#and then they’ll be like oh yeah I’ll get you their number

[icarryitin]

Hell Hath No Fury

spencer reid/gn!reader

THE CANYOUNIVERSE RETURNS FROM WAR🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: a couple of swears, ya boy gets anthraxed bc we’re getting into canon events now, Foreshadowing™️ (is it foreshadowing if i’ve already posted the part that’s foreshadowed??)

summary: Spencer forgets to use his brain (again), puts his life on the line (again), and it’s down to you to remind him (again).

“I’ve got Reid on the line for you.”

Something about the way Penelope’s voice trips over his name makes your blood run cold. It’s not unusual for her to pass someone over, but it’s different this time - you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, you.”

Spencer barely manages to suppress a cough as he greets you over the line, and that’s how you know you’re right. God, you hate being right.

His exposure is minimal.

We can’t be sure it’s the new strain.

He dosed up with the rest of us.

You know why your team leader decided not to tell you just how bad it is but oh, Hotch is getting an earful when this is over - and he’s not the only one. Because while you’re quietly seething, while the remainder of your lunch is rolling around in your stomach, Spencer Reid is asking if you’ll check in on his mother for him. Just in case anything happens. Yeah, like you’d let it. The universe, God, whatever forces that be? They’ll have to go through you first if they want to get to him.

“I don’t think you get a dying wish if you’re not actively dying.” You sound braver than you feel, phone firmly held to your ear as you slide behind the wheel of your car. Nichol’s address isn’t far from here, Emily and Rossi can handle whatever lies within Chad Brown’s house by themselves. You have bigger fish to fry.

Fish that have a penchant for throwing themselves in front of bullets and unsubs and into anthrax riddled houses.

“But you’ll do it?” He asks, choking back yet another hacking cough that sets your teeth on edge. Of course you will, it’s a ridiculous question. You’ll call and you’ll visit and you’ll write, what’s another letter in the mail after every case anyway?

“Obviously I’ll do it,” Your eye roll is audible, you’re sure of it, “But you’re not dying, Spencer.”

You don’t say goodbye before hanging up, because you don’t need to. Because he’s going to be fine. Of course he is, frankly he’s got no choice in the matter. Even if the number of hazmat trucks at Nichols’ house sends your heart leaping into your throat.

“Respectfully, sir,” You call across the lawn the moment you’re out of the car, squinting in the sun, “You’re full of shit.”

Hotch’s face doesn’t move, but you’ve been at this long enough to register his tell. A split second twitch of his fingers grasped around his phone - he meant well, keeping the severity of the situation from you, most likely because he knew you’d drop everything. And here you are anyway, so much for his genius plan.

Speaking of genius…

You follow the trail of CDC officers, suited and booted from top to tail in PPE around you, through the maze of tents until you spot Derek - arms folded, signature eyebrows furrowed in frustration at whoever stands behind the flimsy plastic shield. As if you didn’t already know.

Spencer Reid looks reminiscent of a kicked puppy on a good day, and getting hosed down in a hazmat tent does him no favours in that department. Soaked to the bone and shivering, the state of him does nothing to quell your frustration at his actions. If anything, it starts to boil over because - well, doesn’t he know? That you’d only feel like half a person without him beside you at the round table or in the bullpen? That the early Sunday morning breakfasts keep you sane? That he’s your best friend in the world and if anything, anything, ever happened to him you wouldn’t know how to exist?

“You,” You’re breathless, suddenly, in the face of it all, “Are fucking in for it.”

He has the decency to shrink back a little from the heat of your anger and the accusatory finger you’re pointing at him, even though there’s a layer of protective plastic between you. Even Derek takes a step away from where you’ve sidled up beside him. And you let rip.

Because, for the smartest guy in every room, how could he be so stupid? Walking into a place that is almost definitely poisoned with no protective equipment is basically step one of the ‘How To Die Immediately, For Dummies’ handbook. Staying in that place is even more ridiculous.

Spencer’s relief in seeing you outweighs the anxiety tensing his muscles, even if you are bussing with the fury of a poked wasp’s nest, even if it is his fault. The very real possibility that he might have finally signed his own death warrant is softened by the sight of you, warped as it might be through the tent’s window. He finds the water warmer, the brushes softer, the incessant scrubbing gentler, just by watching you. Even your yelling is reassuring, because it means he’s not dead yet. He gets to watch you a little longer. He’s not so far gone that he misses the sunlight catching in your eyes as you rant and rave at him. It isn’t the first time you’ve struck him as beautiful, and it won’t be the last, but it doesn’t paralyse him anymore. He’s long since come to terms with that fact, Although, the thought might be a little misguided given your anger at his poor decision making.

But it’s not anger, it’s fear.

The same kind of fear that grips his heart in cold hands every time you end up on the wrong side of a gun, it’s not unfamiliar. Although Spencer’s never been on the receiving end of it from you. The fear of a loss that might be just too great to overcome, amongst all the others. You’ve mentioned, in passing, the friends that have moved on or married or simply faded away in the years you’ve been with the Bureau - it’s not uncommon, the job becomes a person’s whole life and anyone who claims otherwise is a liar. He knows it as well as anyone. You have each other, you have the team, they’re your family as much as they are his and - a nudge at his shoulder breaks his reverie.

“Can we talk about this later? I need, uh,” He struggles, there’s no way to put it delicately, “They need to scrub me down properly.”

“Well I’m not finished, so start stripping, Doctor.”

It’s his race against time versus your stone cold fury - unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Because you’re not budging, just standing there expectantly with your arms folded over your chest. Morgan breaks the stalemate after a long minute of eye contact, hands on your shoulders, steering you away with a meet you at the hospital thrown over his shoulder at Spencer. Ever the mediator.

“That was a bit dramatic, I know.”

“A bit?” Derek exclaims, and you spare yourself the embarrassment of looking him in the eye.

You’re not sure how you manage to blag your way out of the final takedown, but you do. An argument made for having a presence at the hospital, making sure the victims have received the suspected antidote, that it’s working; you decide to leave out the fact that the only thing your brain is capable of right now is wondering if Spencer is choking to death yet.

Hotch finds you after it all, sitting on a bench in the hall outside Spencer’s room. Feet tapping nervously on the floor, you’d slipped out as the doctor came in to check his numbers - you made it in the front door, you’re pretty sure you’ll be forgiven for missing out on all the needle sticking. You’re trying to collect your thoughts enough to articulate a sentence, something calm and composed instead of the anger that almost boiled over earlier. And he waits, because he knows. There’s a lot of people in this world who have a lot to say about Aaron Hotchner, but not a single one of them can claim he doesn’t know his team inside out.

“I know why you downplayed things, but this team is my family. I don’t have anybody else,” you look him dead in the eye, unwavering, even though your words tremble ever so slightly, “And I will not be lied to about it.”

There’s a beat of silence; long enough for both of you to acknowledge that he can’t promise you anything, and then he relents.

“Understood.”

You leave him sitting on the bench, digesting your words in the hustle of the hallway, in favour of the uncomfortable armchair at Spencer’s bedside. Derek joins you after a little while, and you greet him with a soft smile as he settles into the chair on Spencer’s other side. One he returns, as he always does, and you settle back into the silence. It’s a waiting game now.

“There’s an ass kicking coming your way, I hope you know that.”

Spencer has barely opened his eyes when he hears your voice, floating somewhere to his left, over the steady beeping of machines and muffled chatter. The hospital, he’s at the hospital. He’s at the hospital, and you’re here, and Morgan’s here, because //of course// you are. Where else would either of you be?

“Can it wait until I’m out of here?” His voice is hoarse at first, but it’s enough to get a giggle out of both his visitors.

“Well yeah,” You couldn’t keep the fond smile off of your face if you tried, relieved that his sense of humour has made it through intact, “I want a fair fight.

if you’ve stuck around for my 3 months of radio silence, i am kissing you on the mouth🧡🧡🧡

[wewontbesleeping]

ugh it’s sooo annoying trying to find a new person to buy weed from. I can’t wait until dispensaries open here so I don’t have to do the whole social interaction thing anymore lol

[suguru-getos]

“they’ll kill you!” — “can they?”

satosugu x reader — cnc

warnings: cnc!, degradation, prone!bone, doggy, use of toys, clamps, spreader, spankings. aftercare <3 pls note that it’s not beta’d there might be typos xx 💋

you were tired as you returned from work, footsteps dragging across from the stairs to finally reach the bedroom of the sato-sugu estate. this was the least thrilling bit of your day, no one was home. satoru was busy with a mission & suguru was outside — doing you don’t know what. you don’t question the morality of your husband number two. you’ve learnt to let him be in his element, just like satoru.

opening the refrigerator, you found satoru’s mochi, suguru’s favorite soup & a little bit of leftovers from the morning lunch prepared by the chef. they’re also on leave & at this point you’re conflicted between using the ordering in app in your phone, or cooking something for yourself. a grunt escapes you as you weigh down the options and settle down on the marvelous wood sculpted chair of the dining table. scrolling aimlessly through the various restaurants to get something that you desire. fucking hell! why is ordering food such a daunting task! when satoru and suguru return, you’d bother them & be clingy endlessly just cause you miss their brainless bickering. satoru would be just as aimless like you, fumbling through the menu and debating on what to order… suguru would have the same thing eaten on repeat. so much so that it annoys the both of you.

speaking of — it goes without saying how many ‘enemies’ your husbands have. one is a special grade sorcerer, the other is a bloody cult leader. both of them jacked & bagged with heaps of copius amounts of money & status in their own ways. you’re their silly little wife, someone capable of becoming a sorcerer, someone who could see curses and cursed spirits, yet choosing a life like nanami kento. a life away from the wretched world of sorcery.

a thud, takes your attention away from your phone a bit. who could it be? there are cats in the estate which are regularly fed, it could be your son (your cat that you and your husbands cherish equally). you roll your eyes and go back to checking the menu. fuck this, if you don’t have any ideas on what to order, you will order some spicy cheesy ramen & get go with your day.

after placing the order, you dragged yourself to the bathroom to take a shower, it would be better before bed after all, sleeping in plush clean pillows and letting your body heat come down as the cold water would drench your worries away.

your phone vibrated before you could take another step to the bedroom, it was suguru, “oh hey…” you chirped, smiling over the phone. “hey darling, reached home?” he sounds cheerful, mostly when he hears your voice of course. you’ve noticed suguru talks to you in the most gentlest of ways; enough to sound patronising at times. you know its not his intention though… “yeah, just reached home. when are you n’ toru coming?” you pouted over the speaker, and he chuckled. “give me an hour or two and i’ll be right there, next to my beautiful angel. mm?” you gnaw at your lip, nodding gently, the realization coming later that he can’t really ‘see’ your response and you hummed, “yeah, come soon to me mkay?”

where were you again? ah… the shower…

the doorbell rang, your eyes instantly mingling with the lit screen of your watch as you turned your wrist. jeez, it had only been 15 minutes or so since you ordered, the food is here so soon? you checked your phone, and the order was still showing ‘preparing’ status. weird… who could it be?

you walked towards the entrance, and the knock was more powerful, almost angry sounding & impatient. “who’s there?” you raised a brow, sighing a little to gather your patience and also your wits.

no answer…

then, the door was knocked off the hinges, you shrieked almost, walking backwards and pupils moving in fear. what was even happening? there were two men, one of them had bangs and the other white haired and scary looking. he smirked, walking closer to you and holding your face instantly, squeezing your cheeks into a forced pucker. “dumb little thing can’t even open a door? jeez?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

the dude with bangs held his shoulder, a knowing, close-eyed smile. “leave it be, she must be their weakling of a wife, gojo.”

he nodded, “weakling indeed, look at how she’s cowering.” he chuckled, leaning in and licking a fat strip of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear. you wince, struggling and trying hard to push him away. “SWOP IT!” you whined, the grip on your cheek turning harder and making it difficult to sound coherent.

“swop it!” gojo mimicks you, pushing you a little as he lets you go. “ we were here to steal the cursed tools but we might as well do some cursed thingys, no?” he snickered, and you shake your head, nauseated as your heart raced and you leaned back, unlucky enough to be stopped by a wall.

“m-my husbands- will be home soon… if you really care about your lives then leave!” you sounded as intimidating as possible, trying so hard to evade the bone crushing anxiety that the two powerful men were giving. “of course, we’d be gone by then.” the man with bangs replied, ignoring you and looking around. “nice house, your husbands don’t care about you enough it seems, why else would they leave their little wife alone in such a looming, large place?”

“shut up! even if you leave they’d hunt you down and they’d find you! suguru can deploy curses that are exceptional in hunting people down.” you only have your husbands and their skills to protect you right now. “did you hear that geto? she’s so mouthy and has such an attitude, damn!”

“about time we show her the world isn’t a good place… also, with a body like that? she’s practically asking for it.” the black haired man — geto, chuckled, rolling his eyes and walking closer.

your mind was hazy by now, and all you could see was the corridor to make a run to. you do exactly that, and how stupid— it took gojo exactly four steps to catch up to you by your hair and chuckle at your screaming. “let me go! let me go!” you winced, letting your feet dragged back to the couch. “would be fun to ruin her at this point.” geto hums, crossing his arms & smirking at the way you shake your head no, pleading almost.

“in the same bed her bastard husbands make sweet sweet love to her.” gojo chuckles, “aww, don’t look at us like thaatt? i’m sure they would understand that boobs like that would get ya into trouble.” gojo winked, smirking.

“ass, too.” geto added, smirking gently.

“piss off and die, rot in hell and fucking die!” you snarled, tearing up at the way they talked about you. “can’t handle them mouthy tell ya that.” gojo sounded almost feigning apologetic, bringing out a handkerchief out from his pocket and holding both ends diagonally.

you were about to be gagged, terror seeped through your eyes as you shook your head. but geto was faster, immediately hindering all your resistance by keeping you locked. his hands quickly wrapping around your wrist and holding it behind your back, his legs wrapping around yours, spreading your thighs apart vulnerably.

"aw good one!" gojo comments, smirking and walking closer. "stop it, stop it right now!" you screeched, using your last chance to speak anything at all. gojo came closer, tying the handkerchief across the parting of your lips. only incoherent struggles and whines could escape you now.

"there we go, perfect little muzzled bitch." gojo chuckled, and you teared up at that statement, it was humiliating to have two men out here, having their way with you in the absence of your husbands. you hated the way it made you feel, how the proximity with geto was making your pelvis warm, and your insides... warm.

"she's crying... stop being so mean. maybe we can call satoru to help her? maybe he can coax and coddle her while we ruin her?" you widened your eyes at that insinuation, shaking your head no and muffled groans escaping you.

gojo chuckled, "aw, she wouldn't want that? why? scared they'd abandon you cause your insides changed shape to our cocks?" he smirked, "no worries sweetheart, we could hire you as our personal cocksleeve."

you glared at the man, not saying anything and saliva dribbling down your chin. "only if she's a good cocksleeve though" geto hums, shrugging. "don't get the special treatment if you're not good enough. or not tight enough."

"time to check!" gojo rubs his palms together, walking closer with eyes fucking you already. his hands are quick to rip off any clothing off of you, your cunt and your tits exposed to the two strangers and the cool air of the mansion.

it felt humiliating, all bare in front of two merciless, wolf like men who only want to ruin you. "would teach those two a lesson too, no?" geto mused and gojo nodded, "yeah, think they own the fuckin' world? now what? your wife knocked up by two strangers.."

"ruined, by two strangers." geto corrected gojo.

"ahhng- nn" you tried to manage to speak, unable to say anything coherent at all. only wiggling in resistance. you stop once you feel geto's semi nudge your ass though. this could do more harm than good.

"oh god she's grindin' already?" gojo smirked, walking closer and crossing his arms. "let's take her to the bedroom." they nodded, reaching that decision fast enough. when geto relents his hold on you, you're quick to hit his jaw with your head, feet landing aiming right at gojo's crotch. he holds your ankle and geto laughs, "couldn't even give me a nose-bleed, little one?"

you're the most terror-struck as you've ever been. you fucked up. pupils moving and heart racing. no way these two would let your silly little stunt go.

"she needs proper taming i'm telling you. like literally..." gojo laughs, almost looking impressed. "bend her over the couch."

"actually, i have a better plan" suguru muses, while your heart only gives out at the prospect of them discussing what to do with you. you hate how it's making you feel down there, and pretty sure they'd see that soon when your body betrays you.

gojo and geto only knowingly smile at each other, as if they were easily able to read the other's mind and they stride towards the bedroom. once you're placed on bed, this time gojo forces you on all fours, ignoring your whines and hand gripping your nape as he nails you to the bed. geto seems to be searching for toys you and your husbands indulge in from time to time.

he lets out an "aha!" when he finds them, smirking and taking out the clamps, the cuffs, the spreader, and the vibrator. your hands are cuffed behind your back and the spreader keeps your legs from closing. you are truly under their mercy now.

"mmgh mmf" you really wish you could do something, anything about it... "is that fucking cunt wet?" gojo is quick to dehumanize you for it, laughing. "don't tell me they've been pampering a slut as their wife?" it stings, his words sting and you close your eyes in disgust, a feeble attempt at closing your legs not gone unnoticed.

"why else would she be so embarrassed?" geto smirks. attaching the clamps to your nipples with some weights. satosugu have never tried the weights and the delicious tug on your tits only makes you whine more. he flicks the weights to let it jiggle like a pendulum and you cry out at the feeling. shuddering and whimpering at how your pussy clamps around nothing because of it.

"don't think this is enough, she needs proper punishment for trying to hit us." gojo scoffed, using the clamp right at your clit after testing it on his hand. you let out a surprised shriek, struggling with all your might against it, though you realize that would only worsen the ache in your tits. your pussy oozed out in your juices and fluttered as they bit your clit just right.

geto nods, slapping the fat of your bare ass with his hand, letting his handprint break out in a single hit. they really weren't playing around. every hit after that, makes you lurch forward, and makes the clamps wiggle and makes you cry out. gojo chuckles, watching your ass bruise with the spanking now. you lost count after ten, in your head, but you feel your mind float away, it's around 18 hits or so, that geto stops, when your whines and screams turn soft and dejected. when you give up.

you're so edged but the clamp on your clit wouldn't let you cum. "look at her, finally can't resist anymore?" he smirked, and upon not receiving a response, gojo tugs at your clit-clamp's chain a little. you cry out in pain, finally letting him remove the clamps altogether.

"yeah, finally someone's learnt how to behave." he smirked, and your whines turned into wheezing when the blood flow rushed back to your tits and clit, swathing you in a coughing fit as you choke on your spit. "oh jeez, calm down..." gojo scoffed, removing the gag from your mouth and watching the imprints of it on your face.

"you okay?" he's looking sympathetic and worried, and at the first chance of getting to speak again, you snap. "you're a fucking bastard with no manliness of your own, bet you don't even have a cock half as big as satoru"

he smirked again, chuckling and rolling his eyes. "the gag goes back on it seems." he looked at geto who shrugged, "no, let her scream when she realizes we're bigger and better than her husbands." before you could resist, you could feel the spread in your cunt lips from his fingers and the splitting apart sensation of his cock inside you.

crying out at the feeling, edged beyond belief, your cunt immediately hugs him down, his hand quick to un-do your cuffs and pulling you closer, letting your back collide against his chest as he drills your poor pussy apart, rutting without a single thread of restraint.

gojo only watches your breasts jiggle and jump at every thrust, leaning in and wrapping his warm mouth around the tortured, perked bud. his tongue languidly soothes over the bite mark of the clamp and he suckles, one hand pinching and kneading your tits to ensure the blood flow is back, the other rubbing circles at your clit. he undoes your spreader finally.

you moan like a whore indeed, this feels too good, you hate how good it feels and you despise how your senses are burning at this. the knot in your pelvis snaps and you gush all over geto's cock like a needy little girl, sending him reeling down also. you shake your head, the prospect of his warmth inside your cunt only makes you hate it further, "no- no no don't cum inside NO DON'T!" you cry out, shaking your head as his palm covers your mouth, muffling any cries as he churns your pussy by tucking and thrusting his load deeper.

you gasped and cried once geto finally comes to a halt. shoving you into a prone bone. "hey i'll take over, let her husbands discover a cum cocktail inside." gojo snickers, watching your body limping after the first orgasm as his cock shoves inside you easily, pistoning like a needy dog in a rut. the thrusts are powerful enough to feel like spanks of their own, and you only moan and whimper crudely; gritting your jaw at how amazing it feels and crumpling the mattress into your fists. this should not feel good... this should not feel this good. you're a cheater... your husbands would hate you.

"say what if they knew you had no problem cumming on our cocks?" geto chuckled watching you glance up at him teary eyed. "i hate this, i don't- AH" your sentences are reduced to moans already, and he chuckles.

the force on your tummy with the mattress nudged against it, and gojo's precise thrusts makes you twitch again. "uh uh... she's clamping again." he smirked at geto, "couldn't ask for permission from me, make sure she knows how to behave well now."

“we’ll just spank her swollen little clit this time around then” gojo smirked, and you widened your eyes in fear. your husbands long established that you only like it in a certain degree. these strangers knew nothing about you. you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “no- no- stop it.” before long, you we’re trying your best to squirm away from him, only getting locked in a headlock though, when gojo’s hand wrapped around your neck, arching your back.

“then ask for permission…” he laughs, only rutting deeper and more spitefully. your eyes are losing focus and you can sense your pelvis tightening, the familiar knot in your gut was about to snap again. “would rather fucking die!” you managed to put up a fight again, though your body betrays you again & you’re tipping off the edge. gojo’s timed thrusts against your gspot made you squirt a little. absolutely humiliating…

“oh oh not only did she came she fuckin’ squirted on another man’s cock? do you wanna be our hired cocksleeve that bad?” he muses, filling you up with his seed, his jaw muscles are tightened at the way your pussy takes him… while, you’re getting light headed with the headlock & the orgasm, eyes losing focus and mouth agape.

before your mind could register anything else, geto has you manhandled, holding your legs apart by hooking his arms under your knees and then holding your wrists as he gravely whispered, “told you to ask for permission, brat.”

“n- no no- no no no no no please please” you’re shaking your head, thrown off your post orgasm bliss instantly and shuddering, “no please please…”

“no please- please…” gojo mocks, slapping across your swollen cunt instantly. you cry out and wince, tearing up once again & reducing to weak sniffling. “no- no-” you resist and cry out.

he raises his hand again, feigning another hit and observing you flinch, close your eyes and look to the side, bracing. you look up when he doesn’t hit though…

“give me another orgasm on my cock since you’re so eager.” he hums, and your mind has just about had it. your body has had quite a ride filled with different emotions & a squirting orgasm. you shake your head no, biting my lip. “no.” you looked at gojo, and he raises a brow, “no?”

“no” you pouted, sniffling a little. “my husbands are coming soon, gonna kick your ass. they’ll kill you.”

“would they?” suguru hums, relenting his grip on your feet and your body, craddling you closer to him and leaning you against his chest, peppering your face with soft, tender kisses. you sniffle & nodded, “mm~ yeah…”

satoru sighs, pouting, “you okay? princess?” he’s shaking a little, hoping you don’t end up hating him. “you’re okay?” he asks again, pouty and looking like a kicked puppy. “i was so mouthy wasn’t i?” he’s about to spiral. “no it was so fun.” you snicker, looking at him with a huge grin. a huge wave of relief washes over his face as he pulls you from suguru, holding you plush and kissing all over your face, your lips, passionately running his hands through your hair.

“good girl, gosh you handled it so well.” he muses, suguru humming, kissing satoru’s forehead and yours. “my angel, you were so good you know that? we didn’t mean anything we said, you know that right?” he soothes over your ass. you nodded, “mm~ yeah, i know daddy.” you coo, kissing his cheek.

“good, good… fuck- never again!” satoru scoffs, pouting big and harsh. “i know he’d say that.” you chuckled and looked at suguru, who nodded, tight lipped. “uh… i second that.”

you nodded, you knew both of them were indulging only because you read a fanfiction of one of your favorite characters and wanted to try. “fine, fine… i’m the one who should behaved traumatized!” you chuckled, and they pout together.

“oh please i was about to break character so many times, i knew you would kick my ass so i didn’t.” suguru hums, nuzzling his nose against you. “OH YEAH SAME!” satoru dramatically yells, “when she coughed i was about to lose it oh gods no-”

“let’s take a shower…” you coax their conversation, kissing both their foreheads.

“alright…”

“i love you both.” you mumbled, loopy and so subby.

“we love you too!” they hummed together, kissing your cheek.

[bunnylovesani]

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: Your roommate Anakin will go to any lengths necessary to get close to you, even ones you don’t know about.

Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, somnophilia, dubcon/noncon, drugging, violence, oral sex, p in v sex

WC: 3.4k

Work had been wringing you dry lately- so much so that when you’d finally claw your way to bed in the evenings, not even a tornado could rouse you. Your roommate, Anakin Skywalker noticed this- as he noticed everything else. Your mannerisms, your daily schedule, and all your little habits and quirks were committed to memory.

His prolonged glances and lingering touches raised no alarm bells in your mind, putting it down to his affectionate and slightly odd disposition. Sure, he was a little peculiar but your Ani was one of your best friends- always thoughtful, always caring and always there.

On one particularly exhausting evening, you sighed heavily as you traipsed in through the front door of your shared apartment. You always wondered why Anakin had any use for a roommate considering his prestigious job and the doubtless wealth that came along with it- but you just assumed he had a proclivity for modesty.

“Tough day?” He called out as you dropped your bag by the door with a heavy thud and followed the sound of his voice.

“You don’t know the half of it.” You sighed, slumping down onto the kitchen chair as you observed Anakin cooking, dirtied apron clinging to his toned abdomen. “What’s on the menu?”

“Your favourite.” He replied calmly, tipping the pan over slightly to show you a thick steak swimming in herbal butter.

“Wow. That looks- but…I’ve never told you that steak is my favourite.” You furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him in confusion.

“Well of course you have, silly.” He chuckles dismissively.

“No, Ani, I’m sure I haven’t. Have I?” You question, trying to recall a conversation in which you revealed your favourite meal but nothing was coming to mind.

“What have they been doing to you in that office?” He shakes his head and tuts. “Around when we first moved in, you told me how your dad always made steak on special occasions and how you came to associate the meal with good news.”

“I did?” The story is true, though you can’t for the life of you remember saying it.

“How else could I possibly know?” He smiles calmly and you relax. This new workload must really be doing a number on you.

“It’s so nice of you to make dinner but I was kinda thinking of going straight to bed- the exhaustion is killing my appetite. I go to sleep early but I still don’t feel well-rested for some reason…” You ramble on as he puts the sizzling pan to the side and turns to face you, leaning on the kitchen counter with his usually intense glare.

“Why don’t you take a sleeping pill?” He cocks his head to the side and you contemplate his suggestion. “I’ve got some low-dose ones, they’ll knock you right out and you won’t even feel it- I’ll go get them for you.”

“Wait, Ani- I don’t know-“

“They won’t make you drowsy in the morning, I promise.” Before you can object, he’s returned with a shiny tab of small white pills and is pouring you a glass of water.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll do anything to get one good night’s sleep.” You sigh, popping one of the tablets out of their foil casing and swallowing. “They’re the low-dose ones, yeah?”

“That’s what I said.” He smiles, watching you knock back your last sip of water intently.

“Thank you. Oh, but the steak- I feel really bad-“

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll put it in the fridge, it’ll still be good tomorrow. You just go straight to bed.” He rests his calloused knuckles against the marble worktop, angry veins snaking up his smooth forearms.

“Really? You’re the best, Ani.” You rub his arm gratefully before wading over to your room, yawning.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He whispers once you’re out of earshot.

Just like he said he would, Anakin neatly put your dinner away, scrubbed the stove clean and did the dishes. Upon completion, he glanced at the ticking clock on the kitchen wall before swiping the tab of pills sitting on the counter and stuffing them back into their original packaging. Taking the box out of his pocket, he read the front of the pack: Diazepam- full strength.

Satisfied that enough time had passed, he walked over to your room and pressed his ear against the wooden door, waiting to hear signs you were sound asleep. Once he was happy with your soft snores and hums, he treaded the shaggy carpet and crept in.

You were swaddled in your covers and lying on your back, the teddy bear he bought you for your last birthday tucked lazily under your arm.

He stood there and admired you for a moment, heart warmed at how you cuddled his plushie every night without fail.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he approached the foot of your bed and cautiously peeled off your frilly duvet, leaving you exposed in your pink pyjama shorts and bralette. He’d seen it several times but the sight of your bare skin never failed to drive him wild; his self-control and morals flew out the window as soon as you were together like this- the cloudy stillness and quiet of your placid bedroom insulating you both from the outside world and its restrictions.

He reached out to lift your bralette, raising it just enough for your nipple to pop out and harden in the cool night air. His mouth watered at the sight, wanting so badly to lock his lips around it that his cock grew painfully hard and strained against his trousers.

Tracing his fingers down your hips, he hooked them around your little shorts and pulled on them gently, your cotton panties coming off with them.

He has to cover his mouth with an open palm to stop the groan from slipping out when he sees the glistening wetness nestled between your plush thighs.

“What are you dreaming about, princess?” He mutters as he rubs his thumbs against your inner thighs before carefully spreading them, ensuring your legs are wide open but comfortably supported by the surrounding pillows. He lowers himself so that he’s only a few inches away from your heat, taking in the glorious view before him.

He’d fallen in love the very moment he laid eyes on you- but he instantly got the sinking feeling that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. You saw him at most as a friend, a convenient guy to have around, a perfectly suitable roommate. He was under no illusions that you would ever requite his love- how could you when his feelings were so intense?

Deciding he couldn’t take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers, letting his heavy cock spring out and slap against his abdomen. Try as he may, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your lips, which fell into a pretty o shape as you peacefully snoozed. Some dribble gathered in the corner of your mouth and he couldn’t help but kneel and hover above you, staring. He needed to feel your lips on his cock.

Wrapping a hand around his veiny shaft, he pumped it with a couple of rough strokes before resting his blushed tip against your pink lips. The precum oozed out and smeared against your plump bottom lip, moistening it just enough for Anakin to slide his cockhead smoothly past it. He let out a soft moan as your mouth enveloped his throbbing cock, languid wet tongue brushing past it as he slowly glided in and out- the sight of his cock on your lips too much to bear.

Gently pushing his hips forward, he guided the tip to the back of your mouth, the ridged roof sending shivers down his spine. You moaned dreamily, the vibrations from your hums making his cock twitch. When you began to toss and turn, he quickly pulled out and took a step back- the thrill turning him on beyond belief.

Setting his sights on your unfurled legs, he creeps onto the bed and positions himself between them.

“What a pretty little pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief, knowing he has never before and would never again see anything so beautiful.

Pushing his swollen tip between your folds, he gathers your slick and coats his length in it as he glides along your slit- your thighs involuntarily contracting a little every time he brushes past your clit.

The pained expression on Anakin’s face was apparent- he had never gone this far before. His chest tightened at the thought of violating you in this new way, both out of guilt and excitement. He relieved himself of culpability by assuring himself it was okay- he loved you and was just taking care of you. It’d been a while since you’d been with anyone and your frustration had begun to show- what kind of friend would he be if he let you suffer like that?

Spreading your folds apart with his thumb and forefinger, he gathered a glob of spit and let it dribble from his lips to your entrance before smearing it messily with his cock.

Lining the leaky tip against your opening, he delicately pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch. Even though it feels like torture to deny himself, Anakin sets a meticulously slow pace, paranoia chasing him. His girthy cock plunged into your cunt, bullying it into submission with painfully laboured thrusts.

Anakin bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of your tiny hole being stretched to full capacity, clenching needily around his length. He took this as confirmation that you needed him just as much as he needed you, deluded into believing your desire was apparent with the way your pussy gripped him.

Your breathing sped up and your heart rate rose- your body’s attempt at rousing you- but still, you remained asleep.

Anakin couldn’t believe his luck- he had been dreaming about what it’d be like to be inside you and now that your warmth had finally enveloped him, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. He often scolded you for how naive you were but it was his favourite thing about you- the trust you felt for him was palpable in the way you gazed at him adoringly. The warm, wet comfort of your heat made him feel electric and he couldn’t help but want more- he wanted to lay hold of everything you had to give. He lifted you by the hips and impaled you onto his cock, forcing it even deeper until you were flush against him, the imprint of his member bulging through your lower stomach.

“Oh, baby…fuck.” He whimpered, barely above a whisper. “I wonder if you could take me this well when you’re awake.”

The room heated up with Anakin’s heavy breathing and your stuffy, sleepy moans. As roughly as he thought he could get away with, he pounded into you little by little, using your pussy like it was his to ruin. Your shared arousal gleamed in the dim moonlight, illuminating how his thick shaft disappeared into you with ease.

He tried not to grip your hips too roughly but with the way your pussy moulded around his cock like it was made for him, he couldn’t help but dig his fingernails into your flesh. The sight enraptured him so much that he didn’t even notice when your pretty eyes fluttered open, widening in shock.

The second your gazes met, he leapt to cover your mouth with his heavy palm.

“Don’t.” He breathed, crazed eyes daring you to scream just to show you what would happen.

You shook your head frantically, eyebrows swooping in distress.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” He continued thrusting into you, maintaining eye contact as he sunk his cock into your used-up pussy. You nodded hectically, wondering if you were still dreaming.

“Good, ‘cus I really wouldn’t wanna hurt you, baby.” He whined.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about waking you up, he could take you as roughly as he wanted. Stooping down to your chest, he popped a nipple into his mouth and sucked it forcefully, red marks streaking your breasts as he bit and drooled all over them.

“A-ani…what are you doing?” You cry out in utter disbelief after he releases the hand silencing you to knead your breast.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I jus’ couldn’t hold back anymore.” He moans as he brutally stuffs your pussy, the sound of lewd smacking reverberating around your cosy bedroom. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulls away from your chest, drool hanging off his swollen lips.

“But I’ll make it up to you, baby.” His voice falters as he slams his hips into you sharply. He’s so deep your entire body feels overwhelmingly full.

“Just let me use you.” His husky voice makes you break out into a flurry of goosebumps as you clench frightfully around his girthy cock.

“You understand, right?” He questions but his hand has already snaked its way back up to your mouth. All you can respond with are muffled cries and whimpers, hushed by his thick palm. “I know you do, you’re my good girl.”

You look down to observe the frenzied way in which Anakin shatters his cock into your tiny cunt, wetness dribbling down your thighs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“I’m gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum.” He growls to himself as beads of sweat roll down his forehead, blonde curls dampened.

“Nmmh!” You squeak, shaking your head in disapproval as best you could with the way he was restraining you.

“Oh yes I am. And you’re gonna love it.” He rolls his hips and sinks into you impossibly deep before pulling all the way out. “Look at that, doll. How are you so wet?” He gestures for you to look down at the way gloopy strands of arousal hang off his throbbing cock, the base soaked with your slick.

You observe with shock, writhing in confusion over how your body had betrayed you. You whine and sob as he slides back in, dragging you impossibly close to him as you claw at the pink sheets.

“Shh…I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he wraps his hands around your jaw, thumbs rubbing against your dampened cheeks comfortingly.

“I’m almost done, baby.” He rests his forehead against yours and you feel lightheaded from the sudden wave of body heat. His hands travel back down to your hips, raising your ass as he fucks up into you with dizzying speed.

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He mutters breathlessly. “I know you want to.”

You try to fight it but your back arches instinctively and your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cock stretches your aching pussy wide. He bottoms into you mercilessly and you feel as though you’re about to slip out of consciousness. With one last thrust, your body explodes into flames and the searingly pleasurable sensation travels to every last one of your nerves.

“That’s it, baby.” He speeds up, chasing his own high. “I knew you’d love my cock. Should’ve let me do this sooner.”

You pant as your heartbeat tries to regulate itself, sprawled and utterly fucked out. Anakin hovers above you, raising your thigh and pressing it against his chest as he ruts into you with feverish intensity. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he comes undone in a loud climax, throwing his head back as he shoots ropes of hot cum into your sore pussy.

Catching his breath, he shoots you a grin as he combs the messy curls out of his face, pulling his cock out and allowing the gloopy mess to run.

“Sorry about this, doll.” He shrugs before reaching for the lamp on your bedside table.

“Wait, Ani-“ You put your arm out but he pins it down by your side before knocking the metal base against your temple, rendering your whole world black.

The blinding light shining out of your bedroom window finally wakes you. You shield yourself from the sunny glare with an arm draped over your eyes, scrunching your face up when the pain radiating from your head suddenly hits you. Glancing over to the alarm clock on your bedside table, your heart almost jumps out of your throat. You were supposed to be at work hours ago yet here you still were, in your pyjamas and cosily tucked in.

You crawl out of bed as you try to piece together the broken fragments of your memory; did you forget to set the alarm? It must’ve been those sleeping pills Anakin gave you- so much for his promise that they wouldn’t make you drowsy. Before you can even reach the door, there’s a knock.

“Hey, you awake?” Anakin pops his head through and gives you a look of concern.

“Just woke up now. Somehow managed to completely sleep through the work day.” You shake your head, confusedly tapping at your bruised temple. “Those pills of yours have given me a killer migraine.”

“What? No, it can’t be from them- I’ve taken them a million times and never had any side effects.” He steps into the room and holds a flat palm up to your forehead. “Oh, honey. You’re burning up.”

“Am I?” You go to feel but he swats your hand away.

“You must have a fever.” He tuts. “Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll get you some painkillers for that poor head of yours?”

“I won’t be accepting any more drugs from you, thank you very much.” You laugh as you let him guide you back under your duvet.

“Completely understandable. My bad, doll.” He chuckles, folding in the edges of the blanket. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Get some rest.” He tries to take a step back but you instinctively grab onto his wrist.

“Wait.” You groan pathetically. “Can you stay with me for a little while?”

“Of course.” He flashes you that beaming smile of his and you’re struck by a sense of familiarity. He treads over to the other side of bed and joins you under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his chest.

“This is gonna sound strange, but…” Your mind races at a mile-a-minute as you come to grips with the sudden onset of images that have flooded your brain. “I think I might’ve dreamt about you.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “What was it about?”

You struggle to put the pieces together; all you can see is a hazy vision of Anakin between your legs, bullying his cock into you as you lay there helpless.

“I can’t even say, it’s so messed up.” You shake the thoughts away, a shiver running through you.

“Sounds more like a nightmare, doll.” He tucks an unruly piece of hair behind your ear. “But it wasn’t real. Just a dream.”

“I know. You’d never do anything like that.” You scoff assuredly and he kisses the top of your head. His gentle touch seizes your chest and you have to focus on regulating your breathing. He’d never guess it but you’d had a fervid crush on Anakin for as long as you’d known him.

“You’re safe here with me.” He brings you closer and you snuggle deeper into his chest, subtly inhaling his sweet, musky scent, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Now get some rest, darling.” He strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Mmm…love you, Ani.” You unknowingly slip out in a quiet hum before drifting off to sleep.

Anakin seizes up in shock at your admission, total surprise consuming him. You loved him? He couldn’t stop the wide grin from unfurling across his blissful face nor the way his heart leapt with joy from the two simple words. He hadn’t ever allowed himself to treat this as a possibility- it was an undisputed fact that you were too good for him and he never let himself be deluded into thinking otherwise. The elation he felt in holding you in that moment, knowing you wanted to be held back was beyond words.

But just as quickly as the ecstasy flooded his veins, the solemn realisation of his sins hit him like a hammer. A nauseating sense of guilt and regret crept up on him like a maggot into a rose, casting a dark shadow on any future you could’ve had.

What had he done?

Taglist:

@bearryyy @w0rsh1psells @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @emmalandry @slut4starwarssmut @ghostlycrystobalove @iamjustaholeforyousir @billy-stu-wh0re3 @mousie101-blog @sweetcheesecakesblog @bardotsmuse @doestalker @kentaviax @slut4ani @cultofsin

୨୧ If you want to be removed from the Taglist or only want to be tagged for certain fics, please let me know ! ୨୧

[d4yl1ghts]

stuck

mark sloan x shy, fem!reader

summary: you and mark get to know each other when you get stuck in an elevator

A/N- i feel like he would love star wars (not as much as bailey tho)? but this gives me such katniss and peeta vibes

-

You read the files that Doctor Shepherd had given you to take a look through because he thought his new patient may have some sort of problem with their heart and cardiology was your specialty. You were currently in the elevator, heading up to find an empty room to study your new case when the elevator suddenly came to a halt. Confusedly you glanced around and noticed Mark Sloan, the world’s number one man-whore was the only other person there.

He glanced up from his papers and made eye contact with you. “What happened?”, he questioned with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. This was the first time you’d heard him so nervous. “I think the elevator just broke.”, you sighed as the realisation just set in once you said it out loud. He huffed to himself. “Hopefully they’ll be able to fix it soon, I have a surgery in an hour.”, he stated, checking the time on his watch.

“Might as well get comfortable.”, he added as he fixed himself on the floor and placed his files beside him. You copied his actions and sat opposite him. “So, what case have you got there?”, he asked you, striking conversation. “Oh, just a new case Derek wanted me to check up on. What about you?”, you awkwardly asked as your cheeks blazed. “Just some boring charts of burn victims, I have to reconstruct their faces, arms and legs.”, he said. “Oh, lovely.”, you replied sarcastically.

You stared at the wall of the lift and zoned out into your own thoughts. It must have been around five minutes of silence before Mark started speaking again: “If we’re gonna be here for a while then we may as well get to know each other.”, he said, looking into your eyes. It wasn’t a bad idea, there was nothing else you could really do.

“Tell me three random facts about yourself. I’ll go first: I used to live in New York (I’m sure you’ve heard about that), my middle name is Everett and I love the Star Wars movies.”

“Uhm… this is actually hard to think about, hold on.”, you said, embarrassed. He chuckled slightly. “Okay, I hate posh restaurants, I also love the Star Wars movies and I have a pet cat named Jack.”

“Cool, why do you hate posh restaurants though?”, he questioned as he turned to you with amusement in his eyes. “They’re just so intimidating and I just generally don’t like the vibe of the, do you know what I mean? Also, they’re so overpriced like you could find some cosy place that sells nicer food for way cheaper.”, you said passionately. You did not like posh restaurants at all. “I get what you’re coming from to be honest. I always preferred a cute and little cafe opposed to a fancy restaurant.”, he reasoned.

“If I ever ask you out on a date, I guess I’ll know where to take you.”, he flirted which left your cheeks on fire, well that’s what it felt like anyway. “I’m not surprised everyone calls you a man-whore.”, you said as you ignored what he previously said. “That’s not my proudest nickname.”, he responded. “I want to change my nickname, I don’t want to be known as that anymore. I don’t want loads of hook-ups and flings, I want a real relationship.”

He gazed at you. “I swear we’re having a whole confession session here. Oh my God, it rhymed.”, he laughed to himself. You laughed along with him, he was pretty funny and cute. If you looked past his reputation, he was a nice guy.

After another fifteen minutes of talking and joking, firefighters had arrived and gotten the two of you out of the elevator. “Hey, Y/N, do you wanna hang out one day? Not in an elevator, of course.”, he asked you, almost anxiously as he awaited a response. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“I promise I won’t take you to a posh restaurant.”, he added as he walked away and charmingly smirked at you. You laughed to yourself and waved him off. “We can work out a date.”

[adrienneleclerc]

First Concert

Pairing: Keyboardist!Charles Leclerc x Reader, Singer!Lewis Hamilton x Reader, Bassist!Carlos Sainz x Reader, Drummer!Max Verstappen x Reader, Lead Guitarist!Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Y/N goes to her first “Just An Inchident” concert and surprisingly gains the attention of the band, every girl’s dream come true

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: let me know if you want Y/N to date ALL OF THEM or date one band member and be friends with the rest of the band.

Y/N was on Ticketmaster and so was her friend, Penelope, on her computer.

“Any luck?” Y/N asked.

“Nada.” Penelope replied.

“Come on, we’re literally number 741 on the queue, they’re going to be sold out by the time we get through.” Y/N said.

“Okay, I’m 384.” Penelope said and Y/N shuts her laptop, moving closer to Penelope. “Get me my credit card.”

“On it.” Y/N goes to look in her purse. “What number are we now?”

“193.” Penelope said.

“We are so close.” Y/N said, bringing Penelope the card she wanted.

“I’m in!!! What seat do you want?” Penelope asked.

“Whats the closest and most affordable?” Y/N asked.

“You think we can afford floor seats?” Penelope asked. “There’s a few available.”

“Yes! Get it, get it, get it! I’ll pay you back, work extra shifts!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Alright, chill, I put them in my cart. Ticket insurance?” Penelope asked and Y/N nodded. “I got it! It’s done! We are going to see Just An Inchident this October!”

“Ah, Im so excited!!” Y/N said. “You are the best bestie ever.” She hugs Penelope

“I know. Should we recreate an outfit from their music videos?” Penelope asked.

“Which music video? It could be from ‘daydream’, that’s a great song.”

“You just like it because Charles sings it.”

“I mean yes but it’s a really good song, you had it on repeat when it first came out.” Y/N said.

“I know, I know. But I wonder what made them decide to finally do a North American tour.” Penelope said.

“Well they’ve been together for 5 years, they’ve been doing European tours all the time, maybe they finally realized they had American fans.” Y/N suggested.

It is October, the band is doing a sound check

“You think we’ll be playing more American venues?” Lando asked.

“If this tour goes well, I freaking hope so.” Max said.

“We’re playing Madison Square Garden, I still can’t believe it.” Lewis said.

“Actually we sold out Madison Square Garden if you wanted to get technical.” Max explained.

“Mate, you really need to stop maxplaining.” Carlos said.

“When do the doors open again?” Charles asked.

“At 7, we still have time for everything. With what song do you want to open with?” Lewis asked.

“I think a good opener needs to be a crowd favorite but a little nostalgic, you know?” Lando said.

“How about ‘Preacher Man’ (the driver era), it is one of our songs that was number one of the billboard 100 for a few weeks, that’s a definite American crowd favorite.” Charles commented,

“Lando sings that song though.” Lewis said.

“Well we can’t open up with ‘Meddle About’ (Chase Atlantic) now Can we?” Charles asked.

“You’re right.” Lewis said.

“Great, now that that’s settled, let’s go over the rest of the setlist.” Max says.

Y/N and Penelope are waiting outside of Madison Square Garden with outfits inspired by their favorite’s red carpet look

“Ah, It’s almost time!” Penelope said excitedly

“I know!! I wonder what they’ll sing first.” Y/N said. “Do we have enough money to buy merch when we get in?”

“Yeah of course.” Penelope responded. The security guard opened the door to Madison square garden and everyone started walking in, opening their bags for security, they went to the merch table to see what’s available and bought matching t-shirts. They went to their seats.

“Oh my gosh, we are so close to the stage.” Y/N said.

“Ugh, I know, it’s insane.” Penelope said. Half an hour later, the lights went out and everyone started screaming once they heard Max on the drums.

“It’s happening!” Y/N screamed.

Spotlight hit Max who was on the drums, hen another spotlight landed on Lando as he plays guitar, another on Carlos as he plays bass, then Charles on his keyboard, altogether playing the music of ‘Preacher Man’, lastly Lewis is lifted on a platform (think of the Hannah Montana movie), the music stops.

“Whats up, New York City!” Lewis said and the crowd goes wild. “We are ‘Just an Inchident’, thank you for coming! It’s always been my dream to perform in Madison Square Garden and now I’m living it.”

“We are very grateful for our American fans, it means so much to us that you like our music.” Lando said.

“We hope we’ll keep coming back here and performing for you guys.” Charles said.

“We hope you enjoy the show!” Max says.

“I guarantee you it’s worth the money.” Carlos said, Lewis picked up another rhythmic guitar while Lando stepped closer to the mic stand so he could sing.

“Hey, Mr. Preacher Man, I've been playing with a heart like a violin, I've been stumbling through the door after 6:00 a.m., fix my soul so I don't lose a love again” Lando sang into the mic. The crowd was loving it, 45 minutes in, there’s a little intermission where the band talks to the crowd

“You guys enjoying yourselves?” Lewis asked, the crowd cheered. “Okay, where them girls at?” The women cheered loudly. “Alright, who came here with their boyfriend?” Women cheered less. “Who’s single?” Women cheered loudly again. “Now one of you lucky single ladies, if you came with your boyfriend, I am so sorry, are going to be selected to pick our next song.” The camera connected to the screens chose Y/N. The boys looked at the screen behind them, she was beautiful. “Alright darling, come closer to the stage.

“Oh my god, go.” Penelope pushed Y/N lightly because she stood frozen. Y/N walked slowly to the stage, Lewis kneeled down so he could get closer to Y/N, he admired her beauty up close.

“Whats your name, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, handing her the microphone.

“Y/N.” She replied

“That’s a beautiful name, what song would you like us to perform?” Lewis asked.

“Well my favorite song is Daydream but Friends would be great.” Y/N replied.

“Well I’ll tell you what, Y/N, we’ll perform both.” Lewis winked at her before getting back up. “How does that sound?” The crowd cheered, Y/N walked back to her seat. “Thanks for participating darling.” The concert continued, as promised, Charles sung Daydreams, Lewis sung Friends, an hour and a half later, the concert finished, Penelope and Y/N were going to leave but they were stopped by security.

“Ladies, you need to come with me.” The guard said and Penelope immediately put her hands up

“I swear I did not do anything.” Penelope said and Y/N elbowed her.

“We’re not getting arrested, right?” Y/N asked, looking at the guard.

“Of course you’re not, just follow me.” The guard said and the girls were escorted backstage and met the band, a fan’s dream come true.

"Oh my gosh, this is insane." Penelope said.

"Hey girls, what did you think of the concert?" Charles asked.

"It was absolutely amazing, the light changes to macth the aesthetic of the song, the way you sung Daydreams is also amazing, i never knew how great that song sounds live." Y/N said and Charles smiled at her.

"How about you, darling? What was your favorite part of the concert?" Lando asked Penelope.

"You singing When You Need A Man, my all time favorite song." Penelope answered.

"Before you girls leave, we should take photos." Carlos spoke up.

"Great! Heres my phone." Y/N unlocked her phone and went to the camera, asking the secuirty guard if he could take the photo, which he did, then they took individual selfies, and the girls left, saying goodbye.

"She seems nice." Max said.

"Yeah, she's beautiful too, my favorite venue we played by far." Lewis said.

"When do we leave New York?" Carlos asked.

"We're staying a few days to go on 'Good Morning America', but i am beat, I just want a pizza." Lando said.

"Yeah, we'll get a pizza and head over to my apartment." Lewis said.

"Great, lets go." Charles said.

Y/N and Penelope got to their apartment and both girls posted their concert photos, the meet and greet, and clips of them performing their favorite songs, tagging the band and the individual members on Instagram. The next day, Y/N woke up with notifications that Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen have followed her on Instagram. Y/N was smiling and Penelope was making breakfast for them.

"What's got you all smiley?" Penelope asked.

"No, nothing, what are we having?" Y/N asked

The End

Hope y’all liked it, I am so very sorry if the buildup was better than the actual fic, tell me if you want Y/N to date all of the band members or just one member

Taglist: @the-holy-trinity-l @ourlifeforchaos @weekendlusting @marekmybeloved @always-spaced-out @dark-night-sky-99 @tribbisweetdear @iangelofmusic @mrsmelinda @shadowyinfluencercloud @bountychanti @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @jazzyanneblogzzz @anotheranotherblogwoah

Setlist: the bands are chosen for each person based on vibe

Preacher Era -The Driver Era (Lando) Wires - The Neighborhood (Max) Valentine - Maneskin (Charles) Meddle About - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Arabella - The Artic Monkeys (Lewis) Swim - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Did You Have Your Fun - R5 (Lando) Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood (Max) Smooth Operator - Sade (Carlos) Supermodel - Maneskin (Charles) Okay - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Perfect Sense - Artic Monkeys (Lewis) Daydreams - We Three (Charles) Prey - The Neighborhood (Max) Friends - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Snap Out Of It - The Artic Monkeys (Lewis) Heaven Angel - The Driver Era (Lando) Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood (Max) Fear of Nobody - Maneskin (Charles) i Wanna Be Yours - Artic Monkeys (Lewis) HER - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Subeme La Radio - Enrique Iglesias (Carlos) {PARA MI GENTE LATINA} When You Need a Man - The Driver Era (Lando) Right Here - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) One for the Road - Artic Monkeys (Lewis) Feel You Now - The Driver Era (Lando) Baby Said - Maneskin (Charles) Void - The Neighborhood (Max) Knee Socks - Artic Monkeys (Lewis) OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Timezone - Maneskin (Charles) Compass - The Neighbourhood (Max) Welcome to the End of Your Life - The Driver Era (Lando) R U Mine? - Artic Monkeys (Leiws) The Walls - Chase Atlantic (Lewis) Own My Mind - Maneskin (Charles) Reflections - The Neighborhood (Max) A Kiss - The Driver Era (Lando)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the dead ringer

buttercup, chapter three

a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!

summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing

word count: 2057

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be. 

“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”

Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter. 

“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”

“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly. 

But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest. 

As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”

Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”

“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.” 

“That sounds amazing.”

“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”

“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin. 

“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...” 

A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”

“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head. 

“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”

“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled. 

“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”

“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.  

“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers. 

You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours. 

When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek. 

One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame. 

His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.” 

In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.

Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.

Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home. 

Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door. 

“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side. 

Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?” 

There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied. 

Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”

Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you. 

“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor. 

You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.

Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain. 

When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success. 

Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you. 

When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”

Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt. 

Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder. 

Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”

Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off. 

Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more. 

Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”

“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”

Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”

Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”

Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder. 

As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away. 

When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before. 

“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”

“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze. 

“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted. 

“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…” 

After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands. 

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him. 

“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles. 

You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — two

part one | part two | part three

summary — peter invites her to his hockey game, and shocker, she shows up.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimer — i do not own peter parker/marvel. marvel pls don’t sue me for making peter sexier 🙏

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

Stark Memorial Rink was a lot more crowded than she remembered. To be fair, when she was there two days ago, it was during a closed practice. Now it was loud, crowded, and filled with the blaring noise of the patrons and loudspeakers.

“What are our seats again?” MJ asked, hanging off her arm with a big, goofy smile. She was dressed in an Empire State University sweatshirt—‘I have to show my school pride’, she said. Sure, that was the reason.

“Section one hundred ten, Row C, seats four and five,” she replied, her voice near robotic.

“Y’know, you can at least pretend to be excited,” MJ teased. “I’ll buy you a soft pretzel if you act like you’re having fun.”

“Woo-hoo. Yippee. Hooray,” she said monotonously, a small grin curling on her lips.

“Come on,” a whine leaves MJ’s lips, “This is cool! It’s not just any game, this is the tournament—like, national. If they win this, they’ll make it down to eight teams. Eight teams!”

“And your sudden love of hockey spawned on its own, right?” She raised a brow at her friend’s words, “Not because of some sweaty guy who likes to ice skate?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” MJ mumbled in reply, though her eyes softened a bit, a smile adorning her painted lips. They shuffled through the crowds of people with some struggle, but eventually made it to section one hundred ten.

When she was there days ago, she hadn’t quite paid attention to the format of the seats. The assumption, though, was that they flowed in alphabetical order, making Row Z the one closest to the plexiglass. They slipped towards the steps, ready to descend just a few stairs when they looked down. A big, yellow ‘Z’ was right under their feet. That meant–

“Oh, my God.” Her voice was more like a whisper than anything.

“You said Row C, right?” MJ asked, her eyes glued to the letter.

“Row C,” she confirmed, sucking her teeth. Was it even possible? Okay, sure, this was just a university game, but this game was a big deal. The place was insanely crowded. How could he just give away seats that close to the glass?

“Well, let’s go,” MJ interrupted her train of thought, tugging her arm to follow her. One, two, three, four…they descended lower and lower until the sound of ice scraping along the skates of those practicing was louder than the buzz of the crowd. Their seats gave them a perfect view right behind the net. Purple and black jerseys whizzed by in a flurry of sticks and pucks and ice shaving off the ground. They say for a minute, soaking up the reality of where they were before MJ let out a cough.

“So, Kitty, soft pretzel?” She glanced over with a smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed, already popping up from her seat. Shuffling back to the stairs, her gaze was pulled back to the rink where she caught a flash of a neon purple ‘13’ zipping by the glass. Hazel eyes settled upon her through the brackets of the helmet—but only for one second. One small ounce of time in which their eyes connected like laser beams. And then he was gone again, and so was she.

“I’ll get you a slushie, too, if you do a little cheering,” MJ’s voice pulled her back.

“Extra large?” She raised a brow in return.

“Whatever size you want,” MJ beamed.

By the time they were back to their seats, the game was almost starting. The National Anthem was sung by a local high school talent. The team introductions flew by (MJ, of course, screaming for Harry). When number thirteen, Peter Parker, Empire State Lightning Bolts Team Captain was introduced, the thunder of feet pounding on the floor rang through the stadium. He slid across the ice in an oddly graceful fashion. He was sort of gangly, and the bulk of the uniform provided a strange juxtaposition, but his movements were clean and precise, more like a figure skater than a hockey player.

“Look at that, number thirteen,” MJ giggled into her ear, receiving a smack on the arm for her laughter.

“I have eyes, I can see.” Was her grumbled response.

The game was intense. They were single-round eliminations, meaning that if ESU lost this, they were out of the tournament. Pennbrook, in their glossy green jerseys, were just as vicious. The net in front of them was the home side first, so they were able to see every goal that was blocked, and inevitably the ones that slipped through. What seemed to (begrudgingly) stand out the most, though, was Peter.

He was aggressive. At first, she thought it was just excitement, or anger, or some irrational emotion that sent him flying across the ice and ramming into people. But the face under the helmet was always calm. Cold, even. Every outburst was a precise calculation. Yes, he was combative, but it was never out of his control. Nothing was out of his control, not even when the puck went skidding across the ice on the other side. It took him seconds to cross the rink and swoop in for quick saves. Time seemed to flash by. The buzzer signaled the end of the first period, and the teams skated back to their respective sides.

“It’s not that bad, right?” MJ nudged her, sucking down the last of her blue raspberry slushie.

“I’m definitely viewing something,” she responded in a sarcastic tone. MJ groaned, nudging her as she collected their empty cups and discarded napkins.

“Keep up the good attitude,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue as she went to throw away the trash.

The second period was similar to the first: high tensions, high testosterone. By the third period, the score was 4-5 with Pennbrook taking the lead. It was, of course, only a momentary lead. A play by Harry and Miles tied them up again, and then a swift shot by Zack got them the lead. Pennbrook’s number ‘36’ had been on Peter’s ass nearly the entire game. He was always so close that half of the ice shavings on Peter’s ankles were probably from him. But it hadn’t been anything more than a chase until Peter brought the score up to 7-5.

The movement was quick, but not nearly as unnoticeable as he likely intended. While sliding behind the net, 36’s elbow came up to check Peter. He was probably aiming for his shoulder, but everything just came out wrong: Peter turned his head toward 36, 36’s elbow jabbed at an awkward angle, and the hit ended up slamming into Peter’s face.

Her breath caught in her throat. When he turned back to the plexiglass, blood was dripping down his chin. He’d been clipped just right so that his lip busted against the hard plastic of the mouthguard. Resounding ‘boos’ sounded through the stadium, but the sounds fell deaf on her ears as she watched Peter throw off his glove and swipe the blood from his skin. It was like she could see the gears turning in his head. Hit, blood, fight. He looked to 36, ready to raise his bloodstained fist. Then, for just a second, his eyes flitted to her.

He knew she was there. He knew she was watching. None of the hardness left his eyes, but there was something new there, too. Pride, maybe? Excitement? It lingered in his vision the entire time his eyes were on hers. When his bloodied lips curled into a smirk, she forced herself out of the breathless haze she was caught in. She was only concerned because that was the normal human reaction; you see someone get hurt, you worry. Or you laugh. It wasn’t like she was—

Peter’s fist connected with 36’s cheek. She could hear the hard smack through the glass to Row C. 36 stumbled back on his skates but regained his balance. Before he could deal a blow, refs blowing hopelessly on their whistles swarmed the two, pulling them like two growling dogs. Once again, Peter looked up at her, making sure that she was still watching. When he smiled at her, she could see that his teeth were now coated in blood from the wound on his lip.

“Holy shit!” MJ was squealing, but her voice was lost on the girl next to her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Yeah, holy shit.”

Neither Peter nor 36 were let back on the ice for the rest of the game. A penalty was dealt to ESU, but any other punishment was still unknown. She watched the rest of the game on high alert, trying to stop her eyes from traveling to the penalty box where Peter was seated. It was hard to view him from her position, but she could see a shock of brown hair every once and a while.

When the game was over, ESU had won 8-7. The crowd roared as the buzzer sounded, and when MJ shot up, she joined her. Adrenaline shot through her as she watched the guys on the rink scream and nearly slam into each other. Her view, though, quickly adjusted to Peter as he fled the penalty box. He slid onto the ice with the same practiced ease he’d used during the game. She could see him say something to Zack as he grabbed him by the shoulders. When his eyes finally landed on her, her pulse thrummed in her ears. He knew she was watching him, and that’s just what he wanted her to do.

“Where y’headed?”

The sound of someone’s voice nearly made her throw her water bottle. She’d only just left Xavier Hall when she was accosted (or rather spoken to) by someone who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Her head whirled around to meet hazel eyes and a busted lip.

“Are you stalking me?” She spat out, her eyes wide.

“Stalking you? Oh, my God, no,” Peter laughed, wincing when his split lip tugged into a smile, “I used to do a little photography for the paper, I know where the meetings are.”

“Right,” she nodded, “But, like, how did you know I would be leaving right now?”

“Lucky guess?” He suggests, cocking his head in a boyish way. She narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, he was already speaking again; “Saw you at my game yesterday.”

“It technically wasn’t your game. It was the team’s game. Both teams’ game.” Her voice was pointed as she spoke. When she began walking down the stone pathway that led to a dining hall, Peter followed without question.

“But I was there,” he responded, “And so were you.”

“MJ didn’t want to miss it,” she dismissed his words.

“Oh, yeah, she and Harry are getting pretty serious,” he hummed.

“Mhm,” she replied. She didn’t want to look at him, really. Every time she did, her gaze was drawn to the nasty gash on his lips. Her eyes, however, decided to betray her. She studied it, the way it moved with him, the way it would inevitably split further each time he grinned.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Peter said, almost as if he was reading her mind. Her eyes shot up to meet his.

“Did you get kicked off the team or something?” She asked as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“Hell no,” he laughed, “Just a slap on the wrist. Couldn’t finish out the game, but you already knew that.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, “I would’ve thought there would’ve been a little more.”

“I’ve never really gotten in a fight–and that wasn’t even a real fight,” he grinned

“So was that just you showing off or something?” Her brows creased.

“Something like that.”

They reached the entrance of the dining hall. Peter, in all his gangliness, was able to swipe his card before her and open the door. His smile just seemed to widen as she eyed him with a generous amount of suspicion.

“Thanks,” she said slowly as she stepped through the door.

“No problem,” he replied, “See you around, Kitty.”

“You can’t call me—”

He was gone before she could finish her sentence. The door fell shut in his absence, and she watched him walk away through the glass. He carried on down the pathway with his hands shoved into his pockets. A groan slipped from her lips when she realized that she was just staring at him. Her body moved into the dining hall, but her mind wandered (unwillingly) to Peter. He was annoying, and cocky, and smiled way too much for someone with a busted lip. Yet, the main thing stuck in her head was his hazel eyes and the way he watched her with them.

a/n — hey babes!! thanks for the love on this series so far. i’m not sure how long it’s gonna be, but i def have some plans, it’s def gonna get smutty at some point. anyways, hope you enjoyed!!

[harrywavycurly]

At First Sight Part 3: He’s What?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @ali-r3n @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @sweetmoonlove0214 @heydreamchild @mrsjellymunson @marshmallowgem @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles

A/N: Poor Robin being brought into all this and poor Eddie for not knowing what to do with himself, enjoy the madness and don’t worry you’ll ACTUALLY be in the next part😂💖

“He’s what?” “In love with her.” “I’m not just in love with her Harrington…it’s…way fucking more than that man…it’s like she’s all I can think about until I get to see her again and…and the idea of her being alone right now instead of being safe with me just kills me I need-” “you need to take a few deep breaths and just relax for a moment Munson.” “So…he’s…in love with her? And you wanna know if I know her? Why didn’t you just ask Dustin to talk to her?” “Because he has a big fucking mouth and will just blab that Eddie’s in love and that’ll freak her out.” “Right Steve because her seeing him all heart eyes and mouth open literally drooling at the idea of her won’t freak her out?…you’ve lost your damn mind.” “Do you know her or not Buckley? I don’t have time for this…it’s already been two days since I saw her and that’s about all I can do before I take things into my own hands and go knock-” “you’re not knocking on anyone’s door! We’ve been over this a hundred times!” “Yes…I know her and…yeah I can reach out and see if she has any idea who the hell you are and if…she’d be interested in you having her phone number.” “You know her? Like you’re friends with her?” “Yes Eddie I’m friends with-” “what’s she like? Does she like flowers? Is she allergic to anything? You think she’ll like my hair? I can cut it if she wants I don’t care oh oh do you think-” “you have got to get him away from me Steve or I’m going to gag him with a bag of Swedish fish.” “Now you see what I’ve been dealing with…I made him stay with me because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t go over to her house and embarrass himself.” “Nothing to do with telling the love of my life how I feel is embarrassing…grow up.” “What did Dustin say? Did he mention if seeing her will make him…not so…crazy?” “He said if she feels the same they’ll both have like a moment and then their personalities should go back to normal but they’ll just be….disgustingly in love.” “And if she doesn’t feel the same?” “Why would you say that? Do you know something? Did she mention me?” “Calm down Munson.” “Don’t tell me to calm down Harrington! I’m in fucking love and you’re both being assholes about it!” “Jesus let me just talk to her and get this over with just…go walk around the store while I see what I can do.” “But not by the door…I don’t want you getting any ideas about leaving without any supervision.” “Yeah yeah whatever I’ll be in the horror section…oh shit.” “What?” “What if she doesn’t like scary movies? I’m gonna have to watch…romcoms…” “Oh my god you’re so annoying.” “I’m gonna go in the back and text her…” “oh so you’re just gonna leave me alone with him? Nice Buckley real nice.” “Later losers…I’ll either be back with good news or….I won’t be back at all.”

[hyukasmiles]

—Soobin—

Description: surprising Binnie + how much he misses you after a tour

Fem reader

Warnings: NSFW// pet names (honey + hun)// descriptions of getting pierced (nipples)// briefest mention of nudes// one hickey// nipple play// unprotected sex// unrealistic position i guess// multiple orgasms// blah blah blah yk the drill// NOT PROOFREAD

—-

Getting your nipples pierced to surprise Binnie.

“It’s gonna be six months until we see each other again.” Soobin pouts, shoving his face in your tits. “I’m gonna miss my perfect girl and her perfect tits.”

“It’ll fly by like last time.” You giggle, petting his hair.

“Soobin.” Yeonjun yells from outside your shared apartment. “It’s time to go!”

“Bye honey.” Soobin looks like he’s being sent off to war, tears in his eyes as he kisses you goodbye. “I love you.”

“Don’t be a baby, Bin, I’ll be here when you get back, I love you.”

—

Your appointment is later that day, a girl with tattoos going up her whole body grinning as she sets up her station. “Hell of a first piercing.” She laughs, handing you the consent form. You’re so shaky you can barely scribble your signature. “It’s gonna hurt.” She mumbles snorting when you jump at the marker against your skin. “This look good?”

“I think so?” You look at your reflection in the mirror, trying to imagine two silver balls in place of the purple sharpie. “Yeah, looks great.”

“Ok.” She lays you back down. “On the count of three, one, two, th-“ You think you black out, a ringing in your ears as she smiles down at you. “Ready for number two?”

“Mhm..” You whine, just bite the bullet, it can’t be as bad as the fir- “Fuck, fuck me.” You groan, biting at your hand.

“Just one more second to get the jewelry in.” The piecer pats your shoulder as tears fall down your cheeks. “You’re braver than me.” She laughs as you struggle to sit up. “Look, it’s hot.” You don’t know what you’re expecting… blood? redness? any sign of the pain you’re still experiencing. No, just two little pieces of silver. “Wanna put your shirt back on?”

“Uh, sure.” You gasp at the shocks of pain as your shirt grazes against your sensitive new piercings. “You think they’ll be healed in six months?”

“Sure thing, just follow your care instructions, call me if you think anything is off.”

—

You spend the next six months diligently cleaning your piercings and desperately avoiding Soobin and his calls. He’s a perv to his core, calling you every night and begging to see your “pretty tits.” You get so antsy about ruining the surprise you start ignoring his calls all together and sending him old pictures when he asks for one.

So when he gets home Soobin is miffed, huffing and puffing on the car ride to your apartment, throwing open your front door. It all melts away when you’re waiting for him in a pretty little dress and his favorite meal on the table for him but he doesn’t let you know, shrugging you off and ignoring your questions about the tour.

“I’ll run you a bath..” You pout but as soon as you get up his hands are on you.

“I was just playing.” Soobin mumbles, grabbing onto your boobs. “Just upset you tried to keep my favorite things away from me.”

“It’s because I have a surprise.” You whine as your fiance slips his hands under your dress, pulling the fabric down under your boobs. His fingers pause, mind racing as he lightly traces your nipple.

“Somethins’ new.” Soobin slurs, kissing your shoulder. “Turn around for me baby.” His eyes widen when you do, your boobs right in face- two silver balls framing each pretty nipple. “Oh!”

“They’re still sensitive.” You mumble, grabbing onto his shoulder. “But- do you like them?”

Soobin reaches up and rolls one in between his long fingers, smiling up at you when you cry out. “Perfect.” He spreads your tits apart and kisses the skin in between them, “Didn't know your tits could get better, always surprising me.” He bites into the flesh of your boob and sucks until he’s satisfied, a dark purple mark blooming where his mouth was. “Lemme know how this feels.”

Your legs shake when Soobin pulls your nipple in your mouth, the piercings making the sensation against your already sensitive skin seem almost unbearable. “It’s too much- binnie!” You whine pushing on his shoulders. “They’re- They’re-“ You cry when he pinches the other one “Sens-“ You’re so shaky you can barely keep yourself upright, pulling on Soobins hair to try and pull him off of you.

You’re granted a brief pause when Soobin pulls away to switch the one in his mouth. “I wanna see if you can cum just from this.” He laughs, biting into your sensitive flesh.

Soobin continues his assault, sucking on and biting at your poor nipples until you’re crying from the stimulation, and you’re so close- your neglected cunt dripping as he keeps you teetering on the edge of an orgasm. “Please- Soobin- it’s too much- too much.” You can barely get it out- you just need one more push.

“Hurry up and cum, honey, so I can fuck you like you want.” Soobin drops one of his hands, digging the pad of his middle and ring fingers into your clit. It’s enough to push you over, your voice ringing out as you cum all over his fingers. Your release drips down your legs as you fall against Soobin’s chest, struggling to catch your breath.

Your fiance doesn’t give you any time to recuperate, pushing you against the back of your couch. “I missed your pretty cunt.” He smiles, pulling one of your legs upwards, pressing it against the couch, your other foot barely able to touch the ground. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t breathe.” He groans, finally taking his dick out from his sweats.

It won’t take long. You still haven’t calmed down from your first orgasm and Soobin’s dick feels so good filling you inch by inch you almost cum when he bottoms out. It’s been so long- that’s what you tell yourself- it’s been too long of course you’re this sensitive. “It’s so big.” You drool, rolling your hips against Soobin to try and get off.

“Poor pussy must’ve missed me too.” He pushes your hip into the furniture, using it as leverage to fuck into you as deep as he can. “She’s swallowing me whole.”

Soobin uses his thumb to draw circles against your clit and starts mouthing at your tits again, the stimulation too much after your first orgasm. “I’m- I’m gonna cum!” You squeal. “Cum- Binnie- I’m cumming!”

“Go ahead, hun, cum all you want, it’s your reward for your pretty little surprise.” You can feel Soobin smile against your boob. “That’s right- cum all over me.” He groans as you clamp around his dick, your head spinning as you tumble into another orgasm. “That’s it, ‘s good right- want another one?”

“No! Too much- too much-“ Soobin doesn’t listen- he never listens- his hips slamming against yours hard enough to push your couch forward, your body slipping down the poor piece of furniture.

It doesn’t stop his torment, you don’t think anything could. Soobin’s strong arms flex as he hooks them under your knees, cradling you, barely missing a beat as he continues to fuck up into you. “Let me cum inside of you, you will right?” You nod weakly, your head lolling to the side. “Of course you will.” Soobin cums so much, filling you up to the brim and sending you crashing into a third orgasm, leaving you completely worn out in his arms. “Round two in the bath?” He laughs, kissing your temple.

[in1-nutshell]

Bot Buddy the single parent with a sparkling and being friends with Swerve

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Swerve has a lot of respect for Buddy.

Who else goes on a ship looking for a new life for them and their sparkling?

Not a lot of bots sadly.

Buddy and Swerve first met in one of Blurr’s races.

Swerve had just left with his supposed hero’s number in servo when he noticed a bot holding a sparkling trying to open a door with their pede.

Swerve opens the door for the bot.

The bot looks in surprise at the open door and looks down at Swerve.

“Please, after you.”--Swerve

The bot goes through and turns to smile at him.

“Thank you so much! I’ve been trying forever to try and get that door open, but you can only do so much when your servos are tied.”--Buddy

Swerve just smiles before looking at the sparkling who was staring at him curiously.

“No Problem! Happy to help!”--Swerve

The bot looks at a nearby confection stand.

“Hey, let me buy you something as a way to say thanks.”--Buddy

“Oh, there’s no need—”--Swerve

“BAH!”--Sparkling

The bot smiles a bit.

“I think they’re insisting too…”--Buddy

“Oh! The names Swerve!”--Swerve

“That’s a nice name, I’m Buddy.”--Buddy

After a bit of talking the two had exchanged numbers and the rest was history.

Buddy doesn’t go on the ship immediately; they ended up on the ship as Megatron’s official guard.

It took a lot of convincing to get they’re only sparkling to come aboard the ship.

When Swerve heard about his friend joining the ship, he made sure to be one of the first to meet them.

Buddy was so relief to see a familiar face when they entered the ship’s entrance.

The sparkling was just cooing and giggling hearing the familiar voice.

Swerve loves the little sparkling.

The sparkling gets very attached to him and their parent when more and more unfamiliar faces start to appear.

“Hey Swerve, have you seen—”--Buddy

The sparkling is crawling on the floor with Swerve crawling behind them.

“Imma getcha! Imma get—"--Swerve

Swerve pauses and looks at Buddy who’s leaning on the door frame with a tired smile.

“I take it you got them?”--Buddy

The sparkling perks up and happily crawls to their parent.

Buddy picks up their sparkling as Swerve stands up brushing the imaginary dust from his armor.

“We just finished one of those Earth dino films and they wanted to play dinos so…”--Swerve

Buddy chuckles a bit and pats Swerve on the helm.

“Thanks Swerve.”--Buddy

Swerve looks a bit more at Buddy’s tired face.

“You know I don’t mind watching them for a while longer. Really! Anyways I think a few hours of recharge would do you good. You look like Whirl after that 36-hour cocktail binge last month.”--Swerve

“I’m fine Swerve—”--Buddy

Swerve gives them a look.

Buddy sighs before giving him their sparkling.

“Only for an hour.”--Buddy

“I’ll wake you up Buddy.”--Swerve

Buddy smiles at Swerve and their sparkling and walks back to their habsuite for some extra sleep.

Swerve knows that Buddy’s job isn’t easy and long night are a common thing, but it turned into a real nightmare when the sparkling was awake or had a nightmare.

He did his best to help Buddy with their sparkling so they could at least get an hour or two of sleep or work done.

One of the best ways he has figured out to get both Buddy and the sparkling to relax a bit was through movie nights.

He has all sort of kid’s movies or softer toned ones to entertain them both or just the sparkling and let buddy sleep through it.

It’s mainly a minibot club that joins in for the movie nights, but on the occasion, they’ll get other bots to join in.

While watching Beauty and the Beast.

“When is Belle going to use that knife and kill the Beast?”--Whirl

“Whirl this is a kids movie!”--Swerve

“And? The last ‘kids’ movie you put on had that earth cats creator die from that free fall.”--Whirl

“Wait he died!?”--Tailgate

“Yes?! Weren’t you—oh yeah, you left in the middle for a snack break.”--Whirl

“Shhh! Buddy’s sleeping. Keep it down a bit.”--Rewind

Whirl sassily waves his claw dramatically draping part of his frame on Cyclonus who was holding Tailgate in his lap. Tailgate was holding the sparkling on his lap, both extremely invested in the movie.

The sparkling is very shy meeting the new bots but does warm up to them with some time and with enough talking.

They prefer the minibots a lot more than the rest of the crew.

It may or may not be because they associate smaller bots to Swerve.

Tailgate loves playing around with the sparkling.

But he can only play certain things with them.

One time Tailgate thought it was a smart idea to bring the sparkling on his hoverboard to take a quick ride around the ship.

Buddy, Swerve, Cyclonus and Whirl walking down the hall.

“Do you think they’re okay? It’s been a couple of hours…”--Buddy

“You worry too much Buddy; Tailgate isn’t going to let anything happen to them. Tell them Cyclonus.”--Swerve

“Tailgate would never put your sparkling in harm’s way.”--Cyclonus

“Hmm…”--Buddy

“Please! What is the worst thing Panic buttons gonna do? Take them on a high speed chase—”--Whirl

Tailgate zooms past them with the sparkling strapped on their sling.

“HI! BYE!”--Tailgate

Rodimus is chasing after him with Drift following closely behind.

“…I stand corrected.”--Whirl

THUD!

Buddy falls backwards fainting.

Swerve is by their side slightly panicking that his friend just passed out.

Rewind shows pretty colors and shapes to the sparkling.

He teams up with Chromedome in trying to get them to say their first words.

Both secretly think this is their idea of practice in case either wants a kid in the future.

“C’mon say ‘Rewind’.”--Rewind

“Or Chromedome.”--Chromedome

“That’s too long.”--Rewind

“And Rewind is too complicated.”--Chromedome

Brainstorm comes into the room.

“Brainstorm?”--Chromedome

“I brought the new binary gun designs—”--Brainstorm

“Bwainstorm.”--Sparkling

“…”--Everyone

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm picks up the sparkling who just looks confused while Rewind face palms and Chromedome just chuckles a bit.

“Buddy is not going to like this.”--Rewind

Swerve is the sparklings favorite.

They have him wrapped around their digit and everyone knows that.

He gives the best bedtime stories, and they love hearing his voice.

The sparkling will get excited whenever they hear their parent of Swerve talk.

Swerve is Buddy’s go to babysitter but knows that they can’t rely on just him and the mini’s. They do take more of an effort to formally introduce their sparkling to the rest of the crew.

A safety precaution if you will.

Buddy pointing at a picture of Swerve.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling nods.

Buddy shows them a picture of Lockdown.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling shakes their helm.

Buddy shows a picture or Whirl.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling nods their helm.

“HA! Take that Magnus!”--Whirl

Whenever Buddy has a mission out of the ship and Swerve is babysitting them at the bar, he puts up a sign announcing when the baby is present.

This is a universal sign of being on your best behavior or he will sic Magnus or Ten on you.

[halamet-chalamet]

Hear me out! Spencer Reid x Coroner!Reader. Spencer and Rossi talk with the reader after they made the authopsy. Reader is impressed by Spencer's knowledge, but Spencer is even more impressed because Reader made an important deduction about the corpse that helps with the profile! In the meantime Rossi looks at the two of them talking excitedly about some kinds of bruises while feeling the third wheel

Spencer Reid x Coroner!reader

A/N: thank you for everyone’s patience guys! I’m so happy to be writing again. Feel free to send requests 🩷🪩

The case was chaos to say the least. I could tell just from the bodies received. I found it fascinating but couldn’t help but wonder what sicko did this. I handle my work with much sobriety and respect given I work with dead bodies. Most people are terribly uncomfortable around, I’m constantly told how odd it is by others.

Knowing the FBI has been called in today I gather all the reports they’ll need so that they can get the most accurate information possible.

I see the clock, 3pm, they’ll be here any minute.

An older Italian looking man comes in with another guy… he looks about my age, tall, lanky, cute, awkward looking. I quickly snap myself out of it.

“Hello, I’m agent Rossi and this is Doctor Reid.” The older man, Rossi I suppose motions to the young man and holds his hand out to me. I shake it and with a polite smile say.

“Oh- uhm- just Spencer..” The terribly cute agent smiles.

“It’s a pleasure. I’m y/n l/n. I’m here for whatever you need to know!” I say casually, I’ve never been in this type of situation but it’s my work, I don’t mind it at all.

The two men look over the bodies and their own files.

“We were told there were no defense wounds on any of the women but what would explain the bruises on the arm?” Spencer asks, looking up at me observing them.

“Oh those? My theory was that she fell on them. If you see the coloring here-” I use my finger to circle around the inside of a bruise. “This suggests sudden force like if you just dropped to your knees. There were hand marks on the thighs that suggest this also.”

Spencer takes a moment to analyze the information, “So you’re suggesting that the unsub grabbed her by her legs and she fell there on the arm?”

“Exactly! Yes, but there were no defensive wounds, and I found Rohypnol in each woman’s system, which a popular date rape drug.”

“Figures.” Agent Rossi pipes up but I can’t help but ignore him as I’m busy watching Spencer continue to analyze.

“Are these… rope marks?” He asks, pointing at the ankles.

I smile a bit dopily before I remember I’m being professional. “Zip ties actually..”

“Zip ties??” Spencer asks in surprise and almost a.. fond looking smile.

“Uh- yes…” I smile as I fumble through the papers in my hand. “I wasn’t sure what you guys would- would need so I put… these together..” I hand him a detailed file of all the information he could possibly need. I feel myself looking at him almost eagerly?

“These are wonderful thank you- thanks I’ll review these with the rest of the team I suppose-” He replies with a huge grin as he flips quickly through the files.

I nod in response, not sure if I should say anything, I’m just overly excited someone understands my line of work.

I feel a pair of eyes. I turn my head to look to the side where to my surprise the older agent stands there. His eyes are amused, his arms crossed as he leans back against the cold wall. I wonder what it’s about. I don’t care much about that though.. I decide that while I’m still high on this excitement I’d use whatever boldness I could muster up.

“Spencer..? Right?” I ask awkwardly, I know I’m right but didn’t know what else to say to grab his attention.

Looking up from the reports his eyebrows raise. “Yes that’s right…” he says expectantly.

“I know this is awfully unprofessional but do you think I could have your number..?�� I ask with a flint of hope. My stomach flutters at your blushing cheeks.

“Y-yes, yeah of course…” he blushes and scrambles to his pocket for a pen, writing in the corner of a page in the file and tearing it out.

“Th-that’s me.. haha” he hands it to me, looking back at his grinning coworker.

“Thanks..” I smile wide as he checks his watch. I figured it wouldn’t be a long stay for them but I wish I got to speak with him longer.

“See ya..” he says as he’s rushed out the door.

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Stars Align: Part 3

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Misuse, Drinking, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and a lot of it, Mentions of Abuse, Sexual References, Violence, Anger, Pining, I think that's it?

-- Part 2 Here --

_____________________________

18+ Only

_____________________________

Present:

You went back inside to let Gabby know you were going to grab a drink with Bradley, and to ask if she wanted you to walk her to a cab.

Bradley followed you to the dance floor.

“Rooster!” A voice rang out from the crowd, and a tall blond man emerged.

“Hangman.” Bradley responded, “I’m gonna shoot off, can you let Mickey know?”

The blond man raised his eyebrow, “Find yourself a little lady?” He looked over Bradley’s shoulder at you as you waited patiently.

“She’s my old best friend, haven’t seen her in years so we’re going somewhere quiet to catch up.” Bradley explained.

“Right, sure.” The blond winked. “Don’t be late tomorrow, Mickey will kill you.” And he turned around to leave.

Bradley faced you with a grimace, “Sorry about him, Jake’s a piece of work.”

“I’m more interested in the part where he called you Rooster. You kept the nickname?” You chuckled.

“Call sign.” Bradley corrected you with a grin.

“Wait… do you mean-“ you were cut off by Gabby barging into you.

“Whoops! Sorry. Are we leaving? I think I’ve had enough for one night.” She breathed, bunching her hair up off of her sweaty neck.

“Actually, yeah Bradley and I are gonna grab a drink and catch up. Can we walk you to a cab?” You asked, wrapping your arm around her waist to steer her towards the exit.

“Much obliged.” She saluted you and you chuckled.

Once Gabby was safely in a cab and on her way home, you turned to smile at Bradley.

“Where to?” You asked.

“I know a place.” He held out his hand and you took it, walking next to him as he gently steered you through the crowds. His hand felt remarkably strong yet so gentle at the same time, like he was gently cupping something he was terrified to break.

“So… call sign huh? That mean you got into the Navy?”

“Yes ma’am. I couldn’t wait to tell you about it… but you changed your number.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you cautiously.

“Oh… I didn’t.” You looked to the ground awkwardly.

Bradley glanced at you, confused, your number had been disconnected when he’d tried to call you years ago and had been ever since.

You bit your lip, “But that’s a long story, not sure we’ll have time for it tonight. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you when you got to experience that, though.” You felt horrible for missing such a milestone in his life.

Bradley smiled down at you, “I get to share it with you now, don’t I?” He nudged you until you grinned, and then let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder instead.

“Can’t believe I bumped into you, here of all places.” He mumbled absentmindedly as he walked.

“Yeah that’s fate I guess, Rooster.” You joked, referencing something from your past you always used to tease him about. He’s shot you a playful glare and you chuckled.

He suddenly stopped, “Here we are. I passed this place earlier and weirdly enough, it made me think of you.”

You looked up at the sign and scrunched up your nose, “A Cat Cafe?”

“No.” Bradley laughed, and moved you over to the left slightly, pointing at the sign next to it.

“Oh! An art bar, that’s better Bradshaw, for a moment there I thought you forgot that I’m a dog person.” You chuckled as you walked inside.

Bradley sat you down at a cozy corner booth, and squeezed in next to you as you scanned the menu for their cocktail list and some nibbles.

Your heart began to race as you felt his strong arm rest behind you on the seat as he read the menu over your shoulder. His breath was minty as it wafted over you.

“You think they’ll be serving any food still? It is 2am.” You said looking over at the other tables to distract yourself from your sudden emotional overtake, some of which had food on them, and your stomach growled.

“I’ll go ask, what drink do you want?” Bradley asked as he stood up, his hands propping himself up over you on the table, and you had to fight with all your might not to ogle at the size of his arms and the veins that protruded from his thick neck.

You gulped, “Sex on the beach, please.”

Bradley winked at you, “Whatever you want, Birdy.” And with a cheeky grin, he left to the bar to order.

He left you flushed and breathless, your rapid heartbeat doing little to distract from the sudden growing tension in between your thighs. You gasped to yourself as you realised your feelings were somehow still there.

Sure it didn’t help that Bradley was now a man, like really a man, or that his confidence was bordering on cockiness, but the real Bradley, or the old Bradley you should say, was still there underneath, and glimpses of him kept trickling through, reminding you of why you fell for him in the first place.

You were lost in thought when Bradley got back, jumping as he placed a plate of fries and your drinks on the table. He pulled a small canvas and a mini easel out from under his arm and positioned it on the table, with small tubs of primary colour paints. He pulled out two tiny paintbrushes from his pocket and handed you one as he eyed you up.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, “Care to tell me where you just travelled to… up there.” He gestured to your head and you rolled your eyes.

“Trust me you don’t want to know what goes on up there.”

“Probably for the best, bet it’s all lady stuff.” he said sitting down next to you.

“Ew, only you could make those two words sound gross, Brad.” You flinched.

Bradley chuckled, and you spent the rest of the evening catching up on all the things missed while you were apart, while picking at the fries and painting random squiggles on your canvas every now and then. You purposely left out the section of your life involving Jacob, as that was a story for another time, far too dark for a catch up date.

You learnt that Carole had passed away, and you were suddenly on the verge of tears. You felt so guilty that you never got to say goodbye, and that you weren’t there for Bradley when he needed you most.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there for you.” You whispered, biting your cheek to stop the tears from falling.

“Hey, it’s okay. How were you supposed to know? She knew you loved her, I told her so many times towards the end.” He reassured you, but even as he did, his voice broke and you could see him swallowing down the lump in his own throat.

You were both sufficiently drunk at this point, Bradley more so, and your conversation had turned deep and emotional. You sat with your legs draped over Bradley’s thighs, while he played absentmindedly with your knees, a habit he’d picked up years ago, a coping mechanism of sorts to distract him from any issues at hand.

The first time he’d done this, you’d been at home watching a scary movie in the living room, and about halfway through Bradley had picked up your legs and put them on his lap. “You have really wobbly knee caps.” He’d commented, distracting himself from the gory scene ahead.

You’d looked at him, confused at the time, but it had come to be a comforting position for the both of you.

“What did you mean, earlier, when you said you didn’t change your number?” Bradley asked suddenly, clearing his throat of the lump.

You drew in a sharp breath, looking down at your hands. “It’s a long story Brad, another time?” You asked.

Bradley nodded, squeezing your calf.

“Should we make a move? Think the suns about to come up and you’ve got a wedding to attend.” You grinned.

“Yup, probably a good idea.” Bradley slurred, and you swung your legs off of him. He stood and immediately swayed, shooting a hand out to steady himself on the table.

“Woah, one too many whiskey sours, me thinks.” He chuckled. You got up and slotted yourself under his arm to steady him.

“Guess so. Let’s get you back to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

Bradley thought for a moment, and then looked down at you confused, “I can’t remember.” He snatched up the canvas and wedged it underneath his other arm.

You groaned. “Can you text that guy you were with earlier? Or do you have a keycard?”

Bradley pouted and shook his head, “Hangman and I are sharing a room, he has the keycard and he’ll be asleep right now. Can I crash at yours? Like old times?” He grinned his boyish grin and fluttered his pretty eyelashes, until you sighed and steered him towards the street.

“Yeah, okay, but a fair warning, I’m living out of boxes right now.”

“I thought you said you lived in an apartment, not in a box?” He slurred again, swaying on the spot as you stood and waited for a cab.

You laughed at his poor attempt at a joke, and patted him on the back. “You’re gonna feel awful tomorrow.”

“I know.” He grinned down at you, but his eyes were so sincere and gentle it made you want to kiss him.

A cab pulled up and you shuffled inside after Bradley. You told the driver your address and sat back.

Bradley was asleep on your shoulder within 2 minutes, and not long after you pulled up outside your building. You paid and thanked the cab driver and shook Bradley awake.

“Hmm?” He mumbled as he came to.

“We’re here.” You said gently, stroking his face to rouse him.

Bradley moaned at the touch and you found yourself having to clench your thighs, the sound vibrated through your entire body.

You managed to get Bradley to follow you, although wobbly, up the 5 flights of stairs, but you cursed the elevator being broken as it was like trying to coax a stubborn child.

Eventually you stumbled through the door and kicked your heels off.

“Home sweet home!” You sighed, eyeing up the mountain of boxes.

“It’s nice, bit crowded but it’ll get there.” Bradley slurred, walking into the kitchen and looking through your fridge. He pulled out a bottle of beer and was about to open it when you charged at him.

“What are you- ouch, what the fuck, Birdy?“

You collided with Bradley and wrangled the beer from his hand.

“Absolutely not!” You held the beer out of reach.

Bradley grinned and tried to swipe for it.

“No! It’s… 5:23am!” You groaned, checking the time on your phone. “You need to sleep or you’ll never make the wedding.”

“I’ll be fine! I don’t wanna sleep yet, we’ve got way too much catching up to do still.” He reached for the beer but you turned your back to him and held it as far out in front of you as you could.

Suddenly two strong arms were wrapping around your midriff and lifting you into the air. You squealed and tried to struggle, but a fit of laughter overtook you, zapping away any strength you held. Bradley smiled at you over your shoulder as he watched you lose yourself like you had when you were teenagers, and a wave of emotion and nostalgia overtook him. He put you down suddenly and turned you around.

Your laughing slowed and you looked up at Bradley, who’s eyes were brimming now.

''Brad are you okay?'' You were suddenly concerned at the sudden change in atmosphere.

Bradley pulled you in for a bear hug, and this time he just held you for a long time.

You rubbed his back soothingly, his fingers now thread in your hair as he held your head in place against his broad chest, his heart racing.

“I’ve really missed you, kid.” He said through a shaky voice.

“I’ve missed you too, Rooster.”

———————————————

Past:

You walked home with your heels in one hand and the other shielding your eyes as the rain poured down onto you. You were sure it rained so heavily that night because of how heartbroken you felt, and that Mother Nature just wanted to mask your tears with her own.

You burst through your front door and went straight upstairs, dumping your soggy shoes and purse by the door. Your parents turned from the movie they were watching in the living room in surprise.

“Jeez, when I said be home by 11, I meant more like 11:30, not 8:40.” You dad commented.

You slammed your bedroom door.

He looked at your mom who just shrugged. Your dad followed you upstairs, your mom hot on his tail.

“Honey, what happened?” He asked, pushing your door open gently.

“Nothing. I just want to go to bed.” You sniffed, undoing your braid to allow your wet hair to dry.

“Where’s Bradley?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You tried to hard sleep that night, but sleep didn’t find you easily. You kept going over the night in your head, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

Eventually you stopped crying and your sadness turned to anger. You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place, Bradley had begged you to go, and now you were furious he had.

It was close to midnight when your door creaked open and a sliver of light filtered in.

“Birdy.” Bradley whispered.

Your head shot up off of your tear stained pillow, and you glared at him for a second. “Who let you in?” You demanded.

“Your dad. But not before he gave me a talking to.” He admitted sheepishly. You slammed your head back down on the pillow.

“Birdy I’m so sorry.” He walked in and gently closed the door. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, I’m not really sure what came over me.”

You said nothing, smushing your face further into your pillow to avoid even seeing your best friends face. You were so mad.

You felt the bed dip behind you as Bradley lay down.

“Lil bird, please look at me.”

“I can’t right now.” You huffed.

“Okay, I get that. But at least let me apologise.”

“Don’t bother. You left me there Bradley, after you begged me to go with you, I don’t think apologising is gonna fix this one.” You said as you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him.

Bradley suddenly felt the immense guilt of what he had done when he saw how puffy your eyes were from crying.

“I know, I shouldn’t have. I came right back, once I’d calmed down and realised I was being a total idiot, but you were gone already. Sophie’s friend Kate said she overheard Michelle talking to her friends. I know you didn’t do or say anything, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“You’ve known me for years, Bradley. The fact that it took someone else telling you I wasn’t lying to believe me is a real gut punch.”

“I know, I’m a dick. It’ll never happen again. From now on if you say something, I’ll take your word. I swear.” He stuck out his pinky.

You stared at it and then at him for a moment. He seemed genuinely sorry, and you had missed him in the few hours since you’d last seen him, so you nodded and hooked your pinky in his.

“Fine. But I’m still mad at you.”

Bradley grinned, ruffling your already frizzy hair. You groaned and lay back down.

“Can I sleep over?” He asked, propping his head in his hand as he turned on his side to look at you.

“Only if you stop calling it a sleep over. We’re not kids anymore.” You huffed.

“Okay… can I stay the night?” He asked in a deep voice and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“That’s better. You can wear my princess pyjamas.” You joked, finally cracking a smile.

Bradley rolled his eyes, sitting up and peeling off his dress-shirt. “If we’re not kids anymore, I don’t need pyjamas.” He lay back down in just his pants, and you blushed.

You wondered at times like these if he knew how you felt about him, and just enjoyed teasing you.

———————————

Present:

The sun filtered in through your curtain-less windows and you groaned. Your hangover hit you as soon as you peeled your eyes open, and you pulled your duvet over your head.

You breathed through the rolling nausea, and squeezed your eyes shut to stop the feeling of the world spinning a little too fast. Suddenly you heard a loud thump outside the room followed by a deep voice mumbling “shit”.

You’d forgotten all about Bradley. You shot up suddenly as the night before came into memory.

You could hear Bradley groan in the living room, as he shuffled around trying to get dressed.

You walked to the living room and watched as Bradley searched frantically for his shirt.

His toned body looked unfairly delicious in the morning light. You bit your lip as you watched.

Bradley noticed you finally, and relief washed over his face. “Oh Birdy, thank god. I can’t find my shirt and I’m so late for the wedding.” He walked over to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you into the living room. “I can’t remember the end of last night.”

“Well, that’ll be the last beer you had.” You raised your eyebrow at him. “Okay let me think.” You pressed your fingers into your temples as you walked around the apartment.

“Okay… so we had a little moment in the kitchen-“ you pointed to where you stood hugging Bradley for what felt like forever.

“Oh did we?” Bradley jiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up, not like that Bradshaw.” You shot back and rolled your eyes.

You kept walking, your eyes scanning the boxes and floor space.

“And theeeen… you gave me a piggy back ride to… the bedroom?” You couldn’t recall why. You walked back to the bedroom with Bradley hot on your tail.

Bradley’s shirt lay on the floor next to your bed, and you picked it up and handed it to him.

“Thanks, Birdy.” Bradley said sincerely. He took a moment to put his shirt back on and then gave you a sad smile. “I guess I better get going. Will I see you again?”

You suddenly felt a lump in the back of your throat, and swallowed it down as best you could before you nodded.

“I hope so, Brad. I really did miss you.”

You showed Bradley out and waved him goodbye as he walked down the stairwell. As soon as he was out of sight you bit back tears and went back into the apartment. You sniffled as you unpacked your kitchen essentials, and laughed wetly as you remembered some of the events of the night before. You suddenly recalled why Bradley was in your room, he’d insisted on waiting until you fell asleep before he went to bed himself, and he sat singing 80’s and 90’s hits softly to you as he drank his beer, and as it had worked so well in the past, it still worked perfectly now.

As Bradley sang Aerosmith, your eyes fluttered shut;

“… Don't wanna close my eyes,

I don't wanna to fall asleep,

'Cause I'd miss you baby…

And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

The last thought that sank through your mind as you drifted off into a comforting slumber, was that you finally felt safe, like really safe, and you hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Not since you moved away.

——————————————

-- Part 4 Here --

Taglist now open 💛 Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

@dizzybee03

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Baby Let the Games Begin

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, almost-nice moments ruined by Roy being Roy

Roy slouched in his chair and looked over the lineup, trying to focus his attention on Nate and Beard’s ideas after the previous night’s match. His mind kept wandering back to the club, to the lipstick stain he’d washed off his face when he got home way past his bedtime, to the way she’d danced too close to him, to the knowing looks the guys had been giving him all morning.

As his hand absently brushed over his cheek, Dani’s smile filled the doorway. Behind him, a few guys popped their heads in, looking far too eager for an early morning that followed a late night of drinking. “Good morning, Coach!” Dani chirped.

“Hmmph.” Roy nodded in acknowledgement. “Rojas.”

The striker strolled into the office casually, as if mischief wasn’t written all over his face as he eyed his coach. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Roy shrugged. “Fuckin’ guess,” he mumbled, slouching further into his chair. “You?”

“Everyone had a great time.” Dani’s smile grew as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “In fact, someone had such a great time, she asked if I could give you this.”

The little slip of paper contained numbers- numbers that were already in Roy’s phone, actually. It took Roy a moment to comprehend the looks of awe on his players’ faces and the excitement on Dani’s. Oh, fuck, right.

“Wow.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, giving his best surprised look. “Me? You’re fucking serious?”

Dani’s face softened. “She liked you,” he teased. “It was very obvious. She could not stop smiling after you danced together!”

Roy nodded, praying he looked thrilled enough to satisfy the guys. “Yeah, no, it was fucking cool.” He cleared his throat and stuffed the phone number into a desk drawer. “Guess I’ll give her a call or some shit-”

“Morning, fellas!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Keeley squeeze past the guys to enter the office, wearing a little dress and that big smile of hers, the one that could knock Roy over any day of the week.

“Don’t you lot have training to get ready for?” she teased. As the guys left, all shouting out their congratulations at Roy- as if he did something worth congratulating- she turned her attention to the gruff manager. “Can we chat when you have a second?”

Roy nodded stupidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He nodded to Dani, who was the last to leave. “Thanks again, Rojas. Really.”

Once Dani shot Roy an exaggerated wink and strolled back into the changing room, Keeley whipped out her mobile. “Excellent job last night, Coach.”

She perched on the desk and showed Roy her screen, which featured a photo of Roy and a certain pop princess on the dance floor, huddled close and smiling at each other. If Roy didn’t know any better, he’d think they looked like two people in the early stages of falling in love.

With a small cough into his closed fist, Roy nodded. “Yeah, well. Glad we did a good job or whatever.”

Keeley stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. “Seriously, you two look great together. I was scrolling through some of the comments, and her fans are already obsessing over you. They’ll be calling you ‘Dad’ by the end of the month.”

“Dad?” he repeated, practically spitting the word out. “Why the fuck would they call me Dad?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Keeley explained with a playful eyeroll. “Sometimes they call her ‘Mum’, and if they like her boyfriend, they call him ‘Dad’. Trust me, you want them to call you that. It means you’ve got their approval. And once you’ve got the fans onboard, the good press will follow.” She gave Roy a friendly little punch, the small touch leaving his skin burning. “Keep up the good work, Roy-o.”

As he watched her leave, Roy sighed to himself. Dad? What the fuck had he signed himself up for?

~

“D’you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I handed April my credit card. “And bring me a hot dog or something?”

I had dragged April along to my second Richmond game, insisting that I needed someone to chat with while I was supposed to be fawning over Roy Kent. As I waited for her to return with the drinks and snacks, I tugged at the sleeves of the Richmond sweatshirt April had bought for me. This whole thing was weird, so damn weird. My siblings had texted me about the photos of me and Roy Kent at the club- which they had seen thanks to my baby brother’s Google alert on me- and had teased me about my sudden “interest” in soccer. Of course, I’d played coy and said I was just supporting Dani Rojas, that Kent and I had just danced a little, and that he seemed nice. Of course, they didn’t see the way I wrinkled my nose as I texted those things.

Suddenly missing them, I sent a selfie with the pitch behind me, joking that the Dog Track was my new home. As I hit the Send button on our group chat, rousing cheers informed me that the team was coming onto the pitch. I cheered along with everyone else, this time adding some other names to Dani’s, like Colin and Isaac. Jamie Tartt lit up when he saw me, blowing a playful kiss. I waved coolly, keeping an eye out for-

There was that smirk. Roy raised his eyebrows when he saw me, looking pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Keeley had made sure to tell him exactly where I’d be sitting. I leaned back in my seat and raised my hand in greeting, hoping my smile and wink were playful and, more importantly, caught on someone’s camera. Roy tapped two fingers to his temple, saluting me, before turning to his team. I had to give him credit for his acting; from my seat, he almost looked like he was blushing.

“You see your man?” April’s voice was full of teasing as she resumed her seat and handed me a beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip before taking the hot dog she offered me. “My man,” I scoffed. “He’s not my man.”

April raised her eyebrows at me. “Not yet,” she hummed quietly. She nudged me. “You two’ve got chemistry. Even at a distance, there was some sort of spark or lightning strike or whatever you want to call it when you looked at each other.” She leaned in close to whisper, “You sure there’s not a real attraction there?”

“Do I need a new assistant?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I didn’t mean it; it was my way of telling her she had succeeded in getting under my skin, one of her favorite pastimes.

Sure enough, she chuckled and nudged me playfully. “I’m just saying,” she teased. “Believe me, you could do a lot worse.”

I snorted and stole one more glance at the scowling and shouting Roy Kent. “Wanna bet?”

~

Roy tapped the side of his beer as he stared at the entrance to Ola’s. The team had decided to grab some dinner together after their match, and Dani had invited his friend to join them. The guys were tittering and shooting him what he assumed were supposed to be sly looks, which he repaid with scowls and eyerolls.

Those sly looks only got worse when the door opened and Dani led two women inside. Roy watched as the Greyhounds tripped over each other to re-introduce themselves and ask how the women liked the match. She was pretty fucking affable, Roy noted as she complimented Cockburn on his game-winning goal and laughed at whatever joke Moe Bumbercatch made. He found himself wondering how someone like her, someone who smiled so easily and seemed to have no problem charming a room full of people, could wind up with a reputation like hers, known only for the men she ran around with and the drama her “friends” dragged her into.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Roy in his huddled little corner, almost bright enough to fool him into believing she was happy to see him. She grabbed the other woman- who Roy now recognized has her personal assistant- by the hand and pulled her away from the Greyhounds, not stopping until she stood in front of Roy, all flirtation with those batting eyelashes and that coy smile.

“Great job today, Coach,” she said with a wink.

Roy leaned back, keenly aware of the eyes that had followed her to his table. “Guess I was right about you being good luck,” he hummed with what he hoped was a flirtatious grin. “Glad you came today.”

“Me too.” She tugged the other woman closer to her. “This is my assistant, April,” she introduced, as if Roy hadn’t met the woman in Keeley’s office that very first day. “April,” she murmured, eyes still on Roy, “this is Roy Kent.”

April smiled and reached out to shake Roy’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

A small giggle had Roy’s ears turning red. “Stop,” the popstar whined, sounding like a teenage girl. “Go find a soccer player to flirt with, alright?” She gave April a playful shove before sliding into the seat beside Roy. Her smile remained in place as she leaned in close, looking like she was flirting and murmuring soft enough for just him to hear. “You see the photos of us online?”

Roy cleared his throat and nodded, unable to look directly at her and instead choosing to stare at his beer. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw them.” He took a sip, desperate for something to keep him distracted from how fucking close she was sitting. “Looks like the plan’s working so far.”

Her little hmmph confirmed that she agreed with him. After a moment, she nudged him; Roy’s shoulder practically burned at the contact. “You should probably, I don’t fucking know, talk to me or something?” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”

With one of his heaving sighs, Roy forced his shoulders to relax as he finally met her gaze, a gaze that was far too attentive. “You… enjoy the game?”

Fucking hell. Was this what the next six months of his life would be like? Awkward small talk with someone who was just as disinterested in him as he was in her? Being two fish in a bowl with eyes on them all the time? Tonight, at Ola’s, it was the Greyhounds; soon it would be all of Nelson Road, and all their friends and acquaintances, and the fucking paparazzi, and all the people who’d be attending her highly anticipated European tour in the summer. Not to mention the very real possibility that one of them could find someone they were actually interested in (Roy had seen the way Jamie eyed her when she walked in), and then they’d be in a whole new mess of ending the “relationship” and dealing with blurry timelines and drama.

While Roy’s mind raced, she nodded, all at ease. “I did, actually, even though I don’t watch soccer very much.” After wrinkling her nose, she paused, eyeing him carefully, as if debating her next words. “Think I could take a picture with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Roy choked out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden request.

“A picture,” she repeated slowly, a smidge of impatience dripping from her voice. “Like a selfie. I might not like soccer, but my brothers and nephews are big fans.” She took out her phone and laid it on the table. “And I learned recently that you, Roy Kent, are a pretty big fucking deal. So, if I send them a picture with you, I’ll finally be the world’s coolest sister and tía.”

Roy couldn’t help the snort that flew out of his nose. “Being one of the biggest popstars in the fucking world isn’t enough?”

She cracked a small smile. “Nope. To my brothers, I’m still just the little princess who always cried to get what she wanted.” She picked her phone back up. “So, are we taking a selfie, or do I need to get the waterworks going?”

That was… well, that was kind of funny, Roy decided. Funny enough that he didn’t argue with her, at least. Instead, he shrugged and leaned in close, reminding himself that he was supposed to look like he was interested in this woman, after all. “Take the fucking picture then,” he grumbled, mostly good-naturedly.

Almost as if she understood that this was as friendly a response as Roy Kent could give, she opened her camera. Roy was amused at the image on the screen; she had a nice smile, he admitted to himself. It was the same one he saw on album covers, the same one she offered the Greyhounds, the same one she flashed the paparazzi. Just cheesy enough to be endearing, while still holding something glamorous. Looking at the image of that smile, Roy didn’t have much choice but to give his own closed grin, coming out cool and cocky-looking, the way one would expect a retired athlete to smile with a beautiful popstar.

She quickly snapped a couple of pictures before lowering her phone, chuckling as she sent one to what Roy assumed was a family group chat. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving Roy a nod. “Like I said, they’re finally almost impressed with me.”

The gears in Roy’s head turned for a moment. “Could you send me that?” he heard himself ask. When she tilted her head at him, he cleared his throat. “My niece, she’s… a fan. And if I show her that picture, she’s going to absolutely lose her shit.”

“Anything to make a kid lose their shit.” She quickly tapped away on her mobile; Roy’s own phone buzzed a moment later. “She your only niece?” When Roy only stared at her blankly, she shrugged. “Might as well learn some shit about each other, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Right,” Roy breathed, again noting how fucking close she was sitting. “Yeah, she’s my only niece. It’s just me, my sister, and her.” After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to ask her a question. “And you’ve got… brothers?”

She nodded, relaxing into her seat, shoulder grazing Roy’s arm. “Four brothers and a sister,” she added. “I’ve got one younger brother, everyone else is older. And I’ve got…” She counted on her fingers for a moment. “Eight nieces and nephews. My oldest niece just turned fifteen this year. We’re having her quinceañera this summer.”

“That’s the big fucking party, right? I remember Dani going back to Mexico for his cousin’s birthday, it looked like a fucking wedding.”

Her raised eyebrows looked almost impressed. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited to go home for it.” She paused, thoughtfulness crossing her face. “We’ll probably still be together,” she murmured. Her eyes were unreadable.

“Keeley’ll probably make me go then,” Roy grumbled. “Fucking hate flying all the way to the States.”

“And we’ll have to go to all the way to Los Angeles,” she added with a dry chuckle. “Eleven hours stuck on a plane together, there and back. Can you imagine anything worse?”

Roy’s eyes flittered across the restaurant to Keeley, who sat cozily with Rebecca, giggling and chattering. His chest ached, reminding him that, if Keeley asked, he’d spend twenty-four hours on a plane with this woman, no hesitation. He’d do fucking anything for Keeley.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I fucking can’t.”

~

“Crown and Anchor,” I mumbled to myself as I read the sign over the pub Roy had suggested we meet at. Keeley has urged us to go ahead with our first “public outing”; she’d left it up to us, but suggested something low-key enough to look real, as if we weren’t trying to catch people’s attention. After I offered to let him pick the spot, Roy had texted me the address of some pub not too far from the stadium; apparently, he’d be coming straight from work.

Sure enough, when I found him at the bar, he was wearing what I assumed was his ‘coaching uniform’: Greyhounds shirt, track pants that hugged his thighs, and sneakers. He nodded when he saw me, hand wrapped around the beer he was already half finished with.

Ignoring the stares of a small group seated at a table behind Roy, I leaned into Roy, relieved that he immediately wrapped me in a one-armed hug- a casual, friendly gesture, perfect for two people just starting a romance. He took my arm to help me onto the stool beside him and gestured to the barkeep, an older woman who eyed me carefully.

“You’re-” She stopped, raising her eyebrows at Roy. “Good for you, Roy Kent.” She leaned on the counter, offering a friendly smile. “What can I get you, love?”

I eyed Roy’s half-finished drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a smile, the barkeep quickly poured me my own beer and placed it in front of me. Roy absently tapped his glass to mine with a small clink! before taking a long drink.

“Tough day of training?” I teased before sipping my own glass; shit, would I ever get used to drinking beer that wasn’t ice-cold?

He shrugged, eyes focused on the amber liquid in his glass. “Long is more like it,” he grumbled. “Especially now that the idiots are smirking and winking at me all the time, giving me looks like they fucking know something.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, almost playfully. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My apologies,” I huffed, trying not to laugh at his stony expression. My eyes landed on the darts on one end of the bar; Roy’s gaze followed.

“Want to play?” he asked, chugging the last of his beer and motioning for the barkeep to pour him another one. “Keeley said shit like playing games looks cute in photos.”

The word cute did not seem like one that should be coming out of Roy Kent’s mouth, but I ignored how humorous it sounded. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted. “We used to have a dart board when I was a kid, but after my brother got hit in the arm, my mom made my dad take it down.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, studying me. “I could teach you.” He shrugged. “If you like.”

I glanced at the dart board. “Why the fuck not?”

With a hmmph, Roy grabbed our beers and led me over to the game, setting our drinks on a nearby table before grabbing the darts. He handed me one, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Go on,” he said, nodding to the dart board. “Want to see what I’m fucking working with.”

I stared at the dart in my hand, wincing at the embarrassment I was about to endure and preparing myself for the expletives and mockery that would surely come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. Finally, trying to reach back over twenty years in my memory to the last time I had thrown a dart, I reached back and gave what I hoped was an acceptable toss; I groaned when I saw the dart bounce off the wall far from the target and fall pathetically to the ground.

Roy retrieved the dart wordlessly and returned, mouth in a straight line as he stared at me harshly. “You’re the one that fucking hit your brother, aren’t you?”

Setting my face as expressionless as his, I folded my arms. “No comment.”

A smirk almost broke through. “Your publicist has you well-trained,” he quipped as he handed me the dart. “Better show you how it’s done before you fucking kill someone.” His eyes zeroed in on the dart in my hand for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Here, stand like this.”

Roy stood next to me, motioning for me to adjust my feet. After I mirrored his stance, he turned to stand behind me, hesitating before taking my hand, the one I held the dart in. When I turned my face to his, he was gazing at me with raised eyebrows.

“This alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, holding back the urge to gulp. “Anything for the cameras,” I joked, forcing my body to relax against his. “Get ready to trend on Twitter, Kent.”

With a hmmph, Roy pressed his chest to my back, his body warm and weirdly comfortable, and lifted my hand. “And you pull back like this,” he breathed. “And…” He moved my arm in a swift motion. “… Release.”

The dart hit the board only about an inch away from the dead center.

“Holy shit!” I squeaked, pretending I didn’t see the young couple in the corner of the pub pointing their phones in our direction. “Roy!” I jumped into his arms, acting as though learning to throw a dart was some lifelong dream.

“What the fuck are you-”

“In the corner,” I hissed in his ear. “They’re recording us. Act cute.”

Grunting, Roy wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that lifted me off my feet, keeping his hands on my hips once he set me down. “Think you could do it on your own now?” He furrowed his brows and lowered his voice. “Or should we do that again?”

I thought for a moment. “Probably one more time,” I said quietly. “For the camera.”

“For the camera,” Roy agreed, letting me go so he could grab another dart to hand to me. “Right, so stand like before…”

Once again, his chest felt warm pressed against me, his heartbeat thumping against my back. When he took my hand in his, I observed how large his hand looked around mine, realizing I’d be holding it a lot in the coming weeks. Just like before, Roy pulled my hand back and guided it, instructing me when to let go. This time, my dart landed dead center.

In spite of myself, I turned to Roy with a giant grin. “Fucking bullseye, Kent!”

He wore a crooked smirk and held up his hand for a high-five. “Not bad,” he hummed as I slapped his palm. “Ready to try it on your own?”

Playing darts with Roy Kent wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, I conceded. We sipped beer and took turns throwing darts, with Roy giving me pointers now that I was throwing on my own; he even admitted that I was a quick learner. In between throws, we’d glance up at the television playing soccer highlights; Roy mumbled about the men running around on the screen, telling me a bit about the players he knew, the ones he tolerated and the ones he hated. I listened carefully, realizing that, if I was going to be “dating” a soccer legend, I should know a thing or two about the game. I should also try to start calling it “football”, I thought to myself.

“Alright,” I declared after posting a photo to my Instagram, per Keeley's instructions. “I’m going to the restroom, when I get back, we play to see who’s paying the tab.”

It was the closest thing I’d seen to a full smile all night. “You’re fucking on. And I’m ordering another pint, because you’re paying.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and waved as I headed towards the restrooms. Shit, I thought to myself. I’m actually enjoying myself.

As I washed my hands before returning to the bar, I tilted my head at my reflection. Tonight was kind of fun, I admitted. Maybe, just maybe, Roy Kent and I could actually be friends. Maybe these next few months of fake-dating didn’t have to be complete torture. Maybe we’d have a good time hanging out and spending time together. Maybe-

Despite all my grumblings about this plan, I grinned at Roy as I approached him at the dartboard, where he leaned against the wall and frowned at his phone. When he didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.

“Ready to lose?” I teased.

Finally, Roy looked up at me. “Hmm?” After a moment, he shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “I should head home,” he grumbled, slamming his glass onto the table. “Got fucking training in the morning. Early morning training with fucking Tartt.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s only sev-”

“I said I should head home,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Already paid the tab.” Without another word, he placed his hand on my lower back and steered me out of the pub, pausing only to offer a half-hearted wave to the barkeep, who smiled warmly at us on our way out the door.

“What the fuck, Kent?” I hissed as we stood on the curb in front of a giant black car. “Did something happen? I thought-”

The man growled and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. “I’m fucking old,” he muttered. “I have a bedtime on worknights. Get used to it.” He nodded to the monstrous vehicle behind him. “D’you need a ride home?”

Resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest defiantly, I shook my head. “I can walk,” I mumbled. “Or call a car if I get sick of walking.”

“Fine.”

It felt like hours as we stared at each other, Roy’s lips parted as if he were about to speak. Finally, I nodded curtly, trying to keep my own expression relaxed, as if the man hadn’t just done a complete 180 in the time it took me to use the restroom.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek,” I whispered as I took a tiny step towards him. “Since this was a date and all.”

“Fine,” he repeated, leaning towards me.

Just like at the club, my lips brushed against his warm cheek, his beard tickling my face. I flashed him my best smile, the one I usually saved for men I actually liked.

“Goodnight, Kent,” I managed, taking a step back.

He nodded brusquely, not quite meeting my eye. “Goodnight.”

With that, he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me on the curb with a few questions and a long walk home.

~

Roy stared at his phone as he walked into the Dog Track, as if he thought that doing so would change the Tweet that had distracted him the night before. While waiting for his “date” to return from the loo, he’d scrolled aimlessly on the app, looking for anything interesting in football news. When he saw the post with two names he knew all too well, his stomach had dropped.

He and Jamie Tartt didn’t have any sort of agreement, per se. But they both seemed to respect each other’s feelings for Keeley ever since the night they showed up on her porch and were properly scolded. The three of them had formed a close friendship, one that seemed to center mostly around doting on Phoebe and avoiding any mentions of dating and romance. Sure, Roy knew that Keeley and Jamie hung out sometimes, just like Jamie knew Roy and Keeley did the same. But seeing it online, linked with the idea of the two getting back together, had Roy gritting his teeth as he entered the already chatty changing room.

Despite knowing this conversation was better suited for a pub with some beers than their place of work- where Roy was Jamie’s boss- Roy made his way over to Jamie, who looked up at the manager with something close to awkwardness on his pretty face.

“Mornin’, Coach,” Jamie hummed.

Roy had cancelled their training that morning; Jamie was smart enough to know why.

“You two back together?” Roy’s voice was low and even. It scared Jamie and the eavesdropping Greyounds more than any shouting and swearing would.

Jamie furrowed his brows and shook his head gingerly. “’Course not.” He nodded to Roy’s phone, its screen opened to a photo of the two exes sharing a dessert. “Just friends, Coach. She had some brand deal she thought I’d be interested in, I was hungry, so we grabbed a bite. I promise, I’d tell ya if anything was going to happen.” He paused, pouting a little. “Besides, you’ve moved on, haven’t ya? Saw some photos of you two playing darts and shit.”

Oh. Fuck. Roy shrugged, praying his face was relaxed. “We’re friends,” he mumbled. “Fucking getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“In that case-” Jamie’s bravado returned, reminding Roy of the arrogant prick he’d met when Jamie first came to Richmond. His eyes were bright with teasing, and he did that stupid tongue flick that made Roy want to puke. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help scoffing, telling himself it had everything to do with Jamie and nothing to do with the topic at hand. “Why the fuck d’you think she’d be interested in you?”

Tartt’s smirk widened as he winked at his obviously spying teammates. “She said it herself, didn’t she? That boyish look that I like in a man?” He gestured at his own face. “Beautiful and boyish, right here.”

Before Roy could even think, he bared his teeth at the striker, not aware of the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “Maybe she’s done with boys,” he all but spat. “Maybe she wants a real man.”

Jamie threw his hands up in surrender, eyes widening as he took in Roy’s reddening face. “Oi, Coach,” he chuckled, clearly trying to ease the tension. “I was just teasing. If you like the girl, just say so. You don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

All eyes in the changing room were on Roy, who took a step back; he hadn’t realized he was practically nose to nose with Tartt. He gave a little nod, not quite meeting the striker’s eye. “Right,” was all he could manage.

Satisfied that he had escaped another love triangle, Jamie gave Roy’s arm a friendly punch. “Now, next time you see her, could you ask about that assistant of hers? What was her name? May? April? She was fucking fit.”

Roy blinked at Jamie, barely registering what he’d just said. Instead, he sulked into his office, wondering where the fuck that little snap had come from. Probably still thinking about Jamie’s dinner with Keeley, he reasoned. That must be it. It had everything to do with Keeley and nothing to do with Jamie- or anyone else, for that matter.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas @eugene-emt-roe @littleesilvia @teenwolf01 @sisinever @yagotgames @queen-of-the-downtown-scene

[tgmsunmontue]

It's not who you know 3/4

YEAR 3 - Non-angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley and his years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

YEAR THREE - 2003 - PART 3

                Bradley’s time in San Diego is now numbered in days rather than weeks and Tom helps him pack for his first extended stay on a cruiser. Tom wonders if his name was even put into a hat for a place on a submarine; unlike his relationship with Man and him, it’s no secret that Bradley wants to fly. If a carrier had been an option he’s pretty sure Bradley would have gotten that. He’s seen Bradley’s report though, knows he’s excelling in all areas, clearly determined to succeed and he’s so proud. Of course, Bradley still needs to take part in the standard summer activities, despite having grown up and having them happening around him constantly, getting dragged across the country to attend various things in his shadow.

                “You know I’ll be visiting the USS Princeton while you’re onboard.”

                “Yeah yeah, I promise not to have to be thrown overboard for insubordination.”

                “No, that wasn’t… I was more thinking that you might find yourself hearing things about me which are going to make you want to pop someone in the nose.”

                “Like what?”

                “Oh god, all sorts of shit. People think I don’t know what they say behind my back but trust me, I know.”

                “I haven’t heard anything!”

                “You’ve not done any active service yet. Fresh greenie not even a proper upperclassman yet. You’ll hear stuff.”

                The expression on Bradley’s face is equally angry and annoyed and Tom holds back a groan.

                “Bradley, I’m serious. You’re really going to have to hold back if you get angry. Don’t worry about my honor okay. You’ve spent the last couple of years pretending you don’t know me and Mav at all, don’t blow your cover over something stupid that doesn’t matter. You understand?”

                “Yeah. Thanks Ice. And thanks for going along with this whole thing, I know it probably feels a bit stupid some days, but it’s really nice knowing that the friends I’ve made are my friends because of me you know, not because of what connections I might have.”

                “Yeah kid, I get it. Fair warning they might feel pretty pissed when they do find out though.”

                “Nah, I’ve picked good friends. I reckon they’ll understand.”

                “Okay. Now did you need anything else? I know Mav has been riding you hard about your flight hours…”

                Mav of course has made the most of whatever spare time they’ve had and ensured Bradley built up his flight hours again so his license doesn’t lapse. Tom doesn’t think there are going to be very many other upperclassman with as much flight experience as Bradley. Talk about being overqualified. However he also knows it makes for a damn strong application so he’s supported Mav in his undertaking.

                They say goodbye to Bradley on the porch, tell him they’ll see him onboard when he’s mixing with the enlisted personnel and Tom wishes they could watch him board, feels like it’s another milestone he’s going to miss. Reminds himself firmly that he’ll see him again onboard the same damn ship and he’ll have plenty of opportunities in the future to wave Bradley off on deployment.

…             …             …

                He doesn’t punch anyone, didn’t even need the warning, wonders what Ice thinks people say about him. He’d heard them talk, but nothing more than him being brass and being very cool-headed in times of crisis. It’s all been pretty benign stuff really, and no-one had stopped talking when he entered a room or anything.

                For the first time ever he puts up a photo of Ice and Mav beside his bed. It’s weird, but he can see why people don’t see Admiral Kazansky. He’s got a few copies of the photo, Slider having printed him off a bunch in thanks for forwarding him the electronic file and that is probably going to come back and bite him in the ass at some stage. Now he’s back in Bancroft, preparing to help with Plebe Summer, this time older and not being expected to have to deal with people yelling in his face while not reacting. It’s going to be a cake-walk in comparison to two years ago and he’s looking forward to it.

                “You’re not meant to be in here,” Bradley says, seeing Natasha at the end of his dorm bed.

                “I was sent to collect you, I have permission,” she says, hand waving away his concerns. “Let me look at that photo. Holy shit… I thought your first dad was hot, but your other dad? I mean… wow. I know I told you I like girls more than boys, but these are the type of boys that I prefer…” she says, tapping the photo. “Huh. Maybe it’s just men and women, because to be honest I don’t find anyone here very attractive.”

                “Gross,” Bradley states, because he’s very firmly kept the company of his own hand when he’s been on base. His summers are probably a lot wilder than Mav or Ice think they are, but he tries to make use of every night he has home once they’re

                “To you maybe… pretty sure you’d find my brother hot.”

                “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you!”

                “That’s because you’re repressed.”

                “Rather be repressed than find either of my dads hot thanks!”

                “Okay. That’s fair. And you probably won’t be too ugly once you grow into your face…”

                “Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy…”

…             …             …

                Plebe Summer starts and Bradley throws himself into being the best role model he can. He knows that in the future some of these people will be his peers, maybe even be his superior, but right now they have to get through what he still considers the hardest summer of their life. Of course hardly anyone drops out, the selection criteria is far too difficult and physically rigorous to make it something someone would easily just drop-out from without serious consideration first. There’s friendly competition and even friendlier encouragement, the brigades working together.

                There’s one guy that keeps catching his eye and he’s not sure if it’s deliberate on the guy’s part, somehow magically putting himself nearly always in Bradley’s line of sight. Or whether he’s only got himself to blame, eyes just drifting to watch. Either way he’s really fucking horny and the guy is hot. Not that he will do anything, but it doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

                “Now there is a guy who doesn’t need to grow into his looks…”

                He silently agrees.

                God what he wouldn’t do to get his hands on him.

                Ah well. His own hands on his own body and his mind on another it is.

…             …             …

                “Do I have a sign on me that says to tell me if you’re gay? Or a lesbian? Or bisexual?”

                “Um… not literally. But there is the common knowledge that you have smoking hot dads and therefor okay with the gay.”

                Bradley groans.

                “I had another guy come out to me today. No reason. Just to tell me. Also he said he thinks we’re cute together.”

                “Ew.”

                “I just nodded and smiled.”

…             …             …

                Michael Williams sighs. It’s the second… complaint? Notification? Information? Tips? Regardless, they’re both about Bradley Bradshaw’s relationship with Natasha Trace. They’ve been spied coming out of rooms together, otherwise small, dark, empty rooms like the store rooms. Fraternization. Actions unbecoming. Fuck. The kid wants to be treated like all the other kids, he’d be getting pulled into Mack’s office for a dressing down, short and sharp. Both of them would be.

                Part of him wants to, still a little ticked off at the whole stunt Bradshaw is pulling. He’s not familiar with him outside of watching him last year, seeing a whole raft of his superior officers watch as Admiral Kazansky toured the campus dressed as a civilian. But also Bradshaw is good. He does everything well, more than well. And he’s cheerful and helpful and encourages the underclassmen and there had been no fault in any of his behavior.

                Until now.

                He walks down the corridor to Admiral Kerner’s office, nervous as he knocks on the open door.

                “Sir. Do you have a moment?”

                “Of course, come in.”

                He does, closes the door behind him and notes the eyebrow raise and the lean back in the chair. He has his full attention.

                “Sir. I need you to do a favor and make a call to your friend Kazansky.”

                “Why, what’s happened?”

                “I’ve got two instances of fraternization for Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace.”

                “And you want to do what? Tattle on him to his uncle?”

                “No, I was actually after guidance on how I should proceed. I would pull them both into my office and give them a stern talking to, and a warning. Is that appropriate?”

                “Bradshaw and Trace are the same rank Captain, it’s not exactly forbidden, just heavily frowned upon. The fact you have had two complaints tells me that this is more likely a case of sour grapes on whoever is complaining, so I’d be having a talk with them as well. But let me see if I can get Ice on the blower…”

                Michael will never understand naval aviators and their call signs, but he stands and waits as Admiral Kerner dials, then asks to be put through. Obviously whoever it is on the other end knows not to mess with one Admiral ringing another. He listens to the one-sided conversation and watches Admiral Kerner’s face with interest.

                “Hey Ice, it’s Sli. Yes, well, I didn’t think I’d be speaking to you today either. Look. Yeah. This is about Bradley. Did you talk to him about behavior?” Face curious, openly contemplative.

                “Okay, so you covered that with him. Then why are we looking at two instances of fraternization?” Eyes narrowed and considering.

                “No, it’s with a fellow midshipman. Also an upperclassman.” Serious.

                “Yes, I’m aware it’s not actual fraternization.” An eyeroll.

                “Yes, it is.” Face back to curious, speculative.

                “Oh. Huh.” Surprise.

                “I did think it was maybe a case of sour grapes, jealousy at his general capabilities and the fact that he’s generally well liked amongst his peers. Except by a couple apparently.”

                “Yes well, he’ll be fine. We’ll pull them in and give them a heads up. Both of them. Midshipman Trace is equally talented and capable.”

                “Yeah, was nice talking to you too. Will have to have a proper catchup when it’s not about work.”

…             …             …

                Jake isn’t sure what he has to do to get the guys sole undivided attention, but he’s not going to give up trying. He’s so good at everything, competent in this easy way that turns him on in ways he’s never thought were possible, and he’s a teenager and being horny is pretty much a permanent state for him. Except when he’s too tired to even think, which unfortunately for his first year at USNA is a whole lot of the time. Either it gets easier or people just learn how to cope with everything better because Midshipman Bradshaw makes it look easy.

…             …             …

                “Oh god, it was horrible. I can’t do it again. How do they do it?”

                “What are you talking about?”

                “Submarines! Going under the water…”

                “Uh…” Tom exchanges a look with Pete and opens his mouth. Closes it again. Bradley is back home for part of summer, having just experienced his first dive and he’s at a bit of a loss.

                “Bradley. Buddy. Uh. You realize you’re in the Navy right? And that has, uh, a lot to do with the water?” Mav says.

                “But I’m going to fly planes!”

                “Maybe he should have joined the airforce,” Tom muses.

                “You wash your mouth out right now!”

…             …             …

                “Seriously, if I was going to fuck around I’d do it somewhere far less obvious than the fucking storeroom!”

                Tom winces, because clearly Pete has heard the rumors about Bradley and Natasha Trace. God he loves the rumor mill of the US Navy, bunch of gossipers the lot of them. He hadn’t bothered mentioning anything, because he knew nothing was happening. Mav is of course mentioning it. In the worst possible way. Clearly having forgotten that Bradley came out as gay several years ago and that Natasha Trace is a woman. He’s going to need a coffee.

                “Bradley! What do you mean Bradley? Don’t walk away from me young man!”

                “You said we leave our ranks at the door with our shoes, so this conversation is over! And I said if!”

                “I know what if means in this house, and it definitely means something definitely happened!”

…             …             …

                “Do I even want to know?” Tom asks, taking a quiet sip of coffee.

                “Mav’s scared I might be having sex.”

                Tom raises an eyebrow, he’s fully aware Bradley’s been sneaking out for the last couple of years. He guesses Bradley’s now feeling mature enough to talk about it. Good.

                “Are you being safe?”

                “Yes.”

                “Good enough for me. Don’t get caught.”

                Bradley scoffs.

                “I learnt from the best remember!”

                “He got caught plenty of times,” Tom says dryly.

                “I meant you Ice.”

                “Oh.”

                It’s been a long time since he’s blushed.

PART FOUR

[babydollmarauders]

LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

**

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

Load more comments

@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes: @y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes: @trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes: @y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte: @jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11: @jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras: @y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras: @griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

Load more comments