wonder where we are.”

“Fine.” JJ groaned, stepping away from you. While you slid off the counter, JJ finished zipping up and buttoning his shorts.

“Wait, did you come in here to-“

“My fucking gorgeous girlfriend sent me naked pics, what do you think?”

You smiled, any nervousness from before melting away as you followed JJ down the hall to where your friends were. Kiara looked over, seemingly uninterested in more than the fact that you had returned, remarking that you both missed the best part of the movie. You apologized, sitting down on Pope’s left side and pulling your legs up onto the couch. As Sarah suggested another movie, someone else’s pick this time, you looked over at JJ and he winked at you.

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

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realcube · 3 years

Text

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o 😈

characters: yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’ so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:)

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’

so you burst out laughing

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’ fell from his lips

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:((

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’ then he’d fall for you

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night

hence he fell for you even harder

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol 🖕 ‘

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

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done pretending ~ rodrick heffley;diary of a wimpy kid

word count: 1185

request?: no

description: after being someone she wasn’t for years to try and capture the attention of her best friend, she decides to reveal the truth to him after a major rejection

pairing: rodrick heffley x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Rodrick watched as Heather’s friends helped her up and out of the building, a trail of chocolate following her as she went. He cringed as Heather let out another screech about her ruined dress.

“Nice show.”

He turned to see a girl standing next to him, a smug grin on her face. Rodrick almost didn’t recognize her, if it wasn’t for that familiar cocky grin along with her infamous nose ring that resulted in a month long grounding.

“(Y/N)?”

She chuckled. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“no, of course not!” Rodrick responded. “You just look...different.”

(Y/N) had been Rodrick’s best friend basically their entire lives. They had grown up together, (Y/N) lived only a few houses down from the Heffleys. However, before school let out for the summer, (Y/N) went on vacation with her family. In the short months between her leaving and their present reuniting, the two of them had lost touch. That was primarily Rodrick’s fault, he had been much more focused on Loded Diper and Heather Hills.

Except, the last time he had seen (Y/N), her hair was dyed with colorful streaks and her makeup matched his: dark eyeliner with dark eyeshadow. But now, her hair was back to it’s normal color and she was fresh faced, not a single hint of makeup. Rodrick had to marvel at how beautiful she looked without makeup.

“Thanks, I’m natural now,” she said, sarcastically.

“Still got that same wit I see,” Rodrick chuckled.

“You’d never recognize me if I didn’t.”

An awkward silence came between them. Both teens flinched as the lights went on, followed by Mr. Hills announcing that the party was over.

“Do you have a way home?” Rodrick asked (Y/N).

“I’m supposed to call my parents.”

“Let me take you. I have the van.”

“What about the band?”

“They have their own rides, I just need to help load the equipment.”

(Y/N) stood and watched as the members of Loded Diper put their equipment in Rodrick’s van. They greeted her warmly and told her they hoped to see her around more often. Once everything was secure, she and Rodrick got in and started their way to (Y/N)’s house.

“How has your summer been?” Rodrick asked, immediately cringing at his lame question.

“Boring,” (Y/N) sighed. “The ‘rents had me working in their store, so it was hard to really do much of anything. Doesn’t mean a phone call would’ve went astray.”

She gave Rodrick a look. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, that’s all on me. I was so focused on the band and - ”

“Heather Hills,” (Y/N) finished.

Rodrick couldn’t quite place the look on (Y/N)’s face as she gazed out the window.

“Yeah. I may have focused a little too heavily on Heather Hills this summer.”

“More than a little. You were basically obsessed with her, even before this summer. I really don’t know what you see in Heather, she’s such a bitch.”

Rodrick couldn’t deny that. It wasn’t like Heather had ever been nice to him. Sure, she had come to his house party the year before, but it was a house party, everyone in the grade had shown up. She hadn’t even been nice about the band playing at her party when her original music choice had cancelled.

It was her looks, and Rodrick knew that. She was the hottest girl in their grade, every boy was after her. It must’ve run in the family because every boy in Greg’s grade was also after Holly Hills, Heather’s little sister.

“Yeah, well, I royally screwed that up, so no worries of us being together there,” he muttered to himself.

“Good. If you ever got with Heather, I think our friendship would’ve had to end permanently.”

Rodrick looked over at (Y/N) as they came to a red light. She was looking out the window, but he could see the slight tint of pink on her cheeks and the annoyed look on her face. The thought of him being with Heather honestly made her upset, which was shocking to him.

“Why did you change your look?” he asked her as the van began to move again. “You’ve been all punk rock like me for as long as I can remember.”

“Because that’s not who I actually am,” (Y/N) responded.

“What?”

“I was playing a character, trying to impress this guy that I thought I just might have a chance with, but the truth is that’s not me. I don’t like having dyed hair and dark makeup and listening to heavy rock music. I liked being all natural, and listening to...well rock but a different kind of rock. I was done pretending, I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not for someone who won’t even look at me twice.”

“While I think your rocker look was pretty hot, I think who you really are is pretty hot, too. If you have to pretend to be with a guy, he’s definitely not worth it.”

(Y/N) looked over at Rodrick in shock. “You...you think I’m hot?”

Rodrick shrugged. “Well...yeah, of course I do. Everyone does.”

“No one thinks I’m hot.”

“That’s because no one has said it to you, but trust me, there are people out there who think you are hot.”

Before they knew it, Rodrick was pulling into (Y/N)’s driveway and putting his car in park. Both of them sat in silence again, waiting to see what the other would say.

“Who was this guy you were pretending for, by the way?” Rodrick asked, a slight feeling of jealousy building up inside of him.

(Y/N) smiled. “You haven’t figured it out?”

Rodrick looked at her confused and shook his head. After hesitating for a moment, (Y/N) leaned forward and gently placed her lips on Rodrick’s. At first, he was taken back and didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t take him long to melt into the kiss, cupping (Y/N)’s face and kissing her back.

The two were so lost in the kiss, they hadn’t noticed (Y/N)’s father exiting the house until he turned the porch light on. The two turned to see him standing in his robe with his arms crossed over his chest, a stern look on his face. He looked between the two before motioning for (Y/N) to come inside.

“This’ll be awkward,” she sighed. “Thanks for driving me home, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“If he asks any questions, tell him I’m taking you out tomorrow.”

(Y/N) looked at Rodrick with wide eyes before a bright smile broke out on her face. She quickly kissed his cheek before jumping out of his van and racing for the front door. Her dad started saying something to her, but she was so lost in her happiness that she barley heard him. She turned back to Rodrick and waved once before disappearing into the house with her dad.

Rodrick smiled to himself. This night turned out much better than I planned.

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley imagine #rodrick heffley x reader #devon bostick #devon bostick imagine #devon bostick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid imagine #doawp #imagine #one shot

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licensed-fan-girl · 3 years

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Pride and Perception - ch.7

Hello lovely readers! I hope you've been having a good day so far cause this chapter is about to ruin it! The angst hits pretty good this time, and you'll finally get a sprinkle of Eveline's back story, so hold on to your hats and I hope you enjoy!

Read this story on my ao3!

Masterlist chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

summary: James Barnes - Bucky to his friends – was the mob king of Brooklyn. Everyone in New York knew his name, feared it. Everything he wanted, he got, and anyone standing in his way was eliminated, but there was never enough evidence left behind to really convict him. He was not one to be trifled with and everybody knew it. Eveline Stone had only been the boss of Queens for six years, but that was more than enough time to know a bad deal when she saw one. She knew the risks that came with speaking to him in such a violent tone, but if Barnes thought he could come in a buy her city or take it by force, he had another thing coming. He was the most infuriating man she'd ever met, but he was also probably the only person in New York who could help her find who she was looking for.

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Mob!oc: Eveline Stone (can be read like a reader insert)

chapter warnings: angst, some language, poorly choreographed fight scenes (I'm sorry I know nothing about fighting, just imagine it looks really cool), descriptions of drugging and forced employment in a brothel

word count: 4,380

Thanks for Reading!

The day following the hotel discovery, Bucky spent all morning and most of the afternoon in his office sifting through and going over all the new information his teams had sent in. Peggy had gone through the hotel’s phone records to find that Brock had made a series of phone calls during his stay and that every number he’d called had a Brooklyn area code. She made a list of all the numbers and sent them to Tony for tracing, but they came back disabled. Natasha said she’d keep tracking them, but Tony wasn’t hopeful. After a series of interviews with Oliver and his staff, they learned that not only had Brock stayed in that hotel but that he’d been meeting with various businessmen in the hotel’s conference center. Dot even admitted that he’d paid her to discreetly deliver messages to men around town, but she didn’t know their names, only the addresses where she’d met them. The more information came in, the more frustrated Bucky became. It seemed like everywhere he turned, there was another problem to solve. Each new development led to the loss of another option, and those were in short supply, to begin with. He could hear Eveline’s voice in the back of his head, suggesting his men should be searched as well. It made him angry. Deep down he knew Eveline wasn’t to blame, but the very notion of betraying his men’s trust and loyalty in such a manner was disconcerting. And for Eveline to even suggest such a thing enraged him. Did she not trust him? That idea was more upsetting than he would have liked to admit.

He was sitting at his desk, these thoughts swirling around in his head when Pepper knocked and hurriedly entered his office without waiting for an answer. “Pepper!” Bucky exclaimed, a small smile blooming on his face. “Surely you’re not this excited just to see me?” When she didn’t even smile back at his lame attempt at a joke, he knew there was a problem. “What is it, Pepper, is something wrong?” “It’s Oliver, Buck. He’s disappeared.” Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands as Pepper came over and laid the file in front of him. Flipping it open, he saw a list of Oliver’s whereabouts starting at the time of their meeting the day before until just a few minutes ago when the list stopped. “We’re not entirely sure what happened. He came back to his apartment here last night after we’d finished with him at the hotel, and so far as we knew, he hadn’t left again. But as of fifteen minutes ago, no one knows where he went.” “What do the cameras look like?” “There are no cameras in the employee apartments, Bucky, you didn’t want any put in.” Eveline’s voice once again came soaring to the front of Bucky’s mind. He clenched his jaw around her words as if to crumple them like the file in his fists. “I’ve already spoken to the team about it, and we’re looking into every possibility we can think of,” Pepper explained taking the pages out of his hands and smoothing them out, flipping to the list of locations and culprits currently being considered. Bucky had enough problems to deal with before, and now he had a kidnapping to investigate on top of all those. He took a few deep breaths before taking the list from Pepper. He scanned it until he saw Manhattan and Pierce listed at the very bottom. “Why is Pierce on this list, Pepper?” Bucky’s voice became like gravel in his throat. “Oh, that’s Eveline’s theory,” she answered ignoring the threat in his tone. “It’s actually rather intuitive, she thinks Oliver was working for Pierce and, now that we’re on to him, has run back to Manhattan for protection –” Bucky slammed his fist on the desk in frustration, making Pepper jump. The anger he’d kept on a tight leash all morning was now bearing its teeth and he had to take a moment to collect himself before continuing. “I have put up with Eveline’s ‘suggestions’ and intuitions up to this point, but to directly insinuate that one of my men would double-cross me by working for Pierce? She’s crossing a line, and I will not allow her to continue discrediting this family’s loyalty.” He heaved a breath. “I’ll have to speak with her.” Pepper furrowed her brow. “O-okay, well, she’s in the gym if you feel so inclined.” She turned to leave the office but stopped in his doorway. “Bucky, she deserves more credit than you’re giving her. Eveline’s been on this case for months now, she knows what she’s talking about.” And with that, she let the door close with a soft click. Bucky heaved a sharp sigh. If he had been thinking clearly, he might have considered that Pepper knew not only Eveline but also Pierce in a way he didn’t; having been tricked into working in Pierce’s high-end, penthouse brothel several years ago. She and Peggy both, had been betrayed and ended up in the Manhattan skyline serving Pierce’s most high-profile clients and had the tattoos to prove it: a crescent moon wrapped around a poppy flower, inked just behind their left ears. This information might have led him to a few other eye-opening conclusions as well, but his thoughts were not clear. Bucky’s mind became even more clouded by anger as Pepper’s words joined Eveline’s ringing in his ears. Deciding this couldn’t wait a moment longer, he gathered his thoughts and made his way down to the training facilities. ※ ※ Eveline’s fists pounded against the mitts on Natasha’s hands as she attempted to loosen up her shoulders. They were stiff after sitting at a desk for an hour and a half helping Pepper check the camera footage for any signs of Oliver. “He decided to ignore blatant secrecy and misinformation because Oliver is new to the mob?” Natasha asked incredulously. This was the first

moment the two friends had been alone together since Eveline and Bucky got back from the hotel the day before. “I know, and what’s worse is that, according to Pepper, Oliver joined the team here two years ago. I’d hardly call that a rookie.” Eveline’s responses came in between deep sighs as she breathed through her movements putting more power behind her swings. “But anyway, he was all dark and moody the rest of the afternoon. He even ignored that prissy receptionist on our way out.” Natasha caught the way her friend’s eyes darkened at the mention of the woman Bucky had flirted with. A smirk grew on her face. “Yeah, what did you say her name was, Dottie?” Eveline’s next two swings were sharper, and she succeeded in breaking Natasha’s stance. “Yeah, but she asked him to call her Dot.” Nat chuckled to herself. Eveline knew she had no reason for any animosity towards Dot, even after learning of the bribes she took from Brock. But she couldn’t help but feel defensive when she remembered the way the receptionist had leaned forward practically spilling herself into Bucky’s hand. She grimaced at the memory and kept throwing punches. “Well, at least she turned out to be clean. Peggy said there was nothing on Dot’s records anywhere, other than the bribes from Rumlow,” Nat reminded her. “That’s true, she’s no real threat to anyone.” Natasha smirked devilishly, “unless you’re a man with money and power.” Eveline chuckled and took a moment to get a drink. As she returned, Natasha brought the conversation back on topic. “So, you two spoke with Oliver yesterday, and today he’s vanished into thin air?” “Yeah, and no one knows anything about where he went.” Eveline started punching again with a new ferocity, her frustration growing. “Pepper and I couldn’t find him anywhere on cams, but if Brock could sneak into Brooklyn, Oliver could sneak out.” Natasha nodded. Thoughts of her last conversation with Bucky floated back into Eveline’s mind. He was the most infuriating man she’d ever met. What did he expect to find looking through every contact he had? They’d already searched all his plausible connections in Brooklyn, the only other logical place to check was right here, but he refused. “If Bucky would just consider the possibility that not all of his men are as loyal as he supposes,” she began advancing towards Natasha with every word, “but no, he insists upon maintaining his ignorance!” Her swings picked up speed. “He is so stubborn, and it keeps him from seeing the whole picture!” Eveline channeled her frustration with Bucky into her fists. “He allows the excuse of preserving his men’s trust to keep him from the truth!” Eveline punctuated this final word with a swing hard enough to knock the mitt from Natasha’s hand. She took a few deep breaths, grabbing some water to collect herself. “Interesting,” Nat said quietly, picking the mitt up off the floor. “That sounds a lot like someone else I know.” Eveline ignored her friend’s pointed comment returning to the ring to continue. Nat rolled her eyes before walking Eveline through a new set of exercises, and the two started up again in silence. A few minutes into the set, the doors to the gym were thrown open and Bucky came storming in. “Speak of the devil,” Nat commented. Eveline finished the combo she’d started before turning to find him frozen in place. When she met his eyes, there seemed to be a hint of awe and something more hidden in his gaze. But Eveline reminded herself that was impossible. They held each other’s stares for a few moments, daring the other to speak first – and probably would have stayed like that for a good while if not for Natasha, who rolled her eyes and said, “What did you need, Bucky?” Eveline maintained her gaze as he shook himself and cleared his throat. “Um, I need to speak with Eveline,” he stated with more authority than she’d expected, given his uncomfortable stance. Natasha smirked. “Oh perfect, why don’t you take my place? I was just about to take a break anyway.” Eveline turned to her friend in shock and watched as Nat winked at her and walked away.

Bucky cleared his throat again and Eveline turned back to find him with a questioning look on his face. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Come on, we were just getting ready to spar.” Bucky nodded and followed her over to the wall and they began gearing up. As she wrapped her hands and watched him remove his dress shirt and shoes, she began to realize she’d never seen him in anything outside of work attire. The white muscle tank he wore beneath his button-down settled squarely on his broad shoulders and hung nicely across his well-toned chest, and for a moment Eveline forgot to breathe. He straightened and stretched, and she paused in her wrapping to stare. Catching herself, she shook her head and began putting on her grappling gloves. “So, what was it you needed to talk about?” she asked, desperate for anything else to focus on. He glanced at her before beginning to wrap his own hands. “Pepper just came by my office and told me about Oliver’s disappearance.” “Oh, yeah. It’s kinda sketchy, don’t you think?” Bucky’s hands flexed as he reached for his own grappling gloves. “I don’t know that I’d call the kidnapping of one of my men ‘sketchy,’ as much as it is concerning.” “You think he was kidnapped?” Eveline lifted one eyebrow. “Come on, Bucky, you think it would be possible for someone to break into that building and take someone without raising alarm? Even without cameras in the employee apartments, you know that’s a long shot.” Bucky leveled a frustrated gaze at her before walking to the center ring without saying a word, and Eveline followed lifting her hands in mock surrender. As he began stretching and warming up his muscles, she asked, “what makes you think Oliver was kidnapped?” She could feel the annoyance in his answer. “I know my men and I find it rather difficult to believe that one of them would just suddenly up and betray me like that.” Eveline scoffed, “of course you do.” Bucky straightened up ready to begin, his frustration evident in the roll of his shoulders, and eyed her with a sense of ill-tempered fury. “What would you assume,” he demanded, in an accusing tone, “if someone on your team disappeared while you were on a case?” Eveline rolled her eyes at Bucky’s superiority and swung for his jaw, which he only barely blocked in time. “I wouldn’t assume anything,” she replied, aiming another combo at his chiseled face. “I would follow the evidence,” she landed a right hook to his side, “wherever it might lead me.” Bucky rolled his neck and corrected his stance for better stability before throwing a few punches of his own. “Why are you so certain you’ll find Rumlow among my employ?” Eveline could hear the anger in his voice, but his eyes betrayed a sense of hurt as well. “Because you provide protection in plain sight.” Her own eyes darkened in pain as she dodged another one of his blows, “which is Brock’s idea of the perfect hiding place.” Eveline watched as her use of Brock’s first name began to register on Bucky’s face. He paused as if he was about to say something serious, but then remembered where he was and moved in to make a sweep for her legs. “You make it sound like you know him,” he commented off-handedly as she jumped back. She made no reply and before he could fully process that information, she lashed out with a roundhouse kick aimed at his head – although her foot barely cleared his shoulder. Bucky took note of her non-answer, but he seemed unaware of its significance as he caught her ankle with his forearm. “So, if our positions were reversed,” he asked, pressing her away from him as he spoke, “you would let me search your employees? Your family members?” Eveline dropped down into a roll before popping back up. “If you had evidence to support it, yes.” She swung again, this time landing a shot to Bucky’s left shoulder, followed by a swift kick to the center of his chest, knocking him back a few steps. “Better that than risk letting filth remain in Queens,” she stated in an accusatory tone. A snarl curled Bucky’s lips as he swiftly advanced towards her. “You know what your problem is, Stone?”

When he got close enough, he struck out and grabbed her, spinning her around to press her wrist between her shoulder blades. Leaning down, he all but growled in her ear, “you think you’ve got everything figured out, but you never stop to consider any perspective but your own.” Reaching around her body to grab his free hand with her own, Eveline placed one foot back in between Bucky’s before twisting into his pelvis and flipping him onto his back. “And yours is to be arrogant enough to assume yourself above deception” she admonished, her voice shaking with anger. Stepping forward, she placed her foot on the ground directly beside his face and leaned over him, “You have become blinded in your stubborn ignorance, and you will pay for it.” Bucky started at that. Eveline could tell that no one had called him out on anything in a long time. “Is that a threat, Stone?” he exclaimed in a dark tone as she began walking away. “It is a promise!” she bellowed, whipping around to face him again. “I have seen firsthand the damage that man can cause!” A deep pain entered her tone as she continued, “It has been my job to clean up after men like Brock, and if you allow him to remain here, he will tear your Brooklyn family apart, and it will be on your head.” Bucky had been comparatively calm up until that point. It may have been mostly from shock, but Eveline suddenly felt that such a direct accusation may not have been the smartest move. He crossed the floor in two steps and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his face. “Rumlow was your problem to solve, not mine!” Bucky accused. “I can’t very well solve it if you won’t let me do my job!” “We have the same job!” He cried. “We do not have the same job, Barnes, not by a long shot. I take care of my city and its people; you just use yours to maintain your power. You don’t even really know the people whose loyalty you prize.” Natasha’s comment from all those weeks ago about what a formidable ally he’d make rang in the back of her head, and as she watched Bucky’s eyes change, Eveline contemplated how easily he could become just as formidable an enemy. He dropped her wrist and took a step away from her, a lethal look dawning in his eyes as he seethed, “well at least I don’t sell out my family like whores.” The silence that followed was only broken by Peggy’s gasp from somewhere across the room. Eveline hadn’t noticed she and Natasha come in, and it seemed Bucky was equally surprised by their presence, snapping his regretful gaze in the direction of their glares; but Eveline only stared at him, an icy anger settling in her veins. Before she could give the action a second thought, she drove her knee up and into his gut. As Bucky doubled over, she twisted and spun, throwing her elbow back into his temple, and he crumpled to the floor. Ignoring the concerned looks from her friends, Eveline stormed out of the gym. She was vaguely aware of Natasha following her and the friendly greetings thrown her way by the people she passed, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Her mind was trapped in a loop playing Bucky’s last words on repeat. “Whores.” Of all the words in the English language, of all the analogies that could have been made, he somehow managed to pick the one that would hit closest to home. Of course, somewhere deep down, Eveline knew that Bucky had no way of knowing just how close his words would hit, and that in fact, if he had known, he likely wouldn’t have said them. But that didn’t stop the rage from boiling through her. As she walked into her room, Eveline immediately closed and locked the door behind her, seconds before Natasha knocked. “Eveline, open the door,” her friend pleaded. “Come on, I know you’re in there, talk to me.” Eveline remained standing just on the other side of the door from her friend but stayed quiet for another minute until Natasha called her name again softly. “There’s nothing to talk about Nat,” she finally spoke, her voice small. “You were there for the whole thing, what else is there to discuss?” Natasha paused. “That was some nice sparring, but your

roundhouse was a little low.” Eveline could hear the smirk in her friend’s voice, “and your judo flip was a little sloppy, but your finisher was beautiful.” Eveline couldn’t help the tiniest smile that turned up the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Nat, but I’ll have to get your full notes some other time.” She listened as Natasha sighed to herself. “Alright. The girls and I are here whenever you’re ready to talk.” Without giving a response, Eveline headed for her bathroom and turned on the shower. As she began undressing, she glanced at herself in the mirror. The girl she saw staring back at her was younger, more naive, more vulnerable. Turning away from that reflection, she finished removing her clothes and entered the warmth of the shower. Water began pounding against her back and Eveline did her best to let the scalding sensation ground her, but with Bucky’s words in her head taunting the naivety of that younger self, she became lost in her thoughts. She remembered the odd taste of the alcohol, feeling the rag being pressed to her face, the smell of the chloroform. The groggy sensation of waking up in a bed not her own, with a strange man’s arm around her waist. But that wasn’t the worst part. It was the way Brock had looked at her the next day as if he hadn’t recognized her, as if he wasn’t the one responsible for putting her in this situation, as if they hadn’t spent every day of the last three years being together in some capacity. Three years of her life gone, and she had nothing to show for it but the brand of his betrayal. Eveline traced her fingers over the tattoo behind her left ear. She scrubbed the sweat and salt from her body as if she was trying to flush Bucky’s words from her very pores. She remembered that year she’d spent with Pierce well. The alliances she’d formed with Pepper and Nat and Peggy that slowly evolved into friendship as they made their escape. The cautious women they’d been were long gone, but Eveline saw that version of herself every time she looked at the women in her employ. The ones who sought sanctuary from their abusers in the shelter and support she provided. A rugged sigh expelled from her lungs. Shampoo ran down her back, and she let all thoughts of that place recede with it; all but one. Suddenly remembering the hostages that Brock had taken with him, Eveline was reminded of her purpose. She knew she couldn’t wait around any longer for Bucky to change his mind and exited the shower with emboldened determination. Bucky would not be the barrier that kept her from achieving her goal, and as she got dressed, a plan began to form in Eveline’s mind. ※ ※ Bucky slowly sat up with a groan. The lights in the gym were suddenly too bright, and his eyes pounded behind their lids. As he slowly opened them, he saw Peggy sitting next to him with a cold washrag and a glass of ice water. Her gestures may have been friendly, but her face was stone cold, and Bucky knew he was in trouble. He took the glass from her with thanks and as he took slow sips, his last words to Eveline came back to him, and remorse once again washed over him. He remembered the look that had come over her face, as well as the glares from Peggy and Natasha. The last thing he remembered was the pain of her elbow against his head. Running his hand down his face, he groaned again. “I’d welcome you back to the land of the living, but I think you might wish you’d stayed under.” Peggy’s voice was colder than he’d ever heard it. “Peggy I –” “No, no,” she cut him off with resounding authority, “you don’t get to speak, not after that display. In fact, if you never opened your offending mouth again, you might be better off.” Bucky did as he was asked, finishing his glass of water in silence as Peggy rose to her feet standing over him. She crossed her arms as she looked him over, the look in her eyes beyond disappointed. “You’ve done plenty of stupid things in the five years I’ve known you, Bucky Barnes, but this goes beyond stupidity.” She shook her head as a frown graced her lips. “It was cruel. And uncalled for. I don’t care how

upset or angry you might have been, you have crossed a line which you may not be able to come back from.” Bucky stood with a sigh. “I know, Peggy, you’re right, and –” “Do you?” She interrupted him again, this time with a fire in her eyes like he’d never seen. “Do you actually have any idea how far you’ve gone? Have you a clue as to how much damage you have caused? And not just to Eveline, but to me and Natasha – and Pepper too, when she hears about it!” Bucky knew his insult was both unfair and inaccurate, and that it had been especially insensitive to say in Peggy’s presence given her history with Pierce, but what other line had he crossed? He’d regretted the words the moment they’d come out of his mouth, but by then it was too late. The look in Eveline’s eyes had said enough, but then Peggy and Natasha – who he hadn’t even heard reenter the gym – had worn matching glares and he knew he must have been missing something. His confusion was evidently apparent on his face as Peggy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, sometimes your daftness amazes me. Eveline was with us, Bucky; betrayed – like the rest of us – by someone she trusted.” The wheels in Bucky’s head started to turn, and it all clicked together as Peggy finished, “She worked in Pierce’s brothel for a year before she broke us out.” The complete disgust on Peggy’s face was a poor match for the loathing that took over in Bucky’s mind. “None of us would be here without her, and you have the audacity to accuse her of whoring of all things.” Bucky’s shoulders folded as he collapsed in on himself. He’d said and done many regretful things in his career, but he’d never experienced such thorough shame and remorse like this. Peggy gave a deep sigh, closing her eyes and pinching her brow. “I have nothing else to say to you,” she said holding her hand out for his now empty water glass, which he gave without question. “I trust you can find your way.” And with that, she turned and left him. Alone with his thoughts, Bucky returned to the wall where his clothes were and collapsed onto the bench, hanging his head in his hands. He began removing his gloves and hand-wraps thinking over the entire argument he’d had with Eveline. Each sentence that had come out of his mouth he now recalled with shame, all the way up to the damning conclusion, and he realized just how right Peggy was: he didn’t know how he would ever come back from this.

///

If you made it this far, thank you again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! It would mean the world to me if you could let me know what you thought, and if you noticed any mistakes, or if I neglected to include a chapter warning you think applies!

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fckinsupreme · 4 years

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it happened one summer - xavier plympton x fem reader

Description: Xavier tries to charm a fellow counselor, but she isn’t falling for it. She wants something serious, and believes that Xavier is after one thing. Can he convince her that he wants more than just a hook-up?

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Female reader, AU, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, handjob, basically the second half of this is nothing but filth.

A/N: Anonymous requested--Xavier trying to flirt with the new girl who goes to Redwood with his gang. She's a virgin but not stupid. She wants a serious relationship with someone more than just sex. And if this blondie only wants a regular hook up, well she's not the one. So Xavier will tried to convice her that he really wants something more with her. He thinks he's hot, but not because of her body. (Well, a little) But when he sees her zero fuck attitute he feels in love even more.

_________________________________

“Checkmate!”

You groan in defeat as Xavier Plympton claims one of your checkers, eyeing him in wide-eyed desperation. “Do I have to?”

“You know the rules, babe,” he says, gesturing toward your shirt. “Strip checkers denotes losing an article of clothing with every loss of a piece, so pay up!”

You sigh, annoyed with your own carelessness as you unbutton your blouse. A breeze passes through the ajar cabin door, the summer night air hitting your bare skin as your shirt falls to the floor. Your nipples harden inside of your bra, but luckily, the padding keeps it mostly concealed. “I thought checkmate was a chess thing, by the way?”

“Hm, don’t know,” Xavier says, licking his lips as he ogles your shirtless form. “Your turn.”

Your eyes scan the board, trying to decide a good move. The answer stares you in the face for the longest time, and you move one of your red checkers over one of his black ones when you see it. You claim the piece, eyeing his shirt with a satisfied grin. “Your turn.”

“Goddammit,” Xavier says with a chuckle, tugging his teal shirt over his head and throwing it aside.

Your cheeks heat in a hot blush at the sight of his bare torso. You knew he was fit and had a good body, but you didn’t quite realize just how built he had been. Muscles rippled beneath his skin, a slight outline of abs present on his stomach, his chest perfectly defined. Xavier has apparently noticed the color in your cheeks as you stare, a grin forming over his full lips. He laughs and flexes his biceps for you, which finally tears your gaze away with a darker flush.

“Like what you see, babe?” Xavier asks smugly.

“I--” you begin, cutting yourself off with a shake of your head as you watch him make a move. Luckily, he doesn’t claim any of your pieces. “Why do you flirt with me so much? It’s all you’ve done since we got here at camp.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Xavier asks with an amused grin.

“Not really, no,” you say, making an unsuccessful move. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” Xavier says, surveying the board and moving his piece. “Seriously, Y/N. You’re stunning, and I don’t think you even realize it. I think you’re totally oblivious to the fact that you’re a fucking knockout, and that makes you even more beautiful.”

“What a line,” you say with a slight eye roll as you move a piece past his. He removes his shorts, and you’re unable to get a good look before he sits down. “Do you say that to all the girls you wanna get in bed with?”

“No,” he says, his tongue poking out as he claims another of your checkers. “Aha!”

You whine, slipping out of your skirt with reluctance. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed, and you aren’t too fond of that feeling. You try to cover your still-covered breasts with one arm, but to no avail. Xavier is trying so hard not to gawk, but he’s unable to help himself. For some odd reason, his staring fills you with a certain degree of rage. He certainly didn’t get angry when you were checking him out, so why be so harsh? You had a hunch as to why, but you weren’t going to vocalize it yet; mostly because it scared you to even entertain.

“I need to get back to my cabin,” you say, rising to your feet. “This was a mistake.”

“Woah, what?” Xavier asks in surprise, brows knitted as he watches you gather your discarded clothes. “Babe--”

“Please stop calling me that,” you beg as you get dressed. “And please stop flirting with me.”

“But--” he begins, cut off as you walk out of the cabin and into the night.

******

The next morning, Xavier was at it again.

Not only did he flirt with you first thing, but he was also hitting on Montana, Brooke, and anyone else within range. Apparently it hadn’t been the first time; you’d overheard Montana telling Ray that Xavier was getting more flirtatious with her since their arrival. You felt betrayed, deceived, utterly foolish for believing that a man as beautiful as Xavier Plympton would ever want you. Your heart stung, but you made a promise to yourself not to fall for it again. It was one you intended to keep, no matter how difficult he made it.

You ate breakfast alone, in silence. Your lone wolf status didn’t last long, however, as Xavier took a seat next to you. You scoot away, but he follows, oblivious to your anger and disappointment. Since moving isn’t working, you choose to ignore him. You eat quietly, not acknowledging his presence until he starts flirting with you once more. This time, his topic had been how the filtering of the sunlight in the cafeteria made you look angelic, and how he would love to show you Heaven sometime.

“Stop,” you say sternly. “Just stop it, Xavier.”

“What’s wrong?” Xavier asks.

“You’re what’s fucking wrong,” you say. “I know you’re flirting with literally every single counselor here. I fucking know I’m not the only one.”

“Y/N--” he begins, but you stop him.

“No, fucking listen to me for once,” you say after taking a bite of bacon, and he falls silent. “I thought I was the only one. I was gonna give you a chance, but after all of that? No thanks; I’ll pass.”

“I--” he starts, and you cut him off again.

“I’m not done,” you say angrily. “I want something serious. I want a relationship, not something where I have to contend with a man who flirts around and can’t decide who he wants. I want commitment, love, joy. Clearly, none of that is what you can give.”

“I don’t understand why that’s such a big deal,” Xavier says softly. “I--”

“You wanna know?” you ask, your voice raised a little. You lower it as a few counselors turn in your direction, not wanting to attract too much attention. “It’s a huge fucking deal to me, because I’m a virgin. Okay?”

His eyes widen at that admission, and he gapes before finding his voice. “You...what? Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “I want my first time to be with someone special, so I haven’t experienced it yet. Wanna know why? Because all men I’ve considered always ended up being like you.”

Xavier hangs his head in shame, and when he looks at you again, his expression is remorseful. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know; I feel like such a jerk.”

“That’s because you are one,” you say, tossing your napkin onto the tray of your half-eaten meal. “So, if your objective has been trying to get in my pants, then you’re wasting your time. I’m not giving my virginity to you.”

“I do want only you,” he says, and you laugh humorlessly. “Seriously! I only flirted with the others because I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I did like you, until you threw yourself at every piece of ass here,” you spit, getting up from the table. “I’m going to shoot some arrows at the archery station. Please don’t bother following me.”

He didn’t.

********

The next few days were quite eventful on the Xavier front. Every time you turned around, it seemed Xavier was right there with another lame tall tale. He was sorry, he would do better, he would stop flirting with others, he would spend more time with you and less with them. You rebuffed him each time, not wanting to hear another word of it.

But then he actually did stop flirting around, and he was there to lend a sincere helping hand when you needed it. In your mind, you interpreted all of these sudden changes as him wanting to be your first. After all, most men had a secret obsession with virginal women—or not so secret, in some cases. Xavier was a playboy, there was no doubt about that. So, who’s to say that he didn’t possess the same sick need to be the one taking your virginity? You were nothing but a bragging right to him, and your anxiety & temper about it finally boiled over as the two of you swam in the lake.

“You truly are a pretty girl,” Xavier says as you surface from a dive. “Even when doing the smallest things.”

“Can you not do this?” you beg. “Please. I came out here to cool off, not listen to more of your bullshit.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, a wide grin on his lips. “Sorry. I just feel bad for what happened, and I wanted to show you how sorry I really am.”

“Just don’t flirt with me,” you say. “That’s all you need to do, if you really wanna prove it to me.”

He nods with a sigh, and you float on your back. The sky is a clear, cloudless blue, so mesmerizing and also a bit terrifying. How easy it was to get lost in such an abyss and how simple it was to associate that color blue with Xavier’s eyes...Those beautiful baby blues that seemed so endless, like a vast ocean or sky that would take and take and take--

You stop yourself, taking a deep breath and plunging below the water. You allow it to carry you, swaying you gently to and fro, not sure what doing so will accomplish. Perhaps you wanted to drown the thoughts of him away, or maybe it was as simple as wanting to hide. The anger flashes through your mind again, that comment he’d made minutes earlier churning through your insides. You go up, gulping air into your lungs and pushing some hair from your eyes as you glare daggers at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks curiously. “What have I done now?”

“What you always do,” you say, swimming away from him. “You do realize these half-assed attempts won’t work, right? I know what your angle is.”

“And what is it?” Xavier asks irritably. “Please tell me what you think is going on in MY head.”

“You only want to try and ‘prove’ yourself so I change my mind and let you fuck me,” you spat. “It’s not working, Xavier.”

“Y/N,” Xavier says in frustration. “That’s not why! You aren’t some meaningless piece of ass to me. I know your stance; if I was gonna use you, I would have given up already. It was clear that you wouldn’t change your mind, so it wouldn’t have been worth it to keep trying.”

“I call bullshit,” you say, climbing out of the lake and shaking water from your ears. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it.”

You look back at him as you grab your towel. He’s quiet, but the expression on his face was akin to a man in love. The glint in his eyes, the awestruck look, the dopey grin. You can’t stop the laugh that rips from your chest at the sight, but as you walk away, your heart pangs at the thought of what it may mean.

This wasn’t going to be easy, was it?

***********

A couple days after the lake incident, the counselors gathered at the dock to enjoy a barbecue and some sunbathing. That is, all the counselors except you; you took up the offer to clean Margaret’s cabin. Anything that kept you away from Xavier was exactly what you needed. It wasn’t that he was bothering you; you were past that point now. In fact, you actually wanted to see him more, after seeing the lovestruck expression on his face days earlier. But you told yourself you wouldn’t get attached or fall for him any harder; it would only end in a heartbreak that you possibly couldn’t recover from.

You begin dusting Margaret’s mantel when you hear Xavier at the front door. “Y/N?”

Your blood runs cold, and you swallow hard past the lump in your throat. “Yeah?” you manage, poking your head into the front room.

“I had to come and see you,” Xavier says, wringing his hands anxiously. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but all I’m asking is that you hear me out. Okay?”

You sigh, sitting behind her desk as you dust your hands off. “You can try, but no promises that I’ll believe you.”

He nods in understanding, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I know you think that I’m only after you for sex. I know you think I’m lying when I say that isn’t true, but I honestly don’t want you just for that reason. I truly think that you’re beautiful and that you’re the best girl I’ve ever met. You’re all I’ve thought about from the moment we met, and as much as I wish you would get out of my head, it won’t happen. I don’t care that you’re a virgin; I like you for you. I flirted with the others, because I didn’t wanna fall deeply for you. I know you’d never go for a guy like me. Why would you? A goddess like you is way out of my league, anyway.”

“Xavier--” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not done,” he says, taking another deep breath. “I know I screwed up by being too flirty, but I’m determined to make it up to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m telling the truth. I really am sorry, and knowing that I hurt you causes me pain, too. I just...I’m an idiot and I really screwed up. I didn’t know what a good thing I was losing. It’s just something I’m always going to have to live with, and I hope you can forgive me someday.”

You’re silent, staring at him in astonishment. Xavier, apparently taking this as the worst possible sign, turns to leave. Before he can, though, you rest a hand on his arm to stop him. The realization that he’s telling the truth hits you full force, and you can’t just let him walk away. The efforts he took to find you and come clean, to pour his heart out...If he truly was after sex, it wouldn’t have occured to him to do any of it. He would have kept persisting, but this? It wasn’t the standard, run-of-the-mill player nonsense. It was genuine.

“Wait,” you whisper, eyes flicking to meet his. “Please don’t go.”

“But--” he begins.

Before he can formulate a complete response, your lips press to his in a soft, chaste kiss. It’s quicker than you intended, but you hope he received the message loud & clear. He melts against your lips, the hint of a smile on his own as you draw back. The faintness of his grin fades quickly, replaced by a frown as he shakes his head. You can still feel the soft plumpness of his lips on yours, an electric tingle charging through them and settling between your legs. You look at him in confusion as he stares at the ground, wondering what’s going through his mind. Finally, he speaks it.

“Don’t kiss me unless you mean it,” he begs. “Please, Y/N.”

“I do mean it,” you assure him, brushing your fingers through the hair on the side of his head. “I really do. I know you’re being honest, Xavier. It took a lot of effort and I know you wouldn’t have bothered if you didn’t mean it. It’s too much to put yourself through for a single day of sex, and you know my stance. But you didn’t give up, and that’s how I know you mean it.”

The grin that forms on Xavier’s face threatens to split it in half. His hands land on your waist, coaxing you toward him until your chest is flush to his. He brushes hair from either side of your face with both of his hands, cupping your jaw and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. He slowly comes in for another kiss, his warm, inviting lips finding yours once more. Your eyes slip closed, and an overwhelming urge to deepen the kiss washes over you. Your tongue trails over his lips after a moment, and you can feel him withdrawing. You whine in protest, but he shakes his head in response.

“Do you really want this?” Xavier asks, nervously chewing on his lower lip. “If you aren’t ready, then we don’t have to. Please don’t feel pressured, okay?”

“I do want it,” you say. “I really do. I wouldn’t be engaging you if I didn’t. I want it, Xavier; I want you.”

“I won’t let you down or break your heart,” Xavier promises. “You have my word on that.”

“I know,” you say, closing the space between you and sealing your lips to his again.

The kiss immediately deepens, with Xavier’s tongue swiping past yours as he grips the back of your neck. His lips taste of peppermint and a faint hint of citrus, and the combination is dizzying. It makes you crave more of him, and you lick the roof of his mouth as he shivers slightly. He backs you up, drawing away long enough to lead you to Margaret’s bed. He places you on the mattress, lips connecting to yours again. Your hands explore his back and torso, wanting to take in every single inch that’s accessible to you.

“Mmm,” he hums, mouth trailing over your jaw and down your neck. “Is it okay if I start taking your clothes off?”

“Yes,” you say, nuzzling against his scalp. “Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Xavier asks, and you chuckle as you give him a playful swat. “Ow!”

“It’s really fine,” you say. “If something is wrong, I’ll tell you. I swear.”

He tugs you up, lifting your shirt over your head and discarding it. He studies you, the way your chest heaves, the way you’re already reaching for him in anticipation, and he kisses you with such passion that it sends electricity throughout your body. You grab his shirt next, and as soon as you fist it, he stops the kiss to remove it. You take in every line of muscle with your fingers, relishing in the way he shudders beneath your touch. His lips attach to your neck again, leaving featherlight kisses all over your skin. You moan loudly as he kisses the area between your neck & shoulder, which prompts him to press his mouth even harder against that same spot.

“Shit, that feels so good,” you gasp, and you can feel him grinning against your neck.

“You’ll be surprised what feels good, babe,” he breathes, dragging his teeth along your neck and under your jaw. “I’ll show you.”

“Please,” you beg, grabbing his belt and unfastening it clumsily. “I want you to show me everything.”

“I will,” he promises. “I’ll be slow and gentle.”

“I trust you,” you say, gripping his hair as he kisses your collarbones. “Wholeheartedly.”

“What a pleasant turn of events,” Xavier jokes, winking as he coaxes your hips upward. “Lift yourself up, baby.”

You do as you’re told, allowing Xavier to remove your shorts. Xavier kisses you again as he throws them aside, his tongue pressing to yours as he runs a hand from your side to your hip. Your fingers fumble with his zipper, and after what seems to take forever, you get his pants unbuttoned. You shove them down as far as you can manage, and he kicks them to the floor. The two of you make out a little, with your bra & panties coming off along the way. When you remove his boxers, you both sit back to admire each other’s exposed bodies. Xavier’s cock is far bigger than you imagined, and you chew your lip anxiously as you wonder how much it’s going to hurt. Xavier, seemingly picking up on your anxiety, gives you a gentle, reassuring kiss.

“I’ll be cautious and I’ll make sure you’re ready,” he assures. “Can I just say, though...Your body is fucking perfect, Y/N. Perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything.”

You blush a little, and Xavier begins kissing over your breasts. He explores every inch, pulling your nipple between his teeth. He’s very careful, but the sensation is one you’ve never felt before. It’s so good that your eyes flutter closed, a soft mewl falling from your lips as he starts sucking. Your noises grow in volume, your cunt throbbing as fresh arousal pools between your legs. His hand caresses your thigh, a violent shiver rolling down your spine as he touches a particularly sensitive area. He alternates, switching to the opposite nipple and giving it the same treatment as the other. You tug his hair, arching a little against the new, unfamiliar sensations coursing through your body.

“Xavier,” you mewl, eyes closed as he starts massaging your tits. He presses them together, burying his face in your chest and inhaling your scent. You giggle as he leaves small hickeys between them, the light marks soon darkening as his tongue runs over one nipple again. “It feels so nice.”

“I know something that’s gonna feel even better,” Xavier says, kissing down your stomach.

“What is it?” you question, sitting up on your elbows to get a good look at him.

“Eating your pussy,” he says, pulling you down a little as he settles between your legs. “You know what that is, don’t you?”

“Duh,” you say with a chuckle, biting back a moan as he kisses the top of your mound. “I’m not totally clueless, but I want you to do it. I want it so fucking much.”

“And you’ll get it,” he tells you, opening your legs a little further to observe your soaked cunt.

You take in the sight, just drinking it up. His pretty blue eyes fixated on your face as he presses the most delicate kisses to your inner thighs. The way his breath fans over your skin. The way his hair tickles your thighs, his earring catching the light as his strong arms grip your legs. It’s an image you never want to lose, and one you wanted burned into your mind forever. If he would ever leave you, God forbid...you wanted to memorize every last detail.

“Are you ready?” Xavier asks, running his tongue slowly along your groin.

“I’ve been ready,” you breathe, whining as he licks the opposite side. “Please, do it.”

Xavier gently opens your legs a bit further, two of his fingers parting your inner lips before running his tongue through them. The sensation that his wet, silky tongue leaves behind is nothing short of incredible, and it’s much better than you ever imagined. He hums as your taste floods his mouth, his eyes slipping closed as he relishes in it. You shiver as his tongue flicks your clit, the touch so soft and light that you almost couldn’t register it. His arms remain around your thighs, his large hands gripping the areas above your knees. As his lips brush over each side of your pussy, his thumbs caress the hollows of your knees as a bit of reassurance, calming your nerves even more.

“How are you doing?” Xavier asks, sucking your left lip. “Good?”

“Very good,” you confirm, playing with the little stray piece of hair on his forehead. “I love it so much. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t unless you tell me to,” Xavier says, massaging the same area with his tongue as his fingers trail through your slick, messy cunt. “Do you mind if I finger you?”

“No, go ahead,” you say, crying out in pleasure as his finger slowly pushes inside, stopping only when he’s in to the last knuckle. “Xavier...That...It’s amazing.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, working his finger against your sweet spot as he laps ast your clit. “I know.”

You arch instinctively as he curls his finger, and the mixed sensations of that & his tongue send jolts up your spine. His eyes never leave your face, wanting to see your reactions and how your body moves in response, and it occurs to you that he’s doing as you had moments ago. He wants to keep this memory, in case he cannot have it again after today. But you already know that he didn’t need to worry, just as you, unknowingly, didn’t need to worry about it, either.

“Can I add another finger?” Xavier asks gently, kissing along your outer labia. “Or would that be too much?”

“Try it,” you say. “If it’s too much, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, carefully adding a second finger. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel fuller than before. It isn’t too unpleasant, but it does feel a little odd at first. Every time you touched yourself in the past, it was more clitoral stimulation than fingering, so it was a little weird with someone else doing it for you. Besides, his fingers were longer and thicker than yours, which only added to the foreign sensation they left. You clench instinctively, and he groans lowly against your clit in response.

“You’re so beautiful,” Xavier rasps, his free hand snaking up your side and landing on one of your breasts. “The most beautiful girl in the world.”

You’re so lost in pleasure that you don’t even roll your eyes at his comment, instead feeling a familiar tightness in your lower belly. The way he’s sucking on your clit, pumping his fingers, and playing with your breast are enough to tip you, but you aren’t ready to fall yet. You want to prolong it as much as possible, to savor it. Who knows how long it would be until you could have it again, especially with Margaret and her bullshit “no sex” rules. Knowing Xavier, however, he would find a way.

But would he find a way with you again?

You shake those thoughts from your head, bringing yourself back to present. Xavier’s fingers rub against your G-spot, just as his lips envelop your clit again. He shakes his head rapidly back & forth, applying more pressure with his mouth. He swipes his thumb over your hard nipple, pinching in time with his tongue. You don’t have time to warn him that you’re cumming, your orgasm washing over you and casting you into a pleasurable abyss. You gush all over his fingers, his name spilling from your lips as you close your eyes while the high takes you. You’d given yourself many orgasms over the years, but this was much better by far. There was just something about having someone do it for you that was intoxicating, and you crave more already. You were so sensitive, however, that just the feeling of him dragging his nose through your folds brings pain.

Xavier pulls his fingers out, drawing his head away as you shove it. “Are you okay, babe?”

“I’m amazing,” you breathe. “Just a little sensitive, that’s all.”

“Not bad for your first time, huh?” Xavier asks as he slowly climbs up your body.

“Not at all,” you breathe, tugging him down for a hot kiss. You can taste your pussy on his mouth, his lips still slick with your juices before you lick it away. “You’re fucking good at that.”

“You’re just saying that because you have nothing to compare it to,” Xavier teases, his lashes fluttering as you close your hand around his erection. “Oh fuck, baby…”

His cock feels heavy in your hand, and pleasantly warm as you glide your hand up and down. It takes you a second to get a proper rhythm, and Xavier is happy to help you. He places his hand on yours, guiding you, showing you how it’s done. You take in every ridge, every bit of skin, every motion, getting used to how he feels before he fucks you. You’re a little nervous, but at the same time, you can’t wait. You trust Xavier, you know he’s going to be careful, but there’s still part of you that’s scared.

“Fuck,” Xavier hisses, peering at you with a soft smile. “Are you ready?”

You nod, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly to try and calm your nerves. “I am. Just...go slow, okay?”

“I promise I will,” Xavier says, rubbing his cock through your folds to help you adjust to the feel. “On three.”

You count down, and Xavier begins pushing inside. A burning, tearing pain sears through your core, and you wince as you squeeze your eyes shut. The pressure is intense, unpleasant, and you worry that you won’t be able to do this after all. Xavier stops immediately, not going any further yet. You wonder if there’s blood and how much, but the thought is so scary that you push it away quickly. This was supposed to be fun and enjoyable, not something to fear. However, the pain is so great that it takes you away from any other thought. It makes focusing on pleasure a little difficult, but you trust Xavier and the process.

“Does it hurt too much, baby?” Xavier questions, kissing over your neck in a soothing manner. “Should I stop?”

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him. “It hurts, but I don’t want you to stop.”

He nods, kissing you tenderly before continuing to slowly push inside of you. It’s still painful, so he stops occasionally to give you more time to adjust. But soon, the uncomfortable pressure begins to dissipate, and you can feel every little bit of him. He’s probably in halfway now--or a little over that, but it’s all you can take. He’s massive, and you can’t accommodate all of him right now, but that’s fine with you. What you’re already feeling is nothing short of incredible, and is far from what you imagined in the best way possible. Pain was temporary; your focus was on the present, and it was perfect now.

“How are you feeling?” Xavier asks as he gazes into your eyes. “Is it still really painful?”

“No, I’m better now,” you say, kissing him hotly before clenching around him. It feels so strange, but it’s a good strange. “Please go deeper; I think I can take it.”

Xavier inches in a bit deeper, getting a little more progress before you stop him. Tears prickle at your eyes as fresh pain rips through your core, and Xavier shakes his head. “That’s enough for now, babe. I’m in far enough, don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to tell him that you’re fine, but he gives that first slow, shallow thrust and you soon forget. A moan slips from your lips, and you cling to him as he sets a careful pace. He keeps the slow rhythm, not daring to speed up in fear of hurting you. He looks into your eyes, not wavering his gaze as his muscular arms flex with every move he makes. One of your hands grips his back, the other holding the base of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. The pain is slowly melting away, replaced by the most overwhelming ecstasy you’ve ever felt.

“Fuck, I can’t get over how good you feel,” Xavier breathes, pressing tender kisses to your cheeks and jawline. “You’re so tight, so wet.”

“I guess the tightness was to be expected,” you tease, forehead against his as he comes up for another kiss.

“It was,” he says against your lips, smiling as he begins breathing heavily. He’s still set at a slow, romantic pace, but you’re in no hurry to make him go faster. “Baby…”

“Xavier,” you whine, his lips attaching to your upper chest as he hums lowly.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises. “You’re taking my cock so well, babe. I knew you could; I think you were really meant for me.”

“Strangely, I do, too,” you say, head falling back with a moan as he hits directly into the spot that makes you see stars. “Shit, do that again.”

Xavier thrusts against that spot once more, and you dig into his back momentarily. He moans softly at the feeling of your nails in his skin, hooking your legs over his waist to hit at a deeper angle. Another burning sensation tears through you, but it isn’t as bad or long-lasting as the first had been. He brings your lips to his in a heated, passionate kiss, conveying all emotion into it. If it hadn’t already been clear how he felt for you, that one kiss would have sealed the deal.

Xavier Plympton was going to be the death of you, wasn’t he?”

“I love how well you’re handling this,” Xavier says. “You’re so fucking good, babe. I’m gonna take even better care of you, okay? I promise.”

You smile, but it’s soon wiped from your face as you turn toward the front door. No one is there, but the fact that Margaret could return at any minute made your blood run cold. You pull Xavier’s face toward yours with a worried expression, but he doesn’t seem to notice your concern.

“Xav, what if Margaret comes back?” you ask anxiously. “We’ve been here for awhile.”

“She won’t,” Xavier assures. “It’s gonna be okay. I overheard her saying that she was going to town for supplies and would be gone all day. She left Trevor and Bertie in charge.”

“I’d be surprised if the camp is still standing when she gets back,” you joke, gripping his back a little tighter as his lips find your nipple. “Mmm…”

Xavier reaches down, rubbing your clit as your body tenses. He takes it as a painful reaction, slowly removing his hand before you grab his wrist to stop him. You shake your head, placing his hand back on your clit and holding it there as he grins. He presses his forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes as you both moan hotly. You nuzzle against him as his thrusts gain speed, and all initial discomfort is soon forgotten. Your head tips back, eyes shut for a moment before they snap open when he growls lowly.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “I never want this to end.”

“I don’t, either,” you admit. “Even if Margaret does walk in, I don’t want you to stop.”

“She won’t,” Xavier says. “Even if she did, what is she gonna do? Make us clean the whole camp? It would be so worth it!”

“Please keep doing that,” you beg, pushing against his hand for emphasis. “I’m getting really close.”

“Me too, baby,” Xavier whispers, one hand still working aa he uses the other for balance. “You’re sure it’s okay to cum inside of you?”

“Yes,” you say. “As long as it’s okay with you.”

“You first,” Xavier says, rubbing your clit in harder, faster circles. “Come on, baby. I know you want to.”

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too lost in your pleasure to care about his comment. One more sharp thrust and a couple more swipes to your clit send the coil loose, tipping you over the edge into bliss. You cum the hardest you ever have before--including earlier--scratching down his back hard enough to draw a little blood. You cry out his name, your orgasm washing over you in a long wave. It feels like you’re drowning, your head spinning, your breath stolen, his sweaty body still pressed to yours.

Xavier cums after, and a new warmth soon spreads inside of you. You can barely register it, but it feels amazing nonetheless as he gently bites your neck. His cock twitches as he finishes, pulling out to collapse next to you. Some of his seed drips from your pussy, gathering onto the bed below. You’re both panting, lying there as you try to collect yourselves. The smell of sex and crisp summer air billow around the room, but neither of you are bothered. You’re too absorbed in the afterglow to care.

After a few moments of silence, Xavier scoops you in his arms. He hugs your sticky, slightly shaky body to his, lips pressing to the top of your head. “I don’t wanna let you go, Y/N.”

“Who says you have to?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“Good,” Xavier says, running a finger down your cheek. “Because I really don’t want to.”

“Thank you so much for making my first time so special,” you say as you kiss his cheek. “I’m really glad that this happened, Xavier. I mean it, and I’m sorry I was so cold before. You were such a gentleman, and I’m sorry I ever doubted that.”

“It’s okay,” Xavier says. “It’ll get better after the first time. It’s never the most pleasant, but it’s smooth sailing after that. So I’ve heard.”

“I thought it went well enough,” you say as you gaze up at him. “But I can’t wait to do it again.”

“We have all summer, babe,” Xavier says joyously. “Beyond that, too!”

You chuckle, rolling him onto his back as you kiss him hungrily. For the first time since arriving at Camp Redwood, you found yourself excited for the remainder of the summer. While the two of you had sex again--this time far more satisfactory than last--you couldn’t help but feel happy for everything ahead.

______________

Taglist!

@littledemondani, @wroteclassicaly, @leatherduncan @melodylangdon, @lovelylangdonx, @confettucini, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @dark-mei-rose, @langdonsdad, @blakewaterxx, @xhoneyxbeex, @babyyyodas, @frenchlangdon, @guiltyfiend, @whatcodysaid, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern, @with-dandelions-in-her-hands, @langdonshellion

#this isn't my best but oh whaleee #xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton one shot #american horror story

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manikas-whims · 3 years

Text

Troublesome New Girl

Sequel to A Place Good Enough

[Read on AO3]

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker

Summary: Inej has newly joined the Dregs. She goes to return Kaz's coat in the presence of many members. *cue the teasing & jokes*

Jesper meets Inej & evidences of Jesper's crush on Kaz (tiny bit of angst).

Kaz is his usual self & sets an example. A violent one :)

Note:

I just noticed this complete written fic has been sitting in my drafts for a month now. I'm so dumb 〒_〒

PLEASE DO READ THE PREVIOUS PART IN THIS SERIES TO UNDERTAND THIS SEQUEL.

Hope you guys enjoy!

Inej

The constant noise of banging against wood rouses Inej from her sleep. She looks around haphazardly only to find herself lying on a cot in an unknown room, her torso covered by a grey coat. Sun's rays blind her eyes momentarily as she turns her face, an open window staring back at her, not the daunting walls of the Menagerie. Memories of the previous night flood back and her shoulders deflate in relief. She takes a long breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. She doesn't need to endure Heleen's beatings or sell her body anymore. She is free of that life. Free.

“Oi new girl!” a voice calls, followed by more knocking at the wooden door to her small room. “Brekker told me to bring you some clothes. I’m leaving a pair out here.”

Right! Kaz Brekker had promised her better clothes. She leaves the comfort of the cot but by the time she unlocks the door to thank whoever was on the other end, the person is gone. She catches a short glimpse of a feminine figure with blond hair at the stairs and vows to thank her later. Picking up the clothes, she closes the door.

Jesper

When Jesper had heard his fellow Dregs gossiping about Dirtyhands bringing back a girl with him late at night, he hadn’t given it much thought. He had ignored Anika when she had said that she was literally asked by Kaz himself to provide the said girl with some clothes. In fact, he had completely shooed away anyone who came up to fill his ears with rumors about this unknown Suli girl and the bastard of the barrel. So when a small, bronze-skinned girl bumps into him on the third floor of the Slat, he's stunned.

"Ohhh—", The girl waves her hands frantically, her pupils dilating in concern, "I'm sorry."

But Jesper doesn't bother with apologies for he's too busy appraising her. Now she does match the rumored descriptions and is even donning Anika's lame clothes. But what actually piques his interest is a neatly-folded coat in the deepest shade of grey held between her dainty hands. He doesn’t need to think long to guess who it belongs to. There’s only one person who doesn’t indulge in the colorful fashion sense of the barrel— Kaz “Dirtyhands” Brekker.

He feels his insides fuming. But no way is he going to act like an idiot and jump to conclusions. Just because here's a girl he’s never seen before and she happens to have a coat, doesn’t mean that every single narrative he's heard about this whole situation is true.

He narrows his eyes in what he assumes is his best look of suspicion as he towers over the girl. “Where did you get that?”

"Um", she looks down at the piece of clothing and mumbles in the most innocent tone, "Mr. Brekker lent it to me."

Mr. Brekker!? The hell kinda way is this to address a man you slept with? Or whatever the heck it is that Dirtyhands prefers to do with girls..

"Why?" he asks. From Jesper's experiences, the young lieutenant of the Dregs isn't big on kindness. "Why did he lend it you?"

The girl's brows narrow in thought. It seems she herself is unsure of the reason. Her left palm clutches her right forearm in apprehension. "I guess..because I wasn't in a very decent attire."

Alarms go off in Jesper's head again. What exactly happened between her and Kaz? His heart needs answers yet he knows that its none of his business so he suppresses the unease welling in his belly.

"Well Kaz is up there." He gestures in the direction of the attic. "I'm headed there right now so I can give it to him."

The girl frowns. "I can't let a stranger do that for me. Besides," she twirls a strand of her hair, her eyes alight with some indescribable emotion, "I must properly thank him myself."

Jesper is familiar with this look. It mirrors his own when he was still a newbie at the Dregs and wanted to prove himself, wanted to repay Kaz for saving his ass. And not just by helping him pluck stupid pigeons but also by adding extra sums of profits to his ledger. Jesper can empathize with her on this.

"He saved you too," The Zemeni asks carefully, "didn't he?"

She stares at him, gauging the understanding in his expression and simply nods.

He rubs the side of his neck awkwardly. "Well, wanna go up together?"

Her eyes widen and she involuntarily takes a few steps back. Distrust. Fear. He can empathize with this action as well. In the barrel, it'd be foolish to believe a complete stranger within few moments of the first encounter.

"Then," he smiles the smile that many have called charming and starts his ascend upstairs. He only looks back once to wink at her, hoping it'll quell her anxious mind a bit, "follow my lead?"

"I can do that." she mumbles, more to assure herself and takes the first step of many that will become the foundation to their sibling-like friendship.

Kaz

When it comes to change, development and fresh ideas, Per Haskell always cowers and dismisses the topic. People like that will never achieve anything if they aren't willing to take risks. The restoration of that abandoned fifth harbour would already be in motion if Kaz hadn't chosen to waste another of his precious mornings trying to convince his boss that investing in it may prove fruitful to the Dregs. And so, after a pointless argument he had had earlier with the old man, he's decided to take matters into his own hands.

Huffing audibly, he continues explaining every member present in his room their respective job for the day. The boisterous throng huddled around him, begins dispersing all of a sudden. Curiously, Kaz looks up to find his faitful right-hand man Jesper Fahey walking in, a mischievous glint in his silver irises.

"We bumped into each other on our way up here." Jesper gestures behind him.

And it is then that Kaz notices her presence— Inej Ghafa, the strange Suli girl he had brought back from the West Stave. Oddly, he had felt her presence moments ago but had brushed it off as a mere byproduct of his rest-deprived mind playing tricks on him. Turns out his intuition hadn’t been wrong at all.

"Its that Suli girl."

"The one that Brekker took up to his bed?"

"Who would've thought Haskell's rabid dog had such exquisite tastes."

The one that Brekker took where? Haskell's rabid what? Kaz isn't sure which remark he finds more insulting towards his reputation. Although he does realise he has no one except himself to blame. He should'nt have let the girl follow him up to the attic last night. As usual, he'll have to cover this small err with fresh tales about himself that are even more gruesome than the previous ones. But for now he must find out why the new girl is here.

Anika’s clothes are baggy on her small frame— a deep green shirt so loosely-fitted that she has tied its ends into a double knot just above her belly-button whilst the fawn-colored trousers hang tastefully around her hips. He watches her long, silky hair sway behind her as she walks gracefully in his direction, determination glimmering in her dark brown irises. Shock briefly flits across his gaze but before he can even think of stopping her, she shoots out her hands in which he (dreadfully) recognizes, she’s holding his coat. He can feel all eyes in the room already settling on him. They collectively stare in a mix of shock, curiosity and..is this jealousy he's witnessing on a few faces?

"What do you think you're doing?" He grits out. He hears a muffled snickering which he's sure is Jesper's and wonders if the two somehow managed to become friends in the short span of their climb up the stairs. And that they both planned this prank together on their way.

However, Inej only furrows her brows, debunking his ridiculous theory. She seems to be wondering what she's done wrong as she answers confidently, "I forgot to return it last night."

More interested staring ensues. The new pen in his palm snaps.

Is this girl serious right now? It took him long, unrelenting years to rise to the position he's at. He's spilled his blood, sweat and tears to scatter the seeds of terror about him throughout the expanse of Ketterdam. Even people who come across him for the first time, visibly shiver and turn pale. So what part of their last conversation has given her this courage to approach him so casually? She seems to have forgotten the fact that he’s an infamous barrel thug, feared by merchers, stadwatch and gangsters alike. She isn’t supposed to saunter up to him and return his coat, making this whole exchange appear to be a scandalous affair to the curious bystanders. She isn't supposed to crumble Dirtyhands' hard-built reputation with just a few words!

"Stand aside, I'm busy." He mutters, because he truly has no idea how to get out of this predicament and hopes that his caustic tone will get the message across just like it does with everyone else.

To his utter dismay, Inej seems to be far more tactless than Jesper, who still hasn't stopped snickering. She tucks the coat back in her arms and bites her lip as if suppressing herself from saying something mean. Her eyes quietly regard his own, an unspoken understanding settling between them. She is aware that if she doesn't wish to be thrown back into the Menagerie, she must behave properly with him. And yet, her nostrils flare as she responds, "I just wanted to pay my gratitude-"

"You can pay your gratitude," Kaz hisses back, glaring up at her from his perched position, "with your services." And its only after uttering those words does he realise the ambiguous implications hinted in them. Jesper's shoulders are shaking uncontrollably now, his palms tightly clamped around his mouth to muffle his laugh.

"Slow down, Dirtyhands." comments someone from the back and the whole room bursts into a howl of laughter. Inej brings a palm to her lips, gasping in mortification.

Kaz massages his eyes. Dealing with these ruffians has already been a headache. Now this new girl just walks in and takes the cake. She's proving to be far more dangerous– scratch that– far more more troublesome than he had expected.

He lets them have their fun as he pulls out a knife from his coatsleeve and gets up. He ambles towards Dirix, his steps slow and deliberate. He's sure it was Rotty who'd made the joke but Dirix is standing closer and it doesn't really matter who said what. Dirtyhands just needs to set an example.

The young boy is suddenly looking very pale. Kaz grabs his right hand, the dominant one and digs the blade along the joints of his fingers. The knife easily tears through his skin and goes deeper into the muscle beneath. Dirix is now screaming whilst everyone else hold their breath. From his peripheral vision, he catches the horror on Inej's face and rolls his eyes. Surely she must've heard of his violent endeavors at the menagerie. She shouldn't have approached him in the first place if she's going to be so shocked everytime he spills someone's blood.

He roots out the knife before it can completely sever Dirix's limbs. "Get 'em patched up." The boy is already running out.

He walks back and tosses the knife to the desk, its loud clang making everyone flinch in fright. "Pipe down before I actually start chopping tongues."

The threat silences everyone.

"This is Inej Ghafa." He points at her and the girl cowers slightly. Not at all the abrupt attention on her, he notices, but from him. "She's to be a new spider."

This one simple statement seems to piece together everything for them. Though he has an inkling that his previous act of brutality also plays a major part. They nod and whisper amongst themselves. He almost scoffs. Of course its easier for them to believe that Kaz Brekker took up a girl to his room for information. Not some spicy dalliance.

"Now get to work." He orders and one by one they shuffle out of the room, Rotty nodding respectfully. He knows he was spared merely by luck.

Jesper is the last one. He winks at Inej before taking his leave. "See you around, new girl!"

And with all of them gone, Kaz turns to Inej. She inhales a breath in anticipation.

"Let's start your training."

So hopefully that was as fun reading as it was for me writing :3

Coming parts will have Inej's training and ofc her picking her canon outfit.

SoC Masterlist

( divider by @firefly-graphics )

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kanej #kaz x jesper #inej x jesper #kanej fanfic #pre soc #grishaverse #kanej fanfiction

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a-froger-epic · 3 years

Note

aww freddie drabbles yay!

here's a few, choose whichever you like :)

- freddie and roger in high school/uni and a meet cute

- freddie and brian composing

- freddie babysitting john's children and singing vocal improv to them (i was that anon yeah, the one who sent it in first)

Alright, seeing as I've already just done Freddie+kiddies and I was talking about a "She's All That" AU on the server to you all (I am so sorry, I realise you're too young to know it, BUT watch the music video linked below and you'll get the idea) Also this turned into a Roger drabble instead because it was funnier that way 😁

Here's a High School AU Froger meet cute "She's All That" style!

*queues Sixpence None The Richer 'Kiss Me'*

- - -

Crystal could be such a prat, but this time Roger didn't mind almost being knocked off his feet as his mate and the rest of the water polo team swooped in on him from behind.

True to form, Crystal jumped on his back and almost sent him stumbling into Kelsey, who Roger had been talking to, all while looking for a good reason to stop talking to her, because while she definitely had a killer rack, and he'd spent more time than he'd like to admit perving over her Insta, most of which prominently featured her arse from one angle or another, she was also incredibly, painfully dull. She'd spent the last ten minutes talking about her holiday in the south of France, although the entire story had mostly consisted of detailed descriptions of her parent's yacht. It had a fridge with an ice cube dispenser, several gaming systems and a flatscreen tv, Roger now knew.

Luckily, she decided to take her leave as his noisy mates arrived and he waved her goodbye, admiring her Instagram-famous derriere as she walked away.

He wasn't the only one. When he tore his eyes away, most of his mates were still oogling her.

"Oi!" Roger elbowed Gery, who happened to be standing right next to him and was gaping open-mouthed, in the ribs. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

On the other side of him, Crystal gave a low, appreciative whistle. "So," he grinned, "did you ask her to prom or what?"

Roger snorted, crossing his arms. That had been the plan, of course. Ask Kelsey to prom. And he'd meant to. He wasn't afraid. It was just that, for all her good looks, and despite the fact that she was the most popular girl in their year by far, he just... hadn't really felt like it, once he'd started talking to her.

"Nah," he said with a shrug. "Still considering my options."

His water polo team mates stated disbelieving.

"Mate," said Gery, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you for real? That girl's a ten out of ten and I heard," he dropped his voice a little, "she's proper up for it, you know?"

Crystal slung an arm around Roger's shoulders, shaking his head. "What are you thinking? You're the most popular guy in our year, she's the most popular girl, you're bloody perfect for each other, innit. And we're all fuckin' jealous, mate!"

Roger grimaced, throwing him a look. "Whatever. I could go to prom with whoever I like and," he grinned, "they'd be popular by association."

"Oh yeah?" Crystal raised his eyebrows, grinning back at him.

"Damn right," Roger assured him, "anyone in this school, you wanna bet?"

As the rest of his team mates headed off home, Roger, Crystal and Gery walked toward the parking lot where they'd left their electric scooters - and Crystal's hoverboard.

"D'you know," said the very same, a lop-sided grin on his face, "I do wanna bet."

"You what?" Roger blinked at him, not sure what he was talking about.

"I bet," said Crystal, and the grin on his face turned very smug, "that there's no fucking way you can make anyone popular just by going to prom with them."

"Oh yeah?" said Roger, feigning non-chalant confidence.

"Yeah." His friend stopped and stretched out his hand, eyebrows raised. "Seriously, wanna bet?"

Roger Taylor was many things. He was a drummer and lead singer in a teenage band that was definitely going to make it big. He was the captain of the water polo team. He was going to ace his A levels because no matter what some people thought, he wasn't an idiot.

He also most definitely wasn't someone who shied away from a bet.

"Sure thing." Roger shook Crystal's hand.

They continued across the school yard, with Crystal trying to spy the perfect candidate.

"Oh, shit, look! What about her?" he snickered, pointing to Brianna May, who had her fingers buried in her wild mass of curly hair and was sitting at a table, bent over a book as though trying to memorise the contents of it.

"Nah," said Crystal, before Roger could comment. "Oh! What about Deaky?"

Gery guffawed.

"Yeah, right." Roger turned to follow Crystal's gaze, to where a girl with an undercut stood, wearing ripped black tights, shorts and a flannel shirt, her hand around her girlfriend Ronnie's waist. "That's cheating, pick someone who's available and also," he gave Crystal a look, "no lesbians."

"Yeah, fair enough," Crystal conceded. And then, his eyes lit up. "Oh shit, oh yes."

Roger followed his friend's line of sight and stopped, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Struggling to ascend the stairs from the arts classroom in the basement, juggling several sketchbooks, two canvases and an easel, was Freddie Bulsara.

"You're not serious," Roger scoffed, turning to look at Crystal, fully expecting him to burst out laughing any moment.

But Crystal only nodded, still smirking in Freddie's direction. "Oh yeah."

"No way!" Roger protested, glancing back at Freddie, who had managed to fall over with all the things he was holding and struggled to get back up, wavy strands of hair that had escaped from the bun on top of his head obscuring his face. "He's a bloke!"

"So?" Crystal's grin was positively wicked now. He gave Roger a look and a shrug. "It's 2021, innit. You said you could take anyone to prom and they'd be popular-"

"How d'you now he'd even be interested-" Roger started, but cut himself off. Yeah, he didn't have a leg to stand on with that question. Freddie was definitely not straight and their whole year knew it. "Listen," Roger rolled his eyes, regretting what he had got himself into, "I can deal with fat, I can deal with ugly or socially awkward, but a guy and plain weird? Come on!"

"A bet's a bet," Crystal waggled his eyebrows, and Roger turned to Gery for support, who held up his hands.

"Hey, you made that bet with Crys, not me!"

"And now you're losing time," Crystal pointed out, nodding in the direction of the skinny boy in the paint-stained jean overalls who was hurrying toward the school gates now.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Roger took a deep breath and went after him, Crystal and Gery on his heels. Freddie stopped by a bench right beside school gates, in front of a girl who had been sitting there waiting. She rose to her feet, taking the sketchbooks off him to lighten his load.

"Hey," said Roger, when he was close enough to be within war shot. "Freddie, what's up? You got a minute?"

Both Freddie and the much younger girl who Roger was pretty sure had to be his sister turned to look at him. The girls eyes went wide, as thought she couldn't believe Roger Taylor himself was speaking to her brother, but Freddie's eyes narrowed. In all fairness, Roger though, he had never had a go at Freddie or made fun of him, although some others did. Some people who he hung out with and considered friends.

"What," Freddie replied curtly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes darted to Crystal and Gery, who were standing right behind Roger, and his expression darkened.

"Just thought we could... have a chat," Roger tried lamely, and heard Crystal supress a snicker.

Freddie stated at him for a long moment, eyes full of suspicion.

"I'm alright," he said, and turned back to his sister. "Come on, Kash, let's go."

And with that, he swept past Roger and his mates and walked out of the school gates, followed by his sister, who cast Roger a dreamy smile on the way out.

"Or you could just..." Roger watched them go, shaking his head in disbelief. "...embarass me, why don't you?"

Jesus Christ. This was going to be one hell of a mission.

#Lmao #Okay I am sorry #I was 14 in 1999 #And that film shaped me #Queen RPF #Modern AU #She's All That #Froger #Sort of

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stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

To Be Alone With You

Chapter 4 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While your Mandalorian continues to work hard to gain your trust as well as your heart, he decides to take you somewhere else just as beautiful as the cave. In return for his act of kindness, you think it’s your turn to give him a present of his own.

Rating: T for the usual stuff! Nothing smutty, just some unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 9,000 (I’m so sorry omg, this is literally 99% fluff and then one line at the end that indicates an actual plot coming on, lord help me, I have a problem.)

Warnings: Again, there really aren’t any in this chapter. There are little hints of abuse and growing up in a toxic environment, but nothing too descriptive. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexual tension every now and then (if you squint), but mostly fluff and hurt/comfort.

A/N: It only took until the end of the fourth chapter to finally get to the plot jfc lol. Thank you all for reading and the continuous support and kind words! I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours? You’re always thinking and never talking, little nurse.”

You jump a little at the sound of your blue Mandalorian’s deep baritone, blinking owlishly when you realize that your companion has been talking for quite some time now, though you’d been too consumed by your frantic thoughts to register what he was saying. You find it happening more often lately, especially when you’re sitting so close to the heavy-infantry warrior; your thoughts move at a pace that you simply cannot handle and you loathe that you’re suddenly overthinking everything in regards to the strange, intimate relationship you’ve formed with him.

Per usual, he seems as calm and collected as ever, making you even more flustered when his bold nature shines through and overpowers his bashful tone. The little touches and flirty comments seem to come so naturally to him, while you struggle to return the playful sentiments, usually answering him in the form of a shy smile or flushed cheeks that you’re certain he must see through his black visor. It seems to only spur him on more and you think he must realize what he does to you--how he makes you feel.

“I’m just thinking about...” You cringe a little, because what are you going to say to him?

Sorry, I’m just thinking about you and how much I long for your touch? That I would let you play with my hair every night for the rest of my days if you wished for it? Sorry that I’ve never felt more at home than when you hold me?

It all sounds so foolish and ridiculous and you know you can’t say any of it out loud.

“I-It’s nothing,” You answer lamely, nervously tightening the cape he had let you borrow around your torso; the material was heavier than you’d expected and the comforting weight of it had surprised you when he draped it around your shoulders after a particularly cold gust of wind had left you shivering earlier. Even though the thick material had easily warmed you up from the inside out--along with the sweet gesture--the Mandalorian hadn’t hesitated to wrap a massive arm around your shoulders and pull you closer into his side.

“I’m just daydreaming, I suppose.”

Your blue Mandalorian sighs a little, easily catching your bluff and not seeming all too thrilled that you’re struggling with your emotions, “Saviin’ika...”

You reluctantly look up at your companion, though you focus on the chin of his helmet, rather than where you think his eyes are, “I’m just thinking about the last few days; I’m not... I’m not used to this. I’m not used to people actually...” You quickly look away from him when you feel your eyes burn and your chest heave a little, “I’m just surprised you keep coming back for me--thought you would have left by now.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, realizing how pathetic the words sound as you speak them in a breathy, shaky whisper and a trembling bottom lip.

A hooked index finger tenderly taps just underneath your chin to bring your gaze further up his visor and the softness in his usually gruff voice definitely doesn’t fall on deaf ears, “Your companionship isn’t tiresome or a burden to me. I... I enjoy spending time with you more than you could imagine. I hope one day you can truly believe that.”

You smile feebly and force a tiny, meek nod, reminding yourself that nobody has stuck around this long and that your Mandalorian must not be jesting or patronizing you in any way shape or form.

Another week has passed since he first brought you to the cave and much to your utter astonishment and delight, the Mandalorian had made it a mission to visit you every day since, whether it be to simply walk you to your abode or to take you to the cave so you can relax your feet in the hot springs. After the second time when he takes you to the cave and asks if he can take out your braids again, you think he must genuinely look forward to your company, rather simply resigning to tolerate it.

The thought of him enjoying something so simple as taking out your braids leaves you breathless and you can’t help but to despise him because nobody should have this kind of impact on your heart by simply stroking your hair.

It still doesn’t completely rid the self-deprecating thoughts from clawing at the back of your mind, tearing open deep wounds that leave you feeling raw and vulnerable. You feel far too exposed to the fearless warrior and oftentimes find yourself closing in on yourself to prevent him from getting inside your mind.

Today, however, your thoughts are relatively calm and you chalk it up to a surprisingly short and uneventful shift at the infirmary, a rare occurrence that leaves you feeling unusually content and energized. Deciding to make the most of the extra energy, you had made your way to the marketplace to get more ration bars and look at the prices on fresh fruit, though you had been slightly disappointed to find the usual vendor had been sold out of their stock.

Feeling only slightly dejected, you had made your way back to the infirmary where you thought the Mandalorian might be waiting for you in his usual spot and you hadn’t even realized your disappointment from earlier had immediately disappeared upon spotting the familiar glimmer of moonlight beaming down on a dark blue helmet.

You don’t even realize he has that effect on you.

He had been waiting for you and you wondered if there were nights where he arrived at the infirmary hours before the end of your shift and he simply doesn’t mind the long wait.

Though he had been a little confused and surprised that you had gotten out of work earlier than usual, you think it must have put him in a better mood as well, noting that your smile actually met your eyes for once. After greeting you with a gentle headbutt of his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one--something you assumed was a typical Mandalorian greeting they did with everyone--your companion had seemed content to guide you away from the village and far away from your broken home.

Noting that the night sky was incredibly clear and the full moon seemed brighter and larger than usual, he had chosen to take you to a region of the barren lands where flora grew and ponds had somehow naturally formed over time. It’s located in a rocky crater on a steep cliff side, but tame waterfalls of all shapes and sizes surround the two of you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so much water in all of your years of living on the bleak planet.

You wonder how the Mandalorian seems to know of all these beautiful spots on a planet like Nevarro, though you’re certain previous years experience of traveling so much and providing for his tribe would give him a pretty decent mental map of the area surrounding his home.

Instead of asking, you had simply resigned to letting the Mandalorian guide you to a cozy spot, gathering a decent-sized log that you two could sit up against and you had watched with curious eyes as he easily set a small fire within the span of a few seconds.

You’re utterly content to curl against his side and watch the stars and moon that make for a lovely setting, along with the sound of the Mandalorian’s sweet baritone that speaks of his time spent traveling through the cosmos and different planets he’s visited in the past. You stare up at him with awe shimmering fiercely in your eyes when he describes the white ball of ice that’s Hoth, or how unbearably hot and deadly the Tatooine deserts had taken a toll on even him.

Then he speaks of mountain-sized trees and flowers even more massive than him and...

Maker, you hang onto every single word he uses to describe the planet of Felucia and how even he had been surprised by how vibrant and flourishing every living organism had been.

"Saviin'ika."

You don’t know what the syrupy-sweet word means in his sacred language, but you know it’s some sort of nickname he’s deemed you worthy of and your cheeks feel unbearably flushed every single time he utters it. You sometimes find yourself repeating it quietly when you’re alone, thinking the foreign word sounds prettier rolling off the tip of his tongue and through his crackly modulator.

But tonight...

"Mesh'la... Mesh’la... Mesh’la"

He seems to only utter the pretty word during intimate moments when he's comforting you or when you reluctantly confess your fears and secrets to him, but tonight… well, he says the word four times within the span of an hour and it certainly has you feeling curious as to what he could possibly be calling you. He mostly breathes out the word in the form of a sigh when he chances a cursory glance down at your wide-eyed features as he describes different flowers and plants, as though he’s just as infatuated with you as you are by his whimsical stories.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The way he says it so naturally, as though he’s replacing your other nickname with a new one has you feeling achingly curious, like a moth to a flame, though you trust the Mandalorian not to burn you. You think your more affected by the way he breathes out the foreign word in such an adoring tone than the thought of seeing such a wondrous sight of flowers towering over the massive warrior.

Normally you don’t care much of what others think of you, but something about the fondness and devotion that he somehow manages to convey through a modulated voice and a two-syllable word has your mind racing at what he could possibly be implying.

A large fingertip suddenly grazes the purple and blue flowers you had strategically placed in the thick braid wrapped around your crown the previous morning and you find it hard to focus on the constellations that shimmer and flicker vividly in the night sky, your attention fixed solely on the Mandalorian that sits impossibly close at your side. You can smell his clean, spicy scent that subtly seeps through the cracks of his thick blue armor and you think that Mandalorians in general must have good hygiene, what with how much they must sweat underneath all of that armor. It’s an attractive trait that not many men seem to be capable of--or rather, are simply too lazy to take care of themselves--and you wonder if the comforting scent will linger on your own clothes after being wrapped up in his cape for so long.

“You’re quiet tonight,” He observes with a hum, still seeming entranced by your elegant braids that are a little frizzy from the short flight earlier, “Is something wrong, mesh’la?”

You hesitate a little, but you trust him enough to know he will not make fun of you, “I want to know more about Mandalorian culture, but I do not want to offend you or your people.”

He cocks his head as he continues to smooth unruly baby hairs from your forehead, “What is it you want to know? You already know about our helmets, so I’m certain nothing you ask could offend me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shiver when you feel the blunt tips of his nails lightly scratch around where your braid tugs at your scalp, "Is your language sacred? Are outsiders not allowed to learn it?"

His hand hesitates against your tender scalp and you wonder what’s running through his mind as you force yourself to avoid his intense gaze, though you find yourself drawn to it at the same time. You wonder if he’s regarding your beloved flowers with admiration or curiosity, though something tells you that it’s both as he idly plucks a pretty violet from its unlikely home in your thick braid. You find it impressive that such a fearless warrior can possess such tenderness towards something as delicate as a little flower and you suddenly wish it was your cheek or your neck he was caressing, rather than one of your beloved violets.

"Others are allowed to learn it," He finally answers as he observes the vibrant flower closely, "There are even books written in the language. Why do you ask?"

You let out a little huff as he gently twirls the stem of the flower between the rough pads of his thumb and index finger; you can tell he’s purposely ignoring your pointed gaze, "You call me all these names in your language, but I have no idea what they mean. You are not insulting me, are you, Mandalorian?"

"I would never dream of insulting you, little nurse," He grunts, sounding a little bashful as he most likely tries to think of all the ways he can dance around this topic, "Saviin'ika means violet. I only call you that because of the flowers you always put in your hair."

Something about the terseness of his voice makes you think there's more to it, but you shyly drop your tone and your head when you speak up again, barely peering up at him through your lashes, "And mesh'la? You’ve been calling me that since the night you first brought me to the cave."

He freezes, still staring down at the flower he stole from your braid and you can't stop yourself from grinning like a sly loth cat when you realize you've caught the Mandalorian red-handed. When he stubbornly refuses to give you an answer, you decide to take matters into your own hands and force yourself to stop smiling at this new discovery, not wanting him to feel embarrassed over something you think to be sweet.

"Please, look at me," You murmur and he is quick to obey, his visor landing either on your flushed face or the slight shift in your throat as you swallow thickly, "I-Is it a compliment?"

"It…" He clears his throat a little and you remain impossibly patient as the Mandalorian collects his thoughts, "It is what I think of when I see you, or what you must think when you look up at the stars."

You think of all the words you would typically use to describe the sky on a clear night like this one and can't possibly fathom someone seeing you the same way. You can’t imagine him looking at you and seeing supernovas and the vibrant swirls of galaxies in your own eyes; you find it hard to believe that anyone could perceive you as ethereal or fascinating. The Mandalorian must be jesting with you, trying to make you feel better about how hard you are on yourself, though you’ve never known him to be a liar.

Could someone truly believe you to be celestial like the stars that beckon you and cause an achy, longing feeling in your chest at night?

You shake your head a little, "Please do not make fun of me, Mandalorian. I could take it from anyone else, but not from you."

"I would never," He repeats, his voice dropping lower and more gruff, though you hear something more desperate in his tone, "I would never lie when I tell you how pretty I think you are and I would break the bones of anyone who would think it funny to insult you."

“You cannot solve everything with violence, silly man.”

He scoffs, forgetting entirely about the flower he’d robbed you of, “For you? sure I can.”

You move your hand to tuck a stray curl behind the curve of your ear, cheeks burning something fierce as he dutifully envelopes your hand in his much larger one, using the other to assume the task of taming your long hair and finishing it off by placing the flower he’d borrowed behind your ear. A soft exhale deflates your chest when you feel the rough pad of his index finger grazing the shell of your cartilage and you find yourself focusing on the geometric shape in the center of his cuirass instead. Your hand falls out of his and you tuck it next to your other between your thighs in a feeble attempt to keep the warm and from wringing together in a nervous fashion.

"You said that word means what I think when I look up at the stars, but what if I find the stars or these waterfalls to be more than pretty or beautiful? What if I could not think of a word to properly describe what I feel when I see the sky on a night like this one? Or how the moonlight looks when it reflects off your visor and armor?"

His fingers swiftly move to the bottom of your earlobe and you think he must be amused by how hot the flesh is there, no doubt burning his own rough skin. You may have caused him to grow slightly flustered, but he certainly has you beat in this lovely competition where you think there would not be any losers, only two blushing souls that don’t know how to properly display their feelings. If your last comment about the moonlight affected him at all, he certainly doesn’t let it show in his strong, steady hands or his deep baritone.

“Then I guess Mandalorians need a better word to describe someone or something that is more than beautiful--for what you see when you look at the stars and when I look at you. Perhaps someone should make revisions to the language and use you as inspiration to come up with something more fitting, mesh’la.”

You’re not sure why the emotionless gaze of his shiny visor makes you feel intoxicated and lightheaded, but you find yourself growing flushed whenever the Mandalorian lowers his helmet and cocks it to the side to get a better look at your face. He huffs out a small chuckle when you press your palms to your burning cheeks and you’re sure that your heart is about to leap right out of your chest and straight into your Mandalorian’s warm palm. You’re certain you would trust him not to crush it in a tight fist, especially after witnessing the utter caution he had displayed to not accidentally rip the petals or bruise the stem of something that he was well aware of that was so precious to you.

You think that perhaps the Mandalorian already holds your heart in his hand and while the startling thought should absolutely terrify you, it fills you with a tender warmth.

As if it’s not enough that you feel like you’re about to combust, the Mandalorian seals the deal as he gently pries your hands from your cheeks and replaces them with his own; the stark contrast in size and warmth makes you feel as though you’ve stolen his jetpack and are floating high in the night sky. He urges you to tilt your head to the side and upwards to peer up at his emotionless visor and you shiver when one of his hands slowly slides down the side of your exposed neck. Something about the way the moonlight and glittering stars that hang high above you and how it emphasizes the dull color of his blue-gray armor has you squirming around a little bit.

"Is your skin always this warm, or is it because of what I said?"

If you weren't so flustered, you would have laughed at the question; you are certain he is being sly and cocky with you and you pray that you won’t spontaneously combust into flames, "Don't tease me, Mandalorian, you know what you're doing to me. I think you’ve known since that night you carried me home and played with my hair."

You hate that your voice comes out as a shaky sigh--a dreamy little noise that has the blue warrior grunting and bringing your face closer to him. It seems to be something he absolutely adores, having you this close to him and you think it must be something he takes advantage of because he hasn’t experienced it before. You wonder how often he has the chance to take off his thick leather gloves to feel the warmth of another and selfishly, you hope that you are the only one he’s touched like this in a while.

"Do I? I don't think I know what I do to you, would you care to explain, mesh'la?" Judging by his light tone, you think he must be grinning underneath that blue bucket and when you anxiously bring your lower lip between your teeth, he’s swift to untuck it with the rough pad of his thumb, "Or should I keep teasing you? I can play with your hair again, if that’s what you really want?”

Your cheeks puff out against his palms and you squirm a little, though he keeps you firmly in place, still stroking the valley just underneath your lip, "You can do whatever you wish, Mandalorian, I would prefer to not see the weight of your ego crush you though."

A loud laugh drifts past his crackly modulator and you think the sound is lovelier than the loud waterfalls that surround the two of you, "I am pretty strong, I think I could handle the weight."

You shake your head at the confidence he exudes, though your cheeks still burn as you banter playfully with him and let him continue to tenderly hold you head however he pleases, “Men like you are all bark and no bite.”

“I can assure you that my bite is just as strong as my bark, mesh’la--or would you prefer to feel it firsthand?”

“Kriff,” You roll your eyes at him and though you try your hardest to appear exasperated with him, you can’t stop the smile that stretches your lips, “You’re insufferable when you get this cocky.”

“Something makes me think you like it,” His voice drops into a cool, deep rasp and you’re extremely aware of the way his thumb dips to the hollow of your throat before skimming along your collarbone, lightly pushing his cape out of the way, “You would tell me to stop if you were ever uncomfortable, wouldn’t you?”

You quickly steel your nerves as he continues to explore your shoulders the skin exposed just above the collar of your dress, “I mean, I haven’t stabbed you yet with the vibroblade you gave me, so I would say you’re good so far, Mandalorian.”

Risking a curious glance up at your aloof companion, your cheeks and earlobes instantly feel like burning coals when you realize his visor is pointed directly at your face and though you would never wish to intentionally disrespect his creed, you yearn to know how his eyes look whenever he decides to gaze upon you. Are his eyes just as expressive as he insists yours are? Do the corners crinkle whenever he laughs or smiles at your silly antics or when you sass him? Do they shimmer with sadness or shame whenever he discovers a new bruise, cut, or scar on your abused skin?

You think of dark eyes, glimmering ferociously with wrath and pain, rather than pity, because you refuse to believe the Mandalorian pities you.

You ponder all these questions deeply as you stare into the abyss of his visor, though you think the way the moonlight reflects off of it is just as lovely of a sight that you’re certain his eyes are. Though you long to see him all hours of the day, you think that the subtle glow of the moonlight bathing his dull blue armor in a soft, pearlescent shimmer makes for a better, more comfortable setting, rather than bleak gray skies that make the world around you so dreary.

A soft sigh leaves you and your chest deflates when his thumb grazes your brow; he almost seems fixated on a certain spot as he continues to stroke the soft little hairs at the end of the tail.

"You have a little scar here,” He observes with a small hum and he sounds thoughtful as his thumb ventures downwards to your cheekbone; you’re afraid that if you move in the slightest, he’ll pull his hand away, so you stay perfectly still as he traces the map of your face like he’s the best explorer in the galaxy.

“I got it as a child,” You inform him, lips twitching into a tiny smile when his thumb skims past the bridge of your nose, tickling the tip a little, “We used to have a tree in our backyard that I would always climb even though my mother told me not to. She was always so worried about me getting hurt, but you know how children are--they never listen and always go against their parents’ wishes. I loved climbing that tree though. It always made me feel like I was on top of the world and could do anything.”

You must have a fond or wistful expression etched on your face, because the Mandalorian breathes out a funny noise when you continue with your story, “I don’t remember how old I was, maybe seven or eight? But I had climbed as high as I could in that tree--higher than ever before--and I was so proud of myself. I remember how pretty the sunset looked from that high up and how the stars seemed a little closer, just like right now on top of this cliff. It was so peaceful and then--” Your cheeks nearly hurt from how much you’re smiling, because even though you had gotten hurt at the time, looking back on it now, it’s more amusing than anything, “A bird landed right next to me and scared me half to death.”

You’re not sure how it’s possible to feel judgment from an emotionless mask, but the Mandalorian manages to exude such energy as he shakes his helmet a little, “You… You fell out of a tree?”

“Yup,” You giggle a little when he continues to shake his head, “Face first into a rock. My parents were so upset with me and I remember forcing myself not to cry when my mother stitched up the wound because I didn’t want her to point out that I had been hurt because I disobeyed them.”

“Did you climb the tree after that?”

The nostalgia suddenly leaves you feeling a little melancholic and you shift your attention down to your hands that are tucked politely between your thighs. You hope he doesn’t sense your sadness, though you think he must, what with the way the pressure against your jaw line lightens and how he tenderly grazes a thumb to the corner of your lips.

“My father cut it down the next day.”

His fingers twitch against your flushed skin and though you know it upsets him whenever you mention anything having to do with your father and how you are nothing more than a prisoner in a world so bleak and unforgiving, you find solace and comfort in confessing your fears and sad thoughts to the Mandalorian. You’ve never owned the luxury of being able to openly display your vulnerability in front of another, but with him, you feel as though you can bare your soul and perhaps one day, the rest of your scars etched in your skin and your heart.

“Then maybe one day, I will cut him down as well.”

His terse words sound like a promise and you feel a little sick at how the thought of your father’s demise fills you with hope.

“He is my father,” You remind both the Mandalorian and yourself, still refusing to meet his Beskar gaze, “He is family.”

“No, mesh’la,” He drops his helmet and you shiver from the cold press of metal against your forehead; his hand drops to your waist and lightly squeezes it, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood. I would make him suffer, just as you have your entire life because of him. I would make him feel your pain.”

You close your eyes as the metal warms underneath your skin and you hesitantly bring a hand up to touch his blue cheek, “I would not ask you of that, Mandalorian--to do such a thing.”

He grunts and pulls you in a little closer, “Why’s that?”

“Because I do not want to believe you are capable of doing what he has done to me.”

His hand instantly freezes on your cheek upon hearing your quiet sentiment and you fear that you've said something bad or offensive, though you think it's not that. Perhaps having such a notorious reputation of his people being brutes or savages has him believing it to be true, though you don't think being ruthless or fearless should automatically equate to being recognized as a cruel human being.

You’ve seen his kindness firsthand and you’re certain that his anger and need for vengeance comes from a good place in his soft heart.

With a sad smile, you carefully sling your legs over one of his padded thighs and fold yourself closer against his side, shivering a little when a cold breeze wafts past the two of you; he’s dutiful to tug his cape tighter around you and you think you could stay like that for however long the Maker will let you live.

His fingers are splayed wide against your side, his thumb rubbing haphazard shapes against your bruised ribs, though the pressure is deliberately light and more of a tickle than anything else. You turn your head until it's situated comfortably between the inside of his bicep and his cuirass, just above where you hope his heart is beating just as frantically as yours.

"I would feel ashamed for you to see me that way," You swear you hear his natural voice underneath the lip of his helmet and you shudder when his hand lazily slides to the base of your spine, "But if I ever saw him and he… if he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me," Goosebumps rise on your covered arms and you're not sure if it's from his promise or the way his fingers drag tortuously slow up your back, "I understand you do not wish for more violence and I respect that, but I do not know how much longer I could let this go on."

You let out a deep exhale when his hand promptly lands on your hip and gives it a firm squeeze, "You worry far too much for me, Mandalorian."

"I do not worry nearly enough for you, saviin'ika," He sighs when you move your head to peer up at him through the thick abundance of your lashes, "If I did, he would have been a dead man that day you stitched me up and he talked to you that way. I would burn that whole fucking village to the ground if… if you were taken away from me. I would do anything for you.”

“I--” You feel speechless at how raw he’s being with you, confessing what you think is a fear that he’s veiled with a threatening promise, “You haven’t known me that long and you…?”

His free hand moves to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath hitches when he feels your erratic pulse thrumming underneath his rough fingertips, “I know your heart, mesh’la--I knew what kind of person you were from the moment you offered me that salve and didn’t expect anything in return. I know that…” He makes a funny noise upon noticing the way you shiver when he slowly drags his hand up the column of your neck, “I know that I think about you more than I think about anyone else and that every time I try to sleep, all I can think of is your smile and those flowers you always put in your braids. Sometimes I swear I can smell them in your hair, but I must be imagining it for my own selfish purposes--it’s too sweet of a scent.”

When you speak, it’s a breathy whisper that barely reaches the bottom of his shiny visor, fogging it up a little, “Mandalorian…”

“You were scared of me that night--after you stitched me up and I followed you out of the infirmary,” He remembers and even though it was only over a month ago, you feel as though you’ve know him for far longer; that night feels like it took place lifetimes ago, “Before I told you that I wanted to walk you home, you thought I was going to hurt you and I never cared about scaring others before, but you--”

You struggle to blink away the tears in your eyes as he spills his heart out to you, something that you’re certain can’t be an easy feat when he’s spent so much of his life covered in metal that disguises what he’s truly feeling, but you remain silent as he continues.

“I made you cry and I didn’t like it, that I made you feel that way when I could tell it was something you were used to feeling so much--that kind of fear and dread,” He sighs, a grave sounding noise, and shakes his helmet at the memory, as if it’s something that constantly haunts him, “I don’t want you to feel sad when you’re with me; I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want you to feel safe and... and cared for.”

“The only reason I feared you at first is because I was a naive fool that chose to listen to the rumors about your people,” You remind him, not happy with how distraught he sounds as he recalls your unfortunate first meeting and how badly you he had caused you such fear with his mere presence, “I knew what kind of man you were the moment you gave me your vibroblade to protect myself with.”

He steadily holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backwards so you’re forced to look directly into his visor where you think his eyes fondly peer down at you, “And what kind of man is that, little nurse?”

You are very much aware of the close proximity between you two, your legs still draped over his thigh and his heavy arm wrapped firmly around your waist to prevent you from escaping, though you think you would never attempt such a feat.

Not when he’s warming you from the inside out.

“An honorable man who’s deathly loyal to the ones he cares for and deems worthy of his affections.”

He thoughtfully gazes at you for a few moments, thumb steadily swiping and exploring the soft angles and valleys of your jaw line, “Do you think I deem you worthy of my affections?”

“I am not sure if I would deserve something so precious,” You admit in a breathy whisper, “But maybe someday I will allow myself to believe myself worthy of such a thing.”

He grunts and shakes his helm, “You are worth so much more, mesh’la, so much more.”

He sounds like he’s being genuine and utterly serious, so you give him a shy smile and nod a little, not trusting your voice at the moment.

You think he must not experience skin contact often, what with the way his rough fingers always trace your cheeks or jaw line when you two are alone, but you find that you don't mind his curious hands one bit and you think him to be endearing. Any time his bare fingers graze your skin, you think it to be similar to a child’s curiosity, as though he’s experiencing something astounding for the first time ever and you pray that he never tires of the sensation, especially when you crave it so badly.

Maker, do you crave the rough warmth of his fingers against any part of you.

“For a big grouchy Mandalorian, you’re not too terrible with words.”

You're sitting so close to him that you hear an amused snort from underneath his helmet and your smirk instantly turns into a grin when he retorts with a tug of your earlobe, though it's not enough to cause any discomfort. After getting to know him a little better in the last week, you find it endearing that the Mandalorian seems more confident when it comes to touching you, no longer treating you like some sort of fragile ornament. When he occasionally touches your neck, his fingers are no longer a ghost of a touch, and as though it’s instinct to constantly comfort you, he uses a firmer pressure to melt the knots and aches away, rather than hesitant, light touches he had been giving you during your first few initial meetings.

Now, he seems to constantly seek close contact, whether he’s wearing gloves or not, and you certainly won’t deny him such a small request.

It’s not like you absolutely crave it--a comforting squeeze of your nape or the way he holds you close when he's using his jetpack and carrying you to the cave. You think of the way he barely nudges you with his shoulder or when he playfully tugs your earlobe whenever you jest around with him, or how determined his hands are when they map out the slopes and valleys of your face and neck.

Then there's the way he always touches your hair so fondly--always with a bare hand and you think that perhaps he's afraid that his gloves are too dirty and he's afraid of somehow soiling your usually unruly mane. Perhaps he just prefers to feel the soft locks against his skin and it's because of that presumption alone that you find yourself carefully combing out the knots in your hair more often, though you think it wouldn't matter to the warrior if your hair was a tangled mess all the time.

It's definitely not something you constantly daydream about when you find yourself miserable at work, or when you're unable to give into exhaustion at the end of the day. At first, you attempt to not think about the heavy-infantry warrior and the effect his mere presence has on you, but at some point about halfway through the week, you decided to simply give up and allow yourself a small semblance of hope and warmth.

"You have to be at the infirmary soon," He eventually sighs when the sun begins to barely rise over the horizon and you swear you hear guilt laced within his deep baritone; you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, "I didn't mean to keep you up all night, saviin’ika. You could have been sleeping instead."

You smile fondly at the Mandalorian and tightly squeeze his hand, "I haven't been sleeping all that well lately, so I would much prefer to spend my time with you, rather than tossing and turning in my bed all night. Besides, it's been a while since I've seen the sunrise."

“Nevarro’s sunrises and sunsets aren’t that exciting or something to look forward to.”

You huff, "All sunrises are exciting, Mandalorian."

He hums and pulls you closer into an affectionate embrace; you think that without all the armor, it would be far easier to melt against him and stay trapped within the safety of his arms forever. You find that the times he chooses to hold you close is the only time you forget about your broken home and the two souls that haunt it--one full of despair and longing and the other filled with violence and rage.

You think of the Mandalorian, someone who comes from a tribe of fearless warriors that are astonishingly loyal to one another, and you understand why the nature of your situation upsets him so much. The little ones, foundling or blood, are the key to the Mandalorian existence and are all cherished and respected amongst all the adults, so of course any of his people would be horrified at the thought of intentionally hurting a child.

It’s for that reason that you constantly remind your Mandalorian that you are not a child, but an adult that has no control over their situation.

That being said, you selfishly allow yourself to think of a better life whenever he holds you or caresses your cheeks and hair--a life where you are far away from Nevarro and all of the cruel people that cause it to fester so terribly. You greedily think of a life with your blue Mandalorian on one of the many beautiful planets that he had previously described to you in great detail and it nearly forces tears into your eyes.

Only when your chest aches is when you remind yourself that it’s a foolish dream--a childish one that most likely won’t ever come to fruition.

You’re not sure how long the Mandalorian will choose to brighten up your bleak days, though having him here with you in this moment is enough to give you hope. He's already shown you that not everything on this planet is terrible and perhaps your future isn't as set in stone as you initially thought.

"I should take you back," He sounds disgruntled as the sun starts to turn the dark blue sky into shades of dull pinks and oranges, though there's a thin layer of fog that distorts what would have been a lovely view, "That way you can at least get a little sleep before work."

"You're one to talk," You petulantly argue, though he seems to know you well enough to understand you're being lighthearted with him, "I'm starting to think you don't ever sleep."

He scoffs a little and playfully squeezes your hip, "I nap sometimes.”

You frown as you reluctantly pull yourself away from the warmth of his embrace, already feeling colder as you slowly stand and try to shake the pins and needles from your feet. Holding out a hand for the Mandalorian to take, you grunt a little as you struggle to help him up, though he ends up doing most of the work, no doubt amused by your dramatic noises. You think the armor must add at least over twenty pounds and that’s not even including his heavy weapons and equipment, which must weigh twice as much.

You take one last look at the sunrise and the beautiful waterfalls as the Mandalorian straps his jetpack to his back; even though the waterfalls aren't nearly as massive about the ones you've read about in books, you think them to be no less breathtaking.

It's far more beautiful than anything your own mind could hope to conjure and as you observe the way the lengthy streams of water that cascades wildly off the edge of the slightly larger cliff twenty or so feet behind you and your companion, you wish you could burn the image into your mind for the rest of your days.

"Mesh'la," The Mandalorian's soft baritone pulls you from your wistful thoughts and you turn to him with a small smile, tucking his cape around your head in a protective manner so your flowers won’t get lost mid-flight, "You ready?"

"Yes, thank you for taking me here," Your smile grows when he offers you a hand that is now unfortunately clad in leather once again, his weapons and equipment all in place as well, “Perhaps we can come back someday.”

He easily tugs you into an embrace that is only slightly awkward because of the Beskar shell that protects him from a world that seems to despise his kind. Without the armor, you think that he’d give the most comforting hugs, what with his massive stature and big arms, though you’re willing to take what you can get from him.

“I would bring you back here or to the cave any night you wish.”

You huff and firmly wrap your arms around his neck as he takes off without giving you any warning, a small squeak leaving you and you’re certain he’s amused by the way his shoulders shake a little. His other hand comes up to the back of your head to keep his cape in place and you think he must be as protective of your flowers--if not more--than you are.

“Any night? Those are dangerous words, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles a little and rolls his helmet to the side when your fingers unconsciously dig into his nape, just underneath the lip of his helmet where fabric is bunched up, “You could ask me to take you to the cave every single night and I would happily do it if it meant I got to hold you like this all the time.”

You’re grateful that you can hide your flushed face against the crook of his neck, though you decide to muster up enough courage in an attempt to cause a reaction from him, “You don’t need the jetpack in order to hold me like this.”

His metal cheek bumps a little against your bare one as he struggles to get a good look at the bashful expression etched on your face and you shyly shift in his arms so you can lift your head and peer at him. You imagine a man flustered underneath all that armor, smiling so large that his cheeks hurt or perhaps his skin burning just as hotly as yours had earlier when he had been hellbent on making you accept your beauty and worth.

You wonder if the Mandalorian would be as open and flirty with you if his heart was buried so deep underneath layers or padding and Beskar, where he was easily able to conceal his fears or insecurities and you think it must be easy for him.

“Yeah?” The Mandalorian interrupts your thoughts when he lightly nudges the hollow of his blue cheek against yours again, though it somehow seems much more tender this time, as if he’s calmed himself, “And what if I want more? I can be a selfish man sometimes, saviin’ika.”

You conceal your smile against the lighter blue patch in the hollowed metal, trying your hardest not to giggle like a child with a crush on someone that you know you can’t have. The gritty nature of his low baritone makes something warm expand in the pit of your stomach and you know it’s no longer because of the weightless feeling of flying high in the sky with your Mandalorian, but rather the promise of his words.

You think he sounds just as longing as you feel for something you convinced yourself long ago that you were undeserving of and you wonder if he’s dreamed about this as long as you have.

“Then perhaps that makes two of us,” You whisper, continuing when you hear him grunt a little, “I know you think me to selfless and pure, but I have wants and dreams as well, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything at the small drop in your tone, but the way he squeezes your hip tells you everything you need to know as he expertly makes his way back to the village that is barely starting to come alive in the early hours. He lands on the outskirts of the village, taking great care to make sure you don’t collapse, as your legs always feel so numb and wobbly after he carries you, and dread courses through your veins when you eventually see the infirmary in the distance.

“Saviin’ika,” The blue warrior gently grabs your wrists, keeping you from taking another step forward, though his grip is light and tender, leather thumbs grazing the insides of your wrists, “I cannot go any further, but I had a really nice night. I... I want to keep seeing you.”

You cock your head at how he suddenly sounds a little tense and shy, but you give him a small smile and nod a little; the moment feels a tiny bit awkward, like two souls that don’t know how to properly say goodbye after such a lovely date, “I had a nice night as well. I expect you to keep that promise of taking me to the cave or the waterfalls whenever I wish, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles at your playful, yet demanding tone, reluctantly accepting the cape that you briefly thought about stealing from him just so you wouldn’t forget his scent, “Of course, mesh’la. I would not be able to deny you anything at this point, I think, nor would I want to.”

“You spoil me,” You blush, sheepishly turning your gaze away from him, “Yet I do nothing for you.”

He scoffs, shaking his helm at you and he sounds exasperated when he speaks, “You give me far more than you know. I... I’ll see you later?”

The cockiness in his deep baritone is gone and suddenly replaced with something more bashful and endearing, almost as though he’s intimidated by you.

“I’ll be here, as usual.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I would never lie to you,” You answer with a fond grin, watching as the warrior turns to take his leave; in your usual fashion, you’re quick to stop him, a playful expression etched along your features, “Mandalorian, wait!”

He faces you once more and his body seems to straighten up a little when he sees you plucking sapphire and violet wildflowers from your braids with the same grace he’d display upon fighting an enemy.

The blue Mandalorian cocks his head to the side, no doubt confused as you bundle the pretty flowers together before making your way over to him with a nervous energy surrounding you. You pray to the Maker that he doesn’t perceive you as ridiculous or childish as you grab his hand and pull it towards you with purpose and excitement. He gives absolutely no struggle when you flip the appendage over and unfurl his fingers from the loose fist he seems to constantly have them hooked into when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“What are you--?”

His voice almost sounds panicked as you place the tiny bouquet in his palm and push it back towards him with a huge grin stretched across your lips, cheeks burning as he shifts his attention multiple times from the flowers to you. It’s such a simple gesture, but you can tell it’s thrown the normally unbothered Mandalorian completely off his axis and you find him utterly endearing as he shakes his head and attempts to give them back to you.

“These are your flowers, saviin’ika. I would not take something so precious from you.”

“I have so many in my office and at home, Mandalorian,” You gently push his hand away once more and step a little closer to him, never removing your hand from his, “Besides, it is the least I can do for all you have done for me--always taking me away from the village and being so kind to me. The blue flowers are Lobelias and they have healing properties for respiratory ailments, should anything happen to anyone in your tribe and you are not able to bring them to me. The violets are good for soothing salves and are very anti-inflammatory; I’m sure they would be helpful for bruising or swelling.

He stares intensely at you and shakes his helmet a little, “You don’t have to... are you sure?”

“I know you said it is your duty to provide for your tribe and it seems as though you are lacking nurses and medical supplies; it would be an honor if you accepted my flowers, though I fear it is not as effective as bacta,” You grow a little shy when he remains deathly silent and you fear that you’ve offended him somehow, “Besides, you said earlier that sometimes you think you can sometimes smell them from under your helmet, so now you can find out for yourself when you are alone and able to take your helmet off.”

His tone is one you’ve never heard and it has you reaching up to touch his blue cheek as he speaks in a strained tone, foregoing all nicknames he’s bestowed upon you to utter your real name, though you think you much prefer how fond he sounds when he calls you ‘saviin’ika’.

“I think I would much prefer to smell them while they’re still in your hair.”

You think he’s just trying to cover up the shift in his attitude with a flirty comment and his personality must be rubbing off on you, because you are quick and coy to reply.

“Then perhaps one day you will.”

“Th-Thank you,” His baritone is a coarse rasp and you beam at him a little brighter because you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so grateful for something so simple; he lowers his helm and firmly presses his forehead to yours, though he keeps it there for several longing moments, a leather palm cupping your nape to keep you in place, “I will tell the others what you did--that you wished to help us. I think they would appreciate knowing that there are others that care.”

“I am glad. I cannot imagine being hated just for the armor you wear or your reputation,” You murmur, dropping your hand and watching as he gingerly tucks the bundle of flowers into the large pouch attached to his hip, taking great caution so he doesn’t crush the petals; your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as he pulls out tiny daggers and other belongings from the pouch so they won’t bring any harm to his newest, most fragile possessions, “The nodes are attached to flowers as well, so if you wish to plant them, they will be easy to re-grow.”

He huffs out a small chuckle, “Our kind are forced to live in sewers. We don’t get any sunlight underground, little nurse. Besides, I am not nearly as talented of a gardener as you.”

“They would grow just as well with artificial light, Mandalorian, and they are extremely easy to take care of,” You say, matter-of-factly, with a sly smile and quirked brows as he cocks his helmet to closely regard you, “Though I would not mind giving you more, regardless of what you do with the ones I have given you.”

“That would… it would be nice,” He admits quietly and you grin at your companion, earning you an exasperated shake of the helmet from him, “You are far too kind."

“After everything you have done for me--the hope and happiness you have filled me with--it is the least I can do. I would give you every flower I’ve ever grown if you asked.”

He hesitates as he reaches back into the pouch to retrieve one of your many beloved violets, stepping closer to tuck it securely behind the cartilage of your ear with great care, “It would be unfair and cruel to leave you with not a single flower in your hair, mesh’la. I would not allow anyone to rob you of your only possessions, especially not myself.”

You’re beaming up at him like a love-struck fool and he must be distracted as much as you are, because neither one of you sense the furious gaze that’s fixated on the two of you from down the street.

He leaves you with his usual parting words, “Take care of yourself, little nurse.”

“You as well, Mandalorian.”

Despite your promise, the Mandalorian does not see you later that night.

Saviin’ika= Little violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat

For the love of God, if I missed anyone, please send me an angry message and I will quickly add you :( I have a notebook where I keep track of everything, but I’m still terrified I’m going to forget someone and I absolutely do not want that bc I love you all so much <3

Anyways, I know this chapter was literally 99% fluff/hurt/comfort with a freaking cliffhanger (I am so sorry) But I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The support and love you all have given me so far has been so encouraging and I’ve been having so much fun writing this soft ass story!!

#paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian #my writing #y'all know this big blue bitch went straight back to the enclave #and ripped his helmet off to smell the flowers #every night is date night with these 2 idiots #oml

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