#didn’t know that. cheers to rum and coke

[autumnscribbles]

come back | r.c

summary: you and rafe get into a fight on a night out, when you’re left to find your own way home, you find yourself in a bad position

warnings: drinking, creepy men, i think that’s about it

wc: 2k

a/n: my first official rafe fic!!! thank you so much to the person who sent in this request, i’m a little rusty but had so much fun writing this! pls send more :) enjoy

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You let out a loud laugh as JJ continued to tell you one of the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard. Between fits of laughter, you took small sips from your red solo cup. You were starting to feel tipsy, the alcohol coursing through you. It made everything funnier, and you found yourself leaning in towards JJ, unable to control your laughter. You clutched your stomach as he laughed along with you, his own laughter triggered by how much you were laughing. It was always an endless cycle with JJ, when one of you started to laugh, it was over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you hiccuped, as you stared down at the empty cup in your hand.

JJ patted your leg and nodded at you before you stood up, making your way over to the table where the drinks were. The room spun slightly around you as you clumsily poured yourself another drink. You were mixing it yourself, and chuckled at how heavy handed your pour was. You tilted your head back as you took a sip, nodding to yourself in approval.

As you turned around to head back to the couch you were sitting on, you bumped into a familiar chest. You looked up at your boyfriend, smiling drunkenly at him.

“Hey! There you are!” you cheered, leaning your head on Rafe’s chest as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Took you long enough,” he scoffed, stepping to the side and approaching the same table you were just walking away from.

“What does that mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took another sip.

“It means you should probably lay off the liquor and maybe don’t hang all over JJ like an idiot,” he retorted, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

You thought it was hypocritical, him telling you to stop drinking as he poured himself another rum and coke. He drank as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted and you never said a word to him about it. JJ had been your friend since childhood, your family taking him in when he had no one else. You grew up together. Your friendship would always be special.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away from him, going back towards JJ.

“Running back to him?” Rafe called out to you.

You turned around, seeing his bright blue eyes darken as he looked at you. His jaw twitched as he clenched it. You knew he was biting his tongue. Holding himself back from saying something he would really regret.

“You know what Rafe? You’re childish. JJ is my friend, and you know it. Maybe you should stop drinking and you wouldn’t be so fucking delusional,” you bit back.

Rafe rolled his eyes and you walked back over to JJ, plopping on the couch beside him again. He looked concerned as he asked you if everything was okay. You assured him you were perfect, and tapped your cup against his as a cheers.

You ignored Rafe as you saw him walk passed you, not even sparing you a glance. You knew you upset him, and that he was bothered. For once, you didn’t care enough to do anything until you got home. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and more importantly, wanted to have fun with your friends.

After a few rounds of pong with John B, Pope, JJ, and Kie, the alcohol was really getting to your head. You realized you hadn’t seen Rafe since your argument, anXd thought maybe you should look for him.

“I’m gonna get some air and look for Rafe,” you said to your friends, voice raised to be heard over the music. They nodded at you before setting up for another game.

You weaved through drunk, sweaty bodies before stepping outside. You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as everything spun.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled down the front steps.

You assumed Rafe would be outside. He usually stepped out for air when things were tense between you. He used it as a way to calm down. You were surprised when you didn’t find him.

You glanced down the street full of parked cars. You couldn’t spot Rafe’s truck. Did he leave? Would he? You felt tears springing to your eyes, suddenly feeling guilty for what you said to him. You pulled out your phone, calling him. It rang and rang, but eventually left you on voicemail. You shot him a quick text before sitting on the steps, spinning head in your hands.

“Hey…” you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see someone you didn’t recognize. Obviously a kook, based on the polo shirt and khaki pants he had on. You had never seen him at one of these parties before. Or maybe, you just never recognized him.

“Hey,” you muttered, pulling out your phone to see if Rafe answered.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, sitting down comfortably beside you. You felt yourself slide over, wanting distance from him.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just waiting for him.”

“Don’t think he’s coming back, sweetheart. I saw him get in his truck,” he chuckled. “I could drive you home though.”

“I’m good,” you answered shortly.

You stood up, taking a second to regain your balance. You had to go home. To find Rafe. You realized you didn’t have the keys to your place. Rafe had them. You came together and were going to leave together. You guessed you’d just knock until he answered once you got there.

You knew you should tell your friends you were leaving, but in a drunken haze you were too focused to go back inside. You’d just text them later.

The boy on the stairs was in a conversation with a clone of himself, so you started walking. The cool evening hair sent a slight chill down your spine, your shoulders exposed. You tried to walk as quickly as possible without falling.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you reluctantly decided to look behind you. You were surprised to find the boy from the stairs and his friend walking a few paces behind you.

You felt your heartbeat pick up a bit, your hand clutching your phone tightly, willing Rafe to call. You took a turn, and realized they were not too far behind you. Enough distance to try to make it seem like they weren’t following you, but you knew.

You decided you’d take the short cut. You had to go through the woods, but it wasn’t too far. The boys behind you wouldn’t know the path, even if they saw you turn off. You’d just run, you thought to yourself.

As you dashed quickly into the woods, your breath was loud in your ears. You were trying not to panic. You would be fine. You heard the footsteps behind you, branches cracking under their feet as their pace picked up. You’d run as far as you could.

Eventually, you slowed down, catching your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to listen for the boys following you. Your heart beat hard in your ears as you took deep breaths. You didn’t hear them anymore. You were in the clear.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and flashed the light, realizing you had no idea where you ended up. You were surrounded by trees, no path in sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You started walking where you thought you had come from, hoping to end up back on the path. You’d tripped over something, landing harshly on the hard ground. You hissed in pain as tears started filling your eyes.

You dialled JJ, thinking maybe you had a better chance of reaching him. No answer. You tried Rafe again, and again, and again.

The third time, he picked up. His voice choppy on the other line because of the bad service.

“Rafe?” you cried, overjoyed that he answered. “I need help I-I was walking home and I cut through the woods to get home but I’m lost.”

“Y/N?” Rafe answered. “Where are you?”

“The woods, I-I don’t know where exactly. Please help me, baby,” you cried.

You couldn’t hear his reply as the call dropped. You cursed under your breath again as you began to cry. You didn’t even know if Rafe heard you. You felt yourself starting to crash, the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the alcohol hitting you all at once. You felt your eyes flutter shut, and succumbed to the exhaustion.

You eyes opened again to a faint sound in the distance. You sat up, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes. You winced as you tried to figure out how much time had passed.

You heard a voice in the distance, and as it approached you realize they were calling your name.

Rafe.

He came.

“Rafe!” you screamed as loud as you could, trying to signal to him where you were.

You heard his footsteps pick up as they got closer, and you kept calling out. Eventually he was in front of you, crouch down as his hands cradled your face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he breathed. “I’ve been looking for you, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch,” you cried, falling into his chest. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Shhh I shouldn’t have left you there. I was a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry. What if something happened to you?” he rambled, holding you close.

“These guys were following me so I cut through the woods. I tried to get away,” you breathed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What? Who?” he asked angrily.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sighed. “I just wanna go home.”

*

Rafe brought you inside and into the bathroom, turning the light on.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered. There was a cut down your leg, bleeding from when you tripped. You were covered in dirt, leaves, and branches.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry baby, I can’t say it enough.”

He turned the shower on, the steam starting to fill the room. He helped you gently peel off your clothes and step in, where he joined behind you. He rinsed off all the dirt and blood, and gently massaged your head with shampoo to wash out the dirt. You began uncontrollably sobbing as the warm water fell down your body, and you were so worn out you didn’t even know why anymore.

Rafe dressed you into your favorite pyjamas and brought you to bed, tucking you in gently. All while whispering that you were okay, that he was sorry, and that he loved you. He set down a glass of water beside you, urging you to drink it.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head, reaching your arms out to him. He fell on the bed beside you as you lay on his chest, his heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered to him, your eyes beginning to close. “I’m okay.

“I don’t know how I can forgive myself,” he said. “What if those guys..” he stopped himself before continuing. He didn’t want to voice what he was thinking. It was unimaginable.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, or walked away when you were clearly upset. It was stupid,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I was just being jealous and stupid. I overreacted.”

“As always,” you chuckled, making the corners of his mouth turn up.

He watched as your eyes began closing, your previously stressed out facial expression smoothing out.

“Just rest, baby,” he cooed as he rubbed his hand along your back. “I won’t leave you again.”

You finally gave in to your exhaustion, just happy to be safe and warm in Rafe’s arms. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, or anything that happened. All that mattered was you were safe. You were okay.

He came back. He would always come back.

[ellfucksup]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

Girls Night

Cho Sang Woo x reader

Request: anonymous

Summary: A spontaneous girls night is interrupted by an unwanted guest.

Warnings: kissing?

I couldn’t remember the last time I actually went out and let my hair down. Work had been relentless—non-stop, brain-numbing torture just to scrape by paycheck to paycheck. It was exhausting. Soul-crushing, even.

So, I messaged the girls. We need a night out.

Thank god they all agreed. Friday. Drinks. Dancing.

It was in the calendar, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to get in the way of me losing my mind on the dance floor, ten shots deep.

Well. Almost nothing.

Just as I was halfway through getting ready, a knock sounded at my door. I groaned, annoyed at the interruption. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair dripping onto my shoulders, I yanked the door open, fully prepared to tell off whoever thought now was a good time to bother me.

Then I froze.

Sang Woo.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, dark eyes flickering over me in amusement.

“Nice outfit,” he said, smirking.

I scowled. “What do you want?”

He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “Missed me?”

I exhaled sharply, my night already getting more complicated than I’d planned.

“What are your plans tonight?” he smirked, still leaning against my doorframe.

I huffed, turning around and leaving the door open for him to follow me in. “Why do you ask, Sang Woo? We haven’t spoken in over a week,” I sighed, feigning disinterest.

“I’ve been busy. Let me make it up to you,” he smiled.

“No can do. Girls' night. And you’re very much not invited.” I turned around, hands on my hips, praying to dear god the towel stayed up.

- - - - -

Safe to say, he wasn’t bothered by my clear instructions to stay behind.

Now, walking down the street, Sang Woo strolled casually beside me, cigarette in hand, dressed annoyingly well.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his pestering. It had been a while since I’d seen my on-and-off-again friend with benefits. I mean, I guess you could call it that—it was an interesting arrangement.

I had met Sang Woo through a mutual friend. Gi-Hun, the absolute sweetheart that he is, introduced me to this infuriating man. Sadly, Sang Woo didn’t share his friend’s cheerful nature.

Hearing the loud music as I approached the strip, I suddenly heard my name being called out.

The girls were huddled together in their mini skirts, waving at me excitedly. I ran over, giggling, and pulled them all into a hug.

As soon as I let go, they opened their mouths, ready to say something—until their eyes flicked behind me. Eyebrows were definitely raised.

“I’m sorry, girls, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Trust me, though, let’s just pretend he’s not here,” I whispered—loud enough for Sang Woo to hear.

I heard him chuckle behind me.

“Oh, please, Y/N,” one of the girls giggled. “We all know you’re gonna struggle to ignore him.”

Walking into the bar, the group definitely garnered some looks. Can’t blame them really, the girls looked incredible. Trust them to go all out. Heading to the bar, I start to order a very strong drink.

“Hi, can I get a double—“ you were rudely cut off.

“Rum and coke—make that two, please, on card.”

I turn to see I hadn’t managed to lose Sang Woo in the crowd. He stood behind me, smug smile, hand ghosting my hip.

“You’re infuriating.” I mutter.

“Only for you.” His whispers into my ear.

I happily take his drink, making full eye contact, gulping it down. A bit of the drink dribbles slightly down my chin. I watch his eyes follow the droplet, hand raising to swipe it with his thumb, catching my lips ever so slightly.

I blush, turning my head, looking for the girls—finding them giggling, looking my way, mocking the lip swipe and swooning.

Ignoring Sang Woo, I rush over to my closest friend, grabbing her hand and yanking her to the dance floor. If he was going to be a menace, I’d be much worse.

I sway my hips to the music, base thumping as the alcohol shoots straight to my head.

“Girl, he’s looking at you like he’s going to eat you alive,” my friend shouts over the music with a grin on her face.

“Let him look,” I giggle, alcohol giving me some liquid courage.

After a few more rounds of shots, each one of the girls taking their turn to pay, I was definitely feeling the liquor in my legs.

I stray off to the dance floor, feeling the music, waiting for the girls to join.

I feel a hand on my waist—thinking it’s one of the girls, swaying with them to the music. Whoever the hand belongs to grips me slightly tighter, hand wandering further towards my ass.

Turning around to make a joke to one of my friends about being a perv, only to find a complete stranger.

Shocked at first, I stop dancing and move away, spotting the girls coming towards me.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty?” he says, giving a slimy smile.

I ignore him, weaving through the crowd, only to be grabbed by the wrist.

“Not a chance. You were just grinding on me—I want you to finish the dance,” he growls, pulling at me.

This guy was truly gross.

“Get your hands off of her now.”

I hear a voice boom through the crowd.

The creepy guy turns to see Sang Woo walking toward us, a scowl on his face.

“Now, why would I do that, old man?” he laughs, clearly feeling cocky.

Before I can open my mouth to tell the guy to fuck off, Sang Woo swings for him.

Before I could scream, they’re both on the floor. Sang Woo pins the guy as he pulls his fist back, ready to strike again.

“Fine, keep your whore,” shouts the perv, trying to save himself from the coming onslaught of punches.

The girls gather around me, asking whether I’m fine. Honestly, I’m more than okay—truthfully, slightly turned on. Seeing the usual well-kept Sang Woo with messy hair, looking feral, did things to me.

The crowd starts to open up around the fight. Chants begin, alerting the bouncers.

“Apologize to my girl,” Sang Woo growls.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Jesus, please get off me, man!” the guy pleads.

They’re both pulled apart and escorted out of the club. With some boos from the crowd they go back to the usual antics of the night.

I turn to look at the girls, mouths open—speechless, to say the least. They all look at me with smiles, some with their arms crossed.

“Girl, just go. You’re clearly gonna get laid to the high heavens; that’ll at least be a good stress reliever. We can always go out tomorrow night,” one of them giggles and gives me a wink.

I roll my eyes trying to hide my blush, saying my goodbyes.

Heading outside to find Sang Woo sorting his jacket out, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He spots me, strolling over and pinning me to the wall. Luckily, the streets are quiet, as it’s on the later side of the night.

He says nothing but brings his lips to mine. Giving me a rough kiss, clearly riled up by the fight.

“I hate it when they touch what’s mine,” he whispers into my ear as he leaves hot kisses down my neck.

- - - -

OMG my first fic! Hope you enjoy, please be nice I’m new to this!

[mountttmase]

10 fluff

Just some fluff before the games tonight 🩷

Parties had never been your thing, in fact you hated the whole concept of them and right now you should have been at home wrapped up in a blanket while you stuffed chips and guacamole into your gob.

Yet here you were, stuffed into a dress that really wasn’t your size as the stupid heels your best friend Kate picked out for you hurt more with each passing second. In the end storming off to the bathroom to readjust yourself and change into some flats as you’d had enough.

You didn’t have you be here, but there was no way you couldn’t be here. Not when you knew Mason was around.

You fancied the pants off of him, and it didn’t help that he was all over you whenever he was around but no matter how many people pushed you to come clean to him about your feelings, there was still a part of your brain that told you he’d never feel the same and you’d just be embarrassing yourself.

You knew what people were saying about the pair of you and how they’d look at you whenever you were next to each other. The same teasing look, an air of will they won’t they but you did your best to ignore it. Not wanting to make your time with him awkward.

You hadn’t spent much time with him alone tonight so you made it your mission to find him. Thankfully for you, you spotted him alone on the balcony straight away and walked through everyone to get to him.

‘You don’t mind if I join, do you?’ You asked carefully as you shut the door behind you, but his kind smile let you know it was fine. Holding his hand out so he could pull you into his side and you felt his warmth immediately.

The pair of you fell silent after a few minutes of chatter. Just holding each other as you took in the twinkling lights of the city below but his warm breath on your ear made you look up at him. His eyes on your lips instantly but rather than go with the moment and see what came of it, your mouth interrupted everything as you nervous chatter broke whatever was happening.

‘What do you think you’d be doing right now if we didn’t know each other?’ You asked quickly. Masons face one of shock before he was grinning and holding you a little closer.

‘I mean let’s face it, you probably wouldn’t even be here’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right’ you shrugged, laughing at how well he knew you.

‘But if you were, then I’d be on the other side of the room from you, probably quizzing Chilly about who you were while trying not to let him know how hot I think you are’

‘Mason’ you laughed, heat rising up your neck at the fact he’d finally admitted he was attracted to to you and when he tilted your face up to his you could see the blush on his cheeks.

‘What? You know I think you’re gorgeous’

‘Do I?’ You retorted but he just licked his lips and gulped.

‘Well you do now’ he winked. ‘What would you be doing?’

‘Probably on the other side of the room asking Kate who you were’ you smiled and you knew you had to say the next part as he’d been so open so it was only fair. ‘Trying not to let her know how hot I thought you were’ you giggled and from the way he smiled you knew everything was okay.

You didn’t need to say anything else. Masons face inching closer as you tilted yours up and when your lips finally touched it was just for a brief second. Mason pulling back to check everything was fine but when you were leaning back in instantly you felt him smile before he kissed you again.

You tried to ignore the sound of everyone inside cheering, but it was pretty hard to miss. Mason did his best though, holding you closer and kissing you even deeper until your knees were weak and all you could think about was the way his lips slot against yours so perfectly and the fact he tasted a bit like rum and coke.

You could have kissed him for hours, but the next time he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, you did the same. Peering up at him with a shy smile that he returned and the sense of relief that came over you made you feel like flying.

‘You should ask me nervous rambling questions more often’ he laughed and even though you felt a little silly, you couldn’t help but agree.

[lo-vearchive]

Forgive Me (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: After reconciling in your bedroom, Miguel disappears on you for a week. Giving up on any hopes of romance, your friends plan a night out for you to cheer up. Too bad your boss makes an appearance and catches you with an attractive stranger on a stormy night. Read Part One: here

Word Count: 4463 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel asking for forgiveness (again), arguments, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, tobacco consumption, 18+ (minors DNI), no p in v but things get spicy at the end, female fingering, finger sucking, misogyny, insecurity, swearing, hurt and comfort, office sex (no p in v), questionable Spanish

Note: ANGST! Got carried away once again. Lowkey not proofread. I love angst and Miguel being vulnerable.  If you are into angst, you will enjoy this. Feel free to correct my Spanish and ask for any other cw to be added. Thank you for the 1K+ notes on Pt. 1. Have fun, horndogs ;)

It has been seven days since you last saw Miguel O’Hara.

After spending a full 48 hours by your side, he had gone back to work. You decided to join him at Alchemax the next day but found his office empty. At first, you thought he was occupied with Spider-Man business, so you kept yourself busy with answering his overflowing email box. Slowly the sun set behind the skyline of Nueva York and the messages ran out, leaving behind a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach.

 You [sent Friday, 6 pm]: Hey, are you coming to work today?

You [sent Friday, 10 pm]: I’m going home for the night. Call me when you are home. I miss you :)

You [sent Saturday, 5 am]: Are you okay?

You [sent Saturday, 1 pm]: I’m getting really worried. Where are you?

You [sent Saturday, 5 pm]: I emailed you in case you lost your phone. Call me asap.

You [sent Sunday, 7 pm]: I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

You [sent Monday, 9 am]: Lyla said you’re okay but won’t tell me what’s going on. Says I don’t have clearance. Please call me.

You [sent Monday 10 am]: Are you actually ignoring me?

You [sent Tuesday, 1 am]: My best friend you’re an asshole and I should never let you near my pussy ever again.

You [sent Tuesday 1:23 am] Are you ghosting me? You know we work together, right?

You [sent Tuesday, 3:30 am]: I hate you Miguel O’Hara.

 Friday rolled around and your best friend had enough of your drunk late-night facetime calls. She gathered a group of your high school girlfriends and decided a night out in the town would be the perfect remedy. “Fuck him, babe,” Katy states, sliding a shot glass across the table. “You should report him to HR for being an ass.”

You laughed and tipped the glass into your mouth. The tequila burnt its way down your throat. “I’m just going to find a new job. I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”

Your friend Soo let out a burp. “Did you let him hit it?”

You shake your head. “No,” you cough. “We came close to it, like above the pants stuff— do you think that’s why he’s ignoring me? Because I didn’t put out right away?”

“Bitch,” Katy chides, slapping the tabletop, “be fucking for real. You look like a busty, hot secretary from some comic book. He should be lucky you let him touch your tits!”

Your friends nodded along in agreement. Katy grabs the sides of your chair and spins it around, facing you to the restaurant bar. “You see that guy there?” she points at a man with messy blond hair in an open-collar white shirt. “He’s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to him right now.”

The tequila must have heightened your bravery as you found yourself walking across the dimly lit restaurant and to the wall. Stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you ask the bartender for, “a rum and coke please.”

“You can add her drink to my tab,” the man says just like you hoped he would. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your friends fussing over you earlier and you looked like you needed a drink.”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, letting out a laugh. “You’re right, I do need a little pick-me-upper tonight.”

“My name is John,” he says.

You introduced yourself and slide in the empty seat next to him. “So, what’s going on with you?” he questions, sipping his beer.

You carefully lift your drink from the bar top and circled the rim with your index finger. “I’m not sure if I wanna’ trauma dump on a stranger.”

“Sometimes talking to strangers helps.”

You contemplate his words and sigh. Your friends would kick you if you said the name Miguel O’Hara again in their general vicinity. You chose to divulge a little to the mystery man. “Things got a bit complicated with someone I really cared about. Everything was going well and then he disappeared suddenly, and I don’t know why.”

John listens to you carefully, nodding to himself. “You know what I do when I’m confused?”

“What?”

“I take a smoke break to chill out,” he answers, standing up. “Care to join me?”

You downed the contents of your glass and follow him out a door that open to a back alley behind the restaurant. Rain pours down heavily, and you both huddle under a dingy metal shed. The cold air bites your arms sharply as John lights the end of his cigarette and brings it to his mouth. “It can be frustrating when you’re left without answers but a girl like you has nothing to worry about.”

You smile at his words. You take the cigarette off his hand and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs, making your head spin a little. The light-headedness reminds you of how you felt last time when Miguel was in your arms. Airy, free, and light. No matter what you do, all your thoughts lead back to him. You shake away the memories and pass the cigarette back to John.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” a stern voice asks.

A man melts out of the shadows in the alley and into the light shining from a streetlamp above. You recognize him. “Miguel?”

He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes focused on John. “Who is he?” he asks with a deep frown.

“Listen, I’m off work right now,” you clear your throat, sticking your nose up in the air. “I don’t have to explain—”

“Look, man,” John interrupts, “no need to get all worked about this. We are just talking.”

Miguel lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right,” he spits and gets in his face. “You could have done that at the bar. Why the fuck are you out here alone with her? What were you planning on doing?”

“Mr. O’Hara!” you exclaim, stepping in between them. “You are out of line!”

He raises his eyebrows at your formality but keeps his attention on John over your shoulder.  “Buddy,” John says, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you to the side. “She is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. I suggest you leave us alone now.”

The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. His nostrils flare and his eyes turned red with anger. He steps closer to John until he is looming over the poor man. You often forget how big your boss is compared to everyone around him. The scene looks almost comical with how John tries to puff out his chest. “Te calmas o te calmo,” (Calm yourself, or I’ll calm you down) Miguel snarls.

Whatever John sees in his face is enough to make him reconsider. He holds his hands up in surrender and backs away slowly. Stopping in front of you he pushes the half-burnt cigarette into your hand and whispers, “If this is the guy you were talking about, then maybe it’s a good thing he disappears. I’ll be inside if you still want to talk.”

He walks away from the alley and into the restaurant, leaving you with Miguel alone in the alley. You watch in silence as his body trembles, and you can’t tell if it’s from anger or the rain hammering away at his back.

He breaks the silence. “So, you’re letting strangers into our private business?”

You snort loudly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” you tell him, taking another drag. “Especially after disappearing on me. You can’t just strut back into my life and tell me who I can confide in.”

“I was tending to some urgent matters,” he says, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “So I took the time to handle them. I can’t be around you every second of the day acting as your lap dog.”

The heat from the cigarette burns your skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you raise your voice, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re acting like I want you on a leash! I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“Clearly I’m okay,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Your lips tug into a deep scowl at his tone. “Did you ever stop to consider how your actions affected me? How lost and confused I felt waiting by the phone every day?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Miguel matches your tone. “You know I am a busy man, and that I have responsibilities. But you’d rather live in some fantasy land where I’m just some monster out to hurt you! You can’t begin to understand the weight I carry on my shoulders.”

Anger surges through your body. “How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything? Hell, your AI knows more about you than I do. It’s like you only care about missions or work and nothing else—”

“Sometimes in life, personal matters have to take a backseat,” he cuts you off, harshly. “Not everyone can put on a short skirt and high heels, waltz into work, type a few memos and then call it a night.”

“You misogynist fuck!” You scream back at him, resisting the urge to slap him silly. “I hate you!”

“I hate you too!” he yells back in your face with bloodshot eyes.

You spin on your heels and begin walking towards the main road. Rage begins to bubble inside you and reaches your throat. You turn around just as you reach the sidewalk and call out, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you disappear again because I have hated you since the moment I met you. I hated you when everyone at work warned me about you. I hated you all those times you dismissed me like an afterthought. And I hated you when you came to my room that night begging for a second chance. So, I don’t care if you hate me, or think I’m useless or unimportant cause have hated you longer and harder and for better fucking reasons!”

You take another drag from the cigarette and then crush it underneath your pretty high heels. You make a right at the end of the alley and begin walking up the street. Warm tears spill down your face as you shiver in the rain. Katy was right, he was an asshole. An asshole that made you feel dumb for having a normal job or human emotions. But maybe you were just an idiot for falling in love with a man who didn’t respect you. Love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but here you were feeling small and crying at the side of the road.

The sound of screeching tires brings you out of your self-pity. A sleek black car pulls up on the other side of the road and the passenger window rolls down. Miguel’s face emerges from behind the glass. “Ven aquí!” (come here) he calls out.

You ignore him and keep walking ahead. You have no idea where you are going, but you would rather eat rocks than speak to him.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Miguel make a sharp left, almost hitting oncoming traffic and pulling up beside you. “Get in the car!”

Your feet don’t stop moving so he slowly inches his car to match your speed. “Estoy harto. (I’m sick of this) Let’s talk!”

Honks and yells filled the night as people grew frustrated with his speed. “Stop,” you hiss, bending down to the window. “You are embarrassing me!”

“Get in the car then,” he says, with a clenched jaw. “You’re gonna’ catch a cold in the rain.”

“Stop pretending like you care,” you snarl, kicking the side of his car.

“A-YO LADY!” a man yells out of his yellow cab. “Get in the damn car! Your boyfriend is holding up traffic!”

A pleased smirk spread across Miguel’s face at the man’s remarks. You let out a frustrated grunt and yanked the door open, slipping into the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he says, picking up speed.

You begrudgingly obey but wished that his car would get rear-ended so hard that his fat head would go through the windshield. “You look like you want me dead, babe,” he commented with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, adjusting the belt over your soaking dress. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Alchemax,” he points at the GPS screen. “The freeway flooded, and it will be a while until it clears up. I have a spare set of clothes I keep in the office for overnighters. You can change while we wait for the storm to blow over.”

“I don’t want your charity,” you grumble, crossing my hand over my chest.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to take care of you.”

You disliked how your stomach felt at his words. “I left my bag behind at the restaurant.”

“I picked it up, it’s in the back seat.”

“I didn’t pay my tab.”

“It’s taken care of. Your friends know you’re fine, too. Just relax.”

Miguel leans over to turn your seat warmer on and warmth spreads across your chest and down your limbs. He drives in silence with only the soft white noise of radio static playing in the background. Occasionally you tear your gaze away from the furiously working windshield wipers and steal glances at his face. The headlights from other cars make the slopes of his cheek and the plumpness of his lips visible even on a stormy night. His warm complexion has turned pale, and you ponder if it was because of your interaction earlier.

You both pull up into the Alchemax parking lot and get out of the car. The security team must be watching through the cameras, wondering why one of their lead engineers was coming into work late at night with his drenched secretary. You quickly follow him into the elevator and up to the floor with his office. He opens the office door, and you slide inside into the dark space.

“Lyla,” he calls out and the room illuminates on command. “Lights.”

Miguel walks up to a storage cupboard and retrieves a towel in one hand and fresh clothes in the other. He passes them to you, and you quietly enter the adjacent washroom to change. You peel your damp dress off your skin and shiver as the chilly air hits you all over. Rubbing the towel quickly over your cold skin, you slip into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It takes two knots of the drawstring, but you manage to keep the waistband tied around your naval.

You find Miguel waiting for you outside. He had changed into a shirt that hugged his slender waist and pants that hung dangerously low under his taut stomach. He pulls the towel out of your hand and drapes it over your head. His hands gently rub the threads against your wet hair in soft, circular motions. You lean into his touch involuntarily. “I can do it myself,” you complain but made no move to reach for the fabric.

“I know,” he replies. “I want to do it for you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing that thing again,” you said, “and it’s messing with my head.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start acting kind after being mean,” you explain in a small voice. “I don’t like it. It’s confusing”

He tugs the towel back so you can look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he speaks, gently. “I just lost my shit when I saw you with him.”

“You cut off all contact when all I wanted was to know if you were okay,” your voice shakes as you stare at your feet. “You left me all alone, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to change your mind?”

“I know I messed up, baby. I was wrong” he sighs, inching down his forehead to meet yours. “I should have communicated with you, but sometimes on missions, things get complicated. I don’t always like the things I have to do, and recently I’m having a difficult time making peace with it. It’s like the harder I try to do the right thing, the more damage I do. So sometimes, it’s just better to be alone rather than pretend I’m okay around other people.”

His words hurt your heart. You knew that his missions take a toll on him. In the past whenever you tried to inquire about its contents he wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t push, afraid that he’d pull away, but it seems that he was pulling away regardless.

“When you’re gone,” you clear your throat, trying to speak through your narrowing trachea, “I worry that you might be laying dead in some universe, and I’d be none the wiser. I know that being Spider-Man is a sacrifice, but I don’t care about the world. I only care about you. So, when you treat me this way, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

He cups your face and places a soft kiss right on your cheekbone “Forgive me.”

“You say that a lot,” you remind him with a frown.

“I know,” he nods, “and I still mean it. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to find the balance in life. I love that you care about me, and I want you to continue caring about me.”

“I don’t know, Mr. O’Hara,” you said. “I can’t ignore the way you speak to me at times. It feels as if you think we’re not equals. I am not some idiot. I am not beneath you just because I work under you.”

He groaned at the sound of his last name. Every time you called him that, it made the space between feel bigger. “I have seen a million universes, nena, (babe) and you are not beneath me in any of them,” he curls a damp strand behind your ear, “Unless we are in bed, then you’re definitely under me.”

“Miguel!” you chide, punching him in the stomach. “No es broma! (It’s not a joke) I’m being serious!”

He lets out an oof and backs away. His fangs poke out from underneath his curled lips and in that moment, he looks as carefree. He wraps his large hands around your arms and holds your attention. “I know broken trust isn’t easily mendable, but I’m going to try my hardest. I won’t leave you out in the dark or make you feel small. I’ll think twice before I open my stupid mouth. I’ll even ask Lyla to give you full access to my missions. Wh-when you see what I have to do- what I must do, please don’t hate me.”

“Miggy,” you pout, reaching for his face. “I was really, really angry when I said those things to you. I can never hate you. My heart won’t let me.”

His toothy grin appears again, and Miguel draws you into him. His smooth lips find yours and he cranes your head back to find the angle that leaves you breathless. You run the pads of your thumb gently across the slopes of his cheeks. It never ceased to surprise you that his skin was so soft under his stubble. Without breaking your kiss, your shuffle back and walk him to his desk chair. You smile into his lips as he shakes his head when you move him back and down to sit. His hands wrap around your wrists. “D-don’t leave,” he cries out.

You shake your head and take a seat on his lap with your legs dangling off the side. Miguel’s hands find your jaw and he turns your mouth to his. You wrap your fingers in his hair and tug him closer. You let out a content hum as his fangs softly dig into your lips, breaking the skin. The taste of metal fills your mouth, and you pull away to look at him. He sits in your embrace, with red-stained lips and is just as breathless. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says. “I usually have them under control. It’s just you’re in my office and in my clothes. It’s making my head spin a little.”

You laugh at his words and gently pull his hair back. Pressing a wet kiss to his exposed throat you ask, “Miggy, how come we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Honestly?” he lets out a choked moan.

“Honestly,” you hum, licking his jaw.

His hands suddenly grab you by the elbows and spin you around on his lap, so his chest is facing your back. His warm breath hits the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. “I haven’t fucked you yet because once I’m inside you,” he whispers into your ear, “I’ll never want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to eat, sleep, work, or be Spider-Man. I think I’ll just want to stay buried in you all the time.”

“Miguel,” you moan, clutching your thighs together.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t hide from me.”

His large hand slips between your thighs and pushes your legs apart. He turns the chair around until you’re both facing his work desk. “Up,” he commands, slapping the side of your thighs.

You gingerly obey and place your bare feet on the edge of his desk. His hands slip under your shirt, and he fumbles with the knot. Impatient with the knots, he uses a sharp claw to cut through the drawstring. Your breath hitches as he pushes the loose shorts down your legs and off your feet. He wraps his fingers behind your knees and draws your legs apart. He puts his chin over your shoulder and bunches your shirt up to get a good look at your pink underwear. “Baby,” he coos. “You gotta’ let me have this once we are done. A little souvenir for when I’m away.”

Your stomach tightens at his suggestion. You glance at him and then the office door,. “Someone will see us,” you nervously gulp.

“You let me worry about that,” he says and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, “and just relax. I’m not gonna’ let anyone else see my girl spread out like this.”

He runs his knuckles down your bare stomach and across the clothed cunt. Electricity shoots up your body and you almost curl up in his arms. Miguel’s fingertips find a quickly dampening spot on the fabric. “Huh,” he huffs. “Is this me or rainwater?”

You cry, arching into his touch.

“I guess it’s just me,” he grins against your shoulder.

He slides your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the table. It lands on a pile of paperwork you had put aside from him earlier in the week. Miguel stops breathing at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy. A loud moan escapes your throat as his fingers part your folds and glide back and forth. You were sure that the security guards patrolling this floor would have heard you down the hallway. You almost miss his question over the sensations of pleasure spreading through your body.

“Do you want my finger inside you?”

You nod against his cheek and reach behind to clutch a fistful of his hair to brace for impact. He lowers his down until his thick, middle digit is nudging your opening. You must have been soaking his thighs with how easily his digit sinks inside. You bit your lip harshly to contain the sounds threatening to escape your mouth. It’s your turn to hold your breath when Miguel’s other hand begins to stroke your clit. Once, twice, thrice.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You clench around my finger every time I flick your clit.”

Not that you needed proof, but Miguel does it again and you shake with pleasure. “See?” he gasps, and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss.

He he pulls back to hold your eyes and you breathe his shaky breaths in. You close your eyes and imagine how it would look to hold his hard cock in your hands while he played with your pussy. He tears you away from your fantasy by hooking his fingers inside on an angle. You almost arch completely off his lap. He moves his free hand away from your clit and presses you back into him. His hard bulge pressed into your ass.

“Here?” Miguel moans and licks your lips. “Tell me where? Right here? Ah, here.”

His fingers find that spot again and he massages his fingers against it. You nod furiously and my hands move to claw forearms. He softly bites your shoulder in retaliation and his free hand resumes working against your clit, picking up rhythm. “Can I put another finger inside?” he asks, breathing hard. “I promise it will feel good.”

“Oh-kay,” you gasp, rocking your hips on his hand.

His index finger slithers into your pussy, and you forget how to speak. You begin to twist and turn in his lap. He pulls away from your clit to press down hard against your stomach so he can keep you in place. You slide your ass over his crotch with every movement of his fingers.

“Mig-Mig-Mig,” you pant, moving your hips to his set rhythm.

“Good? I bet that feels so good.”

“Gah—”

He presses soft kisses onto your cheek as you sink into his arms. You begin to tighten further around him. You realize that this is exactly how you always want to be—full of Miguel’s fingers, touch, and love. His tongue slips into your mouth as his fingers begin curling into you faster. Your moans and groans echo through the office. His left hand leaves your stomach and reaches for your clit again. It takes seven swipes, one for each day he left you alone, for you to seize around his finger. His mouth never leaves yours as he drinks all of your pleasurable cries.

Slowly, the current leaves your body and you’re able to take in your surround. Your cheeks burn with realization. Miguel had just fingered you open on his desk at your workplace. The very same desk you set up for him every morning. Your fingers slide up to his hair and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles, “One day I’ll fuck you all over this office, nena.”

You shriek and lightly slap his arm. Miguel gently slides his fingers out of your cunt, eliciting a soft groan, and brings his to his mouth.

He hums with eyes closed at the taste. “You taste so good,” he mumbles around his fingers.

“Ugh,” Lyla gags at a distance. “Be glad I activated noise cancellation.”

A/N: Thoughts?

[withwritersblock]

Small Talk

~Small Talk by Niall Horan~

Author's Note: this is my favorite Niall Song, so of course I had to write something inspired by it tehe Summary: Kirby's flying high on adrenaline after a win against his former team. Word Count: 1,243 Warnings: Implied smut Kirby Dach x fm!reader

It was past midnight and it was easy to say the team was drunk. The team was in Chicago after a shootout win against the Blackhawks.

Kirby was on cloud nine, winning the shootout for the Canadiens against his former team. He hasn’t wiped off the smug grin off of his face any time someone looks at him. He knew his celebration after the goal was cocky, that was the point. It felt good to silence the boos and the loud obnoxious cheering. 

It felt good.

He wanted to continue to feel good, hence the majority of the roster in the hotel bar, plastered. They didn’t have a game for a few days, travel day tomorrow gave them enough permission to get drunk. The everlasting cameras made sure they weren’t sloppy, just drunk.

His gaze lingered on the TV screen watching the ESPN highlight reel that replayed his shootout goal win, for the third time. The smiles on the reporters' faces was enough for him to know it was good. 

His teammates erupted into cheers as they rewatched the clip. His experience with the Canadiens has been a completely new and better experience than he could’ve ever imagined. They were closer to his age, competitive, and more fun to be around.

Sure, the season hasn’t gone remotely the way they’ve wanted but the chemistry was growing fast. The goal was in a few years time, they’d be contenders for the cup.

His eyes shifted to the girl across the bar, admiring the soft smile on her lips as she spoke to her friend. He pressed his lips together as he continued to keep his gaze on her admiring every last inch of her. 

To be fair, the pair were quite literally the only two girls in the whole bar who didn’t come up and try to flirt with him. He liked that.

He always preferred the chase, the eagerness to seek out and get the girl he wants. Not the girls that tend to beg for his attention. He wanted to beg for her attention. She was stunning and in a hotel bar. Which means she’s not local and also maybe looking for a one off.

He dropped his gaze to the beer in his hand as Cole slapped his hand against Kirby’s arm.

“You could go talk to her,” Cole said with a teasing smirk on his lips. Kirby rolled his eyes. “Her friend is pretty, I can be your wingman,”

“I don’t need a wingman,” he expressed as he brought the glass to his lips and took a long sip.

“Then go talk to her,” Cole nudged him as he spoke. Kirby rolled his eyes as he looked towards the pair again, shocked to see the two walking towards the bar top. Kirby meets her gaze and watches her eyes squint slightly as they wandered towards the other side of the bar top. At least four seats away from Cole and Kirby. “I’m talking to her friend,” he muttered before finishing his small glass of vodka and lemonade. He saunters towards the pair, leaning against the bar top. Instantly and easily striking a conversation with the girl. 

Kirby chugs the rest of the beer as he looks towards her again. Her eyes are already burning a hole into the side of his head, a small smirk toying her lips. Kirby pulled his lips between his teeth as he scanned her features, imagining her in many different positions.

He clenched his jaw as he turned around towards the bartender, “Can I get another one?” He asked, tipping the glass towards him. He nodded before pouring more orange liquid into the cup. He shifted his gaze towards the girl who’s now actually walking towards him. He straightened his body as he planted both of his hands on the bar top.

She leaned her body against the bar top, meeting the bartenders eye. “Can I get a rum and coke, please,” she asked him with a smile. He nodded

“What room is it under?” The bartender asked as he began pouring the alcohol into the short glass.

“You can put under mine,” Kirby interjected, the girl looked towards him and smiled.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, as she met his blue eyes. They stare towards each other, smiling towards one another before she turns her gaze towards her glass.

“So is this your play?” She asked before taking a small sip from it. He furrowed his eyebrows, pulling his head back. “Stare at a girl for so long it’s almost creepy. Then send your friend to flirt with my friend, so I’m forced to come chat up the seemingly very popular pretty boy in the bar,” she explained, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“I was going to talk to you after this beer,” he offered as he dropped his gaze to the half drunk beer in his hand.

“Needed liquid courage? Am I really that scary?” She mumbled. He shrugged.

Their eyes remained connected as they took long sips of their drinks, it was as if their minds were connected. Each thought seemed to be read instantly as their eyes were communicating for them. 

“You from Chicago?” He asked before licking his lips, she shook her head. Perfect.

“Seattle,” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side offering him the same question.

“Montreal,” he said. Confusion contorted her features, he chuckled. “I play hockey for the Canadiens.”

She nodded politely as she turned her gaze towards the TV hanging above her head towards the same clip that was playing earlier, “You?” She offered pointing towards it. He nodded, a smug grin on his face.

“I’m Y/N,” she let out as she took a step towards him.

“Kirby,” he offered her as he looked her body up and down, picturing her pinned to her mattress.

It was almost as if her mind was thinking the same thing as she placed her glass on the bar top and delicately placed her hand on his chest. His cheeks flushed for a moment. 

She leaned towards him, delicately brushing her lips against his lips. She felt him inch towards her.

“I leave for the airport at 9 tomorrow,” she muttered against his lips. 

“I’ll be gone before then,” he whispered back. She smirked before she teasingly grazed her fingertips along his chest before she slowly began to walk away from him. She turned around hoping to find him following her. He was.

She smiled to herself as his hands found her waist, bunching up the fabric of her dress. She bit her bottom lip as she continued towards the elevator, pressing the button multiple times. Turning around, her eyes met his blue eyes that became darker as they progressed from the hotel bar to the lobby elevators. She turned around and leaned her body against the wall, he looked deeply into her eyes.

“Why are you in Chi-” he began to question but she interrupted by placing a finger against his lips, shushing him. He smirked as he took a hold of her hand, interlocking their fingers as the elevator doors opened, revealing an empty elevator.

They quickly scramble into the elevator, his hands quickly lowering from her waist to her thighs, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist, she presses her lips against his briefly before pressing the tenth floor to her hotel room. She looks towards him leaning down and kissing him once more.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to the working week although, for those of you working in the NHS, welcome to just another day.

My weekend began with one of the most bizarre Fridays of my life.  Most of us cannot wait to get home after a day at work.  As I had no heating or hot water to look forward to, I literally didn’t want to leave work!  On Friday morning, I was so grateful for the warmth of the train, I almost cuddled up to fellow passengers to enjoy their body heat.  On Friday evening, I ate, drank and, without any warmth in the house, my body shut down.  We had an electric heater in the front room and we all stayed close to it.  Many thanks to everyone that offered their home to me.  Before going to bed on Friday night, I had a second very large Appleton’s rum and Coke, desperately trying to cheer myself up!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to the radio show.  If you missed it, it’s up on Mixcloud.  I was taking care of The Mighty Josiah for the day and he came on air to offer me some advice.  I told the listeners that, whenever Josiah’s in the studio, listeners always want to hear him talk!  Josiah suggested that, if I talked with more energy, I could be as popular as him!  Noted.

When I got home after the radio show, helpful family members had restored the central heating and hot water.  Lifesavers, literally!  I was in a bad way!  Just before I went to bed on Saturday night, I took the longest and hottest shower of my life.  Enjoying that feeling of being clean!  As they say, you never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.  The last few days have been really bad: no wife, no heat, no hot water.  Got to be honest with you, I felt pretty low.

During the ‘heatless’ days, I wrapped-up in a blanket and watched classic, feel-good movies: ‘The Truman Show’, ‘Twins’, ‘Coach Carter’.  They really helped.      

Shortest day of winter was December 22 so, even though it’s been nippy, we are getting more light.  Bring it on! 

Have a marvellous and momentous Monday.  I love you all.

[iwritefanfictionsometimes]

Good 2 know that although I am resistant to most alcohol rum fucks me up

[holllandtrash]

may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)

time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?

word count: 6.6k tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max

Two Months Later

Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was. 

He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.

But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there. 

Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you. 

Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.

He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time. 

So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.

Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.

Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.

The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”

She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”

Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take? 

He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him? 

Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.

If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you. 

But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial. 

So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t. 

No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club. 

Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line. 

But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it. 

So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.

Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life. 

And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.

Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed. 

But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.

“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.

The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.

But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment. 

Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan. 

“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke. 

The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar. 

But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders. 

Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.

He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”

Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair. 

What he didn’t expect was you. 

Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him. 

You were standing right in front of him. 

You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.

“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”

It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.

A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.

Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling. 

He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching. 

But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.

If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.

Two Weeks Earlier

You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes. 

And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.

You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.

But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.

“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”

You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”

“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him. 

Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.

“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”

“Well I didn’t drive it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”

“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you. 

Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now. 

Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them. 

He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.

Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.

“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building. 

“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”

It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement. 

Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands. 

But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work. 

Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you. 

I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore. 

“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”

“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”

 “So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”

“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.

But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.

Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”

That’s where you still conflicted.

You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months. 

But you needed him gone to get over him.

Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life. 

So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.

“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”

Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.

“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.

But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion. 

You once loved Lando. How could you not? 

You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours. 

But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.

He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought. 

You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”

“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”

And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally. 

As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent. 

You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar. 

Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.

He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.

“What if things were different?”

You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous. 

“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”

He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”

“Asking what if.” 

Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”

“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”

There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on. 

You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”

Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”

A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out. 

So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I also want to apologise.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?” 

This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh. 

You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.

“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

Maybe he did learn something in your absence. 

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.

So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist. 

He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this. 

You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.

So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours. 

You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.

Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.

And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on. 

He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.

For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.

“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.

Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you. 

“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard. 

“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”

“The last race.”

“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.

“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.

“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”

You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.

“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”

This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.

“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?” 

You hesitated, “What about him?”

“He wants you there.”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.

“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.

You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered. 

You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre. 

And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you. 

So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver. 

When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk. 

You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life. 

When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre. 

You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder. 

He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time. 

Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried. 

 “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added. 

Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.

You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-

“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode. 

“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you. 

He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk. 

With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there. 

“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”

That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there. 

And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing. 

But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.

Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms. 

“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere. 

Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.

The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.

Well…

Not everyone.

It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre. 

Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it. 

Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers. 

He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver. 

Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.

So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.

Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned. 

“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it. 

He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.

“It was never a competition you numbskull.”

Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”

Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship. 

Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards. 

Neither was keeping you.

But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there. 

Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would. 

The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if. 

The thing was, though, none of it mattered.

You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before. 

why am i crying lmao

and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.

i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??

love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre

[fadingdaggerr]

heaven’s gate

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader (r is only ever referred to as queer, no other specifics)

summary: locking eyes with a woman at a bar and finding purpose in her kiss

warnings (in order): alcohol consumption, making out, smut (thigh riding, fingering, eating out, heavy praise), r is a simp the whole time, so much side character use bc i like making up lil stories about the little people in my head, pretty dialogue heavy in some parts

note: sorry i’ve been gone, i’ve had severe writers block and my birthday was this past weekend so i was out and about. never written smut before so this is different from my usual comfort zone, let me know what y’all think <3 i also tried to keep r neutral as possible to accommodate all presentations and identities :)

the wind whipped against your face as you steadily continued along the sidewalk, numbing your cheeks. the honking of cars and chatter around becoming white noise as you were dead set on your destination, only need at this point to get out of the wind tunnels. an arm looked through yours suddenly, breaking your pace slightly.

“babe, you have got to slow down. these boots are not meant for walking, they’re for attracting,” parker says as he clings to you for warmth, even with his long emerald green jacket on.

you laugh a little, “i’m not freezing my ass off because you chose heeled shoes when you knew damn well we’re in the old district. that means cobblestone streets. i thought you had a college degree?” he shoves you with a laugh, there’s no point in arguing with the truth. he complains the rest of the way, and you just ignore him until he finally stops when the club comes into view.

the vibration of the music could be felt in the floors, on the chairs, at the bar. everything hummed together, music and voices. you took it all in until a rum and coke slid right next to your hand. you nod at the bartender in thanks, turning to take in the club, smiling at the group taking a photo in from of the lavender’s orbit sign with giant smiles and little pride flags in hand. your eyes continue to scan as you bring your glass to your mouth, then double back when a set of eyes connects with yours.

resting against a tall stool, martini in hand, was the most enchanting being you’d ever seen. lips curved into a smirk at your staring, but it didn’t stop you. you allow your eyes to travel down, taking in her short, white dress and her long legs, watching as blue and purple lights sway and highlight her body. your eyes snap back go to hers, returning her smirk before continuing your look around.

you find parker by the pool tables, cheering on the group playing there, not so subtle in his hands caressing one of their arms. you shake your head with a laugh, he was on a mission, just as he had said before you’d left. parker sees you and waves your over excitedly.

“okay, okay so will you play pool with me? and like, help me get them to like me?” he says pointing at the person in bleach-dyed overalls, only a red binder underneath.

“one game,” you say holding up one finger, “i’m not playing matchmaker all night, there’s someone i think i need to talk to by the bar.”

he jumps a little, hugging you, “okay perfect, one game is all i need. then i can help you get some.”

you grab a cue stick, applying chalk as you speak, “i don’t need help. and i think you’ll be a little to preoccupied to help me anyways.”

the object of parker’s affection, max, and their friend arlo, let you break the set. a singular solid ball fell in, putting you into a head start. as the game continued, you told parker what to do so that you could both win and help him with max, which didn’t seem to be an issue. the eight ball was your last in, as you aimed, you could feel eyes on you, burning into your back. turning, you see the woman from earlier watching, new drink, same look in her eyes. you nod towards her then shoot, the eight ball drops into the cup.

parker grabs you, jumping as he holds you, mostly just shaking you like a rag doll. max and arlo shake your hand. deepening their voices to sound all gruff and puffing their chests as they both say “good game, good game,” before breaking and laughing at themselves.

the three step away to get more drinks, and you turn back to where the woman in white had been, but instead she was walking back from the bar, two drinks in hand. she approaches you, setting one drink in your hand. a rum and coke.

“larissa,” she says, “that was quite the game.”

you accept the drink with a smile, introducing yourself, “the game? i don’t recall your eyes being on the cues.”

“perhaps not, but how could they look at anything else?” her words send a shiver down your spine, “let’s go sit, darling.”

you begin moving to find a place to sit down and talk with her. her hand rests on your hip as you walk to keep close to you and not get separated. her touch was electrifying, even through your shirt. you let her sit first, then place yourself next to her, close enough that your legs touch and her perfume fills your nose.

“what do you do for work, larissa?” you ask, eyes looking into hers. you couldn’t see how blue they were before, cursing the dim lighting around you for not gifting you this privilege earlier.

“i’m an english teacher at nevermore, it’s a private academy up in jericho,” she says proudly.

you nod excitedly, “i’ve heard of it! my friend jaya went there in high school since she lived closer to there than byron’s home in rochester.”

her eyes widen, voice nervous, “you know about outcasts?”

you grab her hand, “i am an outcast, i went to byron’s. maybe you know her, jaya o’leary? gorgon, perfect eyebrows despite not getting them done ever in her life?”

larissa laughs, “yes! we had a couple classes together during third year, that’s quite the coincidence.”

“all roads lead back,” you say, mostly to yourself. larissa’s lips form into a soft smile, the hand that’s still in yours tightening.

“what do you do?” she asks.

“i’m a counselor. i run support groups and one-on-ones for anyone in need, we have varying specialists and everything,” you say before you take a sip of your drink.

larissa leans closer, “what do you specialize in?” there’s genuine interest in her voice, and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“queer adolescence and trauma. there’s a lot of kids that need a place to just exist as they are, and home is a confinement cell,” you say looking down into your lap, then back to larissa. she smiles at you, thumb running across yours.

“that’s an admirable profession, you should be incredibly proud of yourself,” her words are so heartfelt that you feel your chest bloom.

“thank you. and for the record, teaching is equally important. it’s a multi-faceted role, you should be proud too,” your eyes are locked with hers, trying to convey that your words are true.

just as she’s about to reply, a scream of your name catches both your attentions. parker’s freckles face popping into view as you watch him bob and weave through the crowd quickly until he stands before you with a giant smile. he almost speaks, but his eyes move to larissa then back to you with a playful smile.

“first of all, nice. second, wow. third, i am going to disappear for a little bit, are you okay here? i can stay if you need me too,” his words are hopeful, but you know his promise of staying is just as true, he’d never leave you if you said no.

“i’m okay, go have your fun and text me. for the love of god, wear a condom. and for the love of your best friend, do not give me extreme details about this later or i will vomit in your shoes,” you say as you shoo him away. he grabs your face and presses a fat kisses to your cheek with an i love you, i love you, i love you, before running off to max.

you groan and wipe your cheek, where did the gloss come from? larissa giggles next to you at the interaction, hand over her mouth. “nice and wow? he’s sweet,” she laughs.

your head hangs low, “that would be parker, the bane of my existence and my assigned ward at this point.” this makes her laugh again, and you almost think you heard angels singing.

“would that be the reason you didn’t come up to me sooner?” larissa prods.

you laugh a bit, looking at her through your lashes, “unfortunately, yes. he needed me to help him win the game so that he could look good.”

her tongue goes across her teeth, “i think it worked better for you, at least in my opinion.”

it’s your turn to lean a little closer now, “well i almost lost because someone, not going to name names, was quite distracting during the final round.”

her hand leaves yours, much to your dismay, but quickly finds its way to your thigh, “oh, i’m sorry. how could i ever make it up to you, almost-loser?” her tone and fake pout nearly kill you on the spot, her touch was making the fire within you burn hotter and hotter.

your hand rises to her neck, caressing her jaw with your thumb. she was so beautiful it was making you dizzy, but you spoke regardless, “i think you’ve already made it up to me just being right here,” you feel her cheek warm under your hand, “maybe i should be thanking you, you might have been my good luck charm instead.”

her lips are only centimeters from yours as she says, “maybe you can repay me then somehow.”

—

her lips were soft, but her kiss was not. her teeth nipped at your bottom lips as she pulled away to breathe, only to pull you back in. one hand gripped her waist, the other against the brick wall behind her to hold you up. her own held you face, keeping you as close as possible. the breathy moans she let out through the kiss made your grip on her tighten, then slide down more, just over the curve of her ass. you pull her hips into you, making another noise leave her.

her lips detach detach from yours, angling her head down, she begins to nip at your neck. you could’ve sworn she was a drug, your own personal aphrodisiac. your hand slides down more, catching her thigh and bringing it to your hip, pressing your hips into hers to give some friction. a noise escapes her at this action, something that makes you need to kiss her again, truly kiss her.

you lean away, ducking your head to catch her lips once again, kissing her with less lust and more intimacy. you savor the way she shivers as your fingers draw little patterns on her thigh as you kiss her, pouring everything into it. she pulls away, panting lightly. your lips migrate to her neck, gentle kisses and nips as you both catch your breath.

through heavy breaths larissa says, “my hotel is only six blocks away.”

your head leaves her neck, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, “my apartment is four.”

your eyes stay locked together, both of you grinning like teenagers. you whip your phone out of your back pocket, opening parker’s contact.

to: park nasty going back to my place. do NOT come back unannounced i was serious about the shoe thing. be safe ily

you shove your phone back in your pocket, hand now extended to larissa. she immediately takes it, weaving her fingers with yours and wrapping the other arm around yours, holding you to her. you’re about to speak to her again when you phone chimes.

from: park nasty ily babe go get some!! and a little more!!!! lord knows i’m about to go back for thirds

larissa reads the message from beside you, laughing at the outlandish text. you groan at it before typing your own quickly

to: park nasty damn give the poor thing a little recovery time u absolute creature. i’m not gonna feel bad for u tomorrow when u complain

you chuckle and put your phone back in your pocket. you look at larissa before you both burst out laughing. she didn’t even know parker but she basically got the full extent of him within one text and watching the two of you interact while playing pool and when he came to you both.

“i see what you mean by the assigned ward thing now,” she says through a chuckle.

you guide her to your street, “he’s a menace, but he’s the best friend anyone could ask for. the descriptive details of his sex life are the price i pay for friendship.”

she just has to ask, “park nasty?”

you cackle, “he decided on day one of us meeting at byron’s that that would be his name in my phone. he thought it would stick, like everyone would call him that or something.”

she laughs with you, “and did they?”

“no!” you laugh loudly, “who’s gonna call a fourteen year old boy that?” she giggles at the story, “but i never changed it because i thought it was so stupid that it was hilarious.”

larissa clings to you and rests her head against yours as you unlock the gate in front of the door, then enter the code to get into the building. you have her step ahead of you, guiding her to your door with a gentle hand on her lower back. she’s back against you as you unlock your door and let yourselves in. you grab her purse and place it on the bench behind the door, then take her coat hanging it on the hooks, along with your own.

just as you look back at her, her lips crash into yours. you immediately kiss her back, hands flying to her hips and holding her tight. hers found their way to hold the back of your neck, blunt nails digging into your skin. you began walking her backwards to your room, staying against the door for a minute as you savor each others touch. you fumble for the knob, backing her in once the door is closed. you’re completely overtaken by her, her lips, her touch, the way she’s holding you like you’ll disappear.

larissa’s knees hit the bed, and she pulls you to her lap as she sits down. you push her back more, laying her on the bed. you lips migrate from hers to her neck, creating more marks to go with the ones from before. working your way down, you press kisses to the expanse of her chest, pale skin just begging to be painted in your affection.

larissa’s legs shift and you suddenly find yourself under her, her dress riding up and exposing more of her thighs. her lips go back to assaulting yours, her hands sliding underneath your shirt to trace the skin of your abdomen. only breaking away to gently ask, “is this okay?”

you smile at her, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “more than okay, i promise.”

her lips are back on yours, your hands are back on the creamy skin of her thighs. she was your new drug of choice, you couldn’t stop the venturing of your hands on her body as her lips and tongue pulled soft moans from you. you need more of her, as much as she’ll allow you.

you shift your hips, raising your right leg to press you thigh to her center, making her lips stutter as she moaned against your chest. her hips instinctually buck against your thigh again, and you hear her breath hitch.

“are you okay? we can stop,” you ask gently, gently stroking the skin of her thigh to assure her.

“don’t,” she rushes out, “i want this, i want you.”

there’s nothing to do except kiss her, kiss her so that it feel like a promise. your hands slide from her thighs to her hips, slowly guiding her against you. she moans into your mouth and your hands move her hips faster, her pleasure was all you could think about.

her moans grew whinier as she desperately moved against you. her forehead pressed into yours as her release grew closer and closer.

“you’re so beautiful,” you mutter, pressing your lips to hers, sitting up so she was now on your lap. the new angle and your words forced a filthy moan from her lips, “and you sound so beautiful. god, how do i deserve this?”

larissa could only kiss you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. her hips wild against your thigh, the feeling of your hands gripping her hips, it was all too much. your lips found their way to her chest again, you nudge fabric out of the way to kiss along her breasts, gentle love bites that were soothed by your tongue.

larissa’s hips began to falter, moans becoming louder and longer. you flex your thigh more, kissing her as you move her hips faster. her hands grip at you shoulders, eyes screwed tight with pleasure. she was so close.

“open your eyes, baby. i wanna see you, can i see your beautiful eyes?” you ask as you kiss her neck and jaw, biting the skin every now and then, “please?”

larissa’s eyes flutter open, lust-drunk eyes looking into yours. you quickly reward her by pushing her further down on your thigh, making a sweet moan come from her as she looks into your eyes.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” a kiss to her chest, “you’re doing so well,” a kiss to her neck, “you can let go whenever you’re ready,” a kiss to her jaw, “i can’t wait to see you fall apart just for me,” a final kiss to her lips.

your words seem to be the undoing of larissa weems. she moans loudly against your lips, hips quickening then stuttering. blue eyes find yours as a long and beautiful song escapes her, thighs shaking. you’re in awe, entirely captivated by her. you can already tell that you’re not going to be able to let her go, your mind had been screaming to keep her close since you saw her. this sight was the only thing that mattered now, pleasing larissa was your life mission.

her forehead drops to yours, eyes shut, breath heavy. you stay there for a moment, unmoving, allowing her to come down peacefully. your raise your arm slowly, gently brushing hair from her face before cupping her cheek. her cheek presses into your palm, and you just have to kiss her. it’s soft and sweet, just a reminder that she’s cared for. she pulls back, eyes opening slowly. all you can do is smile at her, and she returns it gently. your lips find her cheek, pressing a few kisses to her skin.

“where the hell have you been?” she says with a breathy laugh.

you smile harder at her words, “i’ve been right here. guess you’ll have to come to the city more often.”

“or you’ll just have to come to jericho,” she says playfully.

you kiss her softly before speaking, “i have a good reason to it seems. a very beautiful reason at that.”

she pushes you back, leaning over you to press her lips against yours. the dance is slow, meaningful. her tongue grazes your lips for entry, and she’s given it without second thoughts. she kisses with full passion, telling you everything with every movement. she sucks on your bottom lip, making you groan and pull her face closer. all you want, need is her. you whine as she pulls back, and she gives you a quick kiss to appease you.

her fingers begin to lift your shirt up slowly, eyes searching for permission. you grab one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. you grab her other hand and guide them both under your shirt, letting her know you’re okay. she strips you of your shirt, and kissing down your chest and belly. her hands find your belt buckle, undoing it quickly while you lift your hips help her remove it. she climbs back up, kissing a trail from waist to your lips. your hands fall to her back, finding the zipper of her dress as she lazily kissed you.

she sits up and her dress falls down, revealing a lack of bra, leaving her in ruined panties. you sit up and your lips immediately find her chest, wrapping around one nipple as your hands traced her body. your tongue swirls around her, leaving her skin with with a gentle kiss before moving to the other.

“god, you feel so good,” she lets out breathily, whimpering at your touch. after a bit she forces your head away from her chest, pushing you back down to remove your pants and her dress, evening the amount of clothing you both wore.

the view of her above you was breathtaking, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. her hair was messy, lipstick smudged around her face, bruises and bites across her neck and chest. she was a goddess in your presence.

“what are you staring at me for?” she whispers, insecurity well hidden.

“you’re… you’re just so god damn gorgeous larissa,” you pull her down and roll so that you’re on top of her, “i can hardly believe you’re here, that you’re even real,” you kiss her softly. your lips trail down her neck, to her chest, down to her stomach, “and i get to see you like this.”

she pulls you up to her again, kissing you soundly, “it’s hard to believe you’re real yourself. never has anyone spoke to me like this, even made me feel like this.”

you frown at her words, mad at her past lovers for not appreciating her enough. “can i show you how beautiful you are?” you ask gently, nuzzling your nose against her cheek before continuing, “can i taste you?”

she groans at your words, turning her face to kiss you hard, “please.”

you kiss her again, trailing back down her body. reaching her center, you place a light kiss to her thigh, biting the plush surface then soothing it with your tongue. your fingers lightly trace up her legs to hook in her panties and pull them down. you bite your tongue, nearly moan at the sight.

you kiss along her thighs some more, slowly moving closer to where she needed you. you look up at her, “do you want me to continue?”

her hand reaches down for one of yours, and you are quick to follow, tangling your fingers together. she squeezes your hand, “yes.”

you kiss her mound gently, then move to her clit. wrapping your tongue around her, her hand grips yours. your tongue swirls her clit some more before going to taste her fully. your tongue gathers her wetness, you moan into her at the taste. the vibration alone makes larissa choke out a strangled moan. you continue to lap at her, slow, long strokes against her, savoring every second.

a long lick up back to her clit, sucking it gently, working larissa up. your hand that was wrapped around her thigh came to her entrance, slowly pressing your middle finger into her. she moans softly at the touch, squeezing your hand as you pumped your finger slowly.

“more,” she whines, “please.”

you follow command, adding your ring finger when you push back into her again while your tongue plays with her clit. a deep moan leaves her, only egging you on. quickening the pace of both your tongue and your fingers, you feel her legs wrap around you.

you pull back from he clit, pressing a kiss to it when she whimpers. “do you want more, baby?” your only response is a nod and a moan of your name.

your mouth is back on her, only to pull away again to watch her take a third finger. when your forefinger enters her as well, her moans echo off the walls. she pulls the hand she’s holding, wanting for your lips. you keep your fingers in her, letting her adjust as you climb up to kiss her. her arms wrap around your shoulders while her hips chase your fingers, moaning into your mouth. your thumb finds her clit, toying it in circles at the same pace as your fingers fuck into her faster.

you shove your face into her neck, sucking the skin and licking it and she grinds harder against you. she grows frantic in her movements as she gets closer, her walls hugging your fingers.

you move back down, replacing your thumb with your mouth. her moans become more whispers, her breathing shallow. “you can cum, baby. let me taste you,” you whisper.

your tongue and fingers move together at a fast pace, willing larissa to cum. the tight curl your fingers inside her makes her cry your name out as she climaxes. you remove one finger at a time as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them. her eyes bore into you as she watches, you watch her in return. you keep your eyes on her as you clean her folds with her tongue, greedily taking every last drop of her.

“you taste like heaven,” you say as you kiss up her body, finding purchase in her neck. you press a kiss to her skin before asking, “you alright?”

she grazes her finger up and down your spine, “more than alright.”

you pull away from her, shuffling off the bed to stand up. she watches as you grab a t-shirt from the top of your dresser and throw it on, admiring you from the bed. “i’ll be right back,” you press a kiss to her cheek before turning to leave the room.

true to your word, you return within a minute, two bottles of water and a wet washcloth in hand. you prop the bottles on the nightstand closest to larissa and move between her legs to clean her up. she winces slightly, still sensitive, but you make it up to her with kisses on her thighs and hips. you drop the washcloth in the hamper, grabbing a shirt for her from your dresser. you lay down next to her, just watching her as she puts your shirt on and lays down facing you.

“you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. if not, i can walk you back to your hotel,” you say quietly.

“do you want me to go?” she asks at the same volume.

you shake your head against the pillow, “not at all. i’ll even buy you breakfast in the morning, anywhere you want.”

larissa looks at the clock, 3:36 looks back at her, “i think it’s going to be lunch by the time we wake up.”

“ever heard of a diner, gorgeous? they have breakfast all day. you can get…” you look in her eyes, pupils dilating for a moment, “crepes with berries and honey, and a hot chocolate with cinnamon on top whenever you please.”

she stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, “how the hell did you know that?”

you laugh, realizing you’d only told her you were an outcast and not what kind, “i’m a telepath, baby.”

she blinks a couple times, “you’ve been reading my mind the whole time?”

you grab her hand, playing with her fingers, “no, i choose when i want to listen in, took a while to figure it out though. i just wanted to know your favorite breakfast, so i just looked for that.”

she pulls you into her, laying on her back to have your weight on top of her, “you are utterly delightful.”

you prop your chin on her chest, “may i ask what kind of outcast you are?”

she takes a deep breath, this was always a dreaded question, but she found herself trusting you with her secrets. she exhales slowly, “i’m a shapeshifter.”

“that’s so cool, i know a couple shifters. parker’s a shifter, but he can only shift to this big ass dog. but not like a werewolf, it’s voluntary,” you say as you glide your fingers up her arm.

“explains the amount of energy he has,” she responds with a huffed laugh.

you giggle at her comment, “i would’ve guessed you were a siren, just from looking at you.”

she smiles, “why’s that?”

“because you’re fucking outrageously gorgeous, larissa. bewitching, truly,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stretch across her to turn the light off before nuzzling into her. you fall asleep to her steady breathing and calm heartbeat, larissa’s arms wrapped securely around you.

—

you wake up in the morning with your face shoved in your pillow, a weight across your back. you crack an eye open, looking down to see a pale hand next to yours. memories of the night before flood your mind, lips growing into a smile. grabbing her hand, you bring it to your lips, gently kissing her fingers. lifting her arm just a tad, you turn and bury yourself in her chest, wrapping your arm around her as well. her arms wrap tighter around you, a yawn passing her lips. you kiss the skin against her neck closest to your lips, mumbling a morning, baby.

she hums in return, snuggling into you as she wakes up. you run your hands along her side, gently coaxing her into the waking world as you press soft kisses to her skin. finally moves by rolling over, trapping you below her, stealing a kiss from your lips. “good morning, lovely,” she whispers.

your peace is interrupted by your phone ringing from the nightstand. she reaches for your phone and and hands it to you, you kiss her hand in thanks. park nasty is calling appears on your screen, you mumble curses as you go to answer.

“what?” you ask.

“good morning sweetheart, it’s lovely to hear from you too,” parker says sarcastically into the phone.

“whatever, i’m putting you on speaker. behave yourself, larissa’s here,” you demand.

“oooo, is that the sexy blonde from last night?”

“yes, now behave yourself,” you repeat before pressing the speaker icon.

“hello miss larissa!” larissa says ‘hello’ back through a little laugh, “anyways, you aren’t going to fucking believe my night. please tell me you’re free for lunch, i’ll be a normal amount of gross i promise,” parker speaks quickly and excitedly into the phone.

you look at larissa as you speak, “well, we were going to go get breakfast- don’t even fucking start,” you can already hear him an snickering on the other line, “maybe you and i can do dinner or something?”

parker suppresses his giggles, “oh, please let me come to breakfast! i need to properly meet this larissa, i wanna hear all about last night’s desser-”

“parker, i will call abuela so fucking help me,” you threaten, and he knows you would.

“okay, okay! but please, let me join!” he drags out the last word, “larissa! please, tell this meanie i can come to breakfast. i’ll be good, scout’s honor.”

larissa chuckles, “yes, you should most definitely join us.”

“larissa please, he wasn’t a boy scout. abuela thought it was american propaganda,” you plead.

“too late! text me where you cuties are going, love you both. bye!” parker hangs up immediately, not allowing room for discussion.

“i’m going to need to stop by my hotel before breakfast, i have nothing to wear.”

you nod in agreement, “i’d offer you something of mine, but it doesn’t really seem to be your style.”

getting up from the bed, you extend your hand to her, “shower before we leave?”

she takes your hand, following you to your bathroom. you grab the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, lifting it up to expose her love-stained chest. she returned the favor, removing your own, as well as your own underwear. she pulls you in for a short kiss, just loving the intimacy of the moment. you both shower quickly, not wanting to leave parker waiting too long, but savor in the closeness and quiet

once you dry off, you hand her her dress from last night, then walk to your closet to pull out a light blue sweatshirt and a sweater. you place the crew neck next to her while you tread to your dresser. pulling cargo jeans out, you slide them on, and your t-shirt is quickly replaced by the thick black sweater. larissa never takes her eyes off of you, shamelessly watching you change, admiring her handiwork across your neck and chest. you catch her staring, and she’s quick to grab the sweatshirt, throwing it on as a means to hide for just a moment.

—

the drive to her hotel was nice, you spent the short journey asking random questions, some pointless and minor, some more thoughtful. favorite colors, worst fears, best birthday present, embarrassing childhood moments, you loved learning about her. you wished you could slow time, freeze and rewind the last fifteen hours over and over again.

she pulls you to her hotel room with your hands interlocked. you gladly watch her go through her outfits with a soft smile on your face, seeing how she pieces together what to wear in her mind. you want to read her, but you won’t unless she allows you to, and even then you’ll likely never ask.

“which do you think?” she holds up a white satin blouse and a white cotton one, and all you can do is blink.

“i think you look best in nothing,” she throws the satin shirt at you, “jeez, woman! i say…” you lean over her bag, spotting a pair of straight-legged black pants, “these, and keep my sweatshirt on. you look good in my clothes,” you smile. she only kissed you in response, before disrobing to get changed for the day as you text parker.

“i can’t be bothered with makeup today,” she grumbles as she laces up a pair of white boots.

you walk around to kneel down to tie the other shoe for her. “you don’t need it anyways,” you squeeze her thighs as you stand back up. “all set, gorgeous?” she nods, grabbing your hand.

—

larissa ends up applying mascara and tinted lip balm in the car while you head to the diner. parking across the street in the pharmacy lot, you jump out to open the door for her, bowing and extending your arm in jest. she smacks your arm playfully before wrapping her own around it.

sitting at table, your let you fingers dance along larissa’s thigh, both talking about random things while you wait for parker. neither of you noticed when he walked in until he slid into the and smacked his hands on the table. “good morning darling, meanie,” he nods to larissa and you respectively.

“so thirds went well i presume?” you say with a laugh.

he nods excitedly, “fourths and dessert too.”

you shake your head as the waiter puts menus down and asks what drinks you’d all like. latte, coffee, hot chocolate with cinnamon, you already knew. you stare at the menu while parker explains the beginning of the whole thing with max.

you turn to the breakfast page, pointing to the crepes for larissa. she smiles excitedly, mumbling to ask you if they have honey, “of course they do,” you say to her with a little smile.

“and so they had me like over the count- you’re not even listening. neither of you, i can’t believe this,” parker goes to smack you with his spoon when you bat him with the menu.

the waiter comes back, and takes your orders, taking a little to much care on larissa’s order. she pays him no mind, leaning on you while she orders, looking at you when you do. he seems to take the hint and quickly walks away, parker’s laugh taking place in his stead.

“doesn’t the fool know a basket of fruits when he sees one?” parker asks making larissa laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. her laugh makes you smile, eyes resting on her face.

“can i ask now?” parker asks, looking at you.

“three questions,” you say with a sigh.

“each?” he says with a sly smile.

“three total,” you say sternly making larissa chuckle again.

“where, how many times each, and are you u-hauling yet?”

your head smacks against the table before coming back up, “i hate you. my place, two and one, and watch your mouth.”

larissa’s head whips to you, eyes bulging out of her head. parker seems to put the pieces together first, because there’s a beat, then a crack of his laughter. he’s nearly struggling to breathe, then cries out when you kick him under the table. he resorts to holding back laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“had that much fun, huh?” he looks at larissa, his face turning red from laughter, “oh my god, larissa doesn’t get it. oh my god, please let me stay while you explain this.” you’re want to drown in your coffee cup, you have to explain this with parker across from you while in a public setting.

you duck your lips to her ear and whisper, “i told you that you tasted like heaven, didn’t i? brought me there with just the taste of you.”

you pullback and look at her face, her cheeks go fully red, eyes fluttering. parker is silent screaming at her reaction, you hold your head in your hands. you’re definitely snitching to abuela about his nosiness.

the waiter brings the food, crepes with berries and honey for larissa, eggs with toast and pan fries for you, and waffles with an absurd amount chocolate chips on top for parker. larissa immediately passes hot sauce to you, remembering your comment about loving tabasco sauce. you thank her with a smile, then glare at your friend when he does a little aaaawe.

“are you going to see max again?” larissa asks parker as he shoves half a waffle into his mouth.

he takes a sip of his coffee, “oh for sure. they’re too good not to, super sweet too. they would’ve come along but they had plans at their babcia’s place for lunch.”

you smile at him, “that’s awesome buddy.” you pick up a piece of cantaloupe from your fruit salad and pass it to him to take, he loves it while you loathe it. it just works.

he takes the melon from your fork, speaking while he chews, “what about you two? gonna keep up?”

you and larissa look at each other. you hadn’t even thought about it much, nothing past post-orgasm conversation. you want to say yes, but you don’t want to put pressure on her. she takes your hand under the table and speaks first, “definitely.”

you look at her, “yeah, vermont sounds pretty cool. i could spend some time there,” you turn to parker, “she teaches at nevermore.”

he perks up immediately, “you’re one of us?”

larissa smiles, “yes, i’m a shapeshifter. but i try to keep that a little quiet.”

parker’s grin is huge, dimples showing off, “totally get it. i’m a shifter too, people get a little freaked out by dogs that are five feet tall on all fours.”

larissa’s eyes widen as she looks at you, “you didn’t say he was five feet tall in that form.”

you shrug, “i told you he was a big ass dog.”

parker chuckles, “she was probably picturing a great dane, you moron,” he looks at larissa, “think the grim the harry potter, but lighter fur and better groomed.”

you laugh at his comparison, “sirius black was in prison for twelve years. did you want him to be all fresh and clean?”

larissa just laughs and watches in amusement as the two of you argue over the mauraders, her head on your shoulder, your arm around hers.

—

the rest of the time larissa is in the city, she’s with you. the next three days were spent touring around the city, going to shops and cafes, always ending in either your bed or her hotel’s, depending on which was closer. her departure time was steadily approaching, making you both a bit upset.

she lays her head on your chest, legs tangled with yours, sweat across both your bodies. you take the time to map her body with your fingers, needing to remember every inch of her. she was worth a six hour drive, hell she was worth a six century walk.

“what’s going on in your head?” she asks gently, “i can’t see into your mind, you know.”

you chuckle, kissing her forehead and hugging her close, “i’m just wondering how i can change my powers from telepathy to teleportation. would be so much easier.” she cuddles into you more, hugging you tight.

the next morning is slow, her alarm going off around six, even though she didn’t really need fo be up until seven. she just wanted more time with you. you spend part of your morning just holding each other, soft kisses holding promises. more kisses and hands between each others thighs in the shower, your name spelled on her clit with your tongue, her name falling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer.

you’re enjoying hot chocolate together in the lobby when her phone chimes, the nevermore car was only five minutes away. she looks at you with watery eyes, you bring your hands up to cup her face.

“it’s a six hour drive, whenever you want me there, i’ll be there. i know it’s harder for you to leave, i can organize and do meetings virtually time to time,” you kiss her cheek.

she shakes her head, “you’re job is too important, i can’t ask you to do that. that would just be selfish of me, they need you.”

“baby, i’m only working in person half the week with clients, the other half is all online. i’m a phone call away from any of them, you won’t be stealing me from anyone,” you assure her.

“you have to promise me you won’t sacrifice your job for me,” larissa demands.

you draw an x over your chest, “cross my heart. i’m not sacrificing my job, but i also don’t want to sacrifice you. i’m willing to make this work if you are.”

she kisses you hard, “i’m more than willing.”

you walk her to the car, putting her bags in for her. shooing away the driver, you open the door for her and guide her in. you lean your head into the car, “call me when you get home, okay?”

she holds the collar of your shirt to keep you close, “i’ll probably call you before i even get there.”

you smile and press a sweet kiss to her cheek, “please do, i’m gonna miss your voice.” you clear your throat, “i’ll see you soon, larissa.”

you start to back out of the car when she pulls your collar, pulling you into a long kiss, “better be soon.” she presses one last kiss to your lips before releasing your shirt, letting you back away and shut the door.

the car pulls off, and you watch until she’s gone from your sight. you make your way to your car, exhaling deeply before starting the engine and backing out of the lot.

you’re sitting on parker’s couch, legs draped across max’s lap while you both wait for parker to come back from the kitchen with snacks. community plays on the tv, one of the paintball wars playing quietly while the three of you were talking. your phone ringing breaks the silence, larissa <3 is calling.

“i gotta take this. i’ll be in parker’s room if you need me,” you say quickly to max and you scramble down the hallway.

you click the green answer button, “hey there, beautiful.”

you hear her laugh lightly, “i wanted to call you sooner, but there was horrible service. i’m almost to jericho now.”

“i’m glad you’re safe,” you say through a smile, giddy from her voice, “i’m at parker’s with max, i’m outnumbered here.”

larissa laughs again, making your heart swell, “i’m sorry, lovely. once you come to visit it’ll just be you and me, no being outnumbered or interrupted.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, “fuck, is it embarrassing that i miss you already?”

“only if it’s embarrassing that i miss you quite a bit already as well,” she plays.

the bedroom door swings open, parker’s head popping in and pointing at the phone. the second you mouth larissa he grabs the phone and starts talking to her. you wrestle the phone out of his hand, shoving him out the door. “i’m telling abuela!” you yell down the hall, you can’t just hog your girlfriend is screamed back before bringing the phone back to your ear.

“sorry about that,” you say with a huff.

“it’s cute, the two of you fighting over me,” she jokes.

you laugh at her, “pray tell, who has won your affections?”

“park nasty,” larissa deadpans.

“oh my god, i’m hanging up,” you say as you don’t even move to do so.

“no, no, no, no, no. you win, of course you win,” she yells into the phone, “you win over everyone, i swear.”

“everyone? even sarah jessica parker?” you joke, referencing back to her confession of her childhood crush.

she laughs, “yes, even sarah jessica parker.”

banging in the door pulls you from the conversation, max and parker both beating on the door and calling fo you. gimme a second! is screamed at them.

“baby, i gotta go, homosexuals are beating down the door,” she laughs over the line, “let me know when you get to nevermore, okay?”

“i promise. and i’ll see you soon. goodbye, darling.

“bye, gorgeous. i’ll see you soon,” the line beeps as the call comes to an end.

feedback appreciated as always, love you a bushel and a peck <3

[fruitcoops]

Could you write something about Alex bonding with Logan and Leo, just hanging out and getting to know Finn’s partners? And maybe sharing stories about little brother Finn 😈 or something like that

Fic O'Ween Day 8: Ghost! Fluffy bonding, character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW mentioned alcohol (no drunkenness)

“Okay,” Alex laughed, setting his beer down on the coaster while Leo and Logan tried to catch their breath. “Alright, next q—stop it, we’re moving on!—next question: favorite Halloween costume of all time, and why.”

“Merde.” Logan wiped a hand under his eye. His stomach hurt from laughing for…he didn’t even know how long it had been at this point. Two hours? Four? The O’Haras had a way of making every minute magnetic. “D’accord, Knutty, you first.”

“Oh, god,” Leo laughed. He bit his lower lip and stole a fry from Logan’s basket, leaning back against the booth to sling an arm over his shoulders. “Favorite costume. That’s tough, my family goes all-out.”

“Mine, too!” Alex said with the cheerful grin that always made Logan feel at home.

Leo’s face lit up. “No shit?”

“Yeah, man, we used to spend days setting up. My ma once carved 13 pumpkins and they didn’t even fit on the porch.”

“Nah, we always had space.” His drawl was honey-thick, the way it only was when Leo was fully relaxed. Logan loved that sound. He loved how it swayed like a hammock and sweetened the very air—when he pressed a kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. A pleased blush highlighted his freckles and Logan felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “NOLA porches are no joke.”

“I bet.”

“But costumes…” Leo drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I went as a glow-in-the-dark skeleton when I was fourteen and quite literally scared the shit out of one of my teammates.”

“No!” Alex gasped at the same time Logan nearly snorted his rum and coke out his nose.

“Swear to God! I had just passed six feet and he came around the corner of the bathroom looking at his phone,” Leo snickered. “Ran right into my chest. Never heard a guy scream like that. Scared me, too, I thought there was a gotdamn chainsaw killer behind me.”

“How am I supposed to beat that?” Alex muttered, falling back into the soft leather seat. He spun his beer bottle between his fingers with a hum. “I dunno about a specific costume, but there was one Halloween where I convinced Finn that Hershey had started using coconut oil in their chocolate to make it shiny.”

Leo’s jaw dropped. “He’s allergic to coconut!”

“Indeed he is. I had a haul like you’ve never seen. Smartest 12-year-old on the block.”

“He was only eight?” Logan laughed. “Oh, that’s cruel.”

“Eight’s old enough to know better than to listen to your siblings about candy,” Alex corrected. “Finn was so fuckin’ gullible as a kid, you wouldn’t even believe it.”

“I bet he knew better the next year,” Leo snorted.

“You bet your ass he did. Still hasn’t forgiven me, either.” Alex tossed a fry and Logan angled to catch it, but missed—it bounced off his chin and into Leo’s lap, who snatched it right up with a lazy wink. “Batter up, Tremblay.”

“I’m going to win this one,” Logan informed them. “Because Noelle had a boyfriend when she was seventeen and wanted to do a couples’ costume, but she was still supposed to take the rest of us trick-or-treating, ouais? And of course Syd and Aubrey threw a fit when she tried to ditch for this guy from her math class.”

“Of course,” Alex agreed. “I would expect nothing less.”

“Well, anyway, our parents had to get involved and finally Noelle was allowed to bring her boyfriend with us, but Sydney wore her down into matching costumes as well. This is where it gets bad.”

“This is the bad part?” Leo asked, incredulous.

Logan leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Ouais. Shh. Noelle and her boyfriend had decided on going as the characters from that movie Ghost—”

“Oh, no,” Alex said gleefully.

“Oh, yes. All four of us went as different types of ghosts. Syd wore this creepy Victorian dress, Aubrey was a ghost goalie, and since I was ten—” Logan broke off to laugh for a moment. “—since I was ten, I was still their little dress-up doll and none of them could agree on who got to match with me, so they stuck a sheet over my head with the eyeholes cut in the wrong places—”

“Oh my god,” Leo gasped.

“—which meant I couldn’t see shit and Noelle had to hold my hand the entire night.”

Alex had given up on listening and had his face in his hands, elbows splayed on the table while his whole body shook with mirth. Leo planted a sloppy kiss to the top of Logan’s head through his snickering, but eventually buried his face in the curve of Logan’s neck to ride it out until he could take a full breath again. Logan’s whole body buzzed. Not only was he incandescently happy to spend time with two of his favorite people for hours on end, seeing Leo with a smile like that…it was beyond words.

He knew Leo was insecure about how long he and Finn had known each other, sometimes. He had brought it up once or twice—always quiet, always careful—but Logan could read it on his face clear as day. Alex was so entrenched in the bruised bones that made up one-third of their relationship that he would have been worried if Leo didn’t care about him. Even after six years, Logan still held Alex’s opinion in the highest regard.

But if their matching grins and rosy cheeks were any hint, there was nothing to worry about. Logan smiled to himself and leaned further into Leo’s side, sliding an arm around his waist while Leo’s thumb traced patterns by the collar of his shirt. “That settles it,” Alex said as he spread his hands. “Tremz, you win.”

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed into his glass. “I always do.”

[hangovercurse]

Don’t Be Sorry

In which Y/N’s past catches up to her... and Colson

Reader x Colson Baker

Warnings: Abuse (Graphic), cursing, violence.

A/N: Seriously, it gets detailed. If you are uncomfortable with domestic abuse/ violence then this is not the fic for you. If you are a victim of abuse, there are resources available for you. The National Domestic Violence Support Hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). 

Word Count: 2352

masterlist

“To good music and good friends” Colson shouted over the noise of the crowd. The group raised their glasses in a toast before downing the shot. “Now let’s fuckin party!” 

It was your first time out in a while. You liked to pretend it was because you were too busy. I have a job outside of writing music with you, you would always remind the older boy. But truthfully, you weren’t as attached to the party scene as your friends and did whatever you could to avoid them. 

But when Colson asked, well begged, you to go out with them to celebrate finishing Hotel Diablo you couldn’t say no. Colson’s face when you said yes almost made you excited. Almost.

But now on the crowded rooftop of a club you’d never been to in an outfit that was all too tight and all too short, you wished you’d made up an excuse to stay home. Luckily your friends made you forget your unease. 

“Y/N, watch me drink both of these beers in 10 seconds!” Rook shouted, holding two bottles in his hands. You laughed, shaking your head slightly at his antics and pulling out your phone to time him. 

“Ok, go.” You said as he brought the bottles up to his mouth, chugging both in an astounding 9.75 seconds. “Dude that’s insane.” You showed him the timer and he cheered, dragging you to the bar. 

“I’m getting you a drink, whaddyu want?” Rook asked as he waved down the bartender. “Rum and coke?” He questioned, knowing your order by heart at this point.

“How’d you guess.” You asked with a smile on your face. 

“It’s a talent.” Rook laughed, arms flailing as he bowed dramatically. 

The pair of you got your drinks and returned to your group in the middle of the dance floor. When you got back Slim dramatically held out his hand for you to dance with him, and you guys jumped around to the music. 

The drink in your veins made you a little more comfortable. it wasn’t enough to get you into any trouble, just enough to loosen you up for a good time. As the group laughed at AJ’s terrible dance moves, you felt a chill come over the room. 

As the rest of your friends smiled and laughed, you looked around the dance floor, trying to find anything, or anyone, out of place. Unfortunately for you, you were much shorter than the men around you, so you couldn’t see much. 

Colson noticed you weren’t really with the group, and he followed your gaze around the room, leaning in close to you. “Everything ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just have this weird feeling.” 

He laughed, “drink too much?” 

You gave him a pointed look and then chuckled to signify you were joking. “No, I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I just have a bad feeling about something.” 

“Ok, well just don’t leave my side. I’ll keep you safe.” He winked at you and you rolled your eyes, but you appreciated the sincerity in his statement. 

Colson and you had been friends for years, but after your last relationship ended... roughly (to put it nicely), he let you stay at his place for a while until you got back on your feet. Since then you’d gotten closer to the tattooed man and come to trust him implicitly. 

You refocused on your friends, watching Pete and Baze racing pints of beers, with Baze winning (for obvious reasons). You laughed as Pete hung his head in shame. He scrunched his nose at you. “I don’t see you chugging anything.” 

This only made you laugh harder, “I don’t think what you were doing is considered “chugging.”” You made air quotes as he put on a mock hurt expression. 

“Y/N’s up next!” Slim shouted and your eyes went wide. 

“Oh hell no, man. I leave that shit up to you guys.” You smiled as he shook his head profusely. 

“Nope, you gotta do it. Rook’s already getting the beer.”

You hung your head, knowing there was no arguing with Slim. “Fine, but I’m gonna lose and then I’m gonna be mad. So if I’m mad, its your fault.” You shook your head as the boys howled. 

Rook came back with two beers in his hand, handing you one. “I’ll give you a head start.” Slim smiled.

“Fuck no, man.” You said before bringing the beer to your lips, chugging the drink. Slim was taken off guard and ended up starting a few seconds after you, which was all the advantage you needed. 

You raised your hands in victory as AJ picked you up in celebration, the boys cheering for you as Slim hung his head. Once you landed back on your feet, Rook threw his arm around your shoulders, “Y/N is the fuckin bomb.” 

You loved this feeling, you loved being surrounded by your friends who loved you. You giggled as he leaned into you, making you stumble under his weight. 

“Oh look, Y/Ns surrounded by all her little man-whores.” His voice sobered you up instantly and made every bone in your body tense up. You looked up to Colson for support, but he was already focused on the man behind you. 

“Not even gonna look at me, damn. You’re really that much of a bitch, huh? Not even gonna say hi?” His voice was like poison in your veins. Every word he spoke reminded you of the last time you saw him. You subconsciously reached up to your neck, rubbing your throat.

“Get the fuck away from her dude.” Colson said shortly. You tried to catch his eye. You wanted to beg him not to make a scene, to just take your hand and leave. But it was too late for that. 

“And who the fuck are you?” Jason, your ex-boyfriend, moved towards Colson and into your view. You flashed back to the night in his living room, his back facing you just like it was now, before he turned around and-

Luckily, Rook’s hand squeezing your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at him, his head cocked and his eyes questioning. You simply shook your head at him. You looked back to Colson who was seething. You caught Pete’s eye behind him and mouthed, we need to leave.

Pete nodded, grabbing Colson’s arm lightly, but the blond only shook off his friends grasp. 

“Hey, there’s this really cool music store down the street that’s still open, we should go check it out.” AJ said, his eyes trained on you. Thank god for AJ.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” Pete said, “Colson let’s go check it out.” 

You could see Jason’s face change when he figured out who the blond man was. “Yeah, Colson, why don’t you take your bitch and get out of here.”

“Don’t fucking call her that.” Colson moved closer to him and your eyes widened in fear. 

“What? A bitch? That’s what she is, a slutty fucking bitch.” With every word, Jason moved closer to your friend until the two men were almost touching. Tears stung your eyes as you flashed back again. 

“You stupid fucking whore. Who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking around with some asshole rapper! Did you forget you fucking belong to me?”

His words still rang in your mind. You could feel your body begin to shut down, your lungs gasping for breath just like they had that day. 

You were brought back to reality by the screams of protest as Colson pushed your ex-boyfriend away from him, causing Jason’s fist to make contact with Colson’s jaw. 

“You think you can get away with making me look like an idiot? I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

Jason’s fist made contact with your left cheek and your knees failed to hold you up. The man caught you before you hit the ground, leaning forward to pin you against the wall behind you. 

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” Rook’s arm fell to the small of your back as he escorted you through the crowd, Slim following you. You made your way down the stairs, the two boys helping to support your weight. 

“I’m gonna make you remember who you belong to.” 

Jason pinned your arms above your head as he pressed you further into the wall. His free hand made its way up your chest to your throat. His soft grasp turned into a squeeze around your neck. 

“Jason please-”

You tried to talk, but few words could come out. You struggled for air as his eyes grew darker and darker. 

“You think you can go and fuck around with whoever you want, don’t you?”

You shook your head, but he continued.

“You’re a goddamn slut, and you need to learn your lesson.” 

Your vision began to blur.

“Y/N, you okay?” You came back to reality to find yourself in the alley between the club and the neighboring building. Slim was standing in front of you, Rook to your side as you leaned against the wall behind you. 

You shook your head in response and he let out a sigh. Suddenly the door slammed open and you flinched at the noise. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You kneed Jason as a last resort before you lost consciousness, and now you were running through the house. You ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and pulling your phone from your pocket, not even noticing the new crack in the screen. You searched for the first name you could think of.

“Colson?”

“Colson, take a breath, man!” AJ yelled as he followed the tall blond man outside. 

Colson was pacing a few feet away from you as you tried to focus on breathing, your hand subconsciously reaching for your neck again, as if you were trying to pry his invisible hand off of you. 

Pete moved in front of you, taking in your state of fear. Other than Colson, Pete was the only one who had any idea about your ex. He didn’t know the whole story, only that it ended violently. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, keeping his distance as he leaned against the other wall across from you. 

You sniffled and wiped your face, nodding quickly as you realized most of your friends- save for Baze and Colson- were watching you. “Sorry guys- he’s just an ex. He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“Really kid? We couldn’t tell.” AJ tried to joke, and you cracked a small smile, trying to convince them you were ok. 

Your breathing started to slow, and you felt yourself coming down from your panicked state, until you caught Colson’s fist making contact with the wall of the club.  

“Open this fucking door bitch!”

Jason’s fists beat against the door- the only thing standing between you and him.

“He’s gonna kill me Cols. I’m so scared.”

Your sobs rang through the phone as the banging intensified. 

“He can’t save you now, bitch! Not such a big man now, are ya? Colson!”

“Colson!” Baze berated the blond man, who recoiled in pain. “Get your shit together, bro.” He said, quieter.

Colson looked up at his friend and then past him to meet your eyes. His blue orbs softened at the tears in yours. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, walking over to you. 

He leaned forward against the wall you already occupied, his arms above your head as his head drooped down to watch you. You looked up at him, your hand reaching up to touch his face where Jason had made contact. 

He flinched when your skin met his, causing you to jerk your hand back, afraid he would yell at you for hurting him. 

“It’s okay, I was just surprised is all.” He whispered before grabbing your hand and bringing it back up to his chin. You ran your fingers over the forming bruise lightly, another tear falling from your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t think he’d- I didn’t know...” You trailed off, looking down and dropping your hand from Colson’s face. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He moved one hand to gently tilt your face up, leaning down to be closer to you, “Look at me. This was not your fault. Okay? You don’t need to be sorry for anything, babe. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I just- if I hadn’t called you that night-”

“You wouldn’t be here. Y/N if you hadn’t called me you could’ve been seriously hurt. He could’ve killed you.” 

You took a shaky breath in, sniffling. Colson sniffled too. “Y/N, this is nothing, okay? I would take a thousand more punches like this if it means that douchebag never comes near you again. I mean it. Don’t blame yourself for this, okay?” You nod, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as you bury your head into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. 

His arms wrapped around you and you could hear his sniffles in your ear as his lips pressed against your hair. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck, pressing your lips against the hot skin. 

“Hey! Get the fuck out of here! This isn’t some fucking party you can photograph. Fuck off with your cameras!” Pete yelled, causing you to release Colson and look towards the commotion. You briefly see a figure in the distance before a white flash blinds you. 

“Fuckin paps.” Colson whispered, his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Let’s get outta here, guys.” Slim says, leading everyone back into the club to leave through the back door. Colson interlocked your hand with his as you stepped into the building, keeping you as close to him as possible as you squeezed your way through the crowd. 

Once you loaded yourselves into the van, you leaned your head on Colson’s shoulder, your hands still interlocked. “Can I stay at yours tonight?” You asked in a whisper. Colson simply pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand leaving yours to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.  

[luxekook]

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[munchkinfox-the-deviant-fox]

Anhedonia

SO, uhhh, decided to start intentionally writing my shit down! Woo! We gonna go slow burn on this shiz! Eventually poly... I honestly have so many ideas that, as soon as I know concrete details about this story, I’ll put a label on it >xD As for a summary:

Rhene has long since accepted the fact that her life is boring. She works a job, she goes home to her cat, she has friends she can spend time with. Life is perfectly full of things that make most people perfectly content. But she's not. So maybe going back to school will give her the chance to improve things, change things, find a better a job. There's always a salary increase if you've got a Masters degree and what's a few loans compared to improving ones life? Oh! Ya know, she never got to study abroad as an undergrad! She could totally start off abroad! That's totally exciting, right? At least maybe she'll find something new to hyper-fixate on so she can pretend like her life isn't completely unfulfilling. Yeah, this is totally a great idea. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Long fic, slow burn, eventual poly MC, named MC

CW: None yet

Master List -> Chapter 1 Part 1

Prologue

Cheers and laughter amongst rumbling raucous voices were just background noise, the soundtrack of her life that continued on. Endlessly. A repeating tune that could never break away from its circling fate.

Like turkeys. Dumb fuckin’ turkeys walking in a circle around road kill in an attempt to intimidate the scary dangerous thing. Continuing to go round and round because they’re just following the turkey in front of them.

Why had she agreed to come out? At least at home she could have been sleeping, or mindlessly binging a show she wasn’t particularly interested in. That would’ve been more entertaining than this.

The air shifted, the weight of Tyler’s attention laying itself against her shoulders, and she released the sigh that had been building up, the minimal, physical embodiment of her irritation. She set her drink down firmly against the table and pushed it a safe distance away.

“Rhen!” The top half of her body lurched forward with Tyler’s bearing weight, his arms two obnoxious noodles folding around her, “Reeehnn~ You’ve been spacing out allll night longggggggg. Yuh’ve bareLY had a single- single drink!” The butt of his chin dug into the top of her head, “Come ooonnnnn! It’s been, like… like… like… FOREVER since we’ve hanged out… chilled...hung out!”

Damn, she hated whiskey. And having to inhale it from Tyler did not make it any more appealing. “Yeah, Tyler, I know.”

“You’re leaving tmrrrow- tamorrorr- Ta-Mah-Ro! Yuh should be havin fun! Be happy! Be merry! Be fun-ny!” His giggling made the obnoxious shit she’d known since high school lose his grip, the messy haired swim-varsity-captain-aged-ten-years stumbling into the seat next to her.

She pat his head, his hair still unerringly soft, even after all these years—something about hair-care regimen being important for swimmers if they didn’t want to lose their hair— “I know, buddy, I’m having fun; I promise,” She smiled and took a drink, the coke ‘n rum sliding down as easily as the lie.

Tyler, oh-so drunk and uncoordinated, shuffled and slid his chair closer, bringing his forehead down to rest on her arm. Rhen kept the appendage still, reaching across and picking up her drink with her other hand.

It was almost a whisper, and for a moment she thought he was drunk-mumbling and falling asleep on her, “I hope you have fun. Maybe- maybe you’ll have so much funn, you might be happy and decide to stay. That would be good… Though I’d be sad.... I’ll just come visit you then!”

Well, that was rather optimistic.

Rhen took a moment, sipping her drink and petting Tyler’s head because he enjoyed people playing with his hair and his girlfriend currently wasn’t here, leaving her to take care of the drunk idiot.

“I’ll miss you too, buddy. I doubt I’ll have more fun there. I’ll be coming back, no doubt.” It’s not like being here or being there really made any amount of difference. She’d still be living the same damn life. “Besides, did you forget? I’m studying abroad. It’s not like a vacation.”

Tyler lifted his head, a shit-eating grin sloppily pasted on his face, “That’s true… But yu’re a loser who likes studying, so-”

“Alright, you piece of shit!”

Tyler laughed as she half-heartedly beat him off of her.

“Come on,” he said, his fingers struggling to grab her arm and pull her to her feet—how many doubles was he even seeing?—“Let’s go get some more drinks. DRINKS!”

She sighed again, debating on whether to fight him on getting up or not, but, well, when he got drunk, he was more stubborn than when he was sober.

“Fine,” She huffed, “But you’re buying.”

Well then.

Rhen sighed, staring at the room—the large room—, so nicely furnished with a bed, table to study with, even a TV mounted to the wall! Fairy lights and lanterns illuminated the room with a warm glow and–

Holy shit, was that a tree in the middle of her room?!

So this was to be her new abode for the next approximate year. Damn this was probably the nicest university accommodations she’d ever seen. What was even the tuition rate for this place?

Wait.

Holy shit! Was she even getting credit for this?!

Was this even an accredited college?!

Did any of that even actually matter?

She slumped to the floor, pulling her knees up to give her chin something to rest on and closed her eyes to the unfamiliar world around her.

Devils and Angels, huh? Ya know, the idea was entertaining—supernatural creatures ‘n such—and who didn’t have a sneak-into-the-local-haunt-and-fuck-with-a-ghost adventure at least once in their childhood, but being the skeptic she was, she hadn’t ever really fully believed in monsters. Humans were monstrous enough.

It had already been five years since the existence of witches became public knowledge, but it wasn’t like they came out sharing every single detail about themselves and their world. Droves upon droves of people had flocked to The Community, all desperate to learn magic and be a part of their secret little world. Some were accepted. Most were turned away. Why they picked the people they did, they never gave an explanation. She had wanted to try—it’s magic! Of course she wanted to learn!—but before she could, her best friend, her sister-from-another-mister, her platonic soulmate, the one person she loved above all else and would do anything for, went for it, gushing about how she knew she’d be allowed to join them. Even before witches were revealed, Amelia had always known magic existed in her lineage; from her grandmother, to her mother, then to her, so of course she would be welcomed into The Community.

So, Rhen had to wait. Because if she ended up getting accepted—she hoped, but held no expectations—and Amelia wasn’t? Rhen wouldn’t even contemplate how much of a betrayal that would be. Sure, Amelia would pretend to be happy for her, but Rhen would always feel guilty for “receiving the honor”. If Amelia didn’t become a witch, it would be better if Rhen didn’t know anything at all. No matter how desperately she wished otherwise.

Though, the last time Rhen had heard from Amelia, she was still on the waiting list…

But here she was, at demon university, by no intention of her own. If she let this chance pass her, she knew she’d resent Amelia for the rest of her life, by no fault of Amelia’s. What was she supposed to do?

She let the tight and encompassing self-embrace fall loose, her legs folding below her, her palm coming to rest at the center of her midsection. She inhaled, her lungs expanded, filling and filling until they couldn’t any more, forcing out and giving no room for the uncertainty—and fear—that had been trying to take root in her chest to linger.

The flutter settled—not gone, but quiet—a soft whisper that brushed against her like an invisible hair.

It was disconcerting, though. How was it that she, a mundane human with no prior knowledge or apparent magical ability, was selected for this program? It was odd, but fuck, she wasn’t going to complain and she was grateful that Lord Diavolo was just going to roll with it as well. If she had been brought here, given the chance to learn magic and was told about monsters and all things supernatural-fantasy and how they are actually a part of our world, then kicked back to the human world, she would have been pissed. Like dangling a piece of meat in front of a starving dog. Even if she had to write a fuckin’ thesis by the end of her time here, this was too awesome of an experience to miss out on.

When was the last time she felt this excited?

It was a bonus that they were allowing her exceptions: until she gained some measurable ability using magic, any grades reflecting her magical use would not count against her. Awesome. But because she couldn’t use magic—thus considered unable to protect herself against any threat that might present itself—it was Lord Diavolo’s responsibility to ensure her safety. Therefore, Rhen was not, in fact, staying in the dorm allocated for the exchange students, but instead she was to stay in the dorm of the student council, one of who was to be her designated body guard and Devildom guide.

She honestly would have found that rather funny: a student council? Really? What does a demon university student council even do? Was there going to be a whole-ass homecoming event week for the beginning week of classes? Apparently, though, only they could be absolutely trusted with her safety, considering they were demon lords themselves, some of the highest ranking of Lord Diavolo’s nobility. No matter how enticing her shiny human soul was, apparently she would be safe with them.

Six lords, six brothers, six demons to try and keep out of the way of.

Yup. Totally manageable.

[brockadoodles]

kiss me at midnight - m. tkachuk

AN: The way i can’t WAIT for the season to start so I can gif short haired Matty... Anyways. uh, I woke up today and chose violence, so here’s a New Year’s fic with one of our favorites. Maybe one day I’ll stop posting at 1 am? Let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 2395

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, otherwise it’s fluffy. 

“Ten dollars says they’re going to make out within the next five minutes.” You quickly turned your head at the voice. You smiled slightly at Matthew, nodding at him to take a seat next to you. You had just met him that evening and had somehow ended up running into him multiple times throughout the night. You laughed softly at his statement as you swirled your rum and coke in your hand. You didn’t even have to look in the direction that he was pointing toward to know exactly who he was talking about. Your roommate had ditched you in favor of his teammate over an hour ago, and in her defense, he was cute and better one of you not to spend New Year’s Eve sulking alone at the bar. 

“I give them three, you’re welcome to hang out and wager me on it.” You joked. Matthew eyed you curiously, anyone that was willing to make a bet with him that quickly was someone he wanted to get to know. He caught the attention of the bartender and ordered himself a drink. He glanced over at your near-empty glass and had another made for you, making sure to tell the bartender to add it to his own tab and not yours. Your friend had very clearly left you to your own devices and he had no intention of doing the same thing, the least he could offer is buying you one drink. You just smiled at him in thanks as another rum and coke was put in your hands to replace the now empty one. 

“Would ya look at that, guess neither of us wins.” Matthew mused as he took a sip of his drink. You quickly turned your head to where your roommate was now pressed against the pool table, kissing his teammate. You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Matthew, who was inarguably cute. No harming in shooting your shot with someone you likely wouldn’t see again in a crowded bar in Calgary on New Year’s Eve, right? 

“Bummer. To think I was going to bet you a New Year’s Kiss.” You shrugged, raising your eyebrow a bit toward Matthew, who now had a smirk settling in on his features. He leaned against the bar as he took a step closer to you, positioning his body between your thighs. It wasn’t uncomfortable, you actually found yourself smiling softly at him as you placed a hand on his waist and tugged him slightly closer to you, opening the door for whatever would come next.

“Me and you at midnight? Deal.” You rolled your eyes at him and pat his side, pushing him back just enough to give you some more room. The conversation started flowing after that, and you found yourself getting lost in the stories he was telling. Something about Matthew was captivating. You could blame it on his looks, maybe the way his eyes lit up when he smiled at you, or the way his hair was just long enough to see that it was a bit curly, or maybe it was the way you were sitting close together now, with his leg brushed against yours under the table that you had moved to an hour before. But deep down you knew it wasn’t just because he was some hot stranger who you were hopefully stealing a midnight kiss from, you and Matthew had a connection that you couldn’t quite explain further than it being what everyone describes in shows that you never bothered to believe in. You could only hope that he felt it, too.

Except, he must not have, because when the clock counted down and you prepared yourself to finally kiss him, he just held you close. Matthew tucked you under his arm as the crowd started cheering and he made no move to kiss you, something that even in your drunken state was causing disappointment. What you didn’t know was that he wanted to kiss you more than anything that night, but he wasn’t about to cross a line you had drawn while drunk. He wanted to make sure it was okay before anything happened, so instead, he settled for a soft kiss to your forehead and exchanging numbers as he put you in an uber back to your apartment. Leaving you drunk and confused as if you had just read the signs entirely wrong. 

You spent the next 11 months with Matthew, spending nearly all of your time together. You went to his games, you met each other’s friends, you spent nights with each other and there were so many frustrating pent up moments where if someone would have asked you what you were to each other, you genuinely would have had no answer. Matthew frustrated you in ways that you couldn’t pinpoint because his signals were caught up in the crossfires and you weren’t sure what you meant to him. You knew he cared about you, and sometimes his hand would linger just a bit too long on the small of your back, or he would fall asleep with his arms just enough around you that you would convince yourself that he felt what you had felt for him the entire time. 

You spent months dancing back and forth with Matty, replying that New Year’s Eve night over and over in your head, wondering why he never kissed you. Then you spent months to accept what he was giving you, a friend that cared about you and would do anything for you, but one that simply didn’t harbor the same feelings you held close to your chest. You couldn’t fault him for not feeling the same way, feelings sometimes don’t have a rhyme or reason as to why they happen. Sometimes the hand you’re dealt results in a win, and other times you bet your entire heart only to watch it get cashed out by someone else who didn’t care to have it in the first place. But you had spent a year waiting around for him, and at this point, you just needed to know. 

Matthew answered the phone quickly when he saw that it was you calling. He had just gotten back from a small get together with some of his friends from back home. He smiled softly as he greeted you, breathing a content sigh of relief as he settled down into what would likely be a long chat with you. You were Matthew’s favorite person and even though he hated being on the phone, he’d talk with you for hours about nothing if that was what you wanted. 

“Do you know how there’s that saying about how if you spend New Years with someone, that’s who you’re spending the year with?” Were the first words out of your mouth, acting on a stint of courage that your friends had practically shoved into you the entire time you were with them. They all wanted you and Matty to get your shit together and confess, and you’d be lying if them pressing you wasn’t a factor in this impulsive late-night phone call to the person in question. 

“Yeah, I have heard that one.” Matty smiled into his phone. 

“I have this theory. I think it’s actually that who you miss the most on New Years’ is who you’ll spend the year with.” You were glad this was just a phone call and that matty wasn’t there to see your face. You had been dancing around something with him for so long now, that it felt like you were stuck in an endless game of poker where no one was winning. But you were the dealer now, and you were giving Matthew the cards that would give him a royal flush if he wanted it, and god you hoped he wanted it. 

“You’re going to need to explain that, sweetheart.” 

“We spent last New Years’ together, and you didn’t kiss me. We spent an entire year together and you didn’t kiss me, but there’s something here right? Because I feel like there is, and even though you’re in St. Louis and I’m here all I want is for you to miss me just enough that you’ll come home and finally kiss me.” 

Matthew swore that he felt his heart lurch in his chest as he processed your words. You, the person he had spent the last year getting to know, spending nights together on your couch watching bad reality TV and arguing over what take out to order. You, the person that he thought about more often than not, so much so that he had made a routine of calling you after every away game, just because it was calming to hear your voice on the phone. You, the person that he had so desperately wanted to kiss the year before but didn’t because it wouldn’t have been right with both of you too intoxicated to make that decision. He had spent the last year assuming that you thought of him as just a friend and he had been sulking about it for months. 

“Holy shit, I didn’t think you were into me.” Was absolutely not the most eloquent way that he could have responded to what you had just said. Matthew internally groaned at himself as he listened to the silence that was now coming from your side of the conversation. He was panicking, racking his brain for the right words to string together to make sure you knew he felt exactly the same way as you did. For some reason, just telling you that didn’t feel good enough when you had just about taken his heart right out of his chest from another country away with your confession. 

“Fuck, that was not what I meant to say.” He ran a hand over his face, and he was thankful for once you had asked to just talk on the phone and not FaceTime. 

“I really miss you. And everything you’re feeling, I feel it too.” He finally settled on it, hoping that it was enough to convey his emotions. He knew he wanted you, he had waited a year for this moment to come to its head. A year of him subtly standing by your side, itching to reach his hand out to yours but not daring to make the final touch. A year of him hoping you wouldn’t meet someone else that could take up the space that he desperately wanted to occupy. He spent a year waiting for you, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. Before he could stop himself he grabbed his laptop, pulling up flights as you started to speak again. 

“God, Matty, there have been so many times I almost told you how I felt.” You breathed out. He could tell exactly how you were feeling, he could hear the relief in your voice. He knew that type of relief, the instant gratification a person feels when they give someone their time and effort and it’s all reciprocated. He knew that feeling because as soon as you mentioned you wanted to kiss him, he felt that same relief settle into his chest, a feeling he had been craving for so long now. A feeling he could act on in a matter of hours thanks to a ridiculously over-expensive flight from St. Louis back to Calgary. 

“Can you pick me up tomorrow morning? From the airport?” He asked. You froze in bed, pulling your phone from your ear and looking at the time. It was late, already past midnight which meant it was even later for him. Your heart was racing and you felt like this was some hazy dream that you were bound to wake up from disappointed, the same dream you had experienced probably a hundred times over the last year. Matty was your entire world, and it didn’t feel real that he was finally something tangible. So you told him yes. You told him, yes and you counted down the hours until you got to see him, barely sleeping at all. 

You had never been the type to think you’d be standing outside of security at an airport, living out some terrible moment from a romantic comedy as you waited for the person you loved to come through the gates. But there you were, in one of his old sweatshirts, nervously tapping your foot as you eyed every single person that walked through.

You were totally sure that anyone watching you probably was rolling your eyes at the look on your face, the same lovesick look you see in the very movies you often complain about. But you didn’t care because strangers walking through an airport clutching their coffee at 7 am who you would never see again didn’t matter. Everyone had their own destination that day, their own trip that they were making for their own reasons, and your reason was walking toward you, looking at you like you were the only thing that he could see and that was what mattered. 

Matty dropped his bag to the ground as you jogged up to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist and tucked your head against his chest, taking a moment to listen to the steady beat of his heart, the same steady beating that you had listened to so many times before not knowing that it beat only for you. 

“I’m going to kiss you now because I’ve been waiting for a year to do it and I don’t think I can handle waiting any longer.” Matty grabbed your cheek, pulling your gaze up to meet his as his other arm tightened around you. 

“You can kiss me whenever you want now, Matty.” You murmured, letting your eyes flutter closed as you leaned in and pressed your lips lightly to his. You melted into the kiss, letting him pull you closer to deepen it just a little as the early morning travelers kept walking around you. You almost didn’t regret the time spent wishing for this moment, because in a way, the person you spent New Year’s with the year before was the person you spent the year with, and now you got to spend another year with him, being fully and completely each others. It wasn’t midnight, but somehow 7 am felt better than midnight ever could have.  

[talkfastromance4]

Leave before you love me--sebastian stan oneshot

a/n: This scenario has been in my head since I heard this song. Might be a little on the rusty side as I haven’t written in a while and I’m trying to find the groove for writing for Sebastian! 

Warnings: drinking mentions, party atmosphere, slight banter, a very lightly mentioned age gap (reader is 25) and he is his true age, heavy 80s inspired theme, angst, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.9k

Feedback is always welcomed and I’m trying to get in the groove still of writing him

Enjoy! 🙂

***

The highway lights flash across his windshield as he zooms by on the road, they’re the last remaining stars in the sky. The bright yellow-orange sun is just about peeking above the horizon and he pushes on the gas, the small orange needle ticking closer to ninety. 

His favorite 80’s playlist blares through his speakers and out of his windows, the techno beat of Sunglasses At Night reverberates through his sound system.  The wild wind tousled his hair but it cools his body down and slowly takes away your warmth. He taps his thumb on the wheel as he curves with the bend, the lights up above flicker out one by one as he passes by. 

Sebastian’s trying not to think about the red marks from your nails that still have a slight burn as he rubs against his driver’s seat. He tries to breathe in and out through the thin of his lips because he can still smell your perfume on his shirt. 

He glances at the clock above his screen and he’s right on time which means you will be awakening soon. Sebastian is always consistent.

He rubs at the back of his neck trying not to think of your bare legs peeking out from your sheets, the only thing that covers your skin. 

One more twist and the lights have all timed out and your name flashes across his screen, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He always sees you calling and it’s always at 5 a.m when he’s more than halfway away from you. 

He’s consistent with his poor timing just as he is consistent with crawling back to you. He accelerates to 100 mph. The revving of the engine mimics his lasting hunger and desire for you but he swallows it down and ignores your call.

It’s not that he wants to leave you. No, it’s just that he can’t stay. There’s a difference. Right?

He pulls into a parking spot at a twenty-four hour diner, the open sign flickers intermittently. He doesn’t get out of the car until your name disappears and the bell jingles as he pulls on the door. There’s a small group of people in the corner huddled together that are still in their club outfits, make-up smeared under their tired eyes.

It reminds him of his own party days, he knows they haven’t slept. Sebastian nods to the woman at the u-shaped counter before he slides into a booth. The waitress approaches with a cup and a full pot of coffee.

“Sugar or creamer?” She asks popping her gum as she pours the steaming liquid in the bronze mug. She’s chewing strawberry gum. 

“Neither, thanks,” he huffs.

“Breakfast?”

“Just the coffee,” he shakes his head and looks up at her. “Thanks.”

“Holler if you change your mind,” she nods then traipses her way towards the young group to refill their coffees. 

Sebastian lifts the mug and blows carefully over the top of it, the steam rolls over the opposite lip before he takes a drink. The bitter taste feels good on his tongue and wakes him up slightly. He’s not far off from the party group across the way, he hasn’t slept since taking you to bed last night. 

**

He knew beforehand that you’d be there and he kept promising himself that he wouldn’t take you home. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t be hooked by your eyes or your charm. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t repeat this thing you two have. 

It was a mutual friend of a friend that you both know hosting a party that was 80’s themed. On his way he made sure to play his 80’s playlist so he’d be in the right state of mind to participate. He didn’t really dress up too much, just some dark wash jeans and a leather jacket. A leather jacket you fashioned for him with your matching red lingerie set. 

Sebastian repeats his promise, his swear, and his vow to himself as he crosses the threshold and is thrown into a swarm of 80’s dressed people. There’s wild hair and bright colors as he moves through the crowd towards the pool, that’s where the makeshift bar is stocked with alcohol. 

He subconsciously looks at each face hoping he doesn’t see you--or does he? 

Chris, as always, is the bartender whenever there’s a party. He claims it’s his calling at parties to make drinks and chat up new people. 

“There’s my guy! Whisky or tequila tonight, buddy?” Chris holds up each bottle of alcohol respectively.

“How about rum and coke?” 

Chris lifts his eyebrows in surprise but dutifully proceeds to mix the desired drink. Rum and coke goes down smoother and doesn’t leave him with a splitting headache the next morning or gut rot like tequila does. 

It has no relation at all to you preferring rum. Absolutely not. 

“Have you seen her yet?” Chris asks, handing his best friend the red plastic cup. 

Sebastian finds humor in this, they’re all adults and can afford actual glasses for everyone, and yet they’re supplied with red solo cups like a college house party. He glances around and is pleased to see a beer pong table is set up near the shed where a group of people are playing and cheering. 

“Nope. Have you?” He takes a ginger sip testing the taste. It’s mixed well so he swallows some more. 

Chris folds his arms and shakes his head.

“No. But I know she’s invited so you two better behave.”

“I will,” Sebastian nods, “I’m going through a three step guide in my head. I’m all good.”

“Yeah? What’s the percentage of it working?”

There’s a collective shout of your name behind him and he cranes his neck to see you being lifted in the air by the mutual friend of a friend you two share. You’re at the beer pong table and apparently you made the winning shot. 

Sebastian looks away before he can really get a good look at you in your outfit but the flash of your skin flickers in his mind. He meets Chris’ eyes.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Sebastian does a good job of steering clear of you. His three step guide that he made up seems to be working but the more rum he drinks he gets them a little jumbled. He just took a shot with some guy he’s been talking to about cars when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. 

“You’re supposed to dress up.”

He nearly chokes on his shot at the sound of your voice. Sebastian places the shot glass a little haphazardly on the table before turning around and he groans at the sight of you and Tom Jones’ voice is singing ‘She’s a Lady’ over the sound system. 

You’re in high waisted jeans, a ruffled white bandeau and black suspenders that cling to your bare stomach. Your hair is styled in high volume and the lipstick you have on is so red he wonders if it tastes like cherries. 

His eyes drink you in and land on your red nails that are placed on your waist, he takes in a deep breath before traveling back up to your eyes. 

“I did dress up.”

“As who?” you scoff with a laugh taking in his own outfit. He notices how your eyes linger on the jacket.

“Leather jackets were very fashionable in the 80’s. The whole...rocker look,” he waves his hand off dismissively. “I should know.”

“You wore a lot of leather jackets as a toddler?” you snicker. “It was jean jackets and big hair.”

“And how would you know? You weren’t alive then,” he grins. 

“I do my research,” you shrug. “And the 80's are coming back.”

“Well, who are you supposed to be?” he turns as you pull a can of Mike’s Hard Lemonade from a cooler, it’s strawberry lemonade. He holds his hand out expecting you to ask for help to pop it open but you open it yourself and toss the bottle cap onto the table.

“You’re joking, right?” you take a smooth chug of your drink. 

“Are you portraying what a young woman in the 80’s would wear to a party?” he guesses taking in your outfit once more. 

He promises not to...what was the first step again?

“I’m Kelly Kapowski,” you sigh with an eye roll then they widen at his vacant expression. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Saved by the Bell?”

“I don’t watch much tv. Does she look half as good as you do in this outfit?” his eyes drift over you once more. 

He swears he won’t….what was it that he swore he won’t do?

“She looks better actually.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirks and you shake your head. “How’ve you been? Sorry I left early that last time we were together. I had an appointment that I forgot--what’s so funny?”

You’re laughing at his ramblings of the last time you spent the night together and he left at 5 a.m before you even woke up. 

“I know you’re an asshole, you don’t have to cover it up with excuses,” you snicker then pull the neck of a rum bottle up from behind the counter. 

“I am an asshole, aren’t I?” he watches you pour the drink into two shot glasses. 

“Yeah you are. Shall we cheer to that?” you lift up a shot glass to him. 

“Sure,” he laughs.

You clink glasses then swallow the shot in one go. He watches you while he takes his and smiles at the way your body shivers from the pure rum, and he’s zeroed in on your lips as your tongue swipes up the remaining rum. 

The night continues with you two playing beer pong and winning three times consecutively. You’re touching his arm and leaning on him while you banter with your opponents. He gets a little mesmerized when you hold your hand behind your back as you take your shots and how you toss your hair back before each throw. 

When you swat at a ball, you bump the table and he catches you by the waist so you don’t topple to the grass. You’re both giggling and he feels how cold your skin is.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs in your hair, his fingers rubbing against the goosebumps on your stomach. 

“I’m pleasantly warm and drunk.”

“You have goosebumps.”

“That’s because you’re touching me.”

Your eyes meet but before either one of you could say something else, you’re being called back into the game. 

Sebastian ends up making the winning throw and you exclaim in joy then jump into his arms from the excitement. He laughs and spins you around in victory. 

“Woah! No spinning or I’ll throw up!” you shriek in laughter and he stops abruptly. 

When you’re bored of playing the game you take his hand and drag him inside to the makeshift dance floor. Your bodies move together as Queen plays and Madonna. Then when ‘Hungry Eyes’ comes on, your bodies are flushed together.

You’re dancing on the edge about to take it too far than you both know you should. His hips move against yours in a way you know all too well and you’re looking at him with those damn eyes of yours. Your eyes always mess with his head. He stops his hips then cups the back of your neck pulling your lips to his. 

You kiss him back and he’s shocked at the taste of strawberries and not cherries but it makes him kiss you with more fervor. Your fingers slip into his hair as you continue to kiss amongst the crowd. He feels his head clear as your lips move with his, your body pressed against every inch of his. 

“Want to get out of here?” he mumbles in your ear and you nod. 

He’s always so good at knowing when to leave the party and he doesn’t care who notices. It’s a known fact that you two show up separately but inevitably leave together. It’s a habit that never breaks. 

Back at your place, you fumble with your keys as he kisses your neck and his fingers are teasing the lower part of your stomach. You crash through the door in a tangle of arms and legs. He kicks the door shut and captures your lips in the same movement. 

He moves through your darkened apartment like so many times before and makes sure to watch for the door handle. He’s bumped his hip too many times in the past. You make quick work of yanking his jacket off just as he snaps your suspenders from the clips. 

You gasp when he suckles on your neck, his hands hot and needy on your waist and stomach. He always remembers how much he misses you when you’re together like this again. When he wants to touch you in a certain spot you move your body so he can before he gets a chance to voice it. You’re never afraid to tell him to keep doing whatever it is he’s doing and the noises you make? 

You unclasp the frilly white fabric and Sebastian is quick to cup your breasts in his hands and attach his mouth to one of them. You hum in response, carding your fingers through his hair as his tongue rolls and swirls over your bud in a tickling fashion that twists your stomach in knots. 

You back up until you fall onto the bed together and he removes his clothes while you shimmy out of your jeans. 

“Wait,” he stops your hands from pulling your panties down, his hands over yours. “Let me.”

You smile and let him take off your last article of clothing. He leaves open mouthed kisses up from the curve of your knee, up your thigh and stomach. His tongue leaves a trail between your breasts and you feel him against his thigh. 

You moan and he takes himself in his hand, ready to guide himself inside you. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp breathlessly and he stops his movements quickly. 

“Are you okay? Do you feel sick or need water?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand.  

Your hand covers his, your eyes steady on him. 

“I’m okay. I want this--you, always but…”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t leave tomorrow?”

Your request is simple and staring at you now he’ll fulfill anything you want. He nods and a faint bell of a promise rings in his ear. Was this what he was trying to remember earlier? The promise of not leaving you? 

You lift your head connecting your lips and he swears he’ll keep this promise just as he sinks into you. Your moan is so sweet and you fit around him so perfectly it makes his body shiver slightly. Just like on the dancefloor, your bodies move rhythmically and the faster he moves the louder you get. 

Your nails make large arcs in his back as you orgasm twice. You’re panting his name, your nails falling slack against his sweaty back. 

“So good for me,” he pants, dragging your hands up above your head. He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you. “Got one more for me, baby? Hm?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already feeling your stomach twist at his words. 

“Yeah you do, you’re such a good girl for me,” his hips start to move at a quicker pace again. Your mouth opens in pleasure as he hits the right spot. “Always so good for me.”

He watches you come for a third time, your moan long and sweet and then you’re snatching his hair in your fingers. You bring his lips to yours frantically.

“I want you to come for me,” you whisper. “Wanna feel you.”

He groans at your words and licks into your mouth, thrusting as fast as he can chasing his own release. You moan along with him and then he pulls out and his body pulses. He tastes strawberries.

**

Sebastian has his face in his hands as he remembers the swear, promise, and vow he made to himself and the one he made you. He broke all four including two hearts. He’s doubled over in the allotted strikes.

After being together last night he cleaned you up and got you some aspirin and a glass of water. You rolled over and fell asleep in seconds and he stayed up the whole night forcing himself to stay. He stared at the ceiling chasing his thoughts and then when you rolled over cuddling into him he almost fell asleep. 

When the birds started to chirp that’s when he slipped out from underneath you and put his clothes back on. He noticed the goosebumps on your legs and covered you up then kissed your forehead with a whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

You deserve better than him and that’s why he leaves before you could love him. If he stays he’ll never want to leave and that’s dangerous for his heart and yours. 

His phone buzzes again but this time it’s a text message from you. 

Delete my number and if you see me at a party, don’t approach me. I’m so over this Seb. This is the last time you break my heart.

He should feel relief that this is the end, but he only feels worse. Why couldn’t he just stay? 

********

taglist: @cxddlyash @calumance (tagging you because you let me scream about ideas)

[ssavanessa22]

He are some WIPS I’m working on and you guys can pick which ones I carry on with !

Emily x fem reader

I walked slowly up to her and meeting her eyes, hey I'm y/n you must be Emily, right?

Yeah!, you must be y/n, Garcia did tell me you were so pretty"

likewise, Penelope didn't tell me she had such attractive friends excluding me

I sat down next to the bartender and asked for a rum and coke and 2 shots of vodka

Well what are we drinking to tonight

Well Emily we are drinking to this date that fact that I made it on time someone and to Penelope may she continue to insert herself into our lives and meddle in our relationships!

To Penelope Emily Cheers

So what's it like being an FBI agent I mean I know Pen is one but I mean one that goes into the field? Oh, it's amazing I mean I know we hunt murders and rapist just the scum do the earth but investigating taking down unsubs the whole thing is exhilarating!

She just looked so happy and excited to talk about her job someone who was proud of what they did every day it was just so attractive to watch her talk

Hey y/n? Of sorry, I wasn't uhh umm

We're you getting distracted by my eyes or my boobs? She asked giggling, to be honest, both

Fair enough she answered whilst drinking her martini. So what do you do for work?

Part 2 of a Spencer and fem reader I’m going to post part 1 soon

After the terrible almost hate crime like date spencer took me on I realised that screw what Hotch said I am going to make this date the worst one that he will have ever gone to in his life, God this man is so annoying the whole 5 years I've known him I've wanted to murder him and honestly I don't know why but I don't care I still hate him. So whilst on the jet from a case, I decided to mess with his head

"So what's the plan for our date tomorrow" spencer cood

"oh I don't know I think tomorrow we could go to the book fair near your place then maybe we could go to a nice restaurant after then watch your favourite movie "

"wait are you serious?"

"yeah, I thought ..... FUCK NO I'm not doing that shit dude, you took me on a shit date made me talk to annoying white guys OUTSIDE OF WORK your gonna pay Dr Reid I am gonna make this worst date of your life."

"ohhhh I'm so scared"

"you should be you little shit I'm gonna make you my bitch"

A Spencer pregnant fem reader I haven’t started that yet but it’s on its way

A part two sometimes love isn’t enough I have a part two but I deleted it cause I hated it so much

And a one shot based of off this prompt a sent to @boldlyvoid

Okay so a Spencer concept you and him have a few kids like three right all different ages all girls (cause it will always be canon that he is a girl dad) ones 17 ones 15 and the other is 10 your pregnant with your 4th child right everyone happy it’s cute but then during dinner time whilst your all together child no.1 makes a joke about Spencer finally learning how to take care of their hair because he never learned and kid no.2 and 3 are laughing and agreeing like yeah maybe he’ll finally learn how to do it and their all laughing and then at night he wakes up the wife like “I’m a terrible father I never learnt how to do there hair and I never showed them that they should be proud of it” and he’s like so sad and beaten up about it so one day he tells his daughters they aren’t going to school he doesn’t go to work and he spends the whole day learning to wash comb brush braid there hair even the 17 year old and and he’s like “I’m really sorry I never learned but with your younger sister about to be born I want to change that” and it’s all cute and fluffy and also wife is black coded so their daughter would be missed raced and have natural hair

So replie reblog which ones I should do and carry on with and stuff I have little snippets of the ones I’ve already written a bit about x V

Tagging mutuals some people who may be interested!

@spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsnose @makailaa @co0chiegrip1