#he’s regretting the straight fives now

[feelingtheaster99]

Oh my GOSH the looks on all of their faces when that clip plays… PRICELESS

[anaalnathrakhs]

“work meeting” this evening wish me luck i want to run away and die

[jamminvroomvroom]

something in the orange.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando can’t always have what he wants. and neither can you.

i’m so back! missed u xoxo i kinda hate this with a passion but i had to force myself to write something bc i was getting the writers jitters lmao. pls tell me what you think and what you want next! hugs

inspired by: something in the orange by zach bryan (ouch)

songs to set the mood: call out my name by the weeknd, all of evermore actually, leave the door open by the silk sonic

warnings: 18+!! minors, BEGONE!! smut, angst, wee bits of fluff, language, alcohol mentions, inappropriate workplace relationship (reader is an engineer @ mcl), slight age gap (r is older), mutual pining, mutual denial (kinda), unprotected sex (L bozo)

3.2k words

the first time it happens doesn’t really count.

you’re drunk and lando’s worse. tensions boil over at some after party, neither of you can bare it, and he’s shoving his key card into the slot of his door while he sloppily kisses your neck. you cannot take

any responsibility for your actions that night and disregard it as a write off.

explaining away the morning after, when you fuck him again, sober and begging, is a different story.

oh, well.

it happens again. and again, and again, and again.

different cities set the mood and the danger turns you on. you trade your mclaren administrated work shirt for lingerie, and your inhibitions for good sex.

he’s younger, just a couple of years between you, but he doesn’t show it. he makes you forget it, every single time he rearranges your spread limbs on a mattress. he makes you forget his age, and the fact that careers will be over as soon as another soul finds out what you get up to when the chequered flag falls.

lando makes it easy. a flick of the wrist and a curl of the tongue makes you sob, and he smirks into the crease of your thighs every time. and when it’s over, and you’re both spent under linen sheets, you can’t even regret it. not when he makes you laugh until you cry and keeps you warm as you drift off to sleep on the rare occasions that you let yourself stay.

it can’t continue. it can’t, you tell him and yourself. every morning after is punctuated with promises that this is the end. and every time, you manage without each other until the next race weekend, when he looks at you in that knowing way that makes your thighs clench.

-

lando can’t think straight.

he never can when he slides between your thighs. it feels like home.

you’re somewhere in the middle east, he can’t actually remember where right now, not when he pushes deeper and you clamp down around his cock, so hard that he chokes out a shaky breath.

“how do you feel even better every time?” lando groans, grinding into you nice and slow.

you slur out a moan in response, tipping your head back even further as you do. it gives him the perfect opportunity to burrow into your neck, kiss over your collarbone, rock into you harder.

everything is warm, slick. this whole situation, it’s a well oiled machine now. lando sends a text and you turn up five minutes later. he ushers you into the room and then, clothes leave a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. what was once a place holder, a way to get some after a shitty race, had become something to look forward to, something that made his heart race. the anticipation, the danger of you made him weaker than he ever had been.

at first, he hated the hold you had on him. it didn’t mean that he could end this, though, not when he couldn’t help but stare at you in the garage. not when he was transfixed by the glimpse he’d get of your collarbone under your work blouse, or the stray hairs that fell over your face when you were concentrating on the data screens.

“lando, i need- i need…” you gasp, trailing off as you arch even further into his sweat glistening body.

lando smirks, sliding a hand down your

body, pinching your nipple on the way. he already knows what you need. he finds your clit, teasing over it a couple of times.

you lock eyes, warning him to give you what you want. he just grins, licks his lips and continues faint glides over the bud. it sends shockwaves over your body, and you convulse underneath him. you writhe, and writhe, and whimper and keen as your orgasm washes over you. his eyes snap shut, barrelling into you as the pleasure hits.

then, there’s silence.

he lays on top of you while you both return to planet earth, no sound but pants of breath and a soft hum from you when he finally pulls out. you smile softly when you rise from the bed, swinging your shaky legs over the side to stand.

“you staying?” lando breathes. he’s laying on his front, arms flexed as they cross beneath his head.

“not tonight, lando.” you tilt your head apologetically, voice soft and sweet. he frowns. you ignore it, and search for you underwear.

“come on, stay.” he sounds desperate to his own ears, cringing at the way the words come across, but your filter it out. you’ve become an expert at navigating - and more often than not, ignoring - the emotional strings that he tugs on. the ones that attach to your cold, cold heart.

“can’t. you’re gonna have the team here bright and early. ‘m not risking jon seeing me here when he comes to wake you up.” you explain, jumping into your jeans as you tug them up your legs.

“he won’t care.” lando argues, childlike in his negotiating.

“i care.” you scold. you hear the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows. you know you’ve won this round.

lando’s quiet for a while after that, letting you dress yourself. as you’re searching for the bag that you can’t remember if you brought or not, he springs from the bed, making a beeline for the door. you think he’s being gentlemanly, but quickly realise you’re being foolish. the fucker is blocking your exit.

“lando.” you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, unimpressed.

“i know, i know, i’m gonna let you go. i just…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, pondering his next words.

“you just…” you usher him along.

“i’ll let you go if you promise to have dinner with me over the summer.” he smirks.

“are you… have you lost the plot?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

he tried this, sometimes, tried to get you to go on a date, or get you to do something alone that didn’t involve engineering or a surface that you could fuck on. you’d naively thought he was past this.

“can we just try?” he gives you a look somewhere between i want you so bad and the infamous lando norris puppy dog eyes. lava heats your cheeks and your belly, and the butterflies come out of hibernation. you couldn’t deny, you wanted to try. but, at what cost?

“text me.” you murmur, gesturing for him to move.

“so, that’s a yes?” lando questions.

“text me, and i’ll think about it.”

he decides that he’s gotten the best possible answer out of you, and finally let’s you make your great escape.

you almost collapse on jelly-like knees the second the door shuts behind you. standing your ground with him was getting too difficult, too tiresome. the boy was hard fucking work, and he always got what he wanted.

you’d often daydreamed about him taking you out, getting dressed up nice to sip wine and eat too expensive food, and eventually getting undressed. you realised, however, that those kinds of thoughts were to be banished, after you got caught up in fantasies during a race and almost had the pit crew put mediums on during a bout of rain.

wanting him was dangerous. it could be career ending, reputation destroying, heartbreaking.

one date wouldn’t hurt, just to satisfy his appetite. he’d probably get bored eventually. you wouldn’t let it get further than one meal, one last night with him, and then it would stop.

one more time. just one.

-

you’re waiting on your sofa for the text that tells you he’s arrived.

your hair is curled, messy. just how he likes it. you’re wearing something short and black. your high heel taps against the floor as you bounce your leg nervously.

he’d texted, just like you’d told him to, and then a date was set. just one dinner, one time only. you were gonna tell him that, too.

it’s a bit of fun, you think. dinner and shag. companionship. it was lonely on the road, and sometimes each other was all you could have. it made sense, you figured, that he had honed in on you. you’d done the same to him.

just when you think he’s late, there’s a knock on your door. you were an expecting an “i’m here” text, not the full package. after all, this date was just a formality, right?

you try not to shake as you make your way to the door. lando looks so good that you almost cave and say, “sure, let’s give this a go, eh?”. he’s wearing a shirt that fits painfully well, clinging nicely to a delectable frame. the buttons he’s left undone provide a gorgeous window to his collarbone and the necklaces that hang from his thick neck.

“you look beautiful.” he compliments, rakes his eyes over your body.

“don’t look so bad yourself.” you try to tease but it comes out flustered. you ignore the way his eyes light up.

“you ready?” he asks, you nod.

your heart flutters when he effortlessly takes your hand in his.

-

the restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the only two people dining. maybe it’s because of the ‘closed’ sign that gets placed on the door when you arrive. so, he’s gone all out, you think. you’re shocked at how hard he’s tried to keep this private. maybe this isn’t the formality you think it is, maybe this isn’t his way of feeling better about meaningless sex. maybe it wasn’t as meaningless as you pretended it was.

he had you belly laughing within minutes, laying the charm on thick. wine and conversation flowed effortlessly and you were quickly regretting saying yes to this. you were in danger.

in a moment of silence, you catch his eye from across the table.

“you know, this is a one time thing, right?” you almost whisper. you almost kick yourself, why would you say that now? it doesn’t even phase him.

“that’s what you think.” he grins, devilish and stunning.

“i mean it.” you smirk.

“sure you do, honey.” he says, it sounds a lot like ‘game on’.

-

you stir, eyes slowly fluttering open. orange light washes over you, dancing in the pair of eyes you find staring back at you.

the eyes watching you sleep belong to the same person whose strong arms are wrapped around you, nice and secure.

you croak out a good morning, and he grins at how hoarse you sound. it was all his fault for making you whimper and scream, begging and crying for a release.

the date had gone really well.

“coffee?” lando offers.

“just the one, need to get home.” you bring things back to reality.

two coffees and four orgasms later, you head home.

-

the blurry pictures of you and him leaving the restaurant make you ill.

no one can quite tell it’s you, not yet anyway. twitter is ablaze.

faceless accounts call the blurry woman in the pictures the cruelest of names. you cry for hours, and then you stop for a bit, cry some more. rinse, repeat.

you pull on a jacket, scramble for your car keys. this time, you’ll mean what you say.

-

there’s a knock on the door.

when he opens it, you shuffle inside like you always do, coat hangs on the hook with a scarf to match. silence lingers until you reach the kitchen. the kettle hisses. you didn’t even know that he knew how to use one.

“this has to stop.” you say. emotionless. inside, agony sinks into every emotional cut and scrape. you don’t let him notice.

“i know.” he agrees. he’s seen the pictures, too. “okay.”

the kettle is forgotten, two mugs abandoned; he carries you to bed.

one last time.

-

two fingers loosen you up for him, drawing you steadily over the edge. he doesn’t stop there, no. he slows right down, letting you ride out your high, but only for a second. he speeds up once again, grinding his fingers into you at godspeed, and you feel your eyes dampen with tears.

your entire body glistens with sweat and your release, the overstimulation making your toes curl and your back arch. you wonder if the tears streaming down your face are just a result of the way his fingers are curling so deliciously against your walls, so good that it hurts, or if it’s because you know this will be the last time he gets his hands all over you.

“lando,” you cry, grasping at nothing. he’s got you naked in the middle of his bed, and he’s still fully clothed, kneeling between your spread thighs like a man on a mission.

his motivation is to make you stay, to make you regret the fact that once this is over, you’re choosing not to come back. his need for you, that raging desire that fuels your every encounter, it has only increased tenfold since the night of your date. but lando isn’t stupid, he knows that after those photos were published the brakes were on this… thing. this was his only chance to convince you to keep this going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“what do you want, honey? you want me?” lando grunts, speeding up even more. you didn’t think that what he was doing was humanly possible, but the stars you saw and the way your body was practically levitating off the bed said otherwise.

“only gonna have me one last time? is that really what you want, baby?” he continues to run his mouth, crooning over you. you call out his name, begging. begging for another release, begging that you could stay here forever. with him.

and then you see white and god, and you convulse until you’re collapsing into the mattress. your vision is blurry from the tears and the haze and the unwavering emotional torment.

you grab at him, languidly pulling him in. it takes all the strength you have left to secure him, your feet shoving his jeans down his hips while your hands rip his t-shirt off. you’re keening, too sensitive and too needy. you’re agonising over his touch, you need him to sink so deeply into you, so that you can feel him when it’s over and you’re far away from what almost feels like home.

his breath shakes and his eyes gloss over when he pushes into you.

“let me stay like this, just for a minute.” he chokes out. you nod rapidly, your eyes squeezing shut. he kisses into the crook of your neck, panting and mumbling sweet, painful words over and over.

your hands run over golden planes of warmth and muscle, memorising every dip and crease of him. he slowly rolls his hips and your belly clenches, veins set alight. one of his hands scoop up up your wrist, and the motion creates a deep grind unlike anything you’ve ever felt. your wrists are pinned above your head and lando hovers over you so that he stays level, continuing that slow grind, hips hitting yours hard and slow.

he draws a low whine from the back of your throat, one that makes his hips stutter and your pussy clamp down on him as a pleasurable result. you can feel fingerprints forming around the tender skin of your wrists and you want him to dig in harder, slip into your veins and become a permanent part of you.

lando’s eyes are greyer than you’ve ever seen them, boring into your own. you don’t think you ever break eye contact, staring deep into his soul as he stretches every possible part of you. he doesn’t want this to end, you can’t pretend that you do, either.

he changes his angle slightly, long strokes replacing the short drags, but he keeps hitting deep. something possesses you to lean in, as much as you can given his hold on you, and you capture his lips in a kiss that takes him aback for a second. he melts into it, though, and then you’re chest to chest. tongues meet, and moans meld, your legs snake around him like vines.

“need you to come for me, honey. one last time, yeah? need you to feel good for me, baby.” lando mumbles into your mouth, wet and hushed. it’s overwhelming, and everything goes blank. all you are aware of is the burst of pleasure, his hold on your limp wrists, and two grey green eyes that are begging you to stay.

-

you get dressed quickly, whisper goodbye, and disappear out the door. something stops you, and you need clarity, for him more than for yourself.

you peek round the door, finding his unwavering gaze. your forehead creases, awkward anguish. the way you’re looking at him, deep and sympathetic, it makes you ache. this may well have to be the last time you look at him this intently. it stings.

“it’s better this way, you know?” you murmur.

lando nods, begrudgingly, yet obediently in defeat.

and then, once more, you’re gone and the latch on the door clicks somewhere far away in his apartment. he sinks into the bed, drowning in bed sheets and agony. his head thuds against the pillow and he stares out the window. the orange sunset makes his eyes burn. there’s something about the colour that makes him nauseous now that you’re gone.

-

a few days later, you’re in a meeting that you can’t focus on. he’s sat opposite you, not that you spare him a glance. it’s too painful.

you’ve been here for hours, your body becoming one with the office chair that you’re sinking deeper and deeper into.

yes, the car needs to be faster. yes, your heart hurts. yes, we need to up the strategy game.

you zone out, for the umpteenth time, losing yourself in the dark orange sky. it’s getting late. you crave sleep in your lonely bed. while you stare at the swirls and hues of warmth, you shiver.

lando, on the other hand, hasn’t heard a word said since he sat down. not when his eyes instantly find bruised wrists on the other side of the table. they match the bruises on his heart, the ones that you’d left behind when you’d grabbed it, stolen it from its solitude cage.

he watches you watch the sunset, and then the meeting is dismissed and everyone rushes home for dinner.

“who was that you took for dinner, then, noz?” one of the mechanics jeers at lando as you’re leaving the boardroom. those damned fucking photos would never let you sleep well again.

you’re a couple of steps ahead of them, ears perked up. you’re nauseous.

“no one you know.” lando laughs uncomfortably, waving it off. he sounds exhausted.

you fight with the revolving door and rush to your car. you scream as soon as the door slams and you’re in the drivers seat. you thrash against the steering wheel, and then you scream again.

when you compose yourself, and pull out of your parking space, you notice lando’s range rover ahead of you. when you get to the end of the drive, he will turn left, towards london, and you will turn right.

the devil on your shoulder murders the angel in cold blood, silencing the only voice of reason you had left.

when you reach the junction, you turn left, too.

-

yikes. anyways lmao

-

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removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

[gglitch1dd]

Honey (Yakuza Eijiro x Baby Mama Reader)

Day 10 of Breedingtober

Your boyfriend finally comes home after 5 months away and as angry as you are with him, you're glad to have him home.

Warning: Implied murder at the end, SMUT, CHOKING/Breath play, BREEDING, unprotected sex, GUNS, a baby, reference of matching tatoos Words: 6k

“Oh who’s a good girl?” You praised as you washed Reika’s hair. The little baby giggled in the bath as she held onto one of her yellow rubber duckies as she stared up at you with ruby eyes.

You loved her more than you had breath in your lungs. She was your everything. Reika, the little chubby girl, was quite a character but she was the cutest little decision you ever made. Never mind how painful she was to deliver but nevertheless, you couldn’t regret a thing when she looked up at you like you were her world.

“You’re so pretty, Rei-Rei.” You cooed as you rubbed her soft cheek making her giggle as she put a soft hand to yours. “You ready to get out now?” You asked her rhetorically.

Before you could hear her not really necessary answer you heard something drop. However it wasn’t in the bathroom you were in. You paused as you turned your head to look out to the dark hallway.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you slowly stood up from where you were. All the windows were closed as far as you knew and you had cleaned up the apartment so there shouldn’t have been anything to fall down on the ground.

You looked to Reika. You didn’t want to leave her but you didn’t want to stay in case there was an intruder. You bent down to Reika putting a kiss on her head. You carefully moved to the door, peaking into the hallway. It was silent for a second, before another sound down the hall came again. You furrowed your eyebrows but let out a heavy breath. You carefully moved into the hallway, your feet covered in socks thankfully so that you didn’t make a noise. You quickly moved into your room. You moved to your closet, quickly opening up the safe and taking out the handgun.

You moved back into the hallway, holding the gun safely with one hand underneath it to steady the weight of the gun. You moved steadily, one foot in front of the other as you focused on moving forward. You heard scratching around your kitchen. You swallowed down hard. You reminded yourself that you had to protect yourself and your daughter.

No matter the cost.

It was something your boyfriend had believed in religiously and one you planned on carrying. You moved slowly as you put your back to the wall just outside the kitchen as you looked down at the gun in your hands. You prayed it was just some rabid animal like a possum or something or a cat that had slipped into your apartment.

Without thinking about it for much longer, you turned quickly to point your gun straight into the kitchen, your eyes catching on red and immediately focusing the barrel of the gun in that direction.

Instantly the perpetrator froze, one of the cupcakes you had made that morning in hand and half in his mouth. You stared into the ruby eyes of Yakuza boss Kirishima Eijiro. His eyes wide as he looked at you. He then put on a sharp cheesy smile as he gave you a small wave. “Hey honey.” He let out nervously. You lowered the gun as you stared at him. He swallowed down heavily before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’m home…”

“Eijiro…” He carefully put down the cupcake, frosting already on his mouth showing that he had helped himself to one already. You scowled at him before letting out an annoyed growl. “You lying son of a bitch!” You shouted as you waved the gun as you stomped over to him. His eyes went wide as his back was pressed against the counter. “You told me that you were coming back! Where the fuck have you been the past five months huh!?” You shouted as you pointed the gun right underneath his chin making him still, the large redhead stared down at you, intimidated by your careless holding of the gun in your hand. “I’ve been here with a newborn for months waiting on your stupid ass and not a word from you!” He opened his mouth. “And I don’t give a shit about what Tetsu says because he isn’t you! I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to castrate you, mould your dick then burn it and then throw the rest of you away because-”

You were easily interrupted as the gun was taken out of your hand and you were disarmed. You were turned around and pinned against the counter, his large mass of muscle and height pressed you against the counter, forcing you to look up at him as he had you trapped in his embrace. Although you were a pretty skilled fighter yourself, nothing could beat the raw strength that Kirishima Eijiro had.

He tilted his head with a soft smirk, large hand wrapped around your neck, his pointer finger stroking your jaw as he looked down at you. “I missed you too, Y/N.” He let out lowly. You were angry. Of course, you were, but you couldn’t help but melt as he bent down and kissed you. He put the gun down on the counter and wrapped his other arm around you, deepening the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him in desperation, wanting him closer. You ached for him, you needed him just as much as you wanted to push him away. The matching ink on your arm, the same that he had, told everything it needed to.

Eijiro groaned as he separated from you, “God, I missed you.” He nearly whispered. “I missed you both so much.”

You stared up at him for a moment before frowning. “If you missed us, you wouldn’t have been away for so long.” You pushed yourself away from him.

Eijiro let out a breath as he watched you put on the safety and unload the gun as if it was something casual. “The case took longer than I expected, but I told you I wouldn’t take a step into prison and I didn’t.” You knew that was true. From the moment he had left, you kept your eye on the news for anything to do with the charges against your husband. You were lucky enough to know that the next time you would see him it wouldn’t be behind a thick pane of glass. “Then I had loose strings to tie up and business to take care of.”

“Like what?”

You heard a file be placed down on the counter next to you. You turned to look back at Eijiro. He had his large arms folded over his chest, his sleeves rolled up exposing the tattoo sleeve of a dragon on his left arm. He motioned to it. You didn’t say anything as you moved to check what was in the file. You opened it. Your eyes widened in surprise.

In it was evidence of ownership of a home, the keys still in one of the pockets. You flipped it again to reveal Eijiro’s will, and you noticed Reika and your names on it. You flipped it again to see documents. Life insurance, medical insurance, a bank account in Reika’s name with money that would be unremovable and developing interest until she was eighteen. Everything. The more you flipped through it, the more evidence you found of everything done to ensure a safe future for you and Reika should anything happen to him.

And right at the end was a marriage contract for the both of you.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Eijiro smiled as he looked over at you. Nothing was particularly said but he moved over to you. His movements were slow, but he got to you in no time with long strides of his legs. He pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” He whispered near your ear. You closed your eyes, putting your head to his heart. That’s all you wanted to listen to. His heart. The thing that beat for you and your daughter alone. You closed your eyes letting your tears fall as you held onto his warm figure.

You nodded your head as you just enjoyed the feel of him. “It’s okay…. Just… just don’t do it again, please.”

He chuckled and bent down to kiss the top of your head. “I would never do such a thing.”

Before you could even think of kissing him, you both heard a loud whine. That’s when you remembered your poor Reika who was all alone in her bathtub.

You gasped as you quickly rushed into the hallway. “Reika! I’m coming baby!” You shouted as you ran into the bathroom. The little one had thrown her duck out of the bath, her face flushed as she was near to tears. Her chubby face was in distress as she sat in the bath with a sad look on her face. The moment she saw you again, she reached up to you with chubby small hands, her cheeks wet as she cried for you. “Aww, Reika. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You apologised as you grabbed her fluffy towel and lifted her up into your arms. You rubbed her to make sure she was nice and warm as you held her in your arms. She continued to cry, sweet kitten sounds as you placed kisses to the side of her head. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. Daddy got me distracted, but I’m here now. Mama is here. Mama is here.”

You gently rocked her in your arms, trying to calm her down as she rested her head against you. Appearing in the doorway was Eijiro, who peaked his head in after putting the gun away in the safe. His eyes found their way to you as you tried to calm his daughter. He was slow to move in, not wanting to interrupt your space with her. But then Reika looked up from your shoulder over to him. Ruby met ruby.

And Eijiro was sure he fell in love.

You looked down at Reika and then to Eijiro. Her crying had simmered down but she still seemed rather in a fragile state. You carefully walked over to Eijiro who looked down at her. You gave him a gentle smile and carefully put Reika in his arms, making his eyes grow wide. He carefully held her to his chest, putting a hand behind her head as well, to support her head. The both of them looked at each other with identical expressions. Wide ruby eyes and almost confused looks.

Then Eijiro started crying.

He had a smile on his face but tears came to his eyes. “Hey…” He spoke softly. He sniffed as he put a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, Reika. It’s Daddy, princess. Daddy’s here. Sorry I took so long.” You watched him carefully hold her and look down at her as if she was his entire world. Reika didn’t say anything but at least she stopped crying. She reached up to put her soft hands on his face and Eijiro lost it. Full on sobs, snot and tears. It took Reika by surprise to see him cry as he put his head down and squeeze her to his chest. You chuckled at the sight, watching such a big man fight sobs at the sight of baby not even six months old.

Your daughter looked at you almost as if pleading for help.

You put Eijiro on night duty. He had not done it since the first few weeks after she was born so he was a bit rusty but with your supervision, he was a champ. He managed to change her, dress her (he put on her onesie the wrong way the first time) and then watched all wide eyed and interested as you fed her and slowly put her to bed.

You were grateful that she was just like her father in that aspect, one good feeding and she was out like a light, sleeping with her little hands joined together as you covered her in a blanket and allowed her to sleep in her crib. You led Eijiro out of her room as you let out a heavy sigh. You moved to your bed, moving to sit down. You were exhausted and you probably needed to sleep soon.  

Eijiro moved over to sit down next to you as you flopped back to lie down on the bed. You stared up at the ceiling for a second. You heard a low laugh from Eijiro, making you flick your eyes to look over to him. You raised an eyebrow wondering what had him all giggly. He leaned back to look down at you. “You’re… you’re so good with her.” He let out lowly with a gentle smirk. “Seriously. And she’s… she’s perfect.”

“Well, of course she is. I made her.” That made him laugh. You smiled gentle as you looked at him. You put a hand over his. “I’m glad you think so, Eij.”

“Mh.” He carefully moved to scoop you up in his arms rather effortlessly, never ceasing to catch you by surprise. He pulled you up so that you sat on his lap, straddling him with his hands on your hips as he stared up at you with a stupid grin on his face making you giggle. “You know, she is so cute. So cute in fact, that she deserves a sibling for being so cute.” He reached up and kissed you.

You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, holding him tightly as you let him kiss you. You leaned back with a chuckle once you realised what he had just said to you. You shook your head. “Oh we aren’t doing this again, Eijiro.” You let out lowly. “I know how you think.”

“Oh but you were so sexy whilst pregnant, sugar.” He moved to kiss your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your pulse making you weak. Every kiss to your body had you sinking deeper and deeper into his grasp, so much so that you were sure that before long you would be nothing but clay in his grasp to mould to how he pleases. “You’re sexy right now. Fuck~ All the weight you put on got me chubbing in my pants, honey.” He grabbed at your body harsher, moving your hips down. On instinct, you grind down on his clothed dick that you could already feel pushing against you.

It was true that after putting on weight during your pregnancy, you really didn’t have the time to lose it. It was one of your biggest insecurities but also something that you had sort of tuned out since you were so busy taking care of Reika all the time, you barely noticed how you looked. Of course, you did see members of the Yakuza clan like Tetsu, Mina, Sero and Eijiro’s sister, Tamami, was over all the time to play with your niece and take care of her giving you time to actually take a shower and relax for a bit.

However right now, your stomach was doing flips, feeling his big hands on your body, kneading and grabbing at your skin like he couldn’t get enough of it. He let out a low groan as he moved his kisses back up to your jaw making you gasp. “God, I’ve missed you.” He breathed out.

That was your breaking point. You quickly moved to grab at his shirt, undoing it as fast as you could. The large redhead laughed at your eagerness, finding it rather amusing that you were so eager to have him, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t the same. Quickly, you pulled of his shirt, allowing him to rip it off his body and you were on his lips once more. You let your hands feel his warm skin and muscles. You had missed him so much. You had ached for him and his body so much that nothing could satisfy you the way that he could.

“I want you.” You whispered against his lips. You moved to take off your oversized shirt, throwing it off somewhere behind you as well as your bra, and moving back to kiss him eagerly. He immediately went to pinching your nipples making you whine at the pain and pleasure that bloomed together. Eijiro fell back onto the bed, before flipping the both of you over so that you could lie underneath him. He moved to kiss down your body, giving each of your nipples a kiss, promising to give them attention soon, before going down between your legs.

If there was one thing more than anything that Eijiro loved to do to you, it was eating you out until you were crying on his tongue. He got off to it and man did you love it. He threw your thighs over his shoulders as he went mouth first straight into your cunt. You sucked in a breath immediately before letting out a low moan at the feeling of his tongue on your clit, sucking.

You couldn’t help but whine. It had been a long time since you had last gotten any sort of attention like this and you didn’t exactly have the time to get yourself off when you had a newborn in your life now. But now… you felt as if you were in heaven. Eijiro held your thighs as he wiggled his tongue inside you. He loved watching you wiggle and whimper as you didn’t know how to handle him anymore. He found it adorable watching you, but more importantly, he loved watching your sex.

He stuck two fingers inside of you, feeling you clamp down on him, almost wanting more than what he was giving you. You whimpered as you moved your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. He let out a laugh. “You so needy, baby?” He asked.

“Eijiro please don’t tease me.” You begged as you looked down to him. “Don’t tease me, just…” You grunted as you moved your hips some more. Eijiro curved his fingers making you moan. You were so close. So fucking close. “Just fuck me already!” You shouted at him. “I’ve waited long enough.”

A smirk pulled to his face, finding you so amusing. “God, I love you.” He chuckled as he stood up, his fingers still inside you, making sure you would be able to take his cock as he took off his pants. Oral can wait for later, right now, you wanted a good dicking down and that’s what he was going to give you. He felt you clench around his fingers at the sight of his cock.

You loved Kirishima Eijiro.

But if there was one thing you’d save about him, it would have to be his cock.

It was gorgeous. Thick like a coke can and long enough that you were sure you had still never taken the entire damn thing. You were always left crying and screaming on the thing and damn did you love it. Eijiro had ruined sex from any other man for you and you couldn’t care less. Not when you got to keep his cock all to yourself.  

A grin moved to his face as he carefully moved to shift your body further up the bed along with him. You pulled him down for a kiss, pulling him closer to you so that you could feel him, taste him and breathe him in all at once. Eijiro held you securely kissing you back as he slowly retracted his fingers from inside you, a groan leaving your mouth. You felt so empty without him but you knew that being patient for just a bit longer will get you what you craved.

Eijiro gripped your thighs, separating from you as he pushed your thighs against your chest, bringing your knees to your shoulders. Eijiro kept a hand down against the underside of your thighs as he stared down at the view in front of him. A low groan left his mouth as he slowly stroked his cock at the sight of you all pretty for him. You twitched as you felt the head of his cock move up and down your slit, spreading his precum all over your slit. You bit down on your bottom lip with a whine, so desperate just to take him.  

Slowly you felt the head of his cock slip into you, making you both groan. The feeling of his thick cock inside you was euphoric, feeling every twitch and press into your sex. Eijiro was slow, savouring the wonderous feeling before finally pushing everything inside you. You wiggled a bit, moving to adjust how you were to a more comfortable position as you stared up at him.

With the go ahead from you, Eijiro made swift work into pressing you down, folding you in half and ramming into you hard. You let out moans as you felt him move in and out of you, your sex gripping on to him tightly as if you didn’t want to separate and be without him. He groaned at the feeling of your sex wrapped around his cock, but continued on his pursuit.

The rhythmic thrusts into you were enough to keep your mind numb and happy, content moans left your mouth as you enjoyed the action. Eijiro shifted before thrusting in again, hitting a spot inside you that had you releasing a loud shout. He hit that spot again, and again, and again, and you almost felt as though you were gonna scream. It was an endless assault on your sex.

“Oh shit! Oh fuck- Eijiro! Eijiro right there!” You encouraged as you moved to grip onto his shoulders instead of holding onto your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders. “Right fucking there!” You arched your back as little as you were allowed to with a moan.

However, you were cut off by Eijiro placing a hand around your neck, squeezing gently making your eyes go wide. He stopped for a second as he leaned down closer to you, a smirk on his face. “Now keep quiet honey, you’re gonna wake up my daughter from her precious slumber. Don’t need her waking up because her mother’s too much of a slut.”

He didn’t let go of your neck, squeezing it enough to just leave you breathless but it made you wetter too. You groaned with your eyes rolled back at the blissful feeling of so much pleasure and no air all at the same time. It was almost as if you were floating, and yet you were going to explode at any second. It felt heavenly. Eijiro flexed his fingers allowing you to gasp, your cunt spasming around his cock as you abruptly felt yourself cum hard around him. A strangled keen escaping your mouth as you sunk down closer towards him. However, another squeeze to your neck had your cunt gripping his cock like a vice.

Eijiro loved it. He loved feeling your pulse in the palm of his hand, he loved the feeling of your wet sex wrapped around him, making him feel seconds away from coming inside you. And factually, he was. He held you tight as he focused on fucking into you, heavy breaths tumbling out of his mouth as he focused on moving in and out of you, pounding as he hit your cervix.

He couldn’t think straight even if he wanted to. A groan tumbled out of his throat as he looked up for a second. God, he had missed you. He had missed you so much. He had missed your smile, your laugh, your hands on his body and your cunt. You were still so tight around him and it made a rush go through him knowing that this was the same body that gave him his beloved daughter. “Fuck~ I’m gonna cum.” He rambled out as he let go of you and placed his hands either side of you. You gasped as you finally got air unrestricted. You reached up and held onto him as you took deep breaths. Eijiro had his head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you feel so good. You feel so fucking good. I’m gonna-”

The words were taken right out of his mouth as pure euphoria went through his body. Eijiro let out a groan of  your name as he held you, his thrusts now slow as he came inside you. You felt so full, feeling him press inside you and cum inside you. You were too tired to care, and honestly you always loved the feeling of him taking you raw. Nothing was better than it. You were addicted to the floating endless feeling of him and you joined together, how it was meant to be.

You were both heaving by the end of it. Exhausted, tired but so content. Then you realised…

You let out a groan. “Eijiro, not again! You came inside me.”

It took your man a second before an amused laugh tumbled out of his lips. “Honey, I thought you loved it when I did that.” He pushed himself back up, his thick hair cascading down his back angelically, reminding you of how gorgeous he was.

You looked up at him tiredly with a pointed look. “I’m not on birth control. I haven’t been for more than a year now.” You reminded him. Eijiro grinned with a smug look on his face. Just at the sight of his expression you swatted his pecs making him laugh.

“What!? I think we can give Reika a sibling or two.” He spoke lowly.

You glared up at him. However, there was an itching feeling inside you that wanted more of him. No matter the risks. You turned to look at him. Eijiro felt your gaze on him and turned to look at you. He chuckled but moved over to you again. Before he could kiss you, you both heard crying.

Crying came out of the baby monitor making you both pause. You groaned but Eijiro chuckled as he gave you a small peck. “You get some sleep, I’m on night duty, remember.” You smiled as you watched him get up, slipping on his pair of boxers before leaving the room. “I’m coming, Reika. Don’t worry.”

You watched with a gentle smile as he left the room. You were glad to see him back with the two of you, where he belonged.

The music of the club was obnoxiously loud. So much so, one could feel the thump of the beat of the current song playing in one’s soul. The dark atmosphere lit by dim and neon lights made the almost delirious feeling of being in the club heightened. Like being stuck in a fever dream.

Kirishima Eijiro walked into the club, his shoulders relaxed and his head held high. An attendant of the club immediately led him towards the VIP section. Kirishima watched everything around him inquisitively. This was one of his newer clubs. Just one of the many ways he got his money, but Eijiro knew everything about the club despite its recent opening.

It was his club after all. The neon sign of Riot indicating exactly who owned the whole establishment. Everything from the bottles of liquor that lined the wall of the bar, the cushioned seats of the booths, to the men and women entertaining in the skimpy outfits on the stage and around the club. Everything was paid for, owned or owed to him.

Or it would be, if people didn’t think stealing from him was a good idea.

Eijiro walked up the double glazed glass stairs, up to the VIP floor. There weren’t many people on the floor. Perfect. He didn’t particularly need an audience for tonight. He walked over to the group of men that sat together, waiting on the redhead.

The moment his presence was registered, instantly all four of them stood. “Boss.” They said simultaneously, serious expressions on their faces.

Eijiro gave them a curt nod, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He sat down on an isolated cushioned one-seater in front of them. His legs spread as he turned his head to look off the balcony at the stage. A pretty brunette on stage, in turquoise heels and matching lingerie. The redhead turned his attention back to the four men who hadn’t moved. Although the four men stood at attention, intimidated by the large man that sat in front of them, they were more aware of the baby that sat in his lap.

A pretty little baby girl with short black hair in little pigtails and red bows. She sat in a red puffy dress and little shoes as she held a rubber duck in her hands. She had wide beautiful ruby eyes and looked so innocent in contrast to her father.

“Sit, gentlemen.” His deep voice rumbled out as he motioned to the seats they were previously sitting on, with thick fingers. At his orders, they sat in front of him, not as relaxed as he seemed to be. “So…” Eijiro started a hard look on his face, he put a large hand to Reika’s head, twirling one of her pigtails. “Report.”

The highest-ranking member in front of him, Mr Tsukishima started speaking but Eijiro wasn’t listening. He knew everything this man was saying to him was utter bullshit and was surprised that even when sitting in front of him, he had the balls to lie to him. It made his jaw tense and his hands itch to hit something. His large fingers ticked in anger, however the feeling of his daughter’s soft little hands hold onto him thumb in interest calmed him down. Reika leaned back against her father, putting the rubber duck in her mouth to chew on.

Like an angel of saving grace, a beautiful woman walked over to them. Black heeled knee high boots clacking on the ground, instantly catching Eijiro’s attention before even seeing her. You appeared to his right, a tablet in hand and your eyes half lidded in an alluring look. Eijiro looked to you. You wore the black club uniforms, not a performer but a waiter. A name tag written, Honey.

“Anything you want, gentlemen?” You asked, balancing your weight on one leg, highlighting the fishnet stockings you wore over your skin.

Eijiro looked you up and down. His red crimson eyes eating you up unashamedly. “Rum. Ice.” He ordered simply.

You took all their orders, noting it down on your tablet. You nodded your head once you got all of them. “Order coming up.” You turned on your heels, eyes glancing at the redhead, an unnoticeable wink sent his way as you passed by him, hips swaying dangerously close to his head. Reika looked up to you with a gurgle of excitement, waving you goodbye as you left.

The redhead noticed the men across from him and the lingering gazes on you. A surge of pride and possessiveness blooming from his chest as his sharp smirk broadened. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, let's cut to the chase.” He adjusted his seating. “I came here to find out two things. One I already know. First off, where is my money.” He listed on one of his thick fingers. His face not showing any signs of anger or resentment which made the men across from him stiffen. “And two, are you lying to me? Now I already know that one, from the moment you opened your mouths, so that leaves me with the missing five million yen.”

“Mr Kirishima…” Eijiro’s predatorial blood red eyes shot to Mr Tsukishima. His face expressionless as he waited for an explanation. It made the man in front of him swallow hard as he adjusted his seating. A nervous chuckle came from him. “I… we… have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”

You came back with their drinks, having fetched them from the VIP bar. You placed the four men’s drinks on the table but personally handed Eijiro’s to him. The redhead took a sip of the alcohol in his glass. He motioned for you to come closer to him. “Clear?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Empty.” You spoke in borderline silence only for the redhead to hear.

Eijiro nodded. “Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my lovely second in command, Kirishima Y/N.” He motioned to his right over to you. At the name of the infamous Yakuza’s wife, they paled. You waved over to them with a smile. “And she’s been telling me all the shit that has been happening behind my back, here.” Eijiro continued. “Now, I am a generous man, so I’ll give you all five seconds to put all my money back into my account.” He stated simply. His expression was void of anything. “One.”

“Mr Kirishima, we can explain-” They started making excuses.

“Two.” Eijiro wasn’t in a merciful mood tonight. He had to fly all the way down here to deal with these fools, when he should be at home. When you all should have been at home together. “Three.”  Mr Tsukishima started typing on his phone furiously as the others started spewing nonsense Eijiro couldn’t bring himself to listen to.

You pulled out a suppressed pistol from one of your boots. You turned off the safety and checked the weapon over. Reika reached up to you in want with a whine. “Mama.” She waved over to you.

“Not now baby, mama’s working. Just give me a minute, please.” You said sweetly with an air kiss to her.

“Four.” Eijiro downed the rum and placed it on the glass table in front of him. He adjusted Reika on his lap, grabbing her rubber duck and squeezing it to draw her attention. “Fi-”

“IT’S THERE!” His phone vibrated. You paused and looked towards your husband for his call. Eijiro raised an eyebrow in surprise. He pulled out his phone. A notification from his bank. “It’s there! Just please, Mr Kirishima. Mercy.” They begged.

Eijiro waited a second. He smiled. He stood up, his daughter hypnotised by the duck and the squeaky noises it made in his hands that kept her looking anywhere that wasn’t at them. Without a word he nodded to all of them and turned around. All four of them breathed a sigh of relief. Eijiro made his way to the exit then he stopped. “By the way gentlemen,” He tilted his head to look back at them. “You didn’t pay me with interest.” He raised a single hand and motioned to you. “Honey, do you mind?” Eijiro looked down at his beautiful daughter as he squeezed the duck, his large body blocking out the scene you would create. “Reika, princess. You ready to go home?” He asked sweetly.

Without looking back he went down the stairs, hearing only the sounds of bodies falling on the ground.

This was a great way to end breedingtober. Just a reminder of what I had said early in october. Some stuff came up and i can't finish the last two things. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I really can't. I've just been posting what has already been written for quite some time now. So yah. I apologise for that once again.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Law accidentally hurting you with ‘shambles’…

It was an accident.

Law was focused on the bounty hunter, determined to put the man in his place after the hunter had launched a surprise attack on his crew.

Law knew that there was no better opportunity to do so while his Heart Pirates kept the rest of the attackers at bay.

What he didn’t know was that you had broken away from the fight to find him.

���not until it was too late.

Law had the enemy pinned inside a blue dome. Cockiness exuded as Law also summoned the ruins of a stone and wood house that sat abandoned on the edge of the shore. He had it poised above the head of the trapped man.

The bounty hunter hardened his resolve and lunged forward to escape the bubble and swipe at the Heart Pirate.

But Law was faster. “Shambles.”

The house disappeared. The bounty hunter disappeared. Your wide eyes met his before, they too, disappeared.

No… how had he not seen you? Why were you even here?

Rushing over to the edge, Law’s hands gripped the rails lest he accidentally launch himself over. He saw the field in the distance where the teleport had taken place. He saw the debris and a dark figure underneath. But as he watched gravity bring the wood splinters to earth, he recognised that the dark figure was in fact comprised of two bodies before they were swallowed by the house.

A scream ripped through Law’s throat and he wasted no more time. He hurled himself over the barrier, airborne for a few moments before his feet found purchase on the hard ground. Then he sprinted - heart in his throat, fear replacing his blood as it pulsed in his ears.

What had he done?

Every speeding step forward felt agonisingly slow but he pushed through until he reached the damaged field. Had he been thinking straight, Law would have done a scan of the area and found you. But he was hardly thinking (or breathing) when his fears won out and he cast his sword aside. Then, like a madman, Law clawed at the broken wood and shattered glass desperate to find you.

A minute passed. Then two. Then five. Each second passing with dread and attacking what small shred of hope he held onto.

He screamed for you, begging that it would rouse you enough to make a sound but he was met with silence.

Law grabbed a thick wooden plank and raised it carefully, blood-stained glass rolling off its edges like a hellish waterfall. That’s when his eyes caught a familiar fabric. It was the hem of your pants. The one he grew to admire over the course of your stay on the Polar Tang.

With a harsh movement, Law tossed the beam away revealing a small space in the mess. It should have relieved him now that he had found you - but it didn’t.

Your body was littered in scrapes and blooming bruises but, worst of all, you had been pierced by thin metal bar in your thigh.

Law crossed the space carefully. He bent down and touched your face, moving away the loose bits of glass. He expected your skin to be as cold as death but there was a warmth… better yet, there was a pulse and faint, haggard breaths.

He hadn’t killed you.

The relief that he felt escaped his body in a sob. Looking around wildly, Law needed something sharp to cut around the pole so he could get you out. His sword was somewhere at the top of this mess but he refused to leave your side.

And as if by a miracle, a large polar-bear shaped shadow appeared holding the very blade he had been in need for.

Bepo tossed him the sword and Law made two decisive slashes against the metal which effectively freed you from being pinned. Setting the sword down, he carefully threaded an arm under your knees and behind your back before lifting you as he stood. With slow steps, Law got you through the clearing onto safer lands. Bepo had been telling him about the crews success with the bounty hunters. The bear also expressed his regrets in being unable to stop you from rushing to aid Law mid-battle.

But it fell on mostly deaf ears. Law was only occupied with your health. He wanted to summon another room and teleport you to safety aboard the Polar Tang. But when he let the thought enter, his vision was clouded by your face and the few precious seconds of fear in your eyes when you knew it was too late to escape.

No. He wouldn’t let his powers hurt you.

Never again.

~ More imagines here ~ (for more One Piece)

A/n: Writing angst at 5am? Okay, brain.

[reiderwriter]

I have a hotch request and if you don’t write it I completely understand☺️

So you’re dating hotch for a couple months and you’ve only went over to his house like 5-6 times(so that’s how many times you’ve hung out with jack) anyway, you go to use the washroom or something before you leave to go home and jack asks his dad if you’re his gf and if you’ll be having a sleepover with them (as you’ve never actually stayed there before) and his heart becomes all warm n fluffy

A/N: Hi! I don't usually write for Hotch, but I decided to give it a crack because this fits pretty well for @imagining-in-the-margins KidFic challenge! It was a fun challenge to write, so thanks for the prompt! I changed it up slightly, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, step-family dynamics, etc.

10 months of casual dinners, midnight strolls, and stolen kisses, and you still weren't ready to accept that you were in love with your boss. 

Aaron Hotchner was a complicated man, and loving him wasn't as simple as your heart wanted it to be. You worked together but rejected any favouritism he may have shown you. You slept together, but you never stayed in his bed. You kissed him, but you never told him you loved him, even though you were sure you did. 

You just weren't sure you were ready to be a stepmother. 

As a child of divorce, you'd been graced with two step-parents growing up, and while neither were story book evil, they weren't exactly the most welcoming either. You'd bounced between your mother and father's houses, trailing duffle bags, afraid to take up too much space for fear of ruining your parents’ newfound and direly earned happiness. 

Jack had the misfortune of being both a child of divorce and having lost his mother entirely too young and entirely too suddenly. 

When you'd joined the BAU, off the back of Haley Hotchner’s death, Aaron had been a man in mourning, a man scarred by circumstance and regret. But he'd been brave, and he'd been loving, and he'd worked so hard to give his son a good life. 

Five years later, and it seemed obvious now that you had at least respected the man from the very beginning, if not pined for him quite openly. 

There was that final hurdle left to cross, though, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready to do so. 

A phone call startled you out of your worries as you sat on your couch, dissociating after a long and hard won case. The shrill ring startled you into action as you frantically searched for wherever it was this time that you left your phone. 

“Hello, yes, I'm here, hi,” you said, finally finding the phone abandoned under some couch pillows. 

“Y/N, it's Aaron.” 

“I know, Aaron. Caller ID, welcome to the 21st century,” You couldn't help smiling into the receiver, so smitten with the man your face was just doing whatever it liked. 

“Right. Look, I wouldn't usually overstep like this, but Jessica and I have to go upto Roy's retirement house, he's not dealing too well with the new environments, and all of Jack's regular babysitters are enjoying the spring weather. I'd ask his friends' moms for an impromptu playmate but-” 

“But you'd rather he be with someone you trust? Aaron, it's fine, I'll come over and watch Jack for a few hours.” 

He sighed into the receiver, and after a few more niceties, you ended the call, still grinning like an idiot. 

You were still grinning like an idiot when your earlier anxiety came back and hit you straight in the chest. You'd met Jack before, but you'd not so subtly avoided any kid based conversations and meet-ups for the last 10 months. 

You had no idea how to entertain a nine year old boy, but you decided quickly that you couldn't half ass it. 

The drive to Hotch's house was almost embarrassingly familiar to you now, having been there so often in the past few months. Jack enjoyed regular sleepovers with his aunt and schoolmates so you could enjoy regular sleepovers with his father, a fact that you had to remind yourself to keep private as you knocked on the door. 

“It's open,” Aaron called from inside, and you hesitantly opened the door and stepped in, bag of last-minute toy purchases stuffed under your arm. 

From the door, you could see Aaron in the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water as he washed lunch dishes and pots, sticking his head out to smile at you. 

“Aaron Hotchner, domestic goddess. Who’d have thought?” 

“I'd ask you to keep this to yourself at work.” 

“Of course,” you said, stepping a fraction closer to him. “Anything to keep the mystery alive.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and you reciprocated, letting it linger a second as you smiled into his touch. 

Drying his hands on a towel near him, Aaron called across the apartment for Jack. 

“What's up, Dad?” He asked, peeking out of his bedroom door. 

“This is Y/N. She works with me and Uncle Rossi. She's going to take care of you for a while while me and Aunt Jessica and I visit your Grandpa. Come say hi.”

Creeping out of his room slowly, Jack came to stand just in front of his father's legs as Aaron put his hands on his shoulders, proudly showing off his mini doppelganger. 

“Hi, I'm Jack.” 

“Nice to meet you Jack, my name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it. You noticed how small his hands were, but how strong his grip was. He was confident, but he was still just a small kid, and you were even more motivated not to mess this up. 

“What's in your bag?” He asked, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds, as if he was itching to stick his nose right into it. 

“Jack, manners, please.”

“It's okay, Hotch. I brought some toys. Your dad mentioned that Santa's gave you a Nintendo at Christmas, and I thought I'd show you a few of my favourite games.” 

His face lit up as he quickly stepped closer to you, hands on the bag as he waited for you to offer it up, now openly ogling the bags contents, knowing it was for him. 

“You didn't have to bring anything, Y/N.” 

“I wanted to make a good first impression.” 

After being dragged to the nearest sofa and sitting through a five minute walk through of all the house rules, urgency exits and remote locations, you were left alone with Jack Hotchner, remotes in hand ready to play Mario Kart. 

“Okay, now all that's left to do is choose the course you want to race on. Which one do you want to play on?” 

Jack had chosen to use Bowser as his character and chosen Toadette for you quite cutely, and you'd quickly finished cart selection, too.

“We should go through them in order, so we complete them all,” he said after a moment of deliberation. 

You giggled at how seriously he was taking it. And then the first race in the Mushroom Cup started, and you were seriously impressed by how quickly he'd picked up this game. Either kids were just better at video games in general, or you had a prodigy on your hands. 

His serious face was a carbon copy of Hotch when he was hunched over paperwork, and he gave you the same quietly disapproving frown every time your character momentarily overtook his. It was adorable seeing the two reflected in one another. 

By the shell cup, you were nearly exhausted, despite having spent the entire time glued to the couch. 

“What do you think about taking a snack break?” You asked, looking over Aaron Jack, who had turned himself upside down on the couch somewhere in the last three matches and was still beating you. 

“Okay. I'll show you where Dad hides the good snacks,” he said, quickly rolling off the couch as if his bones were liquid. 

You, on the other hand, cracked as you stood, the irony not lost on you as you hobbled your way to the kitchen. 

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Jack routed around for a few seconds before returning with a small box of Reeses Pieces, which you gradually accepted alongside a glass of apple juice. 

“You're a good kid, Jack,” you said, ruffling his hair as he playfully swatted your hand away. 

“Yeah, that's what my dad always says.”

“Your dad is a very smart man.”

He nodded and then went back to quietly eating his candy, somewhat lost in thought. 

You weren't sure if you were supposed to ask him what he was thinking about, or avoid the topic and dive straight back into video games, so you just ate your candy, too, standing together in the kitchen, Mario Kart music playing in the background. 

“Do you like my dad?” He suddenly asked, swallowing down one more bite of apple juice. You'd forgotten that kids were the bluntness people on the planet, not yet having learned the necessity of delicately creeping closer to the actual topic of discussions like adults. 

Jack had landed a sucker punch right to your guy, and you were suddenly choking on Reese's Pieces. 

“Umm,” you said, catching your breath again and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day on your face. “Yes, I respect your father a lot, Jack.” 

“But do you like him?” He said again, eyes wide and expectant as he looked up at you. 

“My dad can be a little scary sometimes. I heard some of my friends' moms saying so at Mitchell C's birthday party last week. They said he's scary, but he's so sad and lonely.” 

Your heart sank in your chest as you watched Jack worry about his dad, worry if Aaron Hotchner was lonely or sad. 

“Jack, your dad isn't lonely or sad. He has you, and Aunt Jessica, and-” 

“And you, right? Because you like my dad?” 

“R-Right. He has me, too.” 

“Great. Let's keep playing. The Banana Cup is next.”

As suddenly as it had started, your serious talk with Jack was over and he bounced his way back to the sofa, clicking go on the next race, as you ran to quickly take your place again, too. 

Five hours later, and you were being shaken softly awake, controller still in your hands as you blinked your eyes open. Somehow, it had gotten dark, and both you and Jack had simultaneously fallen asleep on the couch. 

Now Hotch hovered over you, carrying the sleeping boy in his arms as he woke you up. He mouthed ‘coffee?’ and you nodded quickly, sitting up further and grabbing the nearest remote to turn off the Nintendo. 

With Jack situated in bed quickly, you made your way to the kitchen. Aaron joined you after making sure Jack was still asleep, walking up behind you and wrapping two arms around your middle, leaning his head against your shoulder and exhaling. Despite the shiver down your spine, you leaned further into him, enjoying the feeling of him in your sleepy state. 

“How was it?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You were almost sure that he was conducting this conversation from behind as a means of convincing himself not to read into your every movement and expression. 

“It was great. He's a great kid, you know?” 

“So I've been told.” 

“He's worried about you, too. He said the moms at his school think you're scary and lonely. Which in suburban house mom translates to romantic hero, though I don't think he realizes that.” 

You felt the grumble of a laugh behind you, the sound low and comforting as you let your eyes flutter closed again, content in his arms. 

“Jack…misses his mom. Rebecca is great, but he likes talking to the moms at school. Maybe a little too much, I don't know.” 

“You miss her, too.” It was a statement, not a fact. 

“I do,” he said sadly, holding you tighter. “Is that a problem?” 

“No. No, god no. Aaron, I-” your voice broke, and you hesitated slightly, clearing your voice. You squirmed in his grip until he released you enough to face him.

Doing so may have been a mistake, though, as you locked eyes with him and so desperately wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth with yours, and let him lift you onto his kitchen counters. 

You squeezed your nails into the palm of your hands to ground yourself and took a steadying breath. 

Which was when Jack decided to make a reappearance. 

“Dad?” He said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you had only moments earlier. 

You quickly broke apart as Aaron smiled disappointedly, almost as if he were expecting the interruption. 

“Hey, bud. Did you sleep well?” 

Jack nodded, tilting his head a little as though still disorientated. 

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?” 

“Sure did. Both of you, actually.” 

Jack looked at you then and smiled sweetly up at his dad. 

“So Miss Y/N is staying tonight?” He asked, suddenly a little excited and expectant. 

“Well, Miss Y/N has her own house, so we can't just expect her to-” 

“Yeah, I'm staying,” you blurted out, cutting off Hotch mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored him and smiled down at Jack. 

“And if you head back to bed now, I'll make some pancakes for you in the morning,” you whispered conspiratorially with the boy, who raced back to his room. 

Before shutting the door fully, he stopped by his dad and tugged him down to whisper level, saying something before yelling goodnight and taking himself back off to his room. 

“What? What was that?” You pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Aaron. 

“You first,” he laughed back, leaning on the nearby counter. 

“I promised him pancakes in the morning. What did he say?” 

“Oh, nothing,” he said, pulling you closer to him again. “He just said you had an interesting conversation earlier.” 

“Was it the one where he asked me if Mario speaks English, Italian or Japanese, because I couldn't answer that question for sure.” 

“He said,” he leaned down to your ear to whisper the next words. “That you told him you like me. And he thinks you meant like-like.” 

You flushed hot and avoided eye contact. A childish part of you wanted to deny it, to scoff and run away, like you were on the playground and not in a dimly lit kitchen at midnight. But you couldn't.

“I do. But I'd probably say love and not like-like, seeing as though I'm not nine.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, noses touching as he descended to capture your lips once more. 

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Sub!Miguel X gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Little Plot, Blowjobs, Praise, Bondage, Petnames, Edging, Cum Eating, Overstimulation, Inexperienced!Miguel

Summary: No easier way to blow off steam than by blowing off your boyfriend :)

A/N: So much subby Miggy guys. I swear the next one will (hopefully) be different! Also happiest of birthdays to @artisticspivers!

Word Count: 3.9k (Edited)

So, maybe you were a little mad.

But who wouldn’t be? All you wanted to do was spend a nice day out with your boyfriend after not seeing each other for almost a week. But, all you got was a hunkering man trailing behind you as he busied himself on his phone. He had barely spoken a word to you besides a ‘hey, missed you’ and a 'don't you already have something like that?’ when you walked out of the dressing room. He had instantly felt bad when you had decided you had enough and pursed your lips with a quiet, ‘I’m tired. I want to go home.’

He wasn’t trying to do it on purpose, you knew that. Miguel was a busy man and he had a lot on his shoulders. But that didn’t stop you from throwing a pity party for yourself in the passenger seat that quickly turned into silent anger. He was your boyfriend damnit and he should know something like this would upset you! It took everything in you to not whisper something nasty under your breath as every little thing he did wrong today ticked in your head. 

When you had arrived home, you had quickly slammed the car door and made your way up to your shared apartment. Meanwhile, Miguel carried a regretful frown as he followed silently behind you. That upsetting pit in his stomach grew stronger when you didn’t even glance his way as he opened the door for you. You had just walked straight in and dumped whatever you were carrying on the counter and started taking off your shoes and coat. 

“Mi vida, I-” Miguel started with a sigh before you walked around the counter and slammed your hands on it, causing him to jump slightly. 

“Let’s play a game.” You cut in with a voice dripping with mock excitement along with a too wide smile. 

Miguel’s brow furrowed in confusion at the quick switch in your mood. He quickly shook his head and tried again, “I think we should really ta-” 

“Choose a number between 1 and 5.” You had interrupted again, fingers tapping an intimidating rhythm on the countertop. Miguel’s gaze fell to your fingers, more confusion filling his features, “Five?”

“Okay, now-” You said quickly and Miguel snapped his gaze up to your face. “Wait, no, that isn’t my number. I was ju-” 

“Now.” You emphasized, clenching your jaw. So now he wanted to be chatty. Go figure. “Pick a new number: 1 to 5.”

Miguel tried to dampen down his own anger. He balled his fists and flexed his hands before letting out a deep breath. He understands why you’re acting like this, so now he needs to be the patient one. “I pick two.”

He flinched again when you clapped your hands loudly. A more genuine smile formed on your face and the tension in Miguel’s body started to disperse. Okay, Miguel can work with this. You’re already feeling better, so maybe he just needed to play this little… game with you for a little bit. Just until you feel ready to talk and Miguel can find a way to make it up to you. Maybe he can plan a more private date. Maybe bring you to your favorite spot and wine and di- 

“Sit on the couch.” 

Miguel pulled himself from his thoughts and looked up to find that you moved from the counter to stand next to the couch. Miguel tried to ease the furrow between his brows and walked over to you. He took it as a small victory when you didn’t react as he grazed his hand against yours in passing. He took it as an even greater victory when the second he sat down, you were jumping into his lap and connecting your mouth to his. 

Miguel groans as he reciprocates the kiss. His hands instantly start grabbing at your body, squeezing the skin of your thighs and massaging his hands into your ass. In response, your hands reach down to the ends of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. When your lips reconnect, he tries to tease his tongue into your mouth. A soft whine of displeasure is pressed against your lips when you deny him entry. You pull away with a bite and drag of his bottom lip and he looks up at you with hazy eyes. A pleased sigh hums from his throat as you give him one last peck, his lips trying to follow yours when you get up. 

Miguel’s legs are already spread slightly, but you push them further out to make room for your body. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes follow you and his brows knit in confusion as you start unbuckling his belt. He watches silently as you work on unlooping the leather and pulling down his zipper. He can already feel his cock pushing against his briefs, and he shifts away slightly every time your hands get too close to it. Your face already being too close to his too aware cock makes him twitch. He’s sure that if you exhale a little too hard in the right direction, he’ll explode in his pants.

His hands reach down to grab on your wrists gently, stopping you from pulling down his remaining clothes. Your eyes trail up his body, going from his bulge, to his naked stomach, over his chest, and finally to his own red irises. Miguel gulps nervously at the almost threatening look you have on your face and he has to hold onto you a little tighter to resist the urge to let you go like you’ve burned him. “What…what are you doing?” 

The question makes you roll your eyes. Can a man practically built with sex appeal in mind be so naive, even with his inexperience? You make a mental note to go through his search history because there is no way he has never seen someone about to get a blowjob. For now, you resist the urge to reply with ‘the laundry’, and instead shake off his hands. “I told you. We’re playing a game.”

Miguel opens his mouth to question you again, but instead closes it when he can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he lifts his hips slightly off the couch when you tap his hip so you can remove his clothes. They fall to the floor and Miguel squirms as his cock springs up to rest against his stomach. His aching tip has the smallest bead of precum forming over his slit and his face turns a bright red as you watch it build up. 

You creep your hand forward, brushing over his balls and Miguel throws the back of his hand over his mouth to suppress a whimper as his cock jumps in response. His brows are furrowed and his breaths heave against his chest as he watches you wrap your hand around his base. Your hand travels up his length until your thumb presses into his tip. Another whine is suppressed as you bring the thumb to your mouth and suck off his precum. 

You look back up to Miguel’s face, making a show of twirling your tongue over the pad of your finger and humming. Miguel’s eyes take in the sight, loving the way your lashes flutter up at him. God, why did you have to be so goddamn erotic. His free hand quickly reaches down and wraps around his cock in an attempt to keep it from twitching again. He squeezes his hand so hard that it’s almost painful, but he knows if he doesn’t, he’ll end up cumming. God you barely even touched him and he’s already about to explode. 

As if you read his mind, you began giggling. You pop your thumb out of your mouth and remove Miguel’s hand to replace it with yours. It causes a whispered curse to leave Miguel’s mouth as you mutter, “I barely even touched you and you already look ready to fall apart.”

He’s about to disagree, but he cuts himself off with an ‘oh fuck!’ when your tongue kitten licks his tip. He instantly throws his head back over the couch, his hand turning over to completely cover his mouth. A ragged breath escapes into his palm as he tries to calm himself down. He tries to think of anything that can push down the tightening in his stomach, but his brain is short circuiting from the way your warm tongue is licking his head and length. 

 “Shit.” Miguel breathes out when his head falls forward to see you. Your hand still holds onto his thick base and your eyes stare up at him as you swirl your tongue over his tip to collect his precum. He lets out a moan that turns into a choked gasp as your licks escalate to gently sucking his swollen head into your mouth. It’s so warm and wet and it's like nothing he’s ever experienced before. His hand leaves his mouth, revealing that it’s dropped open to let out soft pants. His now free hand reaches out and holds onto the back of your neck in a half-hearted attempt to get you off him. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

His whispered confession causes a small moan to vibrate around his tip and he lets out his own as he reaches his peak. He’s gasping out a combination of ‘please, please’ and ‘I’m coming’ repeatedly as he tilts his head back up towards the ceiling. His salty liquid fills your mouth in thick squirts, and you close your eyes as you savor its flavor with each swallow. Once he rides out the last of his release, you pull your mouth off of him. Your lips brush against his semi-hard cock as you smile up at him and say: “One.”

Even if he wasn’t in his post-orgasm daze, he still would have no clue what you mean. His brows furrowed as he brought his eyes back down to your smiling face. His eyes scan you, trying to find a single hint about what ‘one’ means. When he can’t find it, he lets out a breathless, “What?”

“One, Miguel. That was one. You need four more.” Your explanation is still lost on him. You can still see the clear confusion on his face and you can’t help the chuckle you let out. “The game, Miguel? You chose the number five, remember?” 

The realization quickly hits him and his eyes widen. Choose a number between 1 and 5. An almost scared look crossed his face. Five? How the hell was he supposed to survive four more rounds of this if he came from you practically breathing on him? Pick a new number: 1 to 5. If his first number signified the amount of rounds or how many times he had to cum, then what does the second number mean? Miguel gulped before asking, “And two? What does the second number mean?” 

You simply smiled and shook your head, “You’ll have to find out next time we play.” 

Your answer was less than comforting, but Miguel has little time to question you as you suck him back into your mouth. A sharp hiss leaves Miguel’s mouth and his hold on the back of your neck grows tight. His mouth parts in a silent moan as his hand pushes you further down his cock, letting more of him experience the heaven your mouth causes. Your mouth bobs up and down as you suck him in, your tongue playing with his tip before you go back down. Each lick and suck causes Miguel to blink rapidly, mouth still parted with harsh breaths. 

“Fucking hell, cariño, so fucking good. Mouth feels so fucking good.” Miguel whimpers out as his hips thrust up slightly. 

Sweat breaks on his hairline as he tries to keep his movements shallow to not hurt you. He mumbles small sorrys into the air every time his hips jut forward, and you hum your enjoyment around him as a sign that it’s okay. You force yourself to take more of him in, relaxing your throat and hollowing your mouth. It allows Miguel to hit the back of your throat and he lets out a choked gasp. He stutters out another apology as his hips thrust up again and you gag.

You shake your head slightly, holding him to the back of your throat. The action has Miguel creeping his hand up and into your hair, his other hand running down his face until it stops over his mouth. His apologies turn into hissed curses as he continues thrusting his hips. His head rolls to the side as his eyes glide down to stare at you. You let out a weak moan as he tightens his hold on your head to keep it in place as he fucks your face. 

His thrusts quickly become sloppy and he comes undone when your throat tightens with a gag. He lets out small whimpers and lazily fucks his release down your throat. You blink with tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you let him, trying to swallow it all without choking. When he pulls out, his hand slides back down to the back of your neck to massage it. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

The question is quiet and paired with a soft, concerned look in his eyes. You quickly shake your head no as you lean forward to kiss him. A soft moan escapes him as his taste clings onto your lips. A satisfied breath leaves his nose as you pull away again. That starstruck look is back in his eyes and he can’t help but whisper out, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

His admiration makes you giggle and your hand comes up to caress the side of his jaw. “You might have to take that back after we’re done. You still have three more to go.”

Your words cause a stressed groan to leave Miguel’s mouth. He quickly starts kissing you again, trying to buy himself extra time. It doesn’t last long though as you quickly pull away and reach for his discarded shirt. Miguel raises a brow as you take his hands and hold them in front of you. Miguel quickly pulls them back, but your hand is quick to grab them again. 

“What are you doing?” Miguel hisses in a whisper as if he’s sharing a secret. You don’t respond, instead trying to tie his hands together as he squirms. 

When you finally get them tied, Miguel tries to undo the knot by moving his wrists. But it does nothing but cause a slight burning sensation and he stops. His eyes leave his binds and go down to your face. You give him a sultry smile before you lower your mouth to his tip and your hand comes back to his base. You stick your tongue out, slapping his tip against it. 

He tries once again to undo the tie, an almost predatory look in his eyes as his brows furrow. He’s about to open his mouth and tell you to untie him, that it’s unnecessary, but you blink innocently up at him and you sink your mouth further onto his dick with a hum. Instead of a protest, a sharp whimper leaves his mouth. His claws dig into the flesh of his hand as he watches you pull off of him, spitting a thick glob of saliva onto his tip and massaging it into his skin with your hand. You make a show of quickly bobbing around him for a few seconds before pulling off again to jerk him off. 

He’s acutely aware of his sensitivity, hips ever so slightly fucking into your hand as he lets out moans and grunts. Every now and then he tries to undo his bondage, only to be stopped with the slight scraping of your teeth or by your hands coming up to hold his hands still. His breathing becomes more desperate and he tries to press his hips further into the couch to give himself a small break. Your mouth instantly follows, staying attached to his dick as you suck him. 

“Fuck, give me a break. Please.” Miguel grits out as he feels his cock throb as you jerk him off again. 

You glare up at him with a shake of your head, solidifying your answer as you vigorously move your head up and down him. Miguel lets out loud groans, blood beading around his nails from how deep they sink into his skin. His hips buck again and his body shakes violently. He lifts his hips as he explodes with a shout. He squirts hard as he whines. The thick ropes come too quick for you to swallow all of it, a trail running down the side of your mouth. 

Miguel desperately starts pleading as you don’t get off him like the other two times before. After you swallow, you quickly go back to bobbing your head again. You hum out, ‘two’ faintly around his cock and he sobs from the stimulation on his sensitive cock. He bites his lip and he presses his back hard against the couch as he closes his eyes tightly. He mutters something under his breath, almost like a prayer, voice beginning to hiccup as tears build up behind his closed lids. As you continue, his words get louder as his voice rises. 

“Fuck! Please! Oh god, please! Stop! Stop, stop, stop. I can’t take it!” He sobs out as he throws his arms into the air and over his head to grip the back of the couch for stability. 

His muscles are tense as they shake and his back arches off the couch as he cries. Loud, watery breaths part from his mouth and he starts babbling nonsense in an effort for you to take mercy on him. It has no effect on you, just making you roll your eyes and give his overused tip hard sucks. Miguel comes quick, everything is too much to him and he lets out loud sobs as tears stain his cheeks. 

When he comes, you finally give him the mercy he was looking for. You pop him out of your mouth, some of his cum getting caught on your chin and lips while the rest streams down his length before pooling at his abdomen. As he releases, your hands untie his shirt and his hands instantly fly to cover his face once they're free. He cries into his hands as his body jolts and spasms. 

“Please, no more. No more, no more, no more. I-i can’t take it, please.” He gasps into his hands, his wrists slightly reddish from being tied up. 

Miguel flinches slightly when you reach up and gently take his hands away from his face. His eyes are glossy from tears and his lips tremble in their pouting form. You coo gently at him, peppering soft kisses to his forehead to calm him down. His hiccups die down to soft whimpers as he closes his eyes and breathes in your scent. Your hands come up to gently cradle his jaw.

“Shh, it’s okay, puppy. You’re okay. Only one more. You can do that right? Can you do that for me, Miggy? Can you give me one more?” You whisper to him, your other hand brushing away tears from his eyes. 

His eyes instantly start tearing up again and his head instantly shakes no, “I-i can’t.”

You shush him again as you press a hard kiss to his forehead. Your hand pushes his sweaty hair out his face and you take his wrists into your hands to massage away any soreness. “Of course, you can. You’ve been doing such a good job so far.”

He tries to process your words, taking a few deep breaths. You both sit in silence for a moment until Miguel’s breath resumes to a normal pace and his body has stopped its hard spasms. When he swallows and whispers a weak ‘okay’, you smile encouragingly at him and get back on your knees. 

You keep your touch light as you grab onto his dick, but Miguel still lets out a soft whine. You gently stroke him to get him hard again, pressing soft kisses to his tip. When he gets to an inbetween state, you gently suck him into your mouth again. A watery moan vibrates from his throat as he begins to harden fully in your mouth. Even with his sensitivity, you can’t help but want to drag this out. You softly release him, holding his cock still as you blow warm air onto his tip. A pained hiss leaves his mouth, face looking hopelessly to the ceiling. 

You continue the action, sucking him off and stopping to blow air onto him every time he comes close to finishing. It causes soft sobs to rebuild in his chest as his tip swells angrily for his final release. He lets out a whine each time, hands clawing into the couch cushions or into his hair as his eyes dart around the room as if looking for something to help him escape your edging. He reaches the point again where he’s overly sensitive and begging for you to give him his release. 

“Please, please let me finish. I can’t. Please.” His voice is scratchy from all his loud moans and whimpers. His eyes are desperate and seem to look past you in a lust-filled daze. 

Your hands come to massage his thighs and you nod, “I need you to do something for me first.”

“Anything. I’ll do anything.” he replies quickly, nodding his head in agreement with himself. 

You hum and kiss his tip again, causing his cock to twitch. “I need you to say sorry. Say you’re sorry for how you were behaving before.”

After finishing your sentence you begin sucking him again. Miguel cries out, yelling out sorry over and over again as his palms come to press into his eyes. When he twitches in your mouth again, you don’t tease him and let him finish. He shouts out and his legs push his body off the couch. 

You take your mouth off of him and lean back to give him room. His body convulses in its suspended position and his cock still twitches and jumps even after he stops spurting out cum. His legs seem to give out as he falls to the couch and sinks into the cushion. He sits there shivering, his chest heaving with heavy sobs as he repeats ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ 

Once he finally calms down, he pulls his hands away from his face. His lashes are wet with tears, and he blinks at you sluggishly. He looks so pretty with his dazed eyes and sweaty skin. You walk over and gently wipe his face and neck with his shirt, slightly cleaning him up. When your eyes meet his, he whispers out like a timid child, “Did I do good?”

His question instantly melts your heart and you have to resist the urge to pout at his cuteness. You smile brightly at him and kiss the tip of his nose. “Of course. Did so good for me, baby.”

Miguel seems to relax with your reassurance and he rests his head over the back of the couch as he lets his body rest. He closes his eyes as the soreness starts to creep in. His eyes only open when you press a cold glass of water to his overheated skin. He graciously drinks some of the water through the metal straw you placed in the glass to make it easier for him. 

You brush your hand through his sweaty locks to push them away from his face as you whisper, "Go take a nap, Miggy. We’ll talk about what happened later.” 

Your words are all he needs before he lets out an affirmative hum and lets his body succumb to exhaustion.

Might be the last subby Miguel post for a while. School is starting up again and I have to finish some WIPs and pre-write some quick stuff in case I get busy!

[sixosix]

YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE BY NOT BEING MINE | LYNEY

notes this chapter switches from lyney to reader, but you’ll notice right away when it does ^__^ and i also wanted to plug in my hcs of aether sjdkwd, wc 2.1k

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Lyney has had many embarrassing moments in his life. Everyone has their moments, eventually, and Lyney’s not the type to keep track of all of them. He couldn’t even count them with his hands if he tried—it’d be as long as Lynette’s weekly receipt of sweets.

The first he could remember was performing in front of a live audience. He forgot his lines, cowered across expectant eyes, and fumbled with his tricks, but he didn’t regret it. That experience made him the illustrious magician he is today.

There was a time when Lyney wasn’t too used to you addressing him so directly and face-planted on the floor when you called out his name. 

He used to hear from the other orphans all the damn time: “Aren’t you at least a little embarrassed?” They never understood why Lyney kept returning to you, even after pushing him away. They never got to understand how thrilling it all was. He was just a little kid with an infatuation—why was he supposed to care about everyone else’s second-hand embarrassment?

He never came to regret any of those. He wouldn’t be here right now if it never came to be. 

However, Master Childe standing frozen while Lyney fumbles with not letting you sway all over the place, might start steadily pushing itself towards the top five. Lyney barely dodged as you nearly elbowed him in the face. Graceless in every form in front of the 11th Harbinger.

You use Lyney to prop yourself up and whip around. “Where’s Lord Tartaglia?”

Master Childe pushes the door open, his silhouette like some angel coming down to say he will tell on ‘Father’ about Lyney hoisting the runaway Fatuu. Political-ness aside, it already looks bad enough that you’re drunk, and he’s dragging you. You hiss like some sort of vampire, and Lyney dutifully shields you from the light. Would it be rude to order Master Childe to fetch glasses of water?

“My head,” you groan.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says, brushing hair away from your face. “Do you want to lie down?”

You’re not given a chance to lie down nor reply as Childe points a finger in Lyney’s direction.

“Hey, you,” Master Childe says, and Lyney blinks a little fearfully, spine ramrod straight. “I know you. You’re one of the orphans in the House, right?”

“What are you doing here, Master Childe?” Lyney asks, hopefully still conveying his respect.

“Well, the Northland Bank wouldn’t mind some wealthy connections,” Childe says proudly. “And one of the special guests here owes something to the Fontaine Branch.”

“You also know me, Tartaglia,” you chime in, stumbling around and revealing your face to him, wasted as hell.

Lyney holds his breath as Childe’s expression blanks. “Do I?” Childe asks indulgently.

“One of your subordinates!” you exclaim petulantly, as if sulking Childe hasn’t given you the same treatment he gave Lyney.

Childe turns sheepish. “I’m not too familiar with all of them.”

Lyney can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved. Instead, he brushes it off and focuses on your well-being. “Y/N, do you think you can walk on your own?”

“Of course I can,” you say, then wobble when Lyney tests it. “W-Wait—”

“Wait,” Childe says, too. “You’re Y/N?”

“Duh.” You sniff.

Lyney smiles. “Please forgive her.”

Childe’s expression does something complicated. “I’m not that good with faces. I do know you—I assigned you here.”

Something about that feels wrong to Lyney, but he’s not given any chance to think too deeply about it when Childe looks as if he is about to reach out to you. Lyney pulls away and takes two steps back when Childe raises his hands. The Harbinger blinks in confusion.

Lyney’s guard is up. “I-I’m sorry—”

Childe lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I assure you I’m not that kind of person..”

Lyney winces. There goes his first impression on the 11th Harbinger—disrespectful and maddeningly shameless. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insinuate I thought of you that way, sir.”

Master Childe laughs. “It’s fine. It’s my fault for coming off like that. Do you need help?”

This is definitely beyond rude. You sway on your feet when Lyney moves. “Mon lapin here could really use a glass of water.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you announce. Lyney and Childe, positions be damned, share the same fearful look.

Thankfully, the aristocrat’s floor was safe from the assault of your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but the bushes outside the mansion couldn’t share the same sentiment. Lyney and Childe had a moment of silent agreement to keep quiet about this matter if they suddenly wilted.

“Does the lady need any more help?” Childe asks. He’s actually nicer than Lyney expected and even younger than they say when up close. He's less intimidating when he’s not standing across with his features darkened by the light flooding from behind—that was certainly nightmare fuel.

“No!” you exclaim. “I can go home myself,” you say, still slurring your words.

“I’m not letting you do that,” Lyney says, helplessly charmed.

“You should,” you argue, then look a little green again. “Uh oh.”

Childe takes an instinctive step back. “Are you going to throw up again?”

“No, my head,” you whine pitifully. Lyney wishes he could pull that migraine out with his bare hands, but he also finds your expression right now a little hilarious.

Lyney pinches your cheek. “I told you to lay off the alcohol.”

“Did you not want to kiss me because you were scared I would throw up in your mouth?” you ask Lyney.

Lyney freezes, eyes wide. “You’re still on to that? How much do you remember?”

He wants to ask you a million questions when you’re finally not acting so skittish, but he finds that he can’t. He realizes he hasn’t seen you like this before—not hostile or wary of him. You look nice, like everything was before it was ruined. And there was also how you willingly wanted him to kiss you.

As you press against him, Lyney watches as you deflate like a balloon faced with a needle. You sigh softly, then bury your face against his neck.

“You’re so warm,” you murmur to his skin.

Goosebumps blossom all over his body. Your face brushes against the side of his neck. “Do you hate it?”

“I like it. My hands are cold. Every part of you is warm.”

“Would you like me to warm you up?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

This is so unfair. Lyney wants to bury his face in your hair and hide there, hoping you’d cling to him forever like this. But that won’t happen in this lifetime or any other one. (He doesn’t pry you off in this lifetime, however.)

The grand entrance doors slide open. Lynette emerges from the party with a tentative look on her face. She swiftly rushes over to Lyney, then is visibly startled when she notices Master Childe still hanging around.

Oh. Right. Why the hell is Master Childe still here?

Lynette bows her head, addressing their superior. He laughs and waves it off like he’s no one important in the streets. His sister turns to him, whispering, “Lyney, ‘Father’ is looking for us. She’s asking for us right now.”

Lyney’s skin crawls. “What? Why now?”

She shakes her head, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and Childe. “I’m not sure. She wasn’t supposed to come this early.”

Lyney frowns, glancing down at you. “I can’t just…”

“We can’t bring her there with ‘Father’ in, too,” Lynette murmurs. Lyney curses, knowing she’s right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask from where you’re pressed against Lyney. “Oh! Hi, ‘nette!”

“Hello, Y/N,” Lynette says warmly. It seems fondness for Y/N runs in the family. “Do you have anywhere to go to? May I ask where it is?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

Lynette looks over to Lyney. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Lyney, as much as he hates to, glances back at Childe, who is, unfortunately, and fortunately, still standing there.

“Good idea,” Lynette praises, seemingly catching on to what Lyney is thinking.

“That’s her boss,” Lyney says, instinctively shielding you from him. “What if she gets fired because of this?”

“She won’t be,” Lynette says. “And I’m sure that Master Childe would at least make sure Y/N is somewhere safe before he leaves. And right now, we have to do that, too.”

Lyney doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t trust showing you to ‘Father’, too. It’s been too long—he doesn’t know what ‘Father’ would think of you, and her decisions happen in a split-second.

“Lyney,” Lynette says, in the tone of Let’s not keep ‘Father’ waiting.

Perhaps Lyney really isn’t thinking straight himself. “Master Childe?” Lyney calls out. He takes a deep breath and says, “We are in your debt.”

You wake up to a pounding headache and realize that Aether’s hair glows in the dark when fully blacked out. You had an inkling when it looked like Aether was illuminated at night, but seeing it up close is startling.

“Holy shit! Aether, your hair!” You sit up but belatedly regret it when the migraine returns to full force. “Holy shit,” you say again, for a different reason this time.

“Stop swearing,” Aether sighs, looking alien as he moves and speaks like a human being, yet his hair radiates light like the sun—literally. “Can we pull the curtains open?”

“Nooo,” you sob. “I want to sleep again. It hurts.”

“Paimon, if you will.”

The fairy salutes and shows no sliver of mercy as you’re ravaged by sunlight piercing your eyes. It feels like all your cells are screaming in protest. Or maybe you’re the one screaming.

“Huh,” Aether says thoughtfully. “Just as I suspected. You’re wearing the same shade of lipstick.”

You don’t care about your lips right now. Thinking about how dry your mouth is has you wanting to throw up. “What does that even mean?”

Aether ignores it. He’s starting to act like a stern, disappointing mother. “Do you remember what happened last night? Imagine my surprise when I see Childe sneaking in my teapot, carrying you like a passed-out damsel.”

Memories of last night flashed behind your eyelids, most of them featuring the 11th Harbinger, and your blood runs cold. “Oh no.”

“He’s still here, and he’s asking to talk with you.”

Your cells haven’t stopped screaming; they’re scattering around in panic. You certainly feel as if you’re being jostled around. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

Pitying you, Aether reaches from the bedside desk and hands a glass full of water that’s delightfully the perfect temperature. But apparently, he doesn’t pity you enough to not drag you out of bed.

You didn’t understand what Aether meant when he said Teapot, but while on the way to where Childe was resting, Paimon explained that you were all walking in a floating teapot hanging around somewhere in some corner of Fontaine. Faintly, you wondered if you were still drunk.

Master Childe is all sprawled legs on the living room couch. He senses your presence right away, waving with a bright smile.

“I think I did pretty well last night, comrade.” Childe flashes a grin to Aether, who rolls his eyes. “They didn’t question anything!”

“It’s because you’re their superior.” Aether turns to you, plucking the empty glass from your shaky fingers. “Sit beside them. I have something to ease your migraine.”

You could cry. Instead, you obediently sit beside the feared and renowned 11th Harbinger, moving as stiff as a board.

“Hey.” Childe tilts his head as he studies your face. “You look pale.”

“Sir!” You bow, then promptly start retching.

Chidle laughs, “Calm down, calm down. You don’t have to be so formal. You spoke easily last night.”

“I was drunk,” you murmur, face heating up. You couldn’t recall how easily you spoke to him last night—it’s all a blur. Thinking too hard about it has you dizzy.

“Loosen up then. You’re a friend of the Traveler, aren’t you? That makes us comrades, too.” Childe sinks into his seat, grinning. “I already got the gist of the situation. I gotta say, that’s dangerous deceiving the Arlecchino, of all people.”

“If it involved Teucer, wouldn’t you do the same?” Aether chimes in, entering the room, holding a tray with three glasses.

Chidle guffaws, “Fair enough!”

Paimon settles beside you, looking as alien as Aether earlier by sitting down. Your drink looked different from Paimon’s and Childe’s, but you reasoned that Aether still needed your intel to not poison you.

“It wasn’t part of the agreement to have to see my subordinates canoodling, though,” Childe says offhandedly. “Your boyfriend was like a leech.”

“Lyney is not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

Childe laughs at first, but it dies down seeing your confusion.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.” He turns to Aether, who nods sagely, world-weary.

imagine: lyney returning to the bench he left you and childe on, seeing that you’re both gone, and exclaiming FUCK

notes omg its been a while……….How is everyone!!! sorry i know this is so short but im just glad i finally update after like?? nearly a month and a half?? 😭😭😭 tbh im not too proud of this chapter but i cant tell if its bc its been so long or if its bc its actually badjhfkjd EITEHR WAY THANK YOU FOR REAADDINGGG

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion @wangshuu @deathkat657 @powchakko @beasalmeh @h-8chi

[kumezyzo]

gojo satoru isn't the type to fall in love with your personality first. he's shallow. as much as you hoped and prayed that he wasn't, he was going on dates with the blonde bombshells that you thought were perfect in every physical way.

and he would fall in love with them after the first date. the first fuck, really. but after a momth, he relizes their after his money. his looks. his dick.

and he comes crying to you. every. single time. it gets so fucking exhausting. nursing him back to health. literally because he would only eat prepackaged meals and candy if it were up to him.

and then you would, stupidly, hope he would realize how much he loves you. you ignorantly fantasize what it would be like if he was sleeping in your lap because he loved you, not because he just cried for an hour straight and you were there for convenience. what would it be like if his pretty eyelashes weren't damp from crying and his tousled hair was because he liked your fingers in his hair, and not because he needed comfort?

he didn't truly know love. no one ever showed him that, even in his adult life. he was the greatest, and being the greatest came with people using him. but there were two exceptions to that. his best friends.

he didn't realize he loved suguru until he was gone. out of his life for good. and it ate him up more than any of the dumb blondes and good fucks he burned through every month. the reason he didn't know is because he thought rhats what true friendships were like.

being there with you for anything and everything. thinking about spending free time with them. lighting up every time you hear their name. your chest tightening at the sound of their laugh. your cheeks burning when they tease or compliment you. he didn't know that was being in love.

you would think that for how much he regretted not seeing it sooner for suguru, he'd see it with you. but he couldn't.

you tell someone all those warm feelings come from warm and unadulterated friendship, they'll be looking for something stronger. more love. why would they settle for the best feeling in the world when there could be something even better out there?

your friendship? oh, that's not the romantic love the old couples talk about. that's just good ol' friendship! what he feels for his slut of the week, now that has to be love. that lust and euphoria. far better than what he felt for you.

but just like his former best friend, it was too late when he realized.

did i just write this in five minutes because i got the idea before i went to bed....? yes. yes, i did... so ignore typos or anything. lowkey wanna write a pt.2 tho lol -Nony

edit: heres pt. 2

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Daddy’s Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: your life growing up as Dean’s daughter (ignores cannon)

You were born of Dean’s short-lived relationship with Lisa. When he was forced to leave his family behind to keep them safe, he was also forced to take you with him. He’d wanted to leave you, to keep you safe, but with Lisa and Ben’s memories wiped of him, you got wiped with him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as Dean held you in his arms. “There’s no way to erase you without erasing her, too.”

Despite how much Dean wanted to keep you safe, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret how things turned out.

…

Sam pursed his lips, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh when he spotted his brother covered in broccoli.

You started giggling when you noticed your father’s smile, but Dean clamped his mouth shut when he saw you laughing.

“Hey now,” he scolded, trying desperately to look stern despite still being able to see the broccoli in Sam’s hair. “Don’t throw food.”

“Is yucky!” You whined, kicking your feet.

Dean gave you his signature ‘dad glare’ and you gave him the puppy eyes that he was convinced Sammy taught you just to drive him nuts.

Neither of you were willing to give in, far too stubborn for anyone’s good. Finally, Sam broke the awkward silence.

“How about we try a new veggie?”

…

“What are you watching?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen to see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Saw, why?”

Sam scoffed, “Do you think she’s old enough for that?” He gestured to five-year-old you, curled up in your dad’s arms.

“She’s out like a light, she has no clue what’s going on,” Dean assured him.

“So what, she’s your new stuffed animal?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called parenting, Sammy. Now shut up, you’re gonna wake her up.”

…

“Daddy, look!”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, closing the lore book in front of him when you came bounding into the war room.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted you into his lap.

“I maked the Impala,” you grinned, showing off a pencil sketch of Baby colored in with a black crayon. “Uncle Sammy only helped a little.”

Dean could tell from the detail of the drawing that Sam helped more than a little, but he didn’t care.

“This is great!” He praised. “Baby would be so proud, looks almost as good as her.”

You giggled. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“I think it’d be a crime if we didn’t,” Dean insisted, standing up with you in his arms so he could carry you to the kitchen.

…

“Dad!”

Dean staggered back in surprise when ten-year-old you launched yourself into his arms the moment he stepped into the bunker.

“Hey kid,” he chuckled, but his smile dropped when he noticed your strangled breaths, and how tightly you were clinging to him. “You ok? We weren’t gone that lon-“

“Someone’s in the bunker,” you whispered, and Dean now also noticed that you were shaking.

“What?” He demanded, lowering you to the ground and grabbing his gun with one hand, keeping his other hand on your shoulder protectively.

“I-I heard footsteps,” you stammered, still trying to catch your breath. “So I ran, and-and I was looking for a place to hide when you opened the door.”

“You’re sure it was footsteps?”

“I know what I heard!” Your stammer left you when your fear turned to annoyance.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “I believe you. Now, I want you to go and hide in my room, ok? Stay there, and don’t open the door unless it’s me, understand?”

“B-but…” you glanced around nervously, unwilling to let go of your father.

“I need you to do this,” Dean said. “I need you safe, ok? You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, but Dean’s jacket was still clenched between your fingers.

“C’mon now, go!” Dean gave your arm a gentle push, and as soon as the two of you were no longer touching you seemed spurned into action. You ran in the other direction, headed straight for your dad’s room.

Once the door was closed and locked behind you, you immediately went to sit on Dean’s bed, your arms wrapped around your knees as you tried hard to stop your trembling.

You assured yourself over and over again that your dad would take care of it; he’d get the intruder out, and it would all be ok. When you heard footsteps echoing through the hall, your heart lifted, sure that your dad was coming to get you.

But then the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to open it. It stopped, but still no knock came, no “hey, it’s me,” from Dean; nothing.

Until with a loud bang! the door flew free of its hinges.

You scrambled back with a cry of surprise, and your hand found something hard under Dean’s pillow. You snatched it up as the intruder—a tall man with blond hair and a dark suit—stalked towards you.

You lifted the object, surprised when you saw that it was Dean’s gun.

“St-stay back!” You warned. The man hesitated for only a second before continuing his advance towards you.

“You don’t have the guts,” he scoffed. He took one more step—he was only a couple of feet away—and reached out to grab you.

The gun kicked back in your hands as you fired, and you nearly dropped it. A look of morbid shock crossed the man’s face, but it only lasted for a brief second as he slumped to the ground at the side of Dean’s bed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your hands didn’t seem able to let go of the gun. You could feel blood on your face where it had splattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Your whole body flinched at the sound of your father’s voice. He was in the center of the room—you hadn’t even noticed him come in—and his hands were held out towards you.

“Sweetheart, give me the gun.”

Your hands went limp when Dean grabbed the gun. He tossed it onto his bed, his attention never leaving your face, which was turned towards the dead man on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean demanded. Your eyes slowly found your father’s, afraid of what you might find there. But there was no anger, or judgment, not even surprise. There was only comfort, maybe a little worry.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, lifting you into his arms. When he saw you staring at the dead man, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and pushed your face against his shoulder as he carried you out of the room.

“I killed him.”

Your voice came out muffled against Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart constricted at the quaver in your voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed, subconsciously rocking you in his arms like he used to do when you could barely crawl. “He was gonna hurt you, you defended yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Dean sighed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“I killed somebody,” you said again, and Dean’s arms tightened around you. He knew he couldn’t talk you out of this; not yet, you were still in shock. So he’d do the only thing he could.

“It’s gonna be ok, baby,” he soothed. “I promise.”

…

“Where is that girl?”

“You lookin for Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean wandered around the bunker.

“Unless we’ve got another girl living here I don’t know about,” Dean shot back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the library doing homework.”

“Again?” Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve let her spend too much time with you, she’s becoming quite the nerd.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam chuckled. “I told her to take a break like an hour ago. That nerdy behavior is all her.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean closed the book in front of Sam. “You both need a break.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged. “Good luck, she’s just as stubborn as you.”

“We’ll see.”

…

“Hey!” You yelped in surprise when your dad lifted you up and out of your chair, Sam watching from the doorway with a grin on his face.

“No more books, you two have spent too much time being nerds this week.”

“But I have a paper to write!”

“You mean that paper you told me is due in three weeks?”

“Well…”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “You’ve got time, so take a break.”

“On one condition; we watch Lord of the Rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam cut in.

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “Could you two be bigger nerds?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t want to watch it,” you giggled, trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold since he still hadn’t put you down.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Dean huffed, setting you down on your bed and digging his fingers into your stomach. You squealed in surprise as your dad tickled you. “And I certainly didn’t ask for your sass!”

“Who-who do you thin-think taught it to me!” You giggled, squirming as Dean didn’t let up.

“Hey now!” Dean scoffed. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

Dean continued to scratch and poke at your sides, your stomach, and your neck until your face was bright red and your laughter was silent.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said as he let up, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way towards the Dean cave, Sam following behind.

“Yo-hou’re mean,” you giggled.

Dean just chuckled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[stevie-petey]

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.  “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.  It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything. 

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

-

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

–

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this english essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

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[ham1lton]

WELCOME TO MIAMI

pairings: (platonic) oscar piastri x reader.

summary: after the miami grand prix, you and some of your fellow drivers go out for karaoke and drinks for ‘bonding’ according to a certain lando norris.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and strip clubs. also you pretend to be oscar’s wife and there is mentions of alleged infidelity but it’s obviously fake.

author’s note: this is slightly long but i promise you it’s worth the read. this is my apology for being inactive due to uni so let me know if you enjoyed! also i made the meme at the end and i’m proud of myself so cheer me on :D

— part of the maneater series ꕤ.

“i’m just not in the mood lando.” you throw yourself onto your very comfortable hotel bed. the sheets were soft and pillowy, are these thousand thread sheets? you don’t know what they were but they sound fancy. you flip yourself onto your back. “karaoke sounds awful right now. i need to be alone to drown my sorrows.”

“don’t be so dramatic y/n.” you can practically hear george’s eyeroll through the phone. he’s snatched lando’s phone for himself now. “this’ll be good for you.”

“i lost embarrassingly to max, it was the worst race of my entire career! i don’t deserve to celebrate or have fun.”

“you got p4.” george’s voice is deadpan. “get out of your hotel room, stop wallowing and i’ll get logan to pick you up.”

“why me?” logan asks in the background. “get an uber maneater!”

“she won’t come if no one forces her!” he’s right, you think bitterly. you would have ignored the uber even if the driver came up to your hotel room door and knocked five times. even if he opened the door and threw a bucket of cold water on your head and then threatened oscar’s life.

you knew why logan had to be the one to pick you up. it couldn’t be george. he’s annoyed you recently. he beat you to getting the podium today. it couldn’t be lando because he’s supporting george’s antics of dragging you out. it couldn’t be alex because he didn’t text his girlfriend to ask her about where she got her cute t-shirt that she wore on his recent instagram dump. you really liked that t-shirt. “logan is on his way. we’re giving you thirty minutes and if you’re not outside, i’m calling sebastian.”

“NO!”

“YES!” before you can try and rebuttal his statement, he’s hung up on you. well, there is no way you’re going out so george russell and his clique can shove that up their asses. you open netflix, and get yourself ready for a quiet night in.

one hour later, you found yourself at the karaoke bar that the guys had rented out for the night. logan running up to you, swinging the car’s rental keys around his fingers.

“i want you to know,” you breathed out, giving him the side-eye. “i hate this. i truly do.”

“i know.” logan nodded.

“i hate you.”

“know that too.” logan nodded again. “which isn’t fair really. this isn’t my fault.”

“fine. i hate you and all of them.” you gestured at the karaoke bar where lando had already gotten a few shots in his system and was belting out a britney song. “god. this is a bastardisation of a classic.”

“you know lando.” logan shrugged, opening the door for you. “after you.”

“since when were you a gentleman?”

“since i was about 76% sure that if you didn’t go before me, you’d order an uber and go straight back to the hotel.”

“i was thinking that.”

george is already slightly drunk when he spots you, opening his arms wide at your entrance. alex is sipping on a bottle of imported beer. very pretentious.

“maneater!” george grins. “the party don’t start till she walks in!”

oscar looks like he’s already regretting this. oscar and you had been best friends ever since you realised you both had a low tolerance for bullshit. you roll your eyes at george who pretends to pout but uses it as an excuse to order more shots.

“did they drag you out too?” oscar nods, like every movement pains him. “you want something to drink?”

“no. i’m hungry.”

“i think the only place open right now besides here is a strip club.”

“they have food?”

“let’s google.” after a few searches on your phone you find out the strip club has a menu. “apparently they serve chicken wings and fries.”

“let’s go.”

“wait!” you grab oscar’s arm. “you can’t go to a strip club! think about the optics or something. the media will spin it like ‘crazy f1 sex-addicted rookie’. is that what you want your legacy to be?”

“i won’t have a legacy if i starve to death.” oscar rolls his eyes. then he turns to logan. “throw me your rental keys logan, maneater and i are going to the drive-thru.”

“no.” george says sternly. as sternly as one can be while slightly drunk and a shirt that loses a button every ten minutes. how was it looser than it was two seconds ago? “you can’t leave. if you leave, you won’t come back.”

“okay?” oscar raised an eyebrow. “we’re grown george. you can’t keep us here.”

“one song and you can go.”

“that’s ridiculous.”

“one song. that’s all i’m asking.” george raises his hands. “then you can leave. unless, you’re too chicken.”

“i’m very much chicken. bye.” oscar gets up to leave before you stop him.

“c’mon. one song isn’t a bad compromise and we’re already here.” you shrug. “might as well.”

“you can do it. i’ll watch.” you stick your tongue out at oscar’s reluctance.

“lando, will you do it with me?”

“sure as long as i’m choosing the song!” lando grins as oscar gives you both the side eye. you weren’t much of an adrenaline junkie off the track and in private, you were very different to the maneater persona you would show in public. lando chooses nelly furtado’s ‘promiscuous’ but he sings her parts and you sing timbaland’s. you kill it, if you do say so yourself.

as soon as you’re done, oscar holds up the keys to the rental that logan had brought you in and you follow him out on your search for dinner. as you and oscar make your way to the car, you realise that the only place open for food at this hour is, unfortunately, that strip club down the street.

"you're kidding, right?" oscar gives you a disbelieving look.

you shrug. "hey, they serve food and you’re hungry. desperate times call for desperate measures."

with a reluctant sigh, oscar unlocks the car and you both climb in. you arrive at the strip club, the neon lights flashing in the night. as you enter, you can't help but feel a little out of place amidst the scantily clad dancers and dimly lit atmosphere.

“we're not staying for the show," you say firmly to oscar as you approach the bar.

"i wasn’t trying to," oscar looks around warily.

the smell of greasy food wafts over from the corner where a small kitchen is tucked away.

"we're really doing this," you mutter to oscar as you make your way to the bar.

"yep," he replies, already scanning the menu for chicken wings.

before you can order, a vivacious stripper saunters over, batting her eyelashes at oscar. "hey there, handsome. looking for some company?"

oscar looks taken aback for a moment before he quickly recovers. "uh, actually, we’re just here for the food. we heard you do… food?"

the stripper arches an eyebrow skeptically. "sure you are hun. what's your story, then?"

you jump in, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "we’re... celebrating our anniversary! yeah, that’s it. we wanted to do something wild, and crazy and spontaneous."

oscar nods, playing along. "exactly. seven years together, can you believe it?"

“you look so young.”

“she keeps me young.” oscar winks and then immediately regrets it. he turns slightly pink.

the stripper eyes you both suspiciously. "hmm, anniversary, huh? and you're at a strip club?"

you nod enthusiastically. "yep! we’re... adventurous like that."

the stripper shakes her head, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh."

you turn to oscar, a mischievous glint in your eye before turning and pouting at the stripper. "he cheated on me, you know."

oscar’s eyes widen in confusion. "wait, what?"

you nod solemnly. "yeah, with my yoga instructor. can you believe it? i guess that’s what happens when you let another girl bend your man over.”

the stripper scoffs, shaking her head. "honey, now why would you take a cheater to a strip club? that's like taking a carnivore to the butchers.”

oscar jumps in, eager to exonerate his fake persona. "actually, she cheated on me too!"

the stripper raises an eyebrow. "oh, really?"

"yeah, with my dentist," oscar deadpans. “imagine how i felt… lying on the chair getting my tooth drilled into while my wife was at home getting a different hole drilled.”

“well, you cheated with the milkman!”

“he gave me something you never could.” oscar sniffs.

“milk?”

“no. love.”

“i’ll get that order started for you.” she gives you both the side-eye. “i’ll leave you two lovebirds with your marriage issues. you need anything else give one of us a shout.”

you and oscar turn to each other and laugh.

“DENTIST?” you giggle. “couldn’t you have picked a sexier profession for me to cheat on you with?”

oscar chuckles, shaking his head. "hey, a cheating dentist is funny."

“fair point. but a milkman? really?"

"i had to think fast!" oscar defends himself. "i didn’t get time to prepare."

"true," you agree, wiping away tears of laughter. "i just hope our story doesn't end up in the tabloids."

oscar shrugs. "eh, if it does, at least it'll be entertaining."

you both continue to joke and laugh as you wait for your food.

"who knew a trip to a strip club could be so much fun?" you smile as you eat. the food was good at least.

oscar grins back. "only with you, y/n. only with you."

afterwards, you go back to meet with logan, lando, alex and george at the karaoke spot. george is singing a dramatic duet with alex to the tune of lady gaga and beyoncé’s ‘telephone’. lando is grinning while filming and logan is just staring, like he’s watching a car crash. too grotesque to look at but too insane to look away.

george spots you and points dramatically, motioning for you to join them. you exchange a look with oscar, both of you knowing that you can't resist the call of the karaoke stage.

as you approach the group, you can't help but notice the absence of one key ingredient: a one direction song.

"hey guys," you say, catching their attention. "this is fun and all, but i think it's time we mix things up a bit."

george raises an eyebrow. "oh yeah? and what did you have in mind?"

"a one direction song," you declare with a grin. “in front of everyone.”

the boys exchange skeptical glances, clearly not convinced.

"we can't do that," logan protests. "it's too... cheesy."

"come on, logan," you coax, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "you owe me for dragging me here."

“that wasn’t even my decision!” logan sighs, knowing he's been cornered. "but i’ll do it, only if oscar does it too."

you turn to oscar, who looks less than thrilled at the prospect. "come on, oscar. remember that time you forgot my birthday?"

“i was in hospital! i had a reason!”

“still forgot it!”

oscar groans. "fine, i’ll do it. but this better not end up on the internet."

you turn to george and alex, who are watching the exchange with amusement. "you guys in?"

george grins. "i'm always up for a challenge."

alex nods in agreement. "sure, why not? carpe diem and all that.”

lando, of course, is already on board. "let's do it! who’s who?”

“i’ve already thought about it. here me out.” you start. “lando is harry, curly haired and british.”

lando fist-bumps you.

“alex is zayn.”

alex rolls his eyes. “because i’m an asian brit too?”

“okay i didn’t think about that but it kind of fits.” you think. “i meant it because zayn’s obviously the best.”

alex grins, obviously pleased with the flattery. george stares at you, impatiently tapping his foot.

“hurry it up y/n. who am i?”

“liam.” george thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs. “he’s the leader of the group and you created our groupchat and this meetup.”

“i can deal with that.”

“oscar is louis because he has the least amount of lines and i thought he’d appreciate that.” oscar smiles. “logan is niall because… blond.”

“how come they all got actual thought put in to theirs and i’m niall because i’m blond?” logan raises an eyebrow.

“blond was the best i could do on short-notice.” you shrug. “but hey, he’s irish! who doesn’t love the irish?”

“fair point.”

you move over to the machine and start to play ‘kiss you’ by one direction. as the familiar beats fill the karaoke bar, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement. this is going to be epic, whether oscar likes it or not.

oscar, looking less than thrilled, reluctantly takes his place on stage, shooting you a glare that says, "you owe me big time for this."

logan, standing awkwardly beside him, shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to being the center of attention. you give him an encouraging smile, silently urging him to embrace the moment. you’re only a f1 driver/one direction cosplayer once, right?

lando, fully embracing his role as harry, struts to the front of the stage, oozing charisma and charm. alex, begrudgingly accepting his role as zayn, follows suit, trying his best to channel the brooding bad boy persona.

george, ever the showman, takes center stage as liam, belting out the lyrics with gusto. despite his initial reluctance, even oscar starts to get into the groove.

as for logan, well, he may not be the most enthusiastic performer, but he's giving it his all, his awkwardness somehow adding to the charm of the performance.

you, meanwhile, stand off to the side, phone in hand, filming the entire spectacle. this is going straight to your social media, no doubt about it.

as the song reaches its climax, the entire group comes together in perfect harmony, their voices blending seamlessly as they sing their hearts out. it may not be the most polished performance, but it's definitely one for the books. as the final notes fade away, the bar erupts into cheers and applause, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy as your friends amble off the stage and you all head out into the cool night.

liked by bestie1, logan.priv and 32 others.

maneater.priv: shoutout miami for having so many foreign babes 😋

view 34 comments.

bestie1: who are the foreign babes you speak of? i just see a bunch of white dudes and alex.

-> maneater.priv: um actually we have many 🤨 lando and george r british, alex is thai and british and oscar is aussie 😋 in america, they all foreign and logan may not be foreign but he’s a babe.

-> logan.priv: nicest y/n comment. possibly the y/n comment of all time actually.

oscar.priv: delete the last slide.

alex.priv: lily said she’s gonna text you the link to that shirt you liked.

-> maneater.priv: i knew i liked you for a reason.

oscar.priv: i know you see these (your full government name). DELETE.

lando.priv: how did you go to a strip club with oscar before me??

-> maneater.priv: me, u and vegas. we’ll go crazy.

-> lando.priv: YIPPEEE 😁😁

oscar.priv: blocking you btw.

george.priv: told u that you’d have fun!!!

-> maneater.priv: sorry i can’t agree with a man. ruins my street cred.

-> george.priv: what street cred?

-> maneater.priv: DELETE!!!!

-> oscar.priv: speaking of things that need to be deleted… delete the last slide 🙄

-> maneater.priv: no :D

oscar.priv: how would u feel if i shipped u with another driver?

-> maneater.priv: that depends… is he a hot one?

-> oscar.priv: no.

-> lando.priv: 😔

-> george.priv: stop being mean to lando oscar.priv.

-> oscar.priv: he deserves it.

-> george.priv: 213.40.205.53

-> oscar.priv: i hate it here.

[sinfulsalutations]

Quote the clones/tbb characters getting caught staring at reader: "if undressing me with your eyes isn't working I can do it for you?"

the reader is obviously joking.. or are they? You can do whatever you want but I would like tech and Fives reaction? NSFW or sfw it's up to you!

𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩 + 𝕒𝕣𝕔 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 + 𝕝𝕚𝕖���𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕛𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴋɴɪᴠᴇꜱ (ɴᴏ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ɪɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ)

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏꜱʜ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴏɴ ᴜʀ ꜱᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴇᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴍɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴀʏ, ɪ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇꜱ! ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You see how he catches glimpses at you. Always carefully and politely, afraid to be caught or overstep. Not that you’d mind if he did, in reality; you’re just as interested in him as he is in you.

But one day, he slips up; his eyes rake over yours almost hungrily just a few feet away, unable to satiate how he’d want to ravish you if he had your permission. Suddenly, you can’t stop yourself before you’re saying:

“If undressing me with your eyes isn’t working, maybe I can do it for you, huh?”

Your tone is (mostly) joking, of course. But hopefully, if you cross your fingers, he'll pick up on the suggestiveness laced in oh-so discreetly…

Hunter

Before he's fully able to process what you just said, he begins to stammer.

Kriff, he even drops his vibroblade straight onto the ground;

that never happens.

For just long enough for you to bask in it, Hunter looks at you dumbfounded.

Any casualness or relaxation he exuded is gone now.

You can't help but feel a little prideful and laugh; it's not often you get to see this absolute bastard (affectionate) not in total control of himself.

He scoffs at how you laugh at him, and he quickly gains his composure again to your dismay.

He signs and leans in onto his knees with his elbows, eyes lingering on yours as he leans into your ear and murmurs,

"Don't tempt me."

Tech

"Puh-pardon?" Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

Your eyes snap up to him, worried that you'll begin to regret your decision, but as you look at his furrowed expression, you realize he's just confused.

"What is... 'undressing someone with your eyes' mean to you?" He repeats your words like something new, yet fascinating, a tone you do not expect.

He talks it out.

"Perhaps it has suggestive connotations, that would make the most sense, and you accused me of doing such a thing while I was-" He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking to you and to the ground. "And offered to-" He stops completely.

"Oh."

Before your stupid open-mouthed ass can do anything, he's already turning to hide his face, a coat of red flushing behind his hands.

A breathy, disbelieved chuckle escapes you unintentionally. You don't mean to be mean or teasing though. Honestly, you just think it's really cute.

Both of you just nod it off after that.

Little to your knowledge he tosses and turns in bed all night, cussing himself out for not just taking the damn opportunity right in front of him! You buffoon!

Wrecker

This poor boy gets so nervous.

He'll immediately want to deny:

"My eyes weren't doing that- they'd never do that. I mean, I wasn't even really looking at you, so, er-"

Don't blame him for that though; half of it is instinct, and the other half is that he's so scared of frightening you off. Both with his subtle (charming) perviness and his overall stature.

A small bead of sweat forms on his neck the longer he talks, eyes flitting up to you then back to the floor, pushing himself into a corner.

"It really wouldn't be appropriate for me to think of you like' that. In that way. I don't wanna ever step past your boundaries- your privacy, yeah? And I'm really sorry that you thought I-"

Quickly, you lean in and cup his cheek softly, softly handling him to look back at you.

"Hey," You say it in a way that feels as though a secret between the two of you that never dare be shared. "It's okay. I was joking."

You can feel the tightness in his chest ease, though he still has that worried expression on his face.

"Oh. Well, I mean I kinda knew that from your voice, but I still don't want you to get the wrong idea... Kriff, I'm such a karkin'"

Only a sickly smitten giggle comes out of you, interrupting him, and without any hesitation, you lean in and place a chaste peck on the tip of his nose.

You've never seen Wrecker's face this red in your life.

Crosshair

Eats it up.

Crosshair, the snarky little shit he is, adores when you indulge him like this. Endless teasing that could come off as jokes, but beneath the surface, you both know what is at play here.

He's loving that you're initiating this.

Doesn't even think that you might've just been joking before he's got a stupid smirk plastered over his face, chuckling softly as he leans in close.

"Well isn't that a delectable offer."

His serpentine voice so close to your ear sends a delightful shiver down your spine. You don't back down, because, well, deep down this is what you hoped would come out of this; it's just surprising it's actually happening, is all.

Before you know it, he's tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and looking at you like a delicious meal.

"How pretty, even with all that fabric. And you still want me to see all of you?"

You fold.

Like, immediately.

But, *cough cough*, worth it ;)

Echo

By instinct, his signature surprised/confused face appears; he doesn’t even initially process it how he usually processes the words you say.

“Why are you-wait…”

His mouth opens slightly. You can’t help but giggle. His cheeks dust the fairest tint of pink.

He then washes (most of) it away, and looks at you incredulously, unsure of what to say.

Was that… flirting? His skills and knowledge about this stuff can’t be that rusty. It most certainly had to be some form of it.

But then again, a strong part of him doesn’t want to believe that it is.

So, like most interactions with you, he laughs lightly through the back of his throat, rubbing his neck to ease the buildup of tension there and (failing miserably to) forget about it.

Why am I like this… he dares to think.

Rex

He processes what you say quite quickly, and just reverts back to his basic way of reacting to things: nodding with a small smirk. But his eyes give away his unease and uncertainty.

This man has got negative rizz. Doesn’t know at all how to respond to a flirtatious comment or even initiate one himself.

So this is a straight up curveball.

“Heh… if you say so, nehutyc’ika.”

JANGO ABOVE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING-?

You see his nervousness (not surprising, of course, you know Rex well enough, so you decide to deter the conversation from there.

That manages to ease him up, but his mind is still on the comment you made;

it makes him realize that, kriff, he’s really got to make a move…

note: nehutyc’ika means feisty one in mando’a!

Fives

The first reaction that’s elicited out of him is a brief raise of his eyebrows; the only hint that he might’ve been surprised.

He then leans in and smirks, muttering “Oh?”

Suddenly, you get a little nervous under his stare; just like every time he’s been suggestive with you.

You stammer for a moment, careening away and throwing a hand in the air.

“N-nothing,” You tell him.

He groans, shaking his head, but his blinding smile doesn’t dissipate.

“Oh, come on,” He says. “Don’t do that now.”

Your eyebrows knit.

“Do what?” There’s a very small grin on your lips that you dare not to let spread, lest you wanted him to annoy tease you the entire night.

“Pretend you didn’t just say what I know you said,” He shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. The voice that comes out of him is hushed, not necessarily close to your ear but close enough it sends a thrill through you. “Don’t be a minx.”

Without a moment wasted, he leans in further. You have to push against his chest to get him out of your personal space.

“Fives!” You squeal. “Just forget it!”

He looks into your eyes, then down to your lips, so close to kiss, but he only gives you the faintest of winks and pulls away.

“Hm. Kind of hard to.”

You just roll your eyes and allow the two of you to fall into blissful silence.

When he finally has to get up and leave you, he tells you discreetly with a laugh.

“Sorry, cyare, don’t think I’m gonna forget. Gonna wait to see if the offer was serious or not. Gotta be worth it... don’t you think?”

You’re left totally dumbfounded and tugging at your sleeves.

Jesse

This sly guy retorts easily. With a striking smile, he gets comfortable beside you.

"My eyesight's doing me wonders, babe."

You laugh softly, leaning the side of your head on your arm and waiting for him to continue. He does so gladly.

"But the real thing must be stunning, eh?"

It's unintentional how your breath hitches.

The nature of your relationship has always been playfully flirting and teasing, sweet encouraging words to each other that, hopefully, one day, will escalate into something more.

Maybe this is the day?

"Worthy of worship," You praise yourself with a glint in your eye, even purposefully pursing your lips to emphasize it.

He eats up your praise, agreeing wholeheartedly and leaning in.

"I'd love to, if you'd let me," He says.

"Your barracks or mine?"

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @heidi-lc28 @thebahdbitch

[cod-dump]

Soap is everyone's partner best friend and it drives people and because he's super clingy about it. There's no place for Price to sleep in his own bed because Soap took his place between Nik and Phil and they let him because "he was tired and sad". Gaz came back from a mission and thought he will spend time with Roach but he can' t because Soap's already laying head on his lap, talking about whatever bullshit they're at now and Roach seems content enough about it. Laswell threatened to take every single phone in a base to her office because she can't ever call her wife because Soap's always on a phone with her with new rumors. Alejandro has to actually wait for his turns to dance with Rudy whenever Soap's around because he Rudy lets Soap steal him with a smile.

Price was starting to wish Soap and Graves never made up considering how the sergeant was always with him or Nik when Price had free time. He just wanted to relax with his boyfriend and husband but Soap was already wedged between them, a movie playing. Price had to wait for the movie to end just so he could cuddle his partners since Soap refused to leave without finishing the movie.

Gaz didn't think Soap hanging out with Roach was a problem until he came back to base after a long mission. He just finished debriefing everything that happened, showered and ate, and he just wanted to spend time with his boyfriend... Which he didn't get to do because Soap and Roach were reading some comics together. Gaz went to bed annoyed and frankly upset he didn't get to spend time with Roach after missing him for months.

Laswell originally had no issues with any of her boys having Annie's phone number. She was 'Homey Mom', which countered Laswell's 'Stern Mom'. But she started having a problem when never seemed to be able to talk to her wife while away from home because Soap was always on the damn phone with her. Laswell had so many messages from Annie telling her she was already on the phone with Johnny and couldn't talk at the moment.

Alejandro was already pretty touchy and generally jealous over Rudy. That was his amazing husband, his soulmate, the light of his existence, and fucking Soap was stealing all his attention! Alejandro was fuming when he saw them dancing at the bar, Rudy laughing as Soap twirled him around. Took a few Los Vaqueros to keep him from doing anything that he would've regretted.

It annoyed them all, bothered a couple. It was Alejandro who found a solution to it, being beyond angry with Soap for stealing all his husband’s attention. Soap had held Rudy’s hand for the last time because Alejandro went on the offensive.

As Soap leaned against Rudy, too close for Alejandro’s comfort, he would notice Ghost walk into the room. He sat up straight and went to call out to him, but then Alejandro swooped in from behind and wrapped his arms Ghost’s waist, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and grinning broadly. Soap just stared as Ghost and Alejandro talked. Everyone noticed Soap’s reaction, so, they naturally followed Alejandro’s lead.

And now Soap get almost no time with Ghost.

“Sorry, Johnny, Captain wants to go out drinking. No, you can’t tag along, it’s a high end club and he didn’t call ahead with a third wheel in mind.”

“Busy, Johnny. Kyle and I are going on a hike. You and Roach were suppose to go to that movie, why are you asking?"

“Laswell needs me for a few hours. Oh, you’ve been talking on the phone all day, you won’t even miss me.”

“No, I can’t. Alejandro is taking me out to eat. Some, what did he call it, five star restaurant? Supposedly good food but it’s expensive. I’m not missing out on that!”

Soap was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. And, unfortunately for him, Ghost was all too happy to go along with everyone’s plans. While he wasn’t bothered by Soap’s closeness with the others, he would prefer his boyfriend’s attention on him.

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary: Deaf!Reader. Takes place during Scream 5

Warnings: violence

WC: 3.9k

Author’s Note: hope y’all enjoy :D sorry for any mistakes.

Tara watched with a lazy smile as you tried to teach Sam sign language. While Sam had been gone in the past five years. She had met you. You had been a new student freshman year, she had been quick to become your friend. It had been so easy to befriend you. It was even easier to fall in love with you. Even with her relationship with Amber, she did feel guilty for falling out of love with Amber. But the more her feelings grew for you, the more she realized maybe she wasn't in love with Amber. And even though she had broken up with Amber a while ago now, in the hopes of gathering the courage to ask you on a date. She still couldn't find the courage.

She had been told by Wes that you had been by her side the moment she was out of surgery. Refusing to go to school and to stay by her side. It warmed her heart, the way you cared about her. The way you had cried when she finally did wake up. She had been so scared, scared that she'd die without ever telling you how she felt. Die without ever seeing your beautiful face.

Now as she laid on the hospital bed resting, she watched as you smiled at Sam. A silent laugh escaping your lips at how wrong Sam mostly signed her own name. If this was her second chance at life, she wasn't going to waste it.

*

You had been scared. Afraid of what Tara had gone through, how she almost died. It was why you refused to leave her alone. You had stepped out when Sam typed on her phone if she could speak to Tara alone. You had nodded respecting her want of privacy. With kiss on the top of Tara's head, who smiled up at you. You signed that you'd be right outside.

You were skeptical of Sam's boyfriend. You weren't sure why. He just gave you a weird vibe. So you avoided being around him. When he had asked (by text) you to go with him to grab snacks you politely declined.

It wasn't long till you saw the door open. Sam coming out of the room. Tears blurring her vision. You stood up straight going to where she leaned on the wall. Quickly taking your phone out and typing in your notes.

Is everything okay?

You watched as she wiped her tears before taking your phone from your hands in a gentle manner. Her fingers hesitating over the letters before typing. Handing your phone back to you.

Please just stay with her, don't leave her alone. I have to go figure some things out. I'll be back soon. Okay?

You nodded. Softly squeezing her shoulder in a way you hoped came off as reassuring. With a nod she walked away. As soon as she walked away you went into the room. The sight of a sobbing Tara breaking your heart. You were quick to go to her side when she raised her arms a clear sign of wanting comfort.

Tara had regretted the moment she yelled at Sam. But the emotions had been strong. The fear she felt had doubled tenfold. Now she knew the person that attacked her wasn't random. Someone had targeted her to get to Sam. The daughter of that, murderer. Sam was nothing like that man. Even though she had no idea what or how Sam had spent the last five years. But she knew in her heart Sam wasn't like Billy.

Having your arms wrapped around her. Your hands careful not to hurt any wound of hers, your fingers gently creasing her in way that had the butterflies in her stomach to flutter. Her head resting on your chest. Hearing your steady heartbeat was enough to calm her down.

From the moment she woke up she had noticed your hearing aids were not in your ears. Making you completely deaf. Your hearing aids helped you a lot more than anything. With your hearing aids you were able to hear some things. Like how you always smiled when you faintly heard her voice. The way you smiled when ever she spoke, the way it made her feel was unexplainable. You had once said that her voice was like the softest melody to your ears. It was something that had her ears red from how hard she had blushed.

But with the hearing aids gone. You couldn't hear. Wes's mom had told her that you were the first one in the hospital. It had been 2:00 in morning when you arrived at the hospital still in your pajamas. The pajamas that she had gotten you, the ones of your favorite superhero. Wes had brought you a change of clothing with some toiletries. But he had also forgotten your hearing aids.

Talk to me. Are you okay?

Tara read the text, taking the phone to use the dictation seeing as she couldn't use her other hand to type.

Sam's father is Billy Loomis. It's the reason why she left five years ago. It's why ghostface attacked me. To get her to come back to Woodsboro. I don't blame her for the attack. I could never blame her for that but. I kicked her out of the room and I feel horrible. I let my emotions get the best of me.

She laid her head back on your chest. Waiting for you to finish reading what she typed. She felt your hands move to type.

What you're feeling is valid. What you went through was traumatic, I can't imagine what you're feeling. Sam's hurt I won't lie on that part. She said she'll be back soon. Get some rest, I'll wake you when she gets here.

Tara let out a sigh, her eyes closing momentarily. After reading the text. Breathing in your scent, you had showered and changed in the bathroom connected to her room. You had always had a scent that calmed her. You in general were always one to calm her down. There was just something about your presence or maybe it was the fact that she was in love with you. Or maybe it was both.

"I wish you knew how much I love you." She spoke softly into your neck, a spot she knew was sensitive. She felt your shoulders go up a bit, small sound escaping your lips, one she knew very well. It was the closest thing to a giggle you would let out. She felt your arms gently moving her body closer to you.

Get some rest.

*

You weren't sure what woke you up. You hadn't realized when you fell asleep. You had tried to stay awake. Making sure to protect Tara cause that asshole was still out there. But you must have been a whole lot tired than you thought. You looked around the room. It was barely lit, the lights had been dimmed down and tv was shut off. Tara was still fast asleep in your arms.

So what woke you up?

*

After successfully getting out of Tara's grip you made your way to the door cautiously. Opening the door to what was supposed to be a some what busy hall. But it was empty and you were positive it was quiet as well. A hospitals hall way should never be this empty. There's always at least one nurse around. You looked back at Tara who was still sleeping.

You just had to make sure everything was okay. But you had a nagging feeling of, dread? Something was making you feel uncomfortable, like you should go back into the room. You looked down the hall, straining your ears to hear something, anything. But you heard nothing. Debating whether to go check on the nurses that were at the nurses station.

Your steps were quiet, well you hoped they were. You knew ghostface was still out there. The more you walked towards where the nurses should be. The more your palms became sweaty. You felt your body freeze in fear at the sight of the dead officer. The same officer that was supposed to be guarding Tara's room. His body laying in a pool of blood, along with the bodies of two other nurses. You stumbled backwards. You felt this sense of someone being behind you.

With only seconds to react as the blade was quickly swiped at your face. You had dodged the knife, barely. Ghostface was here to finish the job. But you wouldn't let it happen. It would have to kill you before this bitch could get to Tara.

*

A loud crash had startled her awake. Upon hearing what had sounded like glass shattering she was quick to look for you. The dread filling her stomach when she didn't see you and saw the door wide open. She heard a struggle happening down the hall. Along with the heart monitor going crazy. She struggled to get up. But the more she heard the struggling the more determined she was to get up. She had to find you.

Crying in pain when the stitches of more than one of her wounds pulled. As she got on the wheelchair. By the time she got on to the wheelchair, she was already sweating from the pain she was feeling. She heard groans and then what seemed to be someone. Crashing through a window.

Moving the quickest she could with just one hand, her bandaged hand only being able to do so much. To wheel herself to the door. Getting to the door when another loud yell of pain echoed through the halls. This time she was able to hear the scream a lot clearer. The scream rattled her bones. Gripped her heart in a tight fist. Those screams were yours.

She moved quicker. Ignoring her own pain to get to you. Moving the best she could. Going into the now quiet hall. But she could see obvios signs of a struggle.

"Y/n?"

Tears filled her eyes. She feared on how she'd find you. Moving further down the hall. Towards the mess, the broken glass. Stopping when she heard a groan. Not caring for her own safety. Desperate to get to you. But the further she went the more the dread filled her. Eyes widening in fear at the sight of the dead cop. The amount of blood on the floor.

She moved towards the broken glass.  Only to stop when she heard footsteps coming from a room

"Hello Tara, looking for someone."

*

You had fought the best you could. But the more you fought. The harder ghostface fought back. You had been successful in kicking the knife out of its hand, but they had used their fists. Punching and kicking you, whenever it could. You tried to fight back. But this ghostface seemed to know all your weaknesses. Even with that, you weren't one to quit. Especially since Tara was not even a few feet away from you.

But ghostface had gotten the upper hand. Being able to hold you down with its body. They had gotten the knife back, before they had your arms pinned to your side. As they looked down at you. Their weight holding you down. Toying its knife into your already bloodied wound. Before forcing it in, the pain being so over bearing. The scream that ripped through your throat. You may have not been able to hear it but it must have been loud. Ghostface waisted no time in covering your mouth.

The knife was left buried into your shoulder as it stayed on top. Slapping your cheek to make you look at them. Your vision blurred from the immense pain you were feeling. But you saw the hand movements.

You stole something that was mine. And now you're going to pay for it.

You were left confused. Your mind racing, trying to figure out what this nut job could possibly be talking about. As far as you could tell you had gotten along with everyone. Well as best as you could. You usually kept to yourself. Ever since you moved to Woodsboro. You had always been respectful to others. When you had befriended Tara, people had even tried to befriend you as well.

Ghostface reached for their knife, twisting it before taking it out. His hand covered your mouth as the scream of pain ripped through your throat.

"Y/n?"

You felt a new sense of fear as you heard Tara's voice. You didn't want her to see you die. You didn't want her to feel any type of guilt. You knew her well enough to know that she would find any reason to blame herself. You were then forcefully pulled up. Being led back into the hall way. Your eyes quick to find Tara.

"No, no please. Leave her out of this, she has nothing to do with this." She sobbed trying to find anything that could help you. She couldn't lose you. Not now. Not ever. Your face was covered in blood along your shirt. The way your eyes shined with worry. Worry for her, not yourself who was in the arms of a psycho. The knife was dangerously close to your neck.

"Oh Tara. That's where you're wrong. She's a thief, and now she'll pa-"

The knife had been pulled from your neck, enough time for you to elbow Ghostface in the stomach. Taking advantage of having the upper hand to continue beating on this crazy bitch. Being able to pick up one of the IV poles. Beating down on Ghostfaces back. When ghostface failed to move. You were quick to turn around facing Tara. You needed get Tara out of the hospital.

You watched the little relief Tara had, disappear. Replaced with fear, her face morphing into one horror as she screamed. You couldn't hear her scream, but you knew she was. You didn't have a chance to respond to the sudden change of facial expressions before you felt a sudden pain coming from the back of your skull. The pain causing you to lose consciousness for what felt like hours.

You regained consciousness in an elevator. The back of your head still ached, the ringing in your ears felt almost felt like you could actually hear. The warm sensation of hands cupping your cheeks, is what caused your eyes to finally open. Only taking a second to find the pair of eyes you wanted to find. Tara was hovering over you, her face scrunched up from the amount of pain she was surely feeling. Her eyes filled with tears, you could feel her body shaking. You were sure she was sobbing.

You had barely registered the other people in the elevator. Or the paramedics who were trying to help you. All you were worried about was Tara. The fear that coursed through your body was still very much present.

**

With a mild concussion, some buries, cuts and stitches to the stab wound you received had been deep enough to need stitches. But thankfully not too deep to hit any vital points. You had been told about the plan of getting the hell out of Woodsboro. And Tara didn't have to beg for you agree. You would follow Tara to ends of the world, if you could.

Being in the car with Tara, Sam and her boyfriend had felt sudden. Agreeing that the safest thing to do was to get out of Woodsboro, ignoring anything said by Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott. You had seen the way the two older woman spoke to Sam. As you helped Tara into the car.

The feeling of Tara taking your hand to pull you into the car drew your eyes back to Tara. Being able to read her lips as she spoke slowly. "Come on."

Taking her hand in yours as you sat next to her. Reaching over to put on her seat belt. Your face heating up when she leaned a bit forward to kiss you on the cheek. Your face wasn't that far from hers. The way smiled at you. Her lips moved, your eyes taking in how soft they looked.

"Thank you."

Leaning back in your seat to put on your own seatbelt. Hoping the car was dark enough for anyone see how  flustered you looked.

*

Wait down here. I won't be long.

You nodded at the text on the phone. Tara offered you a smile before going up towards the room. With her inhaler missing, she needed her spare which was at Amber's house. Seeing no problem with Tara keeping her spare at her exes house who she was still friends with. Tara had told you that when she broke up with Amber, Amber had been respectful, Amber had been hurt but she accepted that Tara didn't feel the same anymore.

You had always thought Amber had taken the break up quite well if you were being honest.

Staying in the corner of the living room as the party guest left the house. Seeing Sam follow Tara and Amber. Richie leaving to what you assumed was the basement. Mindy and Lev talking, you saw the suspicious look Mindy was casting towards Lev. You looked Lev with a small smile when she turned towards you.

How are you?

Yea I'm okay. What about you lev?

Lev returned the smile and shrugged. Doing okay, I'm going to go look for Chad. With a nod she walked away. You sat on the other side of the couch, looking at the tv but not really watching. Your mind wondered, trying to figure out what ghostface meant when it called you a thief. You've never stollen from anyone. You tried to come up any suspects like Mindy does. But you came up empty. You would ask her but she was drunk and clearly too into the movie.

Which had been ironic seeing as she was watching Stab.

The sudden change had happened quickly feeling the rapid movement had your head snapping to the side. Seeing the familiar black cloak. You had tackled ghostface off Mindy as he stabbed her. It had been easy for ghostface to get the upper hand. With Mindy being drunk, you're injured shoulder. Sam thankfully arriving on time to smash a lamp over ghostfaces head.

Quickly checking you before going to Mindy. You hated not being able to hear. Ghostface had been right behind you and you hadn't been aware. You stood up the moment Tara and Amber came into the living room. Tara quickly moving to you,  her uninjured hand cupping your jaw.

Are you hurt?

With a shake of your head you took her hand in yours giving it a small squeeze before she moved to check on Mindy. You watched the moment Lev ran in, her hands covered in blood as cried. Her lips were moving too fast for you to understand. Along with Amber's who seemed to be more angry than scared. You desperately wanted to know what was being said, why everyone looked scared at Lev the more Amber spoke.

Even with your hearing being absent you felt the vibration of the gun. Saw with wide eyes as Lev fell to floor lifeless with the gunshot in the middle of her forehead. Seeing the change in Amber's eyes as she held the gun, smoke still coming from the end of it. You saw her lips move but you couldn't tare your eyes away from the gun.

Everything was starting to make sense. The way Amber's attitude changed the moment Tara broke up with her. How Amber became a bit more aggressive towards you but if Amber was ghostface. That means it had been Amber to attack Tara. To almost kill Tara. Amber had been the one to attack you and Tara at the hospital.

The moment her eyes connected to yours it had been like a switch. The gun pointed at you.

Tara didn't hesitate, the moment she realized the gun was now pointing at you she lunged forward. Before she could fire the gun like she had done to Lev, she had been fast enough to move the gun to fire at the ceiling and not at you.

You had moved to go to Tara but a rough hand had pulled on your wrist preventing you. Pulling your wrist from Richie’s hold before he could reach the basement. Once you were out of his grip you ran back to the living room. Your heart thumbing like crazy in your ears.

There was no one in the living room. Just one Tara’s crutches. You only had ever been at Amber’s house a hand full of times. Never being able to remember where everything was at. So seeing that Tara was no longer in the living room was causing you panic even more. You had to find Tara.

*

Sam heard screams, the moment she came out of the basement. Screams of pure pain, a cry she’s never heard before. When she got closer to the clear struggle, she came to face with a horrifying sight. A bloodied Amber standing over you, your fingers were bleeding and broken, your face slashed in way that was clearly going to leave a deep scar.

“Oh hello Sam. You like my work. It’ll teach her not to be a thief.” With a final kick your face, rendering you unconscious.

*

Waking up with bright lights shining down on to you was blinding and painful. The ache coming from both of your hands had almost been overwhelming. The curtains had been closed before you could really take in, where you were at. Your eyes refusing to open until, a familiar hand cupped your cheek. You’d be able to recognize the hands anywhere. The size, the warmth, the softness.

Opening your eyes to see the beautiful face of your best friend looking down at you.

Tara had remembered the moment she snuck towards the kitchen. Seeing your body unmoving on the kitchen floor, she had picking up the gun and shooting Amber with out a second thought. Amber had been someone she deeply cared about. Amber had been her best friend before she had been her girlfriend. But the girl she had killed. The girl who had almost killed you. That was someone she didn’t recognize.

Feeling Tara’s hand on your ear, you realized she was putting on your hearing aids.

“Can you hear me?” The smile on your face was just the answer she wanted.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice was soft barely a whisper but she loved it either way. The relief she felt when she watched you open your eyes the afternoon after everything happened. You had been asleep for the past 14 hours after Richie and Amber were put down. The pure comfort, calmness she had felt so over come at seeing your pretty y/ec eyes. It had been enough to make her cry.

“I’m okay. We’ll be okay.”

Sam watched from outside the room. Watching how her little sister looked at you Tara cared for you. How she had cried for you. Now she understood why Amber called you a thief. You hadn’t stollen anything physically. But you had clearly taken Tara’s heart. Something Amber never had.

:)