#this was a whole thing for a few days. no effort was made on either side to make this relationship work

[peapod20001]

Haha I wish the one time I had a partner wasn’t a literal joke

[jeoncopi]

• — freedom overseas — •

GET INTO IT: feeling carefree each time he traveled shouldn’t be different for jungkook. as much as he wishes to feel like this back home, he can’t help but restrict himself at all times. - one thing about you working abroad and his schedules matching your timezones (better when it hits same destination), he could only wish and live for the best. ‘cause that’s exactly what he’ll get.

pairing: jungkook x reader.

word count: 3.4k

be aware of: graphic smut and unprotected sex (be always safe). reader can’t resist jk, car sex, jungkook smokes here so uhm.. y-yeah..

author’s note: since this is supposed to be a drabble (lol). hopefully my next work will end up being with more than 2k (lol) kisses and let me know what you think 😇. istg this story changed 2837 times hajaja

when you step outside the restaurant walking towards jungkook who’s smoking, footsteps froze at the sudden image.

he smokes? since.. when?

bewildered, you blink twice as your eyes carefully watch him take another hit of the small nicotine. this is definitely a whole new side of him you didn’t know about.. completely new, but it got you confused. you’re not crazy to remember him talking about his hate for cigarettes because of how much his dad used to do it back when he was little.. right? like that wasn’t a dream. you’re pretty sure he has expressed his disgust to you. almost agreeing with you.

sigh..

the more you look at him as you approach him feels like you can’t even get mad at him.

..why? well.. pinocchio wouldn’t be proud of you if you say he didn’t looked hot doing it.

ugh! what are these thoughts!

you definitely despise the smell of cigarettes! you even hate the sight of it, but why does he gives you quite the view? - you blame it on the way he carries himself with so much confidence yet— is so unbothered when he opens his mouth talking with your friends. his outfit too and how an all black combo always look so good on him.. but then, the simplest thing as him holding that tiny folded paper around his pointy and middle finger touching in between his soft and natural pink lips with a very boyish smile almost made you feel like having a lucid dream. why? because.. well, you were definely wet now.

what..? no!

yes, you are. you could feel it now. if only he could feel it through your panties..

mm.. no!!

mm.. yes!! you hated daydreaming fantasies with him like this but your body and mind could be very uncontrollable sometimes. feeling a single drop down your panties.. what can you do now? aren’t you supposed to hate this? you do! but why is your body reacting this way? it’s not wrong but it isn’t entirely right either considering you don’t like cigarettes.

deciding to ignore all the carnal thoughts running through your mind, you keep walking straight to him. as sticky and annoying as it feels.

“so.. is this your way of getting fresh air?” you start as soon as your friends started parting ways. tone rather calm compared to the troubled mindset you had a few seconds ago.

startling him, softly so. “ah.. ha. this.” he responds. eyes blinking on beat as soon as he grins. you watch carefully as his hand shakes the little tobacco rolled paper.

“yeah.. this.” shyly pointing at it, “how long has this being going on?” voice still calm, you didn’t put too much effort in questioning him. it’s his body at the end of the day and you know just how stubborn your boyfriend can get.

“mm..” smoke exhaling from his mouth and he’s mindfully careful when he does it tilting his head up for the smoke to follow that direction and not be even near close your entire face. “not long ago, actually. taehyung once brought this one vaper and i was curious by its smell each time he used it, so I bought one. strawberry ice cream, to be clear,” he laughed, you do too. “it was weird but I liked it.”

“hm..” slowly crossing your arms around your body you lean against his car in thought. not breaking eye contact even a second, jungkook could feel it. “what made you change your mind? m’not gonna lie. I’m surprised. I remember you once saying you hated it.”

and it’s like your gaze is looking for answers and jungkook can clearly see that. knows you too much. thinks it’s so cute too. the way your curiosity rises each time he takes another hit, he can trust your mind being full of unanswered questions for him. he knows what you mean as well as knowing how much you don’t like it either. but the fact that you aren’t mentioning none of it to him it just makes him look at you with nothing more but warm eyes. thinking he loves you too much.

“so do you.” he states by wanting to make that clear. so you know that he knows. so you know that he won’t and isn’t getting crazy about it, that he’s aware. but you could only understand that if he really explained why.

so that’s what he does.

“remember that day when I texted you about living one life?” you nod. “well, I decided to just give it a try. I want to try everything that I can when it comes to things that I want. be it temporally or not. during my whole life.. as long as I live, there’s probably not gonna be a second chance right?”

“right.”

“at least not in this body,” and he’s so soft spoken that when he shakes once more what’s left of the cigarette’s butt before taking his last hit, the sound of a familiar plastic sound resonates through your ears and that’s when you see him pull two tiny tabs of what seems to be gum off his pocket. and you can’t believe he just did that. suddenly the image you were seeing right now, not matching with his current actions. so you can’t help but give a small smile as soon as he handles one tab for you to take with his pretty big eyes.

he continues, “even though it damages my body a little, there’s a balance thing called in life. i’m not getting addicted and I don’t do it excessively-“

“I was worrying about that, actually..” you voice out, interrupting him. “you tend to get obsessive over things.”

it makes him smile, softly. “I know. but I won’t, I promise. you know my thing is drinking alcohol anyways.. even though that isn’t entirely good either..” making you laugh in unison as you lightly punch him.

“at least you’re aware.”

“hey!” he hugs you side ways. “candy isn’t so much good for your health either..” walking towards the side of his car so you can go.

“but i’m not obsessed.” you huff about it.

“could be. you do get a bit obsessive.” bopping your nose.

“stop!”

making him laugh, “okay.. hop on.”

“I hate you.”

“show me how much.” and.. he closes the door with the biggest playful smile.

oh.. no, not again.

and there you are, left with a big hysterical smile plastered on your lips as you try to breath in, breath out the sudden rush of your body. — come on! it’s not as if you weren’t fucking wet a few minutes ago as soon as you saw him do the things you hated the most.. right? ..you totally got this..

but who.. who were you lying to? it’s not like you could control your body when you haven’t seen him in weeks anyways..

yeah.. you were a mess.

still, you tried to play it cool. “are we heading back towards the hotel, right?” genuily asking.

he responds as soon as he closes his door. “yeah, why?” staring at you now. “wanna go somewhere else?” one palm touching your bare thigh when he asks.. you know there’s nothing wrong with it, and it should be normal at this point of your relationship too, but your hormones were getting the best of you so you just play it off, gently pulling his hand away as much as you didn’t wanted to. deep inside.

“not actually, was just asking.” it’s the truth, but jungkook only squinted his eyes before resting an arm on top of the handbrake, his face’s closer to yours. not enough for you to loose your sanity but close enough into getting a whiff of his rich cloudy scent. although, you can’t deny how fine he looked staring at you like that, his eyes always seemed to shine no matter the situation. only that this time around, everything you could sense from it was nothing more than desire flaming throughout his dark orbits.

“you know we can go wherever you want, right?” staying like that for a couple of seconds, all you can answer is a slight nervous “I know.” and jungkook can sense your sudden shyness. thinking is cute but this could only go one way or the other.. if you both play your cards right.

staring at you for a couple of seconds, jungkook’s piercing gaze switch between your lips along with your boobs and neck before getting ready to turn on the car.. making you exhale a little air after, as if you didn’t know you were holding your breath.

“originally, I wanted to get back so I could brush my teeth or something to be honest.” talking about smoking. “I’m not much of a fan of the aftertaste,” he laughs. “but if you want to go somewhere else,” a hand slides through your thigh.. again. only this time, he squeezes it two times. “I’m down for it too.”

one hand on the steering wheel, another one on your thigh.. it’s moments like these when you question if he knows how effortlessly irresistible he is.. sure, it might be something simple. he’s not doing much either. is just that his side profile and the way his hair lingers in his face and overall the way he’s shaped and how you can literally see the bump of his chest pop for how much he works out mark through his shirt that it makes you want to trace his pectorals with your fingers forever makes you want to eat him and that’s it but.. uh, isn’t that the definition of being so stupidly effortlessly hot?

when you softly press both your legs together, his hand seems to scalate close to your inner thigh..

oh jungkook.. perhaps, are you having the same thoughts as me?

still, you try your best to ignore it. “ah.. so that’s why you have gum with you, isn’t it?”

“caught.” rising both hands up as played guilty.

and as you stare at him.. you notice once again, he looked fine. your legs squeeze and you slightly arch your back when your gaze is back on the street still trying to ignore the finest hottie beside you. - jungkook, on the other hand, just smiles to himself and starts driving. you can’t help but give little sneak peeks at the way he gently but confidently grasps the wheel with one hand.. as soon as the other one approaches your thigh once again.. - he always did this but you were uncontrollable tonight. can’t help but immediately give him those eyes as soon as he reaches your beloved red light.

you swore going back to the hotel wasn’t the main priority. you wanted him now. - so slowly tilting your head to the side, your voice is airy when “babe..”

“mmh?”

and that’s when he sees you. you don’t say a word but he already knows what’s that thing you’re craving the most, and that thing it’s him. he doesn’t speak either. just staring at you under the red light, his hand traces a path towards your slowly opening legs. when you bite your lips into a smirk, his fingers are already pushing your panties to the side. confirming his most prominent thought. you’re wet as fuck.

“were you waiting for this?” eyes gazing up and down your body, his voice is cheeky when he asks. biting down both of his lip rings. “fuck. just how long were you this turned on?” playing with your clit “and why didn’t you told me..” as your body twitches. “it makes me crazy..” whispering more to himself.

—

when you’re gripping the head of his seat increasing the pressure between your arms so you could balance your jumps more deeper and precisely above him, he feels like he could cum in any moment. controlling his breathing, he tries to concentrate in order not to but the way your breast bounce and how you manage to leave quick steamy kisses over his neck makes it so hard. mostly when he has this desire to kiss all over your chest and suck on your titties. but his hands are also gripping so hard at the side of the seat, he barely touches your legs and he feels like a teenager are over again.

the fuck is this coming from him not wanting to last? he blames it on the long time you haven’t seen each other. 3 weeks exactly without your kisses and physical touch.. when he remember fucking almost (if not) everyday when you stayed at his house or he stayed at yours. - there’s always this deep desire whenever you’re close to each other, jungkook doesn’t think it will ever go away and to be honest he doesn’t even want it to ever disappear. always thinking about if it’s you, then everything will be okay.

but as you’re both very into it, something similar like a flash, lights up a little the dark street jungkook managed to set you up. - you both ignore it at first but after two more times, you stop bouncing hard on him switching to slow circular movements that still makes jungkook bite his lips for how good you feel.

“don’t stop.” he’s confident, palming your ass.

“I think there’s someone watching us.”

“I’ve notice too.”

but you both end up stopping your movements regardless.

quickly looking around, the flashes has seemed to be gone but as you keep searching for someone, jungkook just stares at you only to caught your attention back by squeezing your ass two times. making your eyes meet as he mischievously smirks.

“I couldn’t care less from last time, you know it.” sensually kissing your lips. he’s provoking you all over again.. “let them have a show. it’s what they want.”

and you know he’s referring to that one time you both fucked on a balcony being overseas too. - paparazzis had caught you fucking and while you were worried about him getting bashed for it (for the blurry clips that spreaded back then), he ended up being so calm about it to the point of fighting with his company saying he shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to fuck his girlfriend. - and while he understands the depth of why they asked him to be careful, he still thinks it’s just bullshit and that the people who love him for him, will just accept and be happy that he’s happy experiencing what every normal person does. so why everybody can be happy but him? he’s just the same human with needs and desires..

“but this isn’t-“

“stop worrying about me. I know you can’t help it, so let me just say there’s nothing wrong with us wanting to fuck.. I bet they’ve their own experience so why can’t we have ours?”

when you hold his face, you know what he means. knowing how hard it is for him to tell you to stop worrying about it since he once told you he couldn’t just tell that to you because it make him feel careless about your feelings, but you do really get him this time..

when it comes from his personality, a part of you loved that. love that he doesn’t care, love that he always chooses his happiness because at the end of the day he knows he might only have this one life. and even if he don’t, he still wants to enjoy it at his best and that’s why when he motions your hips to move by gripping the side of your waist, both of your bodies stick so close to each other that the image of him biting his lips as he contemplates your body makes you not want to regret this and so you don’t. realizing you’ll only have this from time to time.

“fuck this.” you moan to his ear when jungkook kisses are needy and steamy, confirming just how badly he wanted to try this.

talking about it it’s something but actually experience this feeling of sex in such a limited place (even when this car is very spacious) was really hot and adrenaline reaching. windows foggy and all, it almost feel like a movie. you believe that at this rate it’s even difficult to look at inside the car so if those strangers were really filming or whatever, they’re footage will be already ruined.

you smiled a little because of that. but it didn’t lasted long when you suddenly feel both of jungkook’s hands around your hips manhandling the way you were going to start bouncing on him.

“let them see if they’re so interested in me. I couldn’t care less.” he just doesn’t give a single fuck right now and that only makes you want him more.

see, whenever he’s on his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ moment.. you believe that’s when he’s the most sexiest and dangerous. - maybe you were too into him but each time he showed this side of himself.. you can’t help but love it and be turned on for it at the same time.

—

while he treats you like his personal fucktoy, he does gives you times were you could move at you own pace. but the sounds and the way he touched you were making it hard for you so there’s nothing left when you say, “I- I want to cum.” with such a tiny desperate voice, it makes jungkook grin.

“do it.” voice tender compare with his hot-messy image. “mm, i’ll cum too if you do.” moaning afterwards.

and the good thing is that he really can make himself cum once you do. all he has to do is concentrate in the way your walls contracts into him as if they were gonna swallow, he loves it each time. say it feels too rich, too tight for him to handle. - so when you’re both done, after driving for a while, you don’t see more cars trying to follow you.

“gonna sleep so well tonight, i’m so fucking happyyy” he singsongs as soon as he lays in bed, pulling you into his chest for a hug. “no more nightmares,” he kisses your forehead. “my princess is here.”

smiling to himself, you feel so shy and loved at the same time. gently kissing his lips. “I can say the same.” lovey-dovey eyes looking at him.

he caresses your hair. ”my pretty little princess.”

you smile. “I hope you don’t go hard on yourself.” saying after knowing what’s coming if there really was someone witnessing what happened earlier.

“don’t worry.” softly smiling, “I told you I didn’t cared, didn’t I?” caressing one of your cheeks.

“hm. but still.”

it makes him look at you with warms eyes. “keep being cute. i’m grateful that you worry this much about me..”

“don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you. it’s the truth.” pause. “I just love how caring you are because that means you really must love me..” tone serious.

“of course I do, silly!” you tease him, making him laugh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“let’s sleep now. we’ve so much things to do..”

“..and so much little time..” you follow.

“I know.” he sighs. “but we can make it.”

“we always do.” you proudly smile, he does too.

“I love us so much.” he says once again.

you laugh. “okay, let’s sleep sentimental boy.”

“you love me this way.”

“you know I do.”

and after teasing each other for a while, you both end up falling into your sleep for a brand new, busy and maybe more exciting day..

[grandprixwinnerlandonorris]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part two max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.���

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“Come on, you can’t say he has so much potential!” Max miserably tried to hold in his laughs as you continued your rant about how much better Max would look if he put a little more effort or thought in how he dressed. 

“I’m honestly starting to think he’s allergic to wearing anything . . . not Red Bull related. Like even in his streams! In his home!” 

Sitting in front of his laptop with a makeshift setup in the hotel room in Japan, Max found himself unwinding from the earlier media day when he gladly accepted to join you for a game of Fifa. It wasn’t until someone brought up Lewis’ outfit from this morning did you start your little ted talk. 

“La, please concentrate on the game, we’re losing!” he couldn’t stop laughing either so your team was toast either way. 

“No, because I bet he's wearing his Red Bull shirt right now wherever he is.”

The reason why Max was no longer able to hold it together was because he was indeed in a Red Bull shirt. He might actually take you up on being allergic to anything not associated with Red Bull.

“I’ll gladly design a few outfits for him, I swear!” 

“La-” Max put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking from laughter as his screen showed the opposing team scoring a goal. The dutch would usually feel frustrated if he were to be losing a Fifa game in any other situation, but not this one with you.

He's ready to lose and lose again, even give up his title as one of the world's top twenty Fifa players if he gets to spend time with you like this, laughing and joking; forgetting the world around, so it's just you and him.

Just two people . . . being people.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Since I have no one to show, you're stuck with me.” 

It’s kind of been a routine now, having a private call after a game or upon finding spare time. You two have gotten close. You even considered “amilian” to be a close friend, per say. A close friend who you regularly vent to about work or just randomly ask riddles or dad jokes to bother.

You enjoyed his company. He was a fun person to be around. He made you feel . . . yellow in a type of way too. You never felt left out or unheard. He always had time for you, it's like you were maybe gravitating to being more than close friends . . . it's not like you can do anything about it though.

Surely people make close friends online all the time. 

You stay up on your couch, scrolling through the settings of your laptop to show and rant despite having to get up in the morning. Max crossed his legs on his chair folding his arms and watching the screen as you messed around on your shared screen.

“La, it’s late.” He’s been trying to tell you for the past 10 minutes. It’s 6:30 in Japan, 7 hours ahead of the time in Paris, where you were. 

Not that he’s keeping track of the time where you were, it’s just that you shared the same time zone as Monaco, and he only had the GMT+2 clock displayed on his home screen because he needed to keep track of his cats . . .  not too make sure you got enough sleep or anything of that sort.

“It's only 11:30,” you shushed, pulling up pinterest. Max hung his head, trying to hold in his smile. “I could put together a whole outfit that would suit him right here and now,”

“La,” Max giggled watching you actually start to search and put things together. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you go to sleep, I'll try to get Max Verstappen in baggy jeans,” 

“WHAT?!” the blond flinched at the loud noise, looking around his hotel room to make sure no one heard anything -- despite him being alone. 

“You know I work in F1 right?” Max followed up, trying to hold in his smile at your silence. “La, you forgot?!” 

“I’m sorry!” you pleaded, holding your hands in a begging motion despite him not seeing anything.

Max put his hand on his chest and pretended to be offended when he was smiling really wide to the point his cheeks hurt. “My best friend doesn't know what I do for a living,” he gushed in fake hurt. 

Your mind blanked at the title. Best friend? 

“You do know what my job is, right, La?”

“. . .” You looked away embarrassed, you’ve known the guy for how long and don’t even know what his profession is. 

Max couldn’t stop his giggles. “Go to bed, La. I’ll get Max in baggy jeans for you.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey um, million?” 

“I thought I told you to go to bed?” Max chuckled, crouched in front of his suitcase, digging through it in hopes to find a pair of baggy jeans or a white shirt that he probably doesn't own. 

“I am in bed technically . . .” The blond looked over to his laptop on his desk, the call still going. “You work in F1,” Max felt his heart jump in anxiety for a second, there's no way you figured him out. 

“Yeah?”

 “Well um . . . my boss chose me to go see how things were going with McLaren at the Monaco gp,” 

The dutch perked up at your announcement. “Really? That's great!” 

“Y-Yeah, it is,” you stuttered, agreeing. you crossed your arms, looking at the email congratulating you on your phone screen. “I mean, I'm glad, this is an experience of a lifetime. I get to drag along a few interns with me as well.” Max frowned, your tone did not match with the news you were announcing.

“What's wrong?” He got up, sitting on the desk chair, looking at your profile picture, the concern was clear in voice, as if you could feel him sitting beside you on your bed and gently rubbing your back to comfort you. 

“Well, I don't have anyone to go with - the interns don't count . . . and I don't know anyone in Monaco or the attendees-- except you technically . . . I haven’t been on my own for that long before,” you sighed.

Max furrowed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what you were asking of him.

“Is it-” you cut yourself of with a sigh. “Can I hang out with you sometime? During the weekend?” Max stayed silent, feeling his heart pounding to the point he was scared the organ would explode out of his chest. 

“I mean,” Max cleared his throat to hide the crack in his voice that arose from the anxiety he was drowning in. “I’m not traveling with the team every weekend, so I'm not sure if I'm going to be in Monaco . . . I’ll have to ask my boss.” he replied quietly and slowly, trying to comfort you still. “There’s still a few weeks before Monaco, so . . . I don’t know for sure.” He whispered, scratching the back of his head.

He was digging himself a grave. Asking Horner if he’s going to be in Monaco when he is the driver and already lives in Monaco? It’s too late now to be honest about who he is, he dug this hole himself and now he’s stuck in it.

It’s not like he can be like ‘oh, yeah of course you can hang out with me. Oh, I’m Max Verstappen by the way, the guy who’s driving the best car and winning all the races, so I can get you VIP tickets and a hot lap too if you want.’

“I’ll try my best to be there,” the blond whispered. You could almost feel him brushing your hair comfortingly. “We can get ice cream or go sightseeing. I know this really good cafe you’ll like . . .” Max will just have to keep digging his hole.

proof reading credits to the lovely and amazing @classiclitfreak <3

[girlgenius1111]

sweet dream was over

chapter 1

r struggles in the aftermath of her breakup with alessia. until a certain brown eyed spaniard makes her chest go from heavy to all fluttery. it was just the breakup talking though, right?

Waking up was painful. Your eyes were swollen from crying, and your chest ached, the cause of which was not physical.

You'd known that you and Alessia weren't doing well. In fact, you were fairly sure you were going to break up the next time you saw her. Things had been different with her since the world cup, and it seemed to you that the relationship had run it's course. It made you sad, of course, because you loved Alessia. You were just no longer in love with her.

Maybe it would have been easier if you didn't love her anymore, maybe it would have hurt less. When you picked up the phone 2 nights ago, the last thing you were expecting was for her to be on the other end, in hysterics. It had taken you a while to piece together what she was trying to say, her sentences fragmented.

I didn't mean to.

I just got caught up in the moment.

You're so far away, and I never see you.

It was a one time thing, it didn't mean anything.

You weren't even mad at her, not really. Because cheating, even once, was so unlike Alessia. She was a fiercely loyal person, and this behavior was nothing short of alarming. You'd known she'd been struggling, and you'd hoped her move to Arsenal would help. It had, you think, but only so much could improve when she refused to take the time to care for herself and her mental health in the way that she should. Her actions were a red flag that she wasn't doing well, but it didn't mean you felt any less betrayed.

It didn't matter that the relationship was clearly on it's last leg, you hadn't broken up yet. Alessia had made you feel loved, really loved, for the first time in your whole life. More than that, she'd made you feel worthy of her love.

Perhaps that's why you were so upset- in an evening, she'd undone all the progress you'd made with yourself, completely destroyed the confidence you'd had in yourself. It didn't make complete sense to you, but you didn't have time to dwell on it. You had to get up, get dressed. Hopefully do something to hide the fact that you'd been crying and get to practice. You wished you'd tried harder to pull it together yesterday; you'd had a few days off, which ended up working well for you. You'd had time to be upset, but clearly, you hadn't stopped crying soon enough.

-----

No amount of makeup could hide the puffiness around your eyes, and you knew your efforts had failed when you walked into the locker room and hour later, and felt several pairs of eyes on you right away. If there was anything you were sure of, though, it was that you absolutely did not want to talk about it.

Your locker, though, was set right in between Alexia and Irene's. They liked to keep an eye on you, which was normally fine, but today, you didn't want your captains' attention on you, not at all.

You kept your head down as you pulled on your training kit, lacing up your boots carefully, pretending not to feel the stares of the girls on either side of you. Your attempts to become invisible didn't work.

"What's up?" Irene said, sitting down next to you. You didn't turn your head to look at her.

"Nothing. Why?" You asked. Alexia responded from your other side.

"You don't look so good, amiga. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," you said, doing your best to keep your voice emotionless. You didn't have to look at the older Spaniards to know they were exchanging disbelieving looks. Before they could say anything else, you stood up, heading out to the pitch without another word. You would have made it without any extra conversation, too, if you hadn't almost knocked Ona down when you came rushing out of the doorway.

"Shit, sorry Ona," you said, steadying her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, instead of responding to your apology, as soon as she got a look at your face. You rolled your eyes, annoyance with yourself for crying so hard only growing.

"Long weekend," you told her, for some reason unable to lie to the inquisitive brown eyes looking back at you. You watched as they crinkled in concern, and inexplicably had to blink back a couple tears that gathered in your own eyes. Something about the way Ona was looking at you, full of care and worry really got to you. It completely surprised you, how concerned to seemed to be.

"What happened?"

You paused for a moment, seriously confused where you insistence that nothing had happened had disappeared to. The truth was suddenly itching to get out.

"Less and I broke up," you told her quietly. Ona had obviously played with Alessia in Manchester, and she'd known you as a couple well. You'd decided this morning on your drive that when people inevitably found out about the break up, you wouldn't mention what Alessia had done. She wasn't herself, and she shouldn't have to deal with the entire team suddenly hating her guts.

"I'm sorry, y/n. That's really tough. We're all here for you though, okay?" you nodded in response, and she smiled at you, before continuing on into the locker room.

You thought about the conversation all the way onto the pitch, waiting for the rest of the team, and through the first round of drills.

Why had you told her? You and Ona got along well, were friends, but you were friends with Alexia and Irene, too. That hadn't stopped you from lying to them.

You couldn't stop thinking about the look on her face, just briefly, after you'd told her it was over between you and Alessia. It was... excitement, if you weren't mistaken.

You managed to shake off your confusion 20 minutes into practice. You were just upset about Alessia, the breakup. Your brain was all over the place, not to mention your emotions.

-----

You should have known Keira and Lucy would find out. It was a testament to how scrambled your mind was, that you didn't think to factor in Leah.

You were just about to leave after training, just tying your shoes, listening to the lively conversation around you. The locker room was still pretty full, and you didn't think much of it when Lucy and Keira came to stand in front of you. You looked up expectantly, expecting them to ask you to get lunch or something.

"What happened with Alessia?" Lucy asked, not quietly. She seemed upset, and your teammates around you both didn't miss it, conversations fizzling out at the way Lucy was standing, arms crossed, in front of you. If you hadn't known her so well, you would have thought she was mad at you. You knew, though, that she was just being protective.

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking between her and Keira.

"Leah texted me and asked if I knew why you guys had broken up." Keira said, looking closely at your expression. Your teammates began to chime in.

"You and Alessia broke up?"

"When?"

"Why?"

"What'd she do?"

"What'd YOU do?"

Pina got a smack to the back of her head from Patri for that last one. Sighing, you decided to give them as few details as you could before making a break for it.

"Yes we broke up. It was a few nights ago. She didn't do anything, no one did anything," you said, wishing you were a better liar. Everyone clocked that one, seeing how your eyes dropped to the ground, and then back up as you continued talking. "Sometimes relationships don't work out. It's fine, I'm fine," you finished.

"Is that why you walked in looking like you cried yourself to sleep last night?" Keira asked and you pulled a face.

"Thanks, Kei. Seriously, I'm fine," you insisted. Everyone in the room looked like they had multiple more questions, but someone else was calling your name before any of them could.

"Y/n, the social media team has a scheduling question for you," Ona said, peaking in through the door. She'd stopped training early to treat a sore muscle, and was already showered and ready to go. You bid your teammates a goodbye, walking out of the locker room as fast as you possibly could, ignoring the questions that followed you out the door.

You walked with Ona down the hall, turning to head down to the social media office.

"Oh, they didn't actually need you. I just figured you could use an escape," Ona told you, stopping you with a hand on your arm. You turned to look at her, picking up on the way her eyes were fixed on your face, as if worried you'd be mad.

"Thank you, Ona. I appreciate it." She nodded. It was quiet for a minute as you resumed walking to the parking lot, before she spoke again.

"Why'd you lie to everyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"I texted Tooney, to ask if Alessia was doing okay with the breakup," Ona said, blushing slightly. "She told me Alessia was really torn up about it. Because she felt guilty. For cheating on you."

You always forgot to factor in Ella Toone and her big mouth. You couldn't be too mad at her, though, because you'd woken up to a text from her the other day, telling you she was furious with Alessia, promising you that if she'd known it had happened, she would have told you.

Now, though, you had to deal with Ona knowing what had really happened. And the way she was looking at you, like she wanted to give you a hug. And the way the freckles splashed across her cheeks; briefly, you wondered if you could count them all.

You'd clearly gotten distracted, because Ona took your lack of response as annoyance.

"I didn't mean to find out anything I wasn't supposed to, I just wanted to make sure-" Ona rushed out.

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I just didn't want anyone to be mad at her, she's having a hard time. It's complicated, and everyone would have been insanely protective, and I don't need that," you explained.

Ona only raised her eyebrows at you in response.

"What?" you asked, upon seeing the look on her face. She shook her head, blushing again. Did she always blush this much?

"Only you could defend someone that cheated on you," Ona said.

You tried to defend yourself, thinking it was an insult. "I'm not defending her, I'm just saying-"

"No, I didn't mean it's a bad thing. It's just a you thing. You always look for the best in people." Ona explained casually, as if she hadn't just made an incredibly kind judgement of your character. You did try to do that, but you hadn't realized she'd been paying close enough attention to notice.

"Anyway, I won't say anything, but if you want to talk..." she trailed off, suddenly looking insecure.

"Thank you, Ona. Really. I might take you up on that," you told her, suddenly overcome with appreciation for the girl walking next to you. The incredibly pretty girl walking next to you. You pushed the thought away as you reached her car.

"Bye, y/n. See you tomorrow," she said, flashing a real smile, a big smile, at you this time.

"See you, Ona." you replied, continuing to walk to your car. You felt the familiar return of sadness to your body, settling heavily over you. You hadn't realized that it had disappeared while you were talking to Ona. You found yourself looking back at her car, before you caught yourself, shaking your head.

What the hell was that? You and Alessia had been broken up for half a weekend, and suddenly you were acting like a lovestruck teen around one of your teammates. What was wrong with you? You didn't need this, not now, not with a teammate. Still, as you drove home, your thoughts were filled with the kind words of a certain Catalan woman.

-----

let me know if you guys like it / want to see what's coming next :) i'm honestly not super sure if people will want to read this, or are interested at all, so tell me if you are!

[atinystraynstay]

Cupid's Arrow - Choi San

Synopsis: You refused to spend another Valentine's Day alone. You have tried online dating, having friends set you up on spontaneous dates, and even made efforts to flirt in public. This year, you were settling for something a bit different - speed-dating.

Pairing: non-idol!Choi San x fem. reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, trying to find love in a major city

Warning: mentions alcohol consumption, slight vulgar language, suggestive sexual activity

Word Count: 3.8k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"This is.. West 4th-Washington Square. Please stand clear of the opening doors."

Your heart was racing, your body practically trembling as you stared forward. Was this actually going to happen?

Ding

Quickly but carefully, you pushed yourself out of the opening of the subway. You didn't want to get trampled by the crowds of people trying to get in. You've learned better to just move as quickly as possible if you want to make it to your destination on time.

You also learned how easily frustrated people get when they are behind someone who either doesn't know where they are going or is just walking slowly.

Last year, you took the leap of faith and moved to New York City. Like many others, you dreamed of moving to this extravagant place to make a name for yourself. You daydreamed of walking the busy streets and having a cute tiny apartment with a skyline view. You sacrificed that latter wish for an in-unit washer and dryer - a real jackpot find!

While you certainly have made friends in the city, you often find yourself frustrated with the dating department. You have been on several first dates, a few that turned into second and third dates. One or two turned into potential relationships.

Yet, it would quickly fizzle out.

At first, you thought that it was something with you. You tried changing how you approach first dates, how you dress for them - anything that you thought you could be doing wrong was thought over meticulously.

"The problem isn't you," your roommate vowed. Your racing mind was settled by the NYC Dating Queen herself. She has been through the wringer with guys throughout the whole city. "You're in your 20s in New York City," she laughed. "Most guys are thinking with their dick first then their brain. Ever notice how many guys are reaching back out, begging for another chance?"

You slowly nodded your head. "Yeah, which is so annoying because by the time they think straight, I've already moved on."

Maybe you were a bit old-fashioned when it came to love. No, you weren't in the market to settle down quite yet. You wanted to meet someone and take things slow, go on dates, and be exclusive before making that big of a commitment. Getting the conversation out of the dating apps was the first milestone you wanted to achieve.

"Good! Don't give them any type of satisfaction. All of these guys are dates from Tinder?" "Yep," you announced, making sure to pop the 'p' before taking a sip out of your wine glass. "So you're also getting the mix of tourist guys who are just horny and wanting to fuck while visiting the city."

You groaned at the realization, your head leaning back against the arm of the couch. How was she always right about this kind of stuff?

"You deserve to meet your prince charming in another way. Clearly, dating apps are not cutting it." "And going up to a guy at the bar scares me," you confessed before fixing your posture.

The two of you were sitting on the couch. It was a snowy night in the city which caused many of your evening plans to get canceled. The two of you were nestled on the couch, watching a movement on HBO Max with a chilled bottle of red wine. Your other roommate managed to escape the apartment to go on a date tonight. Lucky bitch.

"You know how our lovely roommate is out on a date?"

You nodded again as you looked over, an eyebrow raised. Wherew as this going?

"She only got together with him once she deleted the dating apps and tried something different." And the look on your other roommate's face told you she had something planned for you.

That was how you find your way navigating through the busy streets of Manhattan. You had no idea that speed-dating was so popular, or that it could be successful. Your roommate's current relationship gave you hope that meeting someone this authentically could be the solution to your problems.

Tonight, speed-dating was taking place at a bar in Greenwich Village. You've honestly been trying to come grab brunch here as you were drawn to the aesthetics shown off on social media.

It did bring a smile to your face to see the white-painted door surrounded by vines. Three brick steps led up to the front door. It was like a little escape room all the steel and concrete of the city.

Even though you were ecstatic to be going to this new place, it didn't help your nerves. You were the type of person who loved getting to know someone for sure, but something was intimidating about going on multiple "first dates." You had to put on a good impression for more than an hour.

“Hi, you also hear for the speed dating?” A voice called out from beside you.

You looked over to see the most gorgeous man. He was tall, dressed in a black button up which peaked from the grey winter coat he was wearing. His hair was sleeked back with a few strands framing his forehead. He also wore this soft smile which made your knees weak. He was definitely going to be hot commodity tonight.

You nodded slightly, offering also a gentle smile. “How could you tell?” “Let’s just say I’m hoping to get to know you better tonight,” he said, winking.

It took everything in you not to let your jaw drop. You never met someone who spoke so coolly. He was the total package.

“Come on, let’s get you out of the cold. You’re practically shivering.”

Maybe it was from the chilly evening hair. Or maybe it was your nerves overriding your system. Either way, you were not going to disclose the truth. Not when this gentleman had his hand placed on your lower back to help you inside.

“Already trying to win me over?” You asked teasingly. “How could you tell?” He asked, matching your tone from earlier.

The two of you shared soft laughter as you crossed the threshold into the cocktail bar. There were tables lined up with white linen, a candle in the middle, and a short bouquet of flowers. Frank Sinatra was playing overheard, both screaming New York and romance. The mystery man stood slightly behind you, his hand leaving your back which you already missed.

“Hi! Sorry, we are closed for a private event,” the hostess said. “Oh no, sorry! We are both here for the speed-dating event,” you explained.

The hostess blush lightly from her mistake before nodding her head. “My apologizes, I assumed you two were already a couple since you walked in together. Can I get your name, please?”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at the insinuation. Sure, you guys happened to cross paths with the handsome stranger. Possibilities were endless though!

“Y/f/n y/l/name” “Great! All checked in. Here is your number ticket that indicates your table. And here is two drink tickets for the evening.”

You nodded, saying a quick “thank you.” You took the tickets before putting your phone in your purse. It bought you enough time to overhear the stranger behind you and gain some pieces of his identity.

“And your name, sir?” “Choi San.”

You smiled to yourself once you got his name. Choi San.

Not wanting to linger anymore, you began making your way to the long row of tables. Each table had a heart laminated and taped to the table. They were numbered 1-16. Glancing down at your ticket, you saw you were placed at number 7, your own lucky number.

More people were beginning to file into the establishment. However, you were trying your best not to scope out too much. You wanted to go into this open-minded, wanting to take in the experience while remaining open to the potential of finding a new connection. It didn’t help that your mind was already infiltrated with a man named Choi San.

“Looks like I’ll have to wait a little bit to get to know you, pretty girl,” San said.

He winked at you as he passed by your table, heading towards Table 8. Looks like you’ll be ending your night on a high note if he would be your last encounter of the night. You watched him for a moment. He sat on the opposite side of you, giving an indicator that the men will either be transitioning or the females will.

Feeling your eyes on him, he looked over at you too quickly for your liking. It didn’t give you enough of a chance to glance away. Your cheeks were also a key indicator what you had been up to, which weren’t really concealed despite the dimmed lighting. He chuckled lightly underneath his breath before he got to work at shrugging off his jacket.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away when his jacket off did in fact confirm the black button up he was wearing. What kept your attention was the way his fingers got to work unbuttoning the top 2, revealing his golden chest underneath. You wanted to be respectful, but you couldn’t help but slightly gawk at the man adjacent from you.

“Keep your eyes on me, angel. I’ll be coming for you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Welcome ladies and gentleman to our fifth annual Cupid's Speeding Dating! Here is how it's going to go. Men are going to move to the left, switching the seat to chat with a new woman. You will have five minutes to make your best first impression."

Your eyes shifted over towards San, seeing that he would be moving further away from you at first. However, that just means you get to be the last person he talks to tonight.

"You know, there are a lot of things I can do in 5 minutes." You were interrupted by your internal thoughts by the man across from you. Your nose scrunched up as you understand quickly what he was suggesting.

"Please do not exchange numbers or socials until the next of the event. We want to make sure you are investing more into your conversations."

The guy across from you smirked again, winking. Ugh! Does this guy really think he has a chance?

You leaned back into the seat, wanting to create distance from you and your first date of the evening. You weren't much of a person to fixate on appearances. I mean, the guy was quite attractive. Yet, the moment he opened his mouth, all possible attraction flew out the door. It honestly just made you yearn more for San.

Noticing movement out of his peripheral, San glanced over. He flashed you a smile before going to pay attention to his current date. Sure, he knew he was most excited to talk to you, but he also didn't want to be rude. He just couldn't help but glance over to make sure you were okay.

"You can begin!" The host said excitedly.

Soon, the cocktail bar was filled with chatter. You decided to take a sip of water to ease your nerves, but also try to come up with a conversation to have with this guy. You were forced to be sat at the same time for the next five minutes anyways.

"So, what's your favorite position?"

This might possibly be the longest five minutes of your life.

Luckily, the guy talked more about himself which helped time run out. He was leaning across the table, as if he was trying to look down the top of your dress which caused you to only lean back into the wooden back of the chair. You also were silently thankful when the waitress brought over your first drink of the evening.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

"Okay, gentleman, please move one to your left."

The guy across from you let out a groan before pushing himself up. "I'll catch you after tonight," the guy said, winking. "Maybe we can go home together. Or slip into the bathroom for a little fun." You didn't even catch his name nor did you want to.

"It was nice chatting with you," San said next to you. "Good luck this evening!" There is an example of a gentleman.

As he got up to head to the next table, he smiled once more at the girl he was first chatting to. He also took a moment to glance at you, smiling a bit brighter. You felt as if you were going to melt in your seat. You just had to wait 14 more rounds before you got to be alone with San.

The second quickly blended itself until the 10th round. Sure, you loved chatting with the guys, and you could see yourself potentially going on a real first date with one or two. However, the whole time, you kept glancing over at San.

It would cause a twitch in your heart when he laughed at another girl's joke. The further he separated from you, the less you noticed his eyes finding yours. The reality that he could be more interested in someone else was beginning to set in. He could very much land at your table, being the last date of the night, and be exhausted. He could already have his heart set on another which caused you to sigh softly.

"I see you have eyes for someone already."

Looking up, you were greeted by a wide smile. The gentleman in front of you took a seat in front of you, running his hands through his hair to push back his hair. He was wearing an all-black outfit - dress pants that had a white, thin strip running up the side; a black v-neck that showed the silver chain around his neck, and a slightly oversized black sport coat.

"Sorry," you laughed lightly, blushing a bit. You didn't want to give off the wrong impression, especially when this gentleman seemed kind.

"No need to be sorry. Should introduced myself since it sees that you're gawking at my best friend," he said proudly. "My name is Wooyoung, and you are?"

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit intrigued. "Y/n." You took a sip out of your cocktail before setting it down on the counter. "You are friends with San?" "Oh, I see you two are on a first-name basis now. When is the wedding?"

Your cheeks got hotter as you took another sip out of your drink, which caused the young man to laugh. "Don't worry, I've seen him checking you out as well." "Stop, you're just saying that," you laughed. "We only met literally 30 minutes ago. There is no way that he is checking me out and I haven't noticed."

Leaning back into his chair, a smug grin curled onto his lips. He had one hand on the table, and the other resting on the back of the chair.

"You have no reason to trust me since I'm a complete stranger. However, I know my best friend. And I can tell you right now that if you look to my right side, you would be able to see San. And I bet he's fuming that his best friend is chatting up the girl he's been eyeing all evening."

You raised an eyebrow at this man's analysis. He looked at you challengingly, egging you on to look over to his right.

Unable to resist, you looked over. Your eyes widened as you noticed San was glancing from his date over to your table. His fists were clenched slightly while he did his best to maintain his composure in front of the woman he was chatting to. Yet, it was as if steam was about to shoot out of his ears.

"See?" Wooyoung said triumphantly. "You've got San wrapped around your pretty little finger, y/n."

Seeing San make eye contact with you, his eyes widened before he quickly looked away. You couldn't help but smile a bit brighter, your confidence starting to rise again. Maybe Wooyoung was right after all.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

"I'll definitely be seeing you around, y/n. Have a good rest of your evening," Wooyoung announced. He pushed himself up from his seat, about to move to the next table.

One thing you learned about Wooyoung in your short encounter was that he was filled with evil schemes and plots. For example, calling out how you and San kept looking at each other as if nobody could notice. You learned that while San was his best friend, he also liked getting a rise out of him.

Before you could say anything back to him, Wooyoung moved closer to you. He leaned down to press a firm kiss to your cheek, one everyone at the speed-dating event could see. Your eyes widened at his action. What was he thinking?!

People seemed to notice which caused cheers from the guys in attendance while the other women gasped. "Please keep it moving, Romeo," the event host announced. "You'll have enough time to show affection later."

"You'll thank me later," he whispered to you before moving to the seat at the next table.

You felt a bit guilty for not remembering the four guys. They seemed very friendly, having personalities that made it easy to talk to. You guys couldn't describe what on Earth was even said, not when your mind was counting down until you finally got to talk to San.

"You're a great listener, y/n. Too early to ask for your number?" "The host said no exchanging until after."

You looked over to see San standing up straight. You didn't think he did so maliciously, but it was obvious he was annoyed by the guy still sitting down. The guy you just talked to glanced over at you before putting his hands up in surrender and getting up.

Just as quick as the guy stood up, San slid into the seat. He moved the chair in so he could lean slightly over the table. "Do you like knowing your a hot commodity, angel?" He asked softly, a drastic change from how he just spoke.

"I have no idea what you are referring to," you said innocently.

San's hand moved to rest close to yours, his fingertips ghosting over your own. It sent electric shocks throughout your body just be being in close proximity.

"So you don't want to admit that my best friend had you giggling? You couldn't have thought that Wooyoung was seriously that funny. He gets all his best jokes from me!"

You could see San was getting a bit worked up. His chest was puffed up, wanting to present himself as a better option against whoever stood in his way, even if it was his best friend. Little did San know he had no true competition when you've had your eyes on him all evening.

"Actually, I found it adorable how jealous you get. Wooyoung merely pointed out this fact," you said, smirking.

You noticed then San's shoulders slump over a bit. His cheeks were flushed as he stared at you for a moment before looking towards the end of the row where Wooyoung was. Wooyoung, who was watching you two this whole time and offered a wave over to you two.

Sensing that San was getting a bit flustered, you moved your hand to rest on his. This caused his attention to move back to you, a smile curling onto his lips. He glanced down at your hands, eyes flickering to yours. You were not sure what he was looking for, but it became clear once he slipped his fingers in between yours.

And he looks for consent before doing anything? What a jackpot.

"I'll have to admit though. I was also getting jealous. I didn't like seeing you laugh with other girls when it should've been me," you confessed. Sure, you were just as embarrassed owning up to your faults, but you also hoped an ounce of your truth made San feel better.

It seemed to do the trick as his body relaxed. His thumb gently caresses the side of your index finger. You noticed his eyes were not leaving yours whatsoever, unlike before when his eyes would wonder around.

"Well, darlin', we don't need to wait anymore. You've got me all to yourself."

You and San spent the next hour or so chatting. You talked about your childhood, how you both ended up in New York City, and all your favorite things. Every time you talked, San looked at you as if you were made out of gems. He just adored listening to you, finally being sat at the same table with you.

San has always wanted to come to the United States. At first, it was to practice his English. However, he quickly realized that he wanted to learn more about people. He was currently researching graduate programs to study Sociology.

So not only is he kind and physically attractive, but he also was outgoing and intelligent. He was just checking every one of your boxes!

But he also was falling hard for you. He was impressed with how you took a leap into moving to New York City by himself. He was lucky to have Wooyoung whoo made the whole transition easier, so he couldn't imagine taking on the city solo. He admired your courage.

He also wouldn't vocalize it quite yet but he almost felt as if you two were destined to be in the same city.

The two of you didn't even notice that the other participants had left. The guys you had talked to tried staying around to grab your number, fuming at how San seemed to have snatched all your attention. Being the great friend Wooyoung is, he ushered them out so you and San could be uninterrupted.

It was as if Wooyoung was your own Cupid, doing everything in his power to make sure the love connection worked.

"I'm sorry, love birds, but we need to close up for the night."

San and you looked around, not realizing that all the tables had been cleaned and cleared after the event. The room was silent except for the noise of movement in the kitchen.

Looking back at you, he bit his lip. The clogs were stirring in his mind as if he was trying to figure out what to do next. Of course, you two would leave the cocktail bar, but then what? He looked as if he was afraid to say goodbye, and so were you.

"Why don't we walk around the Village? I'm sure we could find a late-night diner that isn't too crowded." "That sounds perfect."

San helped you out of the table before lifting yup your winter coat. He held it out for you, assisting you in slipping your arms through the sleeves. You turned slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, which made San light up like a little kid on Christmas day.

He quickly slipped on his own jacket before going to rest his hand back on your lower back. He nodded his head, both apologizing for overstaying but thanking the host for putting together the event.

She smiled understandingly as she witnessed San escort you back outside. His free hand pushes the front door open for you.

Maybe love did exist in New York City after all.

[moonsaver]

Hello! I don’t know if you write for Aventurine so feel free to ignore this!!! But just, imagine, gifting him home made chocolates/sweets and imagine just how moved he will be. From what we got in the 2.0 story, he would probably be so touched. Would he possible be more clingy? Would he be the type to be distanced-? I feel like he would love the holiday in theory but maybe be very flustered if someone was to approach him qvq

Hello anon, yes i do write for aventurine! Ive written for yandere Aventurine before.. although I can't say I know a whole lot about him, I definitely write for him.

--

Aventurine seems like the type who's constantly hiding how desperately and miserably clingy he is behind some suave, cool and sly mask he's constantly putting on, and it's not really his fault either, considering the implications of what beng a signoian or whatever could be, along with the fact the mark on his neck seems like it spells "SLAVE". And you know how rough of a life that is.

So getting something gifted to him is usually a two-faced event, like a double edged knife. Originally, he's suspicious, so please don't feel offended. He's all about risks and there's a lot of things he needs to take into account, especially when it comes to romance and getting gifted homemade chocolate and sweets of all things. He accepts it graciously but stays distant from you for a while, taking his time to decide whether it's a risk he really wants to take. He practically disappears from your sights for the next few days, long after Valentine's is over. But don't worry,he returns.

And he returns fabulously. His smile is so vibrant you'd think someone polished his teeth with lemon and detergent. He's extra friendly with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, flirting, offering to take you out, and all sorts of things. And before you know it – you've been dragged far far away from where you actually were, into some or the other plaza or shopping centre, as he drags you around everywhere. Almost talks your ear off about how great the chocolates were, and his tone may suggest that he's being sarcastic, but he isn't. He does genuinely appreciate the effort.

He doesn't quite spoil you per se, but he buys what he thinks looks good on you. It's his way of showing you he's quite intrigued by you, and wants to take the gamble.

Unfortunately, he still can't help but stay on guard, and stays that way until a few more gifts later. Please be patient with him. His vibrant smile and teasing words may make you think he's alright, but he still harbors suspicion for a while later. But once he's practically confirmed both of you are in a relationship, and that he does really like you, you'll be begging someone to peel him off of you. In a good way, of course.

[angelsheartts]

hiii idk if requests are open so either have this as a silly little thought or a request <33

lucifer and (ideally gn/male) reader have been flirting for a little while and then one day lucifer finally asks reader out, but they reject him

he’s super confused thinking he may have misunderstood their whole dynamic until he overhears reader telling someone at the hotel the reason he rejected lucifer is because reader feels like lucifer would never be able to love them as much as he loved lilith/doesnt want lucifer to use them as a rebound

overall i was hoping for hurt/comfort but whatever rows your boat, love your stories and i hope to see more of them in the future !! have an amazing day <3

.° ༘ THE OTHER WOMAN ᝰ.ᐟ .

#pairing: lucifer, x gn reader.

#cw: angst, fear of being the second choice, lucifers backstory with lilith, starting something new, accepting that relationships come to an end, happy ending 'cause im not that mean hehe (at least not yet).

#note: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM, i haven’t wrote any angst in my blog BUUUT i love it, this request is mwuah.

everyone at the hazbin hotel knew that lucifer had been courting you for the past few months, everyone except you.

or, well, that’s what the sinners at the hotel thought, at least. you obviously knew that the king of hell had been flirting with you, and at the beginning, you almost fell head over heels for him, until indecisive thoughts started to fill your head.

"was he REALLY flirting with you?", "why would he still be wearing his WEDDING ring if he had been flirting with you?", "will he ever LOVE you like he loved lilith?", "will his daughter even ACCEPT your relationship?"

as soon as those thoughts started appearing, you started distancing yourself from the fallen angel, sadly for lucifer he had already started to get the courage to officially ask you out on a date.

the king of hell wasn’t an idiot; he noticed how you started to make up excuses to not talk to him alone or how you weren’t really responding to his flirting anymore, but decided to be stubborn and brush those thoughts off.

-

as soon as you received a text from lucifer saying he would pick you up around eight, you knew he was planning something, and as soon as you saw him all dressed up, nicely done hair and his prideful smile showing on his face, you knew what was coming, but who were you to not appreciate his efforts? if you knew that it was going to end someday, why wouldn’t you enjoy the moment? yes, you were being a fool for accepting his offer, but having a tiny crush on him wouldn’t hurt you, right?

after having a nice and really luxurious meal at a restaurant in hell, lucifer guided you to an actually peaceful spot where you could see all of the pride ring. ironic. who would even think that hell has a peaceful place, one where you should feel relieved, but why weren’t you feeling that way? was it because you knew what was to come?

"(name), is everything alright?" lucifer interrupted your thoughts with his angelic voice, or could you say demonic? at the end of the day, he was still an angel, just a fallen one. "mmh? yeah, i was just..lost in my thoughts i guess" you answered, admiring his glowing red eyes shining in the dark. "oh, okay" he said, letting a nervous laugh come out. "i think there is something i need to tell you, (name)" lucifer said, this time his voice had a serious tone. "i thought that after lilith I couldn’t get to love again, but heavens was i wrong. i had the chance to get to know you this past months, and…you've changed my life in that short time." he started, giving a sincere smile "would you want to be my partner?" he asked, fidgeting with his fingers as you stared at him.

oh, well, that question made you nauseous. "i-, i don’t think i want that, lucifer" ouch, that hurt his pride."I think it’s time for me to go, i’m sorry" you said in a quiet tone, standing up and leaving him there, and as much as you didn’t wanted to look back, you did, but the only thing you could see was lucifer in the same position as when you stood, this time though, he was hugging his knees staring at the view you both were looking at just a few minutes ago.

-

since his confession about his feelings towards you, he hasn’t been in the hotel, and the cast started to suspect that it has to do with the date you had with him. charlie was the most preoccupied, since she had been the one to encourage his dad to finally ask you out. she tried texting his dad to ask him about your response, but the king of hell just responded with a "it didn’t go as planned, but don’t worry about it, char-char."

after that text charlie obviously knew that his father was feeling bad about whatever happened that night, and would isolate himself from the others, so for her attempts to not let that happened she kind of tricked you into visiting him, she asked you about the date, and since you kind of lied to her by telling her that the date went as normal as a date should go, she then answered by saying something along the lines of "if that’s so, would you mind reminding him that he needs to come to the hotel?"

you could write lucifer a text message telling him to come to the hotel, but since you literally ran away that night, you forgot that your cellphone was laying somewhere near to where you both were sitting, so yeah, you did in fact lost it.

-

going to his mansion was a really weird feeling, what can you even say after rejecting someone? would he even open the door? as you were lost in your thoughts again, you heard the front door open, and as you made your way into his house it wasn’t really hard to find his bedroom.

as you knocked before opening the door, the first thing you noticed was how lucifer had his bedsheet covering him, it made you smile since you noticed how charlie did that too, so you could guess she got that from her father.

there was a silence as you both stared at eachother, until lucifer decided to interrupt the silence. "i-, i-i’m sorry about what happened, i think i might had misunderstood our relationship" he confessed, his messy hair and dark eye bags made you worried "it’s okay lucifer, and about that night..there is still something i haven’t told you about my answer" you declared, making him look at you with such hopeful eyes, oh hell, how can such a prideful fallen angel have so much faith in what you were going to say. "i said I didn’t want to take it further, since i still believe your heart belongs to lilith, and because of that i thought that rejecting you would be the best option." he opened his eyes at the mention of his past lover. "but, me and lilith haven’t been dating since seven years, (name) what me and her had is long gone" he reassured you, while signaling you to sit on his bed, the king bed who looked so comfy yet so empty. "lilith still is an important person in my heart, she has been with me since beginning of humanity and is the mother of my daughter, but the persons who’s my heart belongs now is you, my love" after hearing those words you could feel your eyes fill with tears, of course lilith was gonna be an important person in his life, but why would that stopped you from being in his heart as well, were you being selfish all this time? wanting to be the only person who’s important to him?

"and, this time i haven’t been at the hotel, i thought about why you said no, and i think i may have noticed something" he said, getting out of his bedsheets and caressing your face, you could feel your face burn at his touch, yeah, you really have missed him, "you were always staring at my wedding ring, weren’t you?" he asked looking at you with a glum face, yes, you do recall looking at his wedding ring while he looked at you with loving eyes, the ring that made you doubt so much about his feelings towards you, "i was a fool for wearing my ring while flirting with you, and if my ring has made you have those doubts about our relationship, you should know that i had decided to take it off" after hearing those words, you noticed that he was right, you haven’t noticed until now, you didn’t feel that cold ring against your face. "and if you still willing to try, i’m sure that soon enough i will be using a ring who will be showing who my heart really belongs to"

"that’s so cheesy" you answered chuckling, you tried to jokingly ignore the fact that he just said he would propose you, because if you took it serious you were sure that your face would be as red as the famous apple, actually, you were sure that if he offered you the 'fruit' you would have accepted, wait, were you even thinking about a fruit? but anyways your angel needed reassurance from you, that in fact, you liked his cheesy words. "yes, i still want to have you in my afterlife, lucifer" "well, if that’s my future’s wife/husband wish, then, who am i to object?" the fallen angel winked at you before starting to teasingly kiss your whole face, the moment he started doing this, you noticed something you didn’t thought you could, you felt like his first option, not just a rebound.

and yes , it will be a long journey until he really overcomes his past relationship with lilith, but since he's willing to do as much for you as you would do for him, you both will soon overcome your fears of past experiences.

[ninzied]

and that's how it works

a co-worker au. based on the prompt: kiss out of spite. ~2.4k.

Alex can’t stand him from the start.

He tries not to actively dislike any co-workers, as a general rule. It takes effort, and time, neither of which he wants to spend on this guy—unless said work has been affected, which, Alex has to admit that it hasn’t.

But there’s something about him that rubs Alex the wrong way the moment they get introduced.

He’s hard-working, Alex supposes, and the quality of the work isn’t lacking. He’s punctual, and to-the-point in his emails. None of those things are an issue. He does make a habit of helping himself to Alex’s office supplies, but a few missing staples and running out of printer paper don’t exactly justify a grudge.

The guy’s personality is, objectively, annoying. He has the worst taste in ties, which to Alex says a lot, and he can’t go more than five minutes without alluding to his pedigree in some way (Alex knows this because he and Nora have made a drinking game out of it at work functions).

Still, it doesn’t explain the weird surge of resentment he gets every time he looks at the guy. And not understanding it might be the most annoying part of all.

He just wishes he knew why.

.

Alex works in the legal department, but the coffee’s way better in HR down the hall, so most mornings he’s using their break room. Most mornings, and at lunchtime too, and in the afternoons more than once until Nora starts cutting him off, which. Fair.

Apparently he’s not the only one who’s discovered HR’s superior coffee, though, because he’s always there too, and always at the same time as Alex. Seriously, can he not? It’s bad enough that they share a cubicle. Now Alex has to suffer the insult of watching him fucking microwave his coffee like some kind of sociopath, too?

“Are you following me?” Alex demands to know one morning, a little ridiculously. He’s aware that HR is not the best place to be throwing accusations around, but he’s kind of had it with this guy. “Because—”

At that exact moment, the door is opening, and Henry Fox is walking into the room.

“Oh, hey,” says Alex.

Henry glances at him the way he always does, that is to say, a little bemused as to what Alex is doing here. But Henry had been his point person when he was hired six months ago, so he must know Alex works here, right? Besides, he’s been coming to drink their coffee every day of those past six months now, and he knows Henry knows this because their breaks usually overlap and the way Henry barely says two words to him half the time is starting to feel kind of personal.

“It’s Alex,” says Alex, because, well, just in case.

“Yes, I’m aware,” says Henry. After a beat that’s long enough to get awkward, he says, “Err. Right then.”

And then he smiles and waves at Hunter, who isn’t even supposed to be here either, and walks over to take the seat Hunter has saved him like they’re all in fucking high school.

Hunter says something smarmy about a new art gallery or what-the-fuck-ever he went to last night, using a slightly too-loud voice that’s clearly meant to be overheard. Alex grits his teeth.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to go,” says Henry. “What did you think?”

Alex scowls. Fuck, he fucking hates Hunter.

.

“So how’s the transfer going?” asks Hunter one day.

Alex jerks involuntarily and splashes hot coffee all over his hand. “Motherfucker,” he says, and then, because his filter is fully shot now anyway, he glances over at Henry. “You’re transferring? Like, jobs?”

“Oh. Um. No. Departments,” says Henry. Alex supposes that’s all he’s getting—four whole words must be some kind of record—but then Henry continues. “To editing. Starting first thing next week.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Cool. That’s…a big move.” Literally. That’s, like, whole floors away. He opens the freezer door with his good hand, and wonders what the coffee tastes like up there in editing, if it would be weird to find out sometime. He grabs a fistful of ice.

“Yes,” Henry is saying. “It will be quite the change, and I—wait. Sorry.” He stands abruptly, and Alex stares in surprise as Henry comes over and stops right in front of him. “Please put the ice down.”

“Um,” says Alex. “O…kay?”

“You should use lukewarm water,” says Henry. “Cool, at best. For your hand.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Right. Thanks.” He turns to the sink, feeling weirdly aware of the fact that Henry is still standing there. “It’s too bad,” Alex says before Henry can decide to sit down next to Hunter again. “Kind of a big loss for HR.”

Henry’s brows knit back together. “Is it?”

Alex shrugs. “To my knowledge, no one else personally escorts new employees to their cubicles on the first day of work. Like you did with Hunter here, for example.” He levels Henry with a grin. “I was there when you showed him around, in case you don’t remember.”

Henry’s expression is inscrutable. “I do,” he says.

Alex makes a point to not look away. “Guess that wasn’t a thing back when I started.”

“Ah,” says Henry. He’s flushing for some reason now. “No, I suppose not.”

Alex considers him. He can’t decide if Henry’s playing dumb, or if he really doesn’t remember that he’d been the one to help hire Alex. Then he decides he doesn’t care, because both options make him feel like something on the bottom of Hunter’s shoe, which he hates.

“Think I’m gonna head back.” Alex looks expectantly at Hunter, who only lifts his mug like he’s still planning on being a while. Fucking fine.

He can still see the two of them through the glass pane in the door when Nora walks by with a stack of folders.

“You okay?” she asks, in a tone that says she’s guessed the answer.

“Fucking no,” says Alex anyway. “What are they even doing? Talking?”

Nora sneaks a peek through the window. “Appears so,” she deadpans. “Talking in the break room. Unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Alex scowls, then realizes he’s left without his coffee, which makes him scowl even harder.

Nora sighs, then slips her free arm through his. “Let’s walk.”

“Do you think Hunter likes him?” asks Alex. Because—not that he’s spent a lot of time on this—Alex thinks that Hunter does, and nothing is worse than the thought of Henry liking him back because he doesn’t know any better.

Maybe Alex should say something.

Nora is looking sideways at him. Alex isn’t sure why. “I think what Hunter likes is people with a pedigree,” she says. “Anyway, what’s not to like? Henry’s a snack.”

“What?” says Alex. Objectively, Henry looks a bit like an Adonis, but, “That is so beside the point. And just because Hunter’s like Harvard royalty or whatever doesn’t give him the right to come in here and trick people into liking him when—”

“When you were here first?” Nora supplies.

“What?” Now Nora is really missing the point. “This has nothing to do with me, or with Henry. I just meant, like, you know. In general.”

“Right,” says Nora. “I must have misunderstood.”

.

Alex keeps going back to the break room, of course. The coffee’s still better, and he can keep bothering Nora even though she’s transferring soon too (to marketing two floors down, the traitor). None of those things have changed just because Henry is no longer there every day.

The one thing that does change, Alex notices with a dark kind of satisfaction, is that Hunter does not go back to the break room. In fact, he starts bringing his own coffee each morning (Starbucks, which seems very on-brand). If anything, Alex only has more reason now to escape to HR and not spend any more time around Hunter than necessary.

About a week after Henry’s transfer, Alex realizes he’s used the last of the break room’s cinnamon. Again. Goddamn it, he thinks. He’s just spent the morning in back-to-back meetings, he’s getting his coffee hours later than usual, and now this?

He rifles through the cupboards for a second and then a third time just in case there's a rogue bottle somewhere. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“What’s the occasion?” comes a voice from the door, and Alex turns to find Henry leaning against it. His arms are crossed, and he’s doing that chin-tilty thing that apparently means Alex has zero control over what comes out of his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Alex blurts.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “I could’ve been asking you the same thing for the past six months or so, but I haven’t.” He uncrosses his arms and comes over. “Would you believe me if I said I came here for the coffee?”

“No,” says Alex, with absolute certainty. “You don’t drink coffee.”

Henry blinks. “I could,” he argues after a moment, then straightens a little. “In fact, maybe I planned to start today.”

“Uh huh.” Alex gestures for him to have at the machine. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“Can’t be that difficult,” says Henry. He gives the machine a dubious look, and Alex doesn’t mean to but he starts to laugh.

“Here, I got it. Was about to make some for myself anyway.”

“Ah.” Henry looks abashed suddenly. Even the tips of his ears have turned pink. “Suppose you’ll be wanting this, then.” He pulls a ground cinnamon bottle from his pants pocket.

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. He could actually kiss Henry right now. “How did you—?”

“Well, you were running low last I was here,” says Henry, like that’s a totally normal thing to have noticed when Alex has never seen him touch the spice rack once. “Figured you'd be out by now, so I nicked some from the break room upstairs. No one’s been using it there anyway.”

The shock on Alex’s face makes him backtrack. “Sorry,” he says, flushing an even deeper pink now. “I—didn’t know you’d be here. You’re usually, um. Earlier. I can return it, if you’d like.” He says all this in a rush.

“No, it’s great,” Alex says emphatically. “Don’t you dare take it back.” He’s still staring a little, but that can’t be helped. Henry knows how he likes his coffee. And Henry had planned to restock the cinnamon without Alex ever knowing.

Henry clears his throat, looking around them. “You didn’t bring Hunter with you today,” he notes.

“No,” says Alex immediately. “God, no. And I don’t bring him anywhere, he just. Shows up. Honestly, I can’t stand the guy.” Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Henry says, looking immensely relieved. “Now that I don’t work in HR anymore, can I just say how little I enjoy his company?”

This is way better news than when Henry had first reached out to Alex with his offer letter and starting salary. He grins. “You can. In fact, please say more.”

Henry looks rueful. “I really shouldn’t.”

“It’s just that—” Alex sobers a little. “He was the only person you seemed willing to talk to.”

“It was easier, for me.” Henry takes a breath. “I feel less shy around people whose opinion of me doesn’t matter as much.” He pauses, something meaningful in the way he looks sidelong at Alex now. “I do want to be better about it.”

Alex nods, considering this. He tries hard not to smile. Probably not hard enough. “I can work with that.”

.

“You do realize neither of you work in this department,” says Nora, pulling food from the fridge.

Henry sips the tea Alex has just made him. Coffee, turns out, had been a lost cause. They’re both leaning against the counter, elbows not-quite-touching but getting closer to it every day, by Alex’s estimation.

“Do any of us, at this point?” Henry muses.

Nora shrugs. “Fair.”

“Just don’t tell You Know Who,” says Alex.

“Who’s You Know Who?” Hunter asks from the doorway. He has a confused smile on his face as he looks from Henry to Alex back to Henry again. Normally the sight of Hunter fills Alex with the most profound irritation, but now he’s feeling kind of pleased.

That’s right, he thinks smugly at Hunter: Henry is mine.

Huh. Suddenly things make a lot more sense now.

“Hey, did you get my email about the museum opening this Friday?” Hunter asks Henry, and Alex bristles instantly. Did Hunter not get the look Alex just gave him?

“Ah,” says Henry awkwardly, and it would be endearing if he didn’t also look so deeply uncomfortable. His awkwardness now is so different from the bashful kind of awkward he used to be around Alex; honestly, Alex can’t believe he’d never been able to tell between the two until now. “Actually, I’m—”

“Going,” says Alex, “already. With me.”

Henry looks at him in happy surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Alex says firmly. And then, because he likes how dumbstruck Hunter looks right now, and because Henry doesn’t pull away when Alex puts an arm around his shoulders and he really, really likes that too, he does the only thing left that makes sense to him, which is to lean in and kiss Henry. He kind of feels like he might die when Henry kisses him back.

Fuuuuuuck.

Henry’s eyes are still closed when Alex leans back. He’s dimly aware that Nora has shooed Hunter out and closed the door behind them. He’s more acutely aware of how Henry licks his lips, then opens his eyes with an oddly vulnerable expression and says, “Alex, please tell me you didn’t just kiss me for Hunter’s benefit.”

“What? No. I mean—not exactly.” Fuck. Why can’t he use only the words that he needs? “The answer’s still no, but I might’ve used it as an excuse if I’d kissed you like two weeks ago. But that’s not why I kissed you just now, and it’s not why I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Oh, you think you’re going to kiss me again, do you,” Henry says with a hint of a smile, lifting his chin in a kind of challenge that Alex does not intend to back away from.

“One-hundred-percent,” he says, then pauses. “Unless you plan on reporting me to HR.”

“Honestly,” says Henry, “I might have to report you if you don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Alex says, very seriously, and he pulls Henry back in.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, new relationship, discussions of sexually explicit music.

A/N: this is my THIS. IS. MUSIC!!! moment. CupcakKe is my girl and if you can't appreciate a good hoe anthem then we can't be friends. Anyway, writing's been super tough lately and it feels like it's only getting more difficult with each passing day so I just wanted to attempt something fun. Hope you enjoy!

"Whatchu listening to?"

"Oh, just..." you plucked your earbuds out, placing them next to your phone on the kitchen island, your eyes avoiding his. "The Cure, Bowie. same old stuff."

"Right, yeah..."

He didn't believe you. Not this time and not any of the other times before that either.

This was the latest instance of him finding you like this -- hips swaying rhythmically with a kind of confidence that felt different from usual, the kind you fell into when you think no one's looking, your lips mouthing the words to a song he was yet to figure out.

The front door had been left unlocked for him and quietly, he'd let himself in, inching closer while you danced. Your back was to him, a bowl full of brownie mix in one arm that made the room smell sweet with few drops of vanilla, wooden spoon in the other as you stirred it into the rest of the contents -- snacks for your movie date tonight he gathered.

Eddie had hoped to catch a few of the words you were uttering under your breath, even holding his own in an effort to be more quiet as he loomed nearer but it's the faint scent of cigarettes and Irish Spring still clinging to him that gave him away. You'd managed to sense him just in time once you smelled it, a jolt scraping up the length of your spine alerting you.

Your lips pressed together instantly, lengthening into a quick, tight smile as you turned to him and hastily hit pause on your phone. It took some effort to stop his own lips from drooping into a frown when he saw you do it, screen going dark as you press down once on the power button next.

Ouch.

It bothered Eddie that you'd try so hard to hide something like this from him when all he wanted to know was what had made you light up like that, all lively and clearly enjoying yourself. So why all the secrecy? Why shut him out?

The questions he wants to ask are packed tight in the back of his throat but he keeps them from erupting out of his mouth for the time being, accepting the kiss you place on his lips as you greet him properly. His heart thaws at the sincere "missed you", you whisper to him when you pull away, your smile now the kind that reaches your eyes as you hand him the bowl and spoon right after. "Could you mix this up for me? I'll be right back", you explain as you head off in the direction of the bathroom with a little wave.

Oh. This was his chance.

"Yes Chef!", he calls out to you with a convincing smile, placing the items down on the counter, spoon speared into the mix and forgotten as he picks up your phone instead once you're out of sight.

Sure, he does feel a little guilty going through it but you'd been so mysterious about the whole thing, always finding a way to sidestep the question like an arrow aimed in your direction whenever he asked you what you'd been listening to. He just had to know once and for all what was on this damn thing so he could put all his wondering to rest and enjoy the rest of the night with you.

Opening up Spotify, he taps on your last viewed playlist. 'Playlist 1'. Inconspicuous. Too inconspicuous, he thought while narrowing his eyes. Scrolling through, he sees that most of the songs are by one artist, someone he's never heard of before so he decides to hit shuffle, unsure of which track to pick and listen to first.

A beat commences, something quick and jumpy and what sounds like wet slurping? okay, he hadn't expected that. Already off to an interesting start.

His eyebrows rise up slowly past his shaggy bangs when the moaning begins, high pitched and accompanied by more sounds that fall short of what he'd call family friendly.

"Oh honey, what have you been listening to?", he mumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk when the vocals begin.

No quick head in my bed I can't have that I want that long neck not talking giraffe neck Aint no laying down man we bout' to have late fun I'm about to make your balls stick up like space buns

"Holy-"

Want your dick soaked? place it down my throat Tongue tickle your dick but not telling a joke Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking periscope In the sheets I am a bully Give more head than a hoodie Every time you make me cum it looks like vanilla pudding-

"Eddie?"

The sound of his name makes him turn, finding you back in the kitchen with your eyes darting back and forth between your phone in his hand and the slack jawed look on his face.

Pulling an earbud out of his left ear, the song continues to play in his right.

"Baby, why-"

I got three holes for it like a pretzel Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous(tight)

"Why've you been hiding-"

I save dick by giving it CPR Put my mouth on it like CPR Let's make porn and watch it on VCR

The question fizzles out on his tongue like a dying fuse, unable to hold back the snickering laugh that rolls up out of his chest, doing his best to stifle it and failing even when he presses a palm to the front of his lips.

"Oh god", you realize what he's listening to, stomach somersaulting as you try to snatch your phone back but he's too quick for you. "Nooooo way, sweetheart" he holds it up high out of your reach, a grin so bright it's bordering on blinding on his face.

You struggle like that for a minute, chasing him around the island with one hand desperately yanking at dark leather to pull him closer as he puts some distance between you, the other trying to reach for or even swat your phone out of his hands, too rattled to care about something like a cracked screen right now.

But despite your best efforts, all those years of hauling ass out of beer soaked back yards with pockets full of illicit party favors at the first sound of sirens has made Eddie impossible to pin down, slipping out of your grasp with expert ease.

"I fuck doggy style so much I need to go to the vet? Fuck me, she's a modern day Hemingway!", he barks out another laugh, this time no longer holding back and the sound of it triggers a giggle to work it's way out your own throat. He always did have an infectious laugh.

You give up trying to retrieve your phone then, pressing your face into the front of his shirt as you build up into a laugh too, shoulders shaking, arms lowering.

"So, pretty demure taste in music you've got here", he winds an arm around your waist, pulling you in for an embrace.

You look up to offer him a smile, a little sheepish considering how ungracefully you'd evaded the topic this long, only to be found out like a teen caught with a copy of Penthouse under his pillow.

"Where'd you learn that word, Munson?", you try to deflect long enough for your cheeks to cool down.

"Where'd you learn about the queen of obscene?", he shoots back breezily, tapping his thumb on your phone screen.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second. It's not often that Eddie bests you like this but there's something sort of enjoyable about the way he makes you want to squirm a little under his gaze, knowing he's got the upper hand.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. She can come off a bit...strong, I guess".

His lips pinch together, forcing away a crooked smile. "Really? because-", he looks back to the screen to read off the lyrics. " 'your dick getting more blows than a birthday cake's pretty subtle in my opinion. A real thinker".

You laugh again, delivering a weak punch to his left shoulder. Things were still new with Eddie. He hadn't yet seen this side of you and those whispering new relationship jitters had gotten the best of you, worried he'd think of you differently like shitty ex's past unless you found a way to ease him into your other interests.

But now that he's ripped the band aid off for you, you realize how stupid you'd been -- really damn stupid because this was Eddie Munson. He'd never judge you, least of all when it came to your taste in music of all things and that reminder was everything you needed to shake off those unfounded nerves for good.

So, you happily forget the movie that night, both of you sat atop your island with your legs crossed like something out of Sixteen Candles, eating warm brownies right out of the pan placed between you.

The rest of the night's spent playing CupcakKe's discography for Eddie, both of your cheeks sore from how hard you've been laughing and smiling every time he pretends to be scandalized by a verse one moment and then shamelessly belts out the next once he'd got the lyrics memorized, exaggerated fake moans and all.

You wouldn't be hiding anything from Eddie again, not now when you've found someone with whom you can be yourself around, always.

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 4

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Ready for a riding lesson? 😏

Song Inspo: “Sunshine on My Shoulders” by John Denver

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, and a cliffhanger...

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 4: A Past & Future Thing

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck. 

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look. He was sitting all calm and natural on his own horse, a chestnut brown beauty of a stud. Apparently, his name was Clyde. You were riding his brother Dale, who was supposed to be the older, gentler of the two.

Beau was right next to you, since he was the one holding the reins. You two were still just a little way off from the stable as he guided your horse with his, letting you just get a feel for the ride.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that animals can sense our vibes,” he said, giving you a look that tipped his Stetson forward. “So if you just take a few deep breaths, I promise you, it’ll get easier.”

You met Beau’s gaze. You didn’t know if it was the smooth, steady tone of his voice or the sincerity in his eyes, but you did as he advised. You made the effort of exhaling slowly, and you began to relax.

“Okay,” he nodded with a smile. Then he gestured ahead. “Now, look forward for me. Try not to look at his hooves, though I know they’re pretty.”

He teased a smile out of you as you did what he said, casting your gaze up ahead to the horizon. It was a beautiful day. A wide expanse of terrain laid out ahead of you, with green grass mottled with some brown, and a weather-beaten trail clearly carved by horses and lessons given.  

“And like I told you,” he added, “Try not to squeeze so hard with your legs, or he’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.” 

You blushed, and relaxed your thighs enough so you were just supporting yourself on the horse, not giving yourself a leg cramp. 

“Okay, I think you’re ready for me to let go. Wanna keep going on your own?” Beau suggested. 

You were wary, but you tentatively nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asked. Again, his eyes met yours. “I’ll keep guiding you the whole way if you want. Either way, I’ve gotcha.”

You swallowed down a bit of nerves. “Yeah?”

He smiled, and you noticed how it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Trust me,” he said. “You’re not gonna fall on my watch.”

Warmth coiled its way around your heart. You let out another deep breath, and you agreed to have him hand over the reins to you. You were nervous at first, but Beau reminded you of how to guide Dale with subtle movements.

The old horse plodded forward without incident. When you gave Beau a triumphant look, that answering grin of his warmed you down to your toes. The two of you rode together more as companions while making your way across the grassy plain.

“So of all the things, why’d you wanna learn to ride a horse?” Beau asked.

“Because it terrified me,” you replied honestly. “I love animals, don’t get me wrong. Riding one though? They’re unpredictable…but I’m also tired of being afraid of what I can’t control.”

Beau nodded. He could certainly understand that.

Together, you traveled up a roaming hill. Once you reached the peak, you marveled at the view. The afternoon sun was bright and golden above the mountains and the distant line of trees.

Meanwhile, Beau glanced at you. You’d gotten more confident and comfortable in what you were doing, and it was endearing to see. You were cute, he could admit. Beautiful, as a matter of fact. You had the sun shining in your eyes, and on your hair getting tousled by the chilly breeze.

You also seemed to have a kind heart. He’d seen it in just how hard your friend’s death had hit you. He saw it again when he helped you move into your apartment. He saw the joy you took in cooking dinner for all of them after a long-ass day, even though you could’ve just ordered a pizza.

It was the little things, he thought, and the more he saw of you, the more he liked.

That thought also made his heart twinge, and not in a good way. Carla reared up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was more with annoyance or guilt at this point, but she’d moved on a hell of a long time before he had anyway. (Beau could admit that point, just to himself.)

It just made him wonder what he was doing here with you. Was it just because he knew you were having a hard time, and he wanted to cheer you up? Was it because you were Denise’s family? Or was it because…he just wanted to see more of you?

“You don’t get this view in the city, huh?” Beau asked. 

“You do not,” you replied. Your smile grew, making his do the same without him realizing.

Inside though, he wanted to shake his head at himself. You were a bit younger than him. Maybe not by all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but he was in his mid-forties, divorced with a sixteen-year-old daughter, and a somewhat unpredictable, occasionally dangerous job. At this point, he wouldn’t exactly consider himself a catch.

You were also dealing with a complicated past of your own. You’d been through a lot, especially in the past couple of weeks.

And yet, Cassie’s probing questions circled through his mind, invading his thoughts every time he found himself looking your way. 

Your face slowly dimmed. “Next week is Mary’s funeral. I’m going back home for a few days.”

Beau processed that with a nod, but he could guess why you looked worried. 

“And your ex?” he asked.

“He’s going to be there for sure. We were all close.” A deep breath rushed out of you. You peeled your eyes away from the view and looked over at him. “God help me, I don’t want to go home…does that make me a bad person?”

“Nah, I get it,” he said. He regarded you with more weight in his gaze. “But this guy. Is he the aggressive type?”

“No,” you assured. Then more wryly, “He’s only dangerous to my mental health.”

You contemplated that reality for a moment, and you shook your head.

“You know how I found out about what he was doing?” you asked. “He sent me a Happy Birthday text…a spicy one, you could say. But it wasn’t my birthday.” 

“Damn,” Beau said, grimacing in sympathy. 

You tried not to, but you began tearing up. Beau wanted to brush them from your cheek as he drew closer on his horse. Instead, he settled a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said, quiet and placating. “I’m thinking you’ve cried enough over this.”

“I just…I still feel so damn stupid,” you muttered, wiping under your eyes.  

“What, are you a Professor of Cheatin’ Bastards too?” Beau quipped. You smiled reluctantly.

“That’s not funny,” you complained. 

He flashed you a grin and allowed himself to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear when a breeze of wind blew it into your face.

“Come on. You know I’m funny,” he teased, but then, he became more serious. “It’s not your fault. Trust me, I know something about being the problem, and it’s not on you.”

Both your interest and concern were piqued.

“You and Carla?” you asked. “You’re telling me it was all on you?”

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau said. His eyes lowered, along with his hand from your arm. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

Let’s just say, you contemplated. That seemed to be his favorite catchphrase.

You didn’t know if you altogether believed that. He was going to grief counseling for a reason. You wanted to ask why, more than anything, but you also didn’t want to press him on something if he didn’t want to talk about it. If he felt comfortable enough with you, someday, maybe he’d open up to you. 

So after a few minutes of savoring the view, and the moment, you returned to town together.

A few days later, Beau still had a bad feeling about Avery.

His company was being investigated by the SEC and was threatening to go under. Apparently, Avery had made “friends” with Luke on the trip, who according to Avery, let it slip that he and Paige had $15 million in cryptocurrency.

The passcode to that $15 million account was missing. Beau had more than half a mind to think Avery had made a play for it during that camping trip. Carla hadn’t known her new husband’s company was being investigated. She’d put her foot down with Avery about the lying, at least.

As a result, Beau’s only consolation in all this was that she and Emily were back in their house, while Avery was living out of a hotel in town. Beau might not be able to pin him for the stolen crypto right now, but he knew where to look for Avery when the evidence came.

The man was #1 on Beau’s punch list, and it was only getting longer.

Instead of letting those thoughts fester, he decided to actually take his lunch break, and go check in on his daughter. Denise and Cassie told him she was doing well as their summer intern.

Emily seemed to be enjoying her time helping the private investigators. She showed him her small workstation beside Denise’s desk, where she was organizing old and new files, inputting the hard copies into digital ones on Cassie’s spare laptop. Emily was also helping out with some database research on existing cases.

Satisfied that she was helping out, but wasn’t doing anything too close to actual police work, Beau took the opportunity to lean over to Denise and discreetly ask about you.

Namely, how you were doing, and if you’d called her from Chicago. He managed to hold himself from asking when you were coming back to Montana, at least.

Denise still gave him a certain smile.

“Yeah, she called yesterday. She’s coming back today actually,” she replied. “I’m planning to pick her up in a few hours.”

Beau’s lips twitched at a smile, and he nodded. “Good. That’s uh…that’s good. Tell her I said ‘welcome home.’”

Denise and Cassie shared a look, one that drew even Emily’s attention. She shot her dad a glance and noted the dumb smile on his face. One that he tucked away when he met Emily’s gaze.

“Anyway, looks like you’re doing all right here. You’re coming to stay with me tomorrow, right?” he asked her.

“Yeah, sure,” Emily agreed.

“Okay, kiddo. See ya then,” Beau said. He gave her a hug and kiss to the side of the head. Though she gave him a hug back, she watched with a bit of suspicion after he said goodbye to Cassie and Denise, strolling out the door like he was making some kind of escape.

The adults again shared a look of mutual understanding. Then Cassie smiled and grabbed her work bag.

“All right. I’ll be back in a bit. Need to check on a few leads,” she said.

After Emily and Denise waved her off, the latter made some tea and returned with a mug each for her and Emily. Denise reclaimed the seat behind her desk, but she turned towards the girl beside her.

“So, hun, how’re you doing?” Denise asked. “I mean, I know you’ve gone through a lot these past couple weeks, and we’re happy to give you a little distraction here. But are you okay?”

Emily bit her lip and turned her rolling chair towards Denise. She had to take some time with her answer. Ever since coming back from that camp, she didn’t know if she’d really answered that question honestly—not for her mom, or her dad.

“Well, on one hand, Mom kicked Avery out. Or, I guess he kicked himself out,” she said. “On the other hand, my mom and dad are getting along better than they have since before the divorce, so…there’s that.”

Emily rested her elbow on the desk in front of her, head in hand. Denise gave her a sympathetic half-smile.

“I don’t hate Avery,” Emily admitted. “I actually like him a lot. He made Mom happy again. But would it be nice if she and my dad…if we could be a family again? I mean, yeah.”

Denise was patient as she listened. She tried to keep her true thoughts on the matter inside as you came to mind, though she pushed all that into the background in order to give Emily her undivided attention. 

“At the same time, I don’t know,” Emily shrugged. “My dad’s a great person, but he’s not good at letting people in. I don’t think Mom could go through that again.”

“Go through what?” Denise asked. 

“The way my dad shut us out, after what happened to his partner,” Emily explained. Her face went from slightly sad, to wry. “Okay, yeah, my mom’s not the most patient person. But Dad still doesn’t talk about it, not even to Mom. Or to me.”

Denise had heard some small thing about Beau’s former partner from you, and even Jenny, but she didn’t know the specifics there. All she knew was it laid at the heart of Beau and Carla’s divorce.

“Well, he’s your dad,” Denise said with a sigh. “He wants to protect you, even if that means protecting you from himself.”

“Sure, okay, but he doesn’t have to though. Not all the time,” Emily said.

She could be a strong, even-keeled kid, mature for her age, but Denise saw the rare vulnerability in the girl’s eyes.

“Sometimes I wish he’d just talk to me,” Emily said. Her eyes fell away.

Denise’s heart broke for the girl. Not knowing what else to say, she scooched her chair forward and pulled Emily into a warm hug.

By the time Denise picked you up from the airport and dropped you off at your apartment, you were beyond exhaustion. Coming home from a week in your hometown in Chicago left you feeling drained. Physically, emotionally, down to your toes.

At least you were home.

It was a surprising feeling—the feeling that this was your home now. Already it felt real.

Seeing your ex will do that to you.

“So how was it?” Denise asked. She’d graciously made you dinner as well, so you didn’t have to cook or worry about eating out. You two sat on the couch in your living room while some romcom played in the background.

“Everything I thought it would be,” you replied, around a mouthful of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You let out a heavy sigh.

It had been good to see your parents, you explained, and you’d finally been able to give your condolences to Mary’s parents in person—at the funeral.

That’s where Michael tried to corner you to hash out what would’ve been yet another argument, at the burial of all things. You had to restrain yourself from making a scene in front of Mary’s entire grieving family, as well as yours.

Denise shook her head. “That guy ain’t got an iota of shame.”

You snorted. “You’re telling me?!”

You shook your head and speared at your green beans with your fork. You couldn’t even mourn your friend in peace, for God’s sake.

“Did your parents try to get you to stay longer?” she asked.

Again, you scoffed. “Oh, yeah. They actually tried to use Mary’s death to get me to think Helena was more dangerous than Chicago.”

While you’d understood their point to an extent, your home city still maintained one of the worst crime rates in the U.S.

“Still think you made the right decision?” Denise asked. “Whatever’s in your heart about it, just know that I’m so happy to have you here.”

She took your free hand and squeezed. You managed to smile, if just a little.

“Yeah. I think so,” you replied.

Chicago would always have a place in your heart, but for better or worse, this was your new start. And you were taking it.

You woke up the next morning to a shiny new text message. Still bleary-eyed, you unlocked your phone, and you just had to smile.

It was from Beau Arlen, you were pleasantly surprised to find.

Hey there. Heard you were back in town. (Welcome home, by the way.) Just wanted to let you know that me, Cassie, and Jenny are hitting a bar tonight after shift. You’re welcome to join in. Say around 8?

Without even really thinking about it, you typed out your reply:

Sure! I’ll be there. (And thanks very much. It’s nice to know the county sheriff rolls out the welcome mat for all of Helena’s returning citizens.)

You got up and started your day. You were midway through brushing your teeth when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Your lips curved into a smirk when you read Beau’s reply.

Sounds good. (And I’m happy to oblige. 😉)

You shouldn’t have been blushing at such a simple message, but it set off the butterflies regardless. You huffed and set down your toothbrush.

Damn it.

You were in trouble.

With such a nice start to your morning, you were smiling all the way into town. The place you were headed to was just down the street of Dewell & Hoyt, so you knew you had to stop in just to say hello. There you found Denise and Emily.

“Did you have a good trip?” Emily asked, after you let her go from a hug. You gave your aunt one next.

“It was…good,” you replied, with a sigh. “Mary’s at rest now.”

Your eyes stung at the thought, but you tried to blink past it, taking in a breath to steady yourself. While Denise rubbed your back, Emily squeezed your arm in comfort, leading you to give her a smile. She was a sweet girl.

“What brings you over?” Denise asked.

You shook your head to come back to yourself. You showed them the large bag you carried on your shoulder. It was full of your painting supplies.

“Well, I’m actually headed to an art studio just down the street. I looked up the lessons they were offering this week, and apparently today it’s painting on glass. Like a bowl, or a mug, or a little stained glass window. They’ve got different options.”

Emily looked intrigued. “Ooh, that sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” you said, raising a brow. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want. Unless my aunt can’t spare you, or you’d rather not. It’s fine.”

There was no pressure to your offer, but you remembered Emily being somewhat interested in your painting endeavors while on the camping trip. With everything the girl had been going through, you thought maybe she’d like something creative and fun to try to get her mind off things. You knew it was doing the same for you.

“No, that would be fun, I guess,” said Emily. She looked to Denise in askance, who waved a dismissive hand. 

“It’s okay, hun. Take the afternoon off,” she said. “I’ve got things here.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“Okay. Let me just grab my stuff.”

You and Emily ventured together right down the street to the art studio. You paid for the $40 entrance fee each for you and Emily into the class.

You could see that she felt uncomfortable with that when you two took your seats near the back of the studio. It was pretty full, and neither of you wanted to be right at the front, preferring to hang out more chill-like in the back.

There at each long table was an easel each, after you chose what kind of glass you wanted to paint on. Emily chose a funky looking bowl, while you chose a rectangular piece of wood-framed glass.

“I’ll pay you back,” Emily said, once you two were comfortable in your respective seats. You waved her off.

“It’s okay, honey. I invited you,” you said. Then you gave her a conspiring look. “Here’s my rule of thumb, especially on dates, for example. The person who invites you should shell out.”

Emily smiled. “That makes sense to me.”

You saw the gears in her mind turning, and it reminded you of her little “summer project.” She’d told you about it a couple of times on that camping trip.

“How’s your podcast going?” you asked. The girl sighed; she chose a brush and started painting blue stripes across her glass bowl.

“Slow,” she admitted. “I’m lacking interesting subjects.”

You hummed at that. “Maybe you need a guest to help kick things off.”

Emily smiled at that. She turned to you with a gleam of excitement.

“Would you do it?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Me? I think I’d be too boring. Isn’t your podcast about relationships?”

“Well, yeah, but that was a good bit you just had,” she said. “Who pays on a date?”

You thought about it with another hum of contemplation. Suddenly you could start to see the potential in her idea. You still didn’t want to be a subject of inquiry, but you didn’t want to dim her spark either.

“Well, it would be fun if you got a man’s perspective too,” you said.

Emily brightened. Finally, someone who cared about her side project. 

“What about Dad?” she said. “He’s a guy.”

You chuckled. “Well, yes.” 

Though you wondered about the last time he’d been on a date since his divorce, or if he even was dating right now. 

The more you thought about it, the more interesting it might be to see Beau answer some of those kinds of questions. It wasn’t at all because you were curious about the man yourself…

“Maybe you’re onto something there,” you said, a smile growing on your face.

“I’ll ask him,” Emily vowed. “Maybe he’ll actually open up for once.”

She sort of muttered that last bit. It caught your attention with a wry brow raise.

“What? Your dad is as chatty as they come,” you said. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, about dumb stuff,” she said. “Try to get anything serious out of him. He’s like an old clam.”

A snort of laughter escaped you. “Old clam. That’s nice.”

Though you saw that there was something deeper there for Emily. You’d seen these kinds of moments in some of your students before. Sometimes, they felt comfortable enough with you to share what they were going through at home. In Emily’s case, it seemed like she was hurting about something, maybe for a while now.

You continued painting on your glass project, but you offered her a look of understanding.

“Remember how I told you that my dad used to be a firefighter?” you said. Emily nodded.

“Well, your dad sounds a bit like mine. He’d rather consult a bottle of Jack Daniels than anyone else, really,” you confessed. “He saw a lot of things on the job that were hard. Too hard to explain. Possibly too hard to even work through. It made him…distant, when I was a kid. I don’t think we really connected until I got older.”

And even now, your relationship with him was rocky at best, after he’d suggested you try to work it out with Michael. You and your father hadn’t truly spoken ever since.

You still gave Emily a look of encouragement.

“But, it seems like you and your dad have a better relationship than I did with mine at your age,” you said.

That fell between you both while Emily ruminated in it. She started adding gold strokes to her bowl alongside the blue in swirling patterns, and it was a really nice touch, you told her. She thanked you with a little smile.

“Did my dad tell you that he lost his partner on the job?” she asked.

You sighed. “Yes, he told me some. We didn’t go too deep into it.”

“Well, for a whole year, it was like we barely existed,” she said. “Mom tried to help him. I tried…but I guess he was a lot like your dad.”

Your lips pressed together. You were sad to hear that, but it did remind you of what Beau told you that day, when he took you horseback riding.

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau had said. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

You now nodded in understanding as you hummed. Let’s just say.

“He seems better now,” you remarked. 

“Yeah. He cleaned up when Mom left him,” Emily said. “I guess that’s what it took to snap him out of it.”

You shook your head, and you kept painting.  

You could understand Carla, all too well. It just hurt you, now that you knew what a good man Beau was. Your sympathetic heart said he didn’t deserve to get left behind when he needed his family the most.

However, the more logical part of you knew that sometimes, love just wasn’t enough to keep you tied to someone who didn’t seem to want to help themselves. When it felt like they were giving you no choice.

“Anyway, you’ll be my other guest, right?” Emily asked with a smile. “For the podcast.”

You barely resisted the urge to groan. As much as you preferred not to put yourself out there, you didn’t want to discourage the girl in her project.

“Well…okay. If you get your dad on, I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” you said, your lips forming a grin. You two continued to paint while chatting about Emily’s favorite subjects in school. English, sadly, was not one of them, but you weren’t offended by it. Shakespeare wasn’t for everyone.

“I’m actually meeting your dad for drinks tonight. If you want, I’ll ask him about being on the podcast, try to soften him up for you,” you offered. “Though I’m sure he’ll do it if you asked.”

Emily considered you with a bit more scrutiny. “Are you…seeing my dad?”

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. Just the suggestion had your cheeks warming. “Cassie and Jenny will be there too. It’s nothing like that.”

“Sure,” Emily said. She gave an awkward laugh. 

“Really, Em. He and I are just friends,” you promised. 

Even if that thought stung a little.

Despite what you told Emily, you did put a fair amount of effort into your appearance to meet your new friends that night for drinks.

You even put on your favorite red lipstick with some dark wash jeans, a black pair of ankle boots, and a black lace top to match, complete with off-the-shoulder sleeves. 

Cassie whistled lowly when she saw you walk into the bar from her seat in one of the booths. She smiled and nudged Beau, whose face slackened when he saw you. 

God help him, you were sexy as hell in black. 

Black lace, he corrected himself. Your hair was a bit wild and teased out. The flash of red was a pleasant surprise, momentarily drawing his eyes to your lips. He felt the back of his neck heat up, but he tried to hide it all behind a friendly smile. He found himself sliding out of the booth to hug you in greeting. 

Goddamn, she smells good too, he thought. Was that your perfume, or your shampoo? Whatever it was, he liked it more than was good for him.

He managed to let you go though, and he grinned at your somewhat shy smile. You moved on to greet Cassie next, then Jenny, before you slid into the booth next to her and across from Beau and Cassie. 

“How was Chicago?” Jenny asked. It brought the mood down some. You gave a true smile, however tinged with melancholy. It was still very difficult to talk about Mary, but since everyone at the table knew the full story, it was easier to be honest.

“Chicago was needed. It was good, in a way. I got to lay her to rest,” you replied. “But I’m glad to be back.”

“Glad to have you back,” Cassie said. She passed you a tequila shot. 

“Ooh, nice.” You weren’t usually one for hard liquor, but tonight, you thought you could let yourself go a little. You downed the shot in one. 

“Eyy, good job,” Beau said, raising his whiskey with a wink. You laughed in slight embarrassment and wiped the corner of your mouth.

While Cassie called over the closest server to get them started with some appetizers for the table, you turned to Beau.

“You know, I did a painting class with Emily today,” you told him. “She did great! Has a nice little bowl to put her jewelry in.”

He raised his brows, smiling. “Is that so? What do you know. My little girl’s a budding artist. Is she gonna go all broody and steal even more of my vinyl?”

You shook your head in amusement.

“She’s a teenager. They don’t need any excuses to be broody,” Jenny remarked.

“Fair enough,” Beau chuckled.  

“Actually, she asked me to be on her podcast,” you said. “She wanted to see if you’d join in for a segment.”

The man looked uncertain at that. You understood his reservations, because you had the same ones. Cassie and Jenny looked amused by the idea of him getting recorded and put on social media by his sixteen-year-old.

“Look, I know, but she just wants to ask us a few questions,” you said. “Like who should pay on a date, that sort of thing.”

Beau rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands. The humor in his green eyes shone under the soft gold lamplight.

“Well, that’s easy. I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel right letting a woman pay for me.”

You tilted your head in interest. A smile started to play on your lips as you leaned forward on your folded arms.

“Huh. Well, I think whoever asks the person out should pay,” you posed. “That doesn’t necessarily mean the man pays every time.”

Beau’s lips twitched, but there was a subtle shake of his head.

“I don’t know. That just doesn’t sit right with me for some reason,” he said. 

You turned to Jenny and Cassie for some support, and they both gave Beau an unimpressed look.

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t let me pay for my own drinks?” you asked. “I have a job. I make money, same as you.”

At that, Beau chuckled. “Hey now, I didn’t say you couldn’t pay for your own. But you’re certainly not paying for mine.”

“So in your world, I can’t ever treat my man if I want to?” you challenged.

“What, you mean to tell me you don’t like getting spoiled?” Beau countered.

When you smiled, it had an amused, almost flirtatious edge that began to make him hot under the collar. 

“Occasionally, sure I do,” you replied. “But then again, who doesn’t like getting spoiled now and again?”

“Doesn’t have to be about who pays either,” Cassie interjected. 

“It sure doesn’t,” Jenny agreed. The women laughed and clinked their drinks together, leaving Beau with a warming face under his beard. He once again chuckled, conceding defeat. 

Conversation spiraled from there, in which Jenny mentioned something about her and Beau’s latest finished case about Brett, a skydiving, former firefighter’s murder.

It was a coverup for a larger scheme within his old firehouse—where firefighters had been looting homes after they’d been cleared out of a fire. Brett’s friend had been killed on one of those jobs, and not by accident either.

“That’s awful,” you said with a frown, once she finished explaining.

Against your will, it made you think of your ex-fiancé, Michael. He was still an active firefighter. While he had been a shitty boyfriend, at the very least you’d never had reason to question his integrity as a first responder.

“Yeah, it was hard on the father too. He’s the unit chief, and the whole operation was happening on his watch,” Beau said. “One of his own firefighters killed his son. It’s damn near unthinkable.”

Beau’s mood had shifted the moment Jenny brought up this case, you noticed. He was staring mostly into his half-empty whiskey glass, as if contemplating a refill.

“We said we wouldn’t talk shop tonight,” Cassie said. She seemed to notice his downshift as well. She got up out of her seat in the booth. “Let me get the next round. Another tequila?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. You’d probably pace yourself this time.  

“Not for me, I’m good with this,” Beau said. 

He held that whiskey between his hands, and you were glad that he was going slow. Your conversation with Emily about his own bout with grief and loss was still fresh in your mind. While your heart broke for him, you were also a little worried for him. Had this latest case opened up some old wounds?

“I’ll go with you,” Jenny said. You slid out of the booth so Jenny could as well. It left you and Beau to talk, while Jenny and Cassie went up to the bar together.

Cassie tried to get the bartender’s attention, but she glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Why?” Jenny replied. But she wasn’t meeting Cassie’s gaze. She was watching you and Beau, almost in melancholy.

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she realized what was happening. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before, considering both of their professions. 

“Aw, Jenny…” Cassie breathed. She wondered just how long her friend had been harboring some feelings for Beau Arlen.

Knowing she was “caught,” Jenny gave a wry smile.

“Don’t. It’s not a big deal,” she said quietly. “He likes her.”

Cassie sighed. “I think so. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“He deserves something good,” Jenny said. Her smile was a bit more genuine this time. Cassie nodded in agreement.

“So does she, after what she’s gone through.”

“So how are you doing?” you asked Beau. It was the first time you’d been alone with this man since that horse riding lesson last week, and part of you was feeling a bit nervous.

Just friends, like you told Emily. You had to remind yourself. Just friends…until evidence points to the contrary.

At your question, Beau heaved a sigh, running a hand over his face. Suddenly he looked more tired than he did before. The laugh lines around his eyes looked more like the telltale signs of stress.

“Well, first off, we found the missing backpacker,” he said. “It seems the poor young man fell down a cliff while hiking.”

Your brows furrowed and you covered your mouth with a hand. “Oh my God.”

Beau nodded in grim confirmation. His gaze met yours.

“But I also wanted to tell you this in person when you got back. I’ve also got a silver lining on our mountain man, Walter,” he continued. “He confessed to murdering Paige. He’s keeping tight-lipped about Mary and Luke, but we’ve got him dead set to rights on at least one of the murders.”

You processed that with a shaky breath. Then you nodded.

“We’re gonna keep working on him from every angle, I promise,” Beau said. Just like he’d promised you before—that he would get justice for Mary. You believed him.

“Thank you,” you said. Your gaze softened, and you contemplated laying your hand over his on the table. You just barely stopped yourself.

Instead, you cleared your throat and swiped some of your hair over your shoulder.

“Any other news, hot off the press?” you joked, trying to alleviate the heaviness in your heart. Beau quirked a smile. He leaned back in his seat and carded a hand through his hair.

“Ahh. Well…you know I’m investing my ex-wife’s husband,” he said drolly, sipping his whiskey. “And that’s going about as well as it sounds. I can’t get into the details of course…but he might be dealing in something shady.”

Your eyes widened. “Shady, or dangerous?”

Beau realized how he’d let that last bit slip out. He wished he hadn’t. Not only did he not want to worry you, but he didn’t want you anywhere near his open cases.

“I’m keeping close tabs on Carla and Emily just to be safe,” he admitted. 

Your face became the picture of concern. But before you could respond, a man approached the table, tall and lean, with a shaggy cut of dark blonde hair. He wore a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a gray and red Chicago FD shirt. 

Your face paled, and your mouth parted in surprise. 

“Hey there, stranger,” he said with a smile. 

“Michael?” you gasped.

AN: 🫣 Yep, we're going there lol. But how did you like the horseback riding lesson? Or her little day out with Emily? Or the bit of fun at the bar, before Michael showed up?

You'll definitely be seeing more of that guy in Part 5...

Next Time:

“Michael?” you gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Beau’s eyes widened. Michael was younger than him, closer to your age. And cocky too.  

“Hey, baby,” Michael said. His smile quirked with charm, but his next words were anything but charming. 

“We need to talk,” he said, raising his brows.

“We actually don’t,” you retorted in a firmer voice. Cold even. You straightened in your seat. 

Beau saw none of your softness and good humor from earlier. This was a different woman, and he was actually proud of you for standing your ground. Though he realized then that he’d never gotten on your bad side. (He hoped he never did.)

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

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[secretsideblogshhhh]

Imagine you live in a kingdom. Everything in this kingdom was modeled after the founder of the whole city.

This means the house sizes, the utensils, the clothes, every single thing, was made for him.

And for plenty of people this is fine. The clothes fit them, the cabinets are easy enough to reach, the size of the tools are perfect.

But you're a fair bit smaller than this guy was. The clothes are extremely baggy on you. You struggle to keep them on. They get in your way and you trip over them all the time.

You can't reach the cabinets, the tools are hard to hold in your hands.

Everything you do takes so much effort because nothing here was made for you.

But everyone else gets annoyed by this, not because of the system made that makes life hard on you, but because you're different.

They hate you constantly tripping.

You mention maybe getting a belt to help with that, and everyone you know gets mad at you for even suggesting it.

"you don't really need a belt"

"you could just take some growth medicine, get bigger"

"you don't deserve special treatment just because you're different"

"well everything works just fine for me, I don't know why you have issues"

And it's frustrating. The only person who you can relate to is your buddy Tim, who's a whole lot bigger than the guy everything was made for was.

His clothes cut off his circulation, they actively hurt him.

He hits his head on doors, he can barely use the tools because they're so small to him.

He wants to make his own clothes, but he can't afford it because he can't keep a job.

No one wants to hire a guy who can't hold the tools, or who needs a break every few hours so he can take off his clothes in the bathroom to breathe.

And even if he did manage to get the money, the tools are too small. He'd have to hire someone.

And hiring someone would cost so much more.

Of course the responses he gets are similar to yours.

"you're just lazy, it's not that hard to get and keep a job"

"have you tried just losing weight? That's probably what's causing all your issues"

You and him bond over this. How the world is cruel to you for being different. You found each other because of you were different from everyone else and it brought you closer

But then people see your friendship. It would be natural to assume that your friendship makes sense. You have the same struggles after all.

But no.

People see that you're friends and say

"well obviously you're both making up your issues, it's so rare for even one of you to exist. But 2 of you? You have to be lying for attention"

You try to show them that your issues are real, because you want help. You'd love for others to understand and help you fix the way the kingdom is built.

But people look away, they ignore you. Either pretending to not see you or they just invalidate your experience.

"everyone has rough days"

"you just got some poorly made clothes"

"He just wants an excuse so he doesn't have to work"

"if you just tried harder-"

Everyone seems to have some solution for your issues, ones you've tried a hundred times before.

Everyone seems to have an opinion on your existence. Usually pity or disgust. Often a mix of both, though the disgust isn't something anyone will admit to aloud. Their actions speak loud enough though.

That's how it feels to have a disability. Especially an invisible one. You have to fight just to be heard and it's exhausting.

Everything that you do is a struggle people who aren't disabled just don't understand. And it's infuriating how they write you off just because they don't want to even try to understand

[littleluvsie]

in moments | spencer reid x reader

a/n: little thing i wrote today maybe intended for longer series, not super edited (sorry hehe). trying to get back into the habit of writing with this new side blog. send me any requests if you'd like <3

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fem reader, use of she/her pronouns (reader), shy!reader, early seasons shy spencer, just pure fluff (for now)

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that the BAU changed when you and Spencer seemingly arrived at their doorstep out of nowhere – both of you young and bright-eyed, but an undeniable force together, a wealth of intelligence. But sometimes – especially in moments like this – the team wondered how either of you managed to function in society up until now. Everyone is watching curiously, trying and failing to hide their amused smiles behind their coffee cups.

You’re nervous. They see it in the way you fiddle with the hem of your sweater behind your back, the way you squeak out your words like you’re afraid of them. If anxiety were personified, it’d look incredibly reminiscent of you. Spencer isn’t any better. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, every inch of exposed skin is visibly tinted with a cherry-red hue, and his eyes continue to fixate on everything, everywhere except your face. 

“How are they even getting anything done right now? They look like they’re both about to throw up,” Emily mutters. 

Morgan nods, “My money is on both of them having nervous breakdowns in the next ten minutes.” 

Penelope tries her very best to swallow her laugh, but her efforts prove to be futile as a giggle manages to escape from her lips anyway. She quickly coughs and covers her mouth with her fingertips in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. Both you and Spencer hear it and glance over with adorably similar facial expressions, brows tightly knitted together and a hint of a pout gracing your lips. 

When you’re only met with silence, you tilt your head questioningly. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing! How is it going over there? Did you guys find anything?” 

“Yeah, actually. Spencer thinks that the Unsub’s location can be narrowed down to these specific neighborhoods given the pattern of…” As you turn to look at Spencer, you realize you’ve made the greatest mistake in your life. It’s as if every possible nerve ending you have in your body surges with electrical current, and you swear you can feel your heart pumping from the middle of your throat. His eyes meet yours, and he’s closer to you than you remember. Was he here the whole time? You have the sudden urge to crawl under the desk and stay there for as long as you can get away with it.

Do his lips always look like this? Has his hair grown out since yesterday? Is he furrowing his brows?

You realize that you haven’t spoken in what must be at least thirty seconds. Spencer would know how long. You feel even worse.  

“Given the patterns in where the victims were found.” you finish quietly. 

Spencer swivels his chair to face the team and continues with his explanation, but you can barely hear him as all of your thoughts focus on the fact that his leg is now pressed up against yours. You’ve come to the natural conclusion that your brain is no longer functional anymore, your career is over. Maybe if you beg on your knees, Hotch will let you take a sick day? 

“Alright, let’s send smaller teams out and cover all possible locations, see what we can find,” Hotch announces from behind you. As he begins assigning pairs, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Now, you’ll have at least a few hours before you have to face Spencer again, and hopefully, by that point, all of the residual awkwardness of your stumble will be completely obliterated from everyone’s memory.

“And (Y/N) and Reid, you’ll take the last of the locations. Let’s debrief here once we’re done.” 

As you stare at Hotch in disbelief, you swear there’s a very, very faint hint of a smile on his face. 

You’re going to kill him. 

~*~*~

Spencer reads through the case file for the millionth time since getting in the car with you. There’s really no point to it; you and everyone else knows he has an eidetic memory, he only had to read it once. If you asked, he’d lie and tell you he does it to pass the time or to just fill the silence with the sound of pages turning. But he thinks he really does it so that he doesn’t have to hear himself stumble over his words trying to talk to you. 

It’s torture, being around you. You’re pretty and smart and nice and so wonderful, and if he thinks about it for too long, it hurts his head. Spencer wants to be around you all of the time and simultaneously none of the time – it’s an unsolvable equation, and he hates it. It’s torturous. 

Even so, he knows his best days are always spent with you. 

Most of your shared time is inevitably spent dissecting the neverending influx of cases received by the BAU. But every once in a while, there are times scattered between the chaos. Sometimes it’s the early mornings before anyone else has arrived, and the both of you drink your coffees together in comfortable silence. Sometimes it’s the late nights spent sitting at your desks across from each other with hot takeout and tired eyes. In these moments, both of you can talk about the books you’ve been reading recently, the best classical music composers, or your favorite episodes of Doctor Who, without any hesitation or uncertainty. Perhaps the delirium of sleep deprivation gives you courage, or maybe it’s just that both of you feel safer in the quiet, when the world feels a lot less overwhelming and all of your focus can be devoted to one another. Regardless, it’s what Spencer looks forward to the most, above all else. 

So, he tries. 

He clears his throat, “D-Did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose?” 

“Really? Huh… I wonder what the origin of the obsession was, y’know where it came from.”

And for just an instant, the anxiety has subsided, quickly replaced by a much stronger, fluttering from the depths of his stomach. 

“Not sure, but sources say that he frequently wrote about noses in his earlier stories, so whatever the cause was must’ve been prior to the 1880s, when Pinocchio was published.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “Have you heard about the Pinocchio Paradox before?”

“The one created by Peter Eldridge-Smith’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I think her name was Veronique. What do you think of the possible solutions?”

While he thinks of an answer to your question, he also thinks about how seamlessly you manage to fit into the fragments of his mind. He’s never felt more seen than when you glance over at him, when you think he can’t see you. You’re perfect in a way that feels whole and complete to him, as if there’s nothing else he could ever want or need. He thinks about all of this, and much, much more. 

~*~*~

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Spencer asks. He begins to rise from his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you though, I think I need a break anyway.” 

It’s late, everyone else has gone home. All of the fluorescent, overhead lights in the bullpen are off, both of you opting to turn on a few of the surrounding desk lamps instead. 

You don’t particularly like the dark, especially when it’s this late into the night. The walk to the kitchen feels a lot longer this way, your path being guided only by the residual light coming from the streetlights outside. 

There’s a sudden crash to your left, and you yelp, jumping towards Spencer. 

“Sorry! Sorry, that was me. I accidentally kicked a box of files I guess someone left on the floor, it knocked into one of the desks.” 

“No worries! It’s okay. I’m just,” you sigh, “I’m just a little bit afraid of the dark.” 

As your adrenaline levels steadily return to baseline, you’re suddenly hyper aware of how your entire body is quite literally pressed up against Spencer’s side, your hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. But just as you start to loosen your death grip, you feel Spencer’s fingers searching for you in the dim moonlight. 

Every thought you’ve ever had, every bit of information you’ve ever learned escapes you in a single breath as he intertwines your fingers with his. 

His voice is just barely above a whisper, “I’m a little bit afraid of the dark too.” 

Both of you walk the rest of the way to the kitchen in complete silence and at an incredibly slow pace, as if even the sound of your soles against the linoleum floors would ruin this moment. You almost want to keep the abrasive lights of the kitchen off as you finally walk through the doorway with Spencer in tow; you know that the very second you flip the switch, you’ll have to let go of his hand. It’s not realistic for him to keep holding your hand, you chastise yourself. How would he even make his coffee if you’re holding his hand hostage?

You turn the light on. The alternative would be standing in the dark and you couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for doing so quickly enough. 

A beat passes, your eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You look down, and to your surprise, Spencer’s still holding onto your hand. Worse, he’s rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. I will never recover from this, you think. 

“D-Do you still want coffee?” 

“No, not really,” you respond. With how your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, you really don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to consume any more caffeine. 

“Me neither,” he trails off. His eyes are glued to the floor as if he’s afraid to meet your gaze, as if it’ll make you realize with sudden clarity that it’s his hand you’re holding and you’ll pull away. 

“As you become drowsier, adenosine accumulates in the neuronal synapse and binds to the respective receptors located in the synapse of specific central nervous systems neurons causing further drowsiness,” you ramble. 

“And caffeine is an adenosine receptor antagonist.”

“Exactly, and knockout mice studies reveal that it’s specifically the adenosine A2A receptor which is a member of the G-protein coupled receptor family.”

“Interesting. Even though you only have one PhD, having it in biology seems to be proving pretty useful,” he smiles. 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s gotten me this far, wait what do you mean only one?”

“Dr. (Y/L/N), you realize I have three, right?” 

“Dr. Reid, please shut up.” 

You make him feel safe. 

“Okay, sorry,” he giggles, “Can you please tell me more about caffeine?” 

And because he asked so nicely, because he smiles at you the way he does, you tell him more. It’s nearly the middle of the night, but you’d still stay up and you would tell him everything you know, as long as he continued looking at you with his soft, brown eyes. 

You both talk about everything and anything either of you think of, all while holding each other in the palm of your hands. 

The next morning, he sits even closer to you. Luckily, it’s slowly getting easier to talk to him without losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, but it’s still hard sometimes. You still get nervous when he looks at you. You can still feel the butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, especially when he holds your hand underneath the desk. 

Both of you think you’re being subtle, but everyone notices. They pretend they don’t.

[feelbokkie]

I am Anti-Romantic, but oh man those little efforts

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: non!idol au, fluff

pov: 2nd person

description: Another year, another Valentine's Day where you can't have a box of chocolate. Or, so you think.

pairing: best friend!minho x gn!reader

warnings: reader has a nut allergy, swearing, mention of food

word count: 2,074

a/n: happy valentine's day (it's still v-day somewhere)

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“If you’re hinting at me to buy that for you, just ask,” Minho says suddenly, walking up behind you.

In your hands is a heart-shaped box of chocolate. Like you do every Valentine’s Day, you scanned the ingredients list on the back, hoping to find a safe box to no avail. You let out a quiet groan as you put the box back.

“Or you can buy it yourself since you’re independent and all that.” He suggests.

You turn to your best friend, and roommate, giving him a frustrated look. You can’t help the pout that appears on your face as your lower lip juts out. You don’t even realize you don’t even realize you’re pouting until Minho boops your lower lip.

“You look pitiful right now. How do I make it stop? Do you want me to ask you to be my Valentine or something? Take you out on a date? Help you egg an exes’ house? What?” Minho makes sure to move into your line of sight.

"It's nothing. Let's finish shopping, our frozen things are defrosting." You quietly sigh as you take the shopping cart and start pushing it away from all of the Valentine's candy.

Plop!

Screech!

You freeze as the chocolate box you just put away is sitting on top of the cart. You bite your lower lip as you slowly turn to Minho, quickly losing your patience.

"Minho--"

"What? Those aren't for you. I'm going to eat them while marathoning a new drama tonight. Maybe I'll give you one if you join me." He says nonchalantly, taking over the cart and pushing it towards the checkout.

"Number one, this is why you're single. You can't do cute, romantic things to save your life. At the very least, come back without me later and buy it." You huff, running to catch up to him. "Number two, read the back of the box,"

Minho slows the cart down and picks up the chocolate box, "What do you mean read--Oh,"

You watch as Minho's smile drops as he reads the ingredients of the chocolate box, littered with your allergies. It's the same disappointment you get every time you try to buy yourself a box of candy. If at least one piece of candy doesn't have nuts, it was made in a place that processes them, and that's too much of a risk to take for curiosity.

"No problem, I'll look for a different one." He walks back over the the wall of candy, searching through all of the boxes.

"It's no use, Min. They either have one that has a few chocolates that have nuts in them or they were made in a place that uses nuts. And all the safe ones are too small and taste like ass," You walk over to Minho to pull him away.

"You know what ass tastes like?" He smirks, still looking through the boxes.

"I will hit you in this supermarket in front of all these people," You threaten. "C'mon, let's go. The whole concept of Valentine's Day is a capitalist scam and way overrated anyway. The whole holiday is stupid. I was just curious. It's not that serious."

You tug on Minho's arm, trying to pull him away from the chocolate once again. He wiggles out of your grip and continues to look, waving you off.

"I know, I know you're all big and tough and think relationships are pointless. Now just wait a minute."

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cart and pushing it away from him. "Whatever, meet me at the checkout line when you're done doing the impossible."

About 10 minutes later, you're loading both yours and Minho's groceries on the counter when a defeated Minho walks up behind you. He silently helps you unload the cart, his face scrunched up.

I told you so. You think to yourself. You know better than to say that to his face, especially when he's deep in thought like that. The last time you let an "I told you so" slip he was insufferable for an hour purposely testing your patience and trying to dare you to say it again.

"That's so stupid," Minho mutters under his breath, his eyes trained on the road.

You look up from the receipt as you divide up the groceries so you can send him your half of the money. Your eyes scan the road, searching for whatever caused Minho to break his code of silence. Nothing. The road is quiet and everyone appears to following all of the traffic laws. For once.

"What...are you still on the chocolates? Minho, it doesn't matter, I don't care. I can get chocolate whenever I want. The fact that it's in a heart-shaped box doesn't change the flavor. And it'll be cheaper too."

"I think you do care. That's why you checked the box. Admit it, deep down behind your antiromantic exterior, you want to celebrate Valentine's Day like everyone else. That's why you were looking in the first place."

"S-shut up and take me home." You stutter, taken off guard by Minho's point.

While you have your own, valid hang-ups about Valentine's Day, he's a little bit correct. Growing up, you never got to eat most of the candy you'd bring home from class parties because of your allergies. And your exes would either get you a box of chocolate, disregarding your allergy or just get you flowers and a stuffed animal. Simple things, but you always read those situations as they didn't care enough to pay attention or they couldn't be bothered to even check. In the end, you were right, those relationships didn't last long. In a way, your allergy has become your test for relationships and so far, nobody's passed.

***

You let out a deep sigh as you flop down on the couch, exhausted more than usual after a shift at work. Not like your job doesn't drain you in general, but somehow it sucks more life out of you during the holidays. And Valentine's Day was no exception.

Too many of your coworkers spent the day bragging about what their partners got them or their plans after work. All the communal snacks in the breakroom were heart-shaped themed. Cute, but not worth the risk of possibly going into anaphylactic shock over it. You could have eaten one anyway and got to go home early. But you decided against it in the end.

"I'm going to order some food for dinner! Do you want anything?" You shout into your apartment. You know Minho's home. You saw his bag and keys by the door where he always leaves them when he's home.

You wait a few minutes, hoping to hear some sort of sign that he's awake. You've made the mistake a few times of waking him up from post-work naps, awakening his angry side. Not a fun day.

"I picked us up some dinner on my way home since I had some time to kill!" Minho finally calls out from the kitchen. "I got to go home early, there was a flood."

"Lucky bastard," You mutter under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Did you cause the flood?"

Minho walks into the living room, setting the takeout bags on the coffee table next to you.

"You couldn't prove it if I did." He smirks before disappearing back into the kitchen.

You sit up now, getting ready to eat. You pull the coffee table as close to the couch as you possibly can so that neither have to lean over too much to reach the food. You grab the remote for the TV, freezing when something catches your eye. A red heart chocolate box, a stuffed cat, and a single tulip.

When did those get there?

You're not sure if they were already there when you got home. They must have been, you just didn't register them when you walked in. You furrow your eyebrows as you try to think. You're almost certain that Minho isn't dating anyone. But still, you're not sure why any of that stuff is sitting in your apartment.

"Why do you always move the table so close to the couch?" Minho whines when he comes back with drinks.

"Did you get into a relationship in the last 24 hours?" You question, taking the drinks from Minho as he climbs over the table to the empty spot next to you.

"I'm not stupid enough to start a relationship the day before a couple holiday. That's something Hyunjin or Jisung would do." He chuckles, taking the remote from the table.

"Then what's this?" You point to the mysterious gift on the table.

"It's for you," He says casually, turning on the TV.

"Me?" You point to yourself in confusion. "From who? A secret admirer?"

"From me, dumbass. Secret admirer...your delusional ass has been spending too much time with Chan hyung." He pulls up the show that you two were watching together last night after dinner.

You stare at the surprise Valentine's gift for a moment, confused. And a little guilty. You did nothing but bring Minho a cup of coffee before you went to work. But you didn't do that because of Valentine's Day, you did that because you wanted to.

You pick up the box and gently flip it over, ready to read the ingredients. Only, the back of the red velvet box is blank.

"Where's the ingredient list?" You question opening the box to at least find the flavor guide only to find the box full of little round chocolates.

"There isn't one," He takes a sip of his drink before unpacking the food.

"Then how am I supposed to know--"

"Don't worry about that," He lays out your utensils in front of you. "I made them so I know they're fine."

You freeze, replaying Minho's words in your head. He made you chocolate? A heart-shaped box of chocolate? With his own two hands? He did? Lee Minho? Your best friend.

"What?" He laughs when he sees the awestruck look on your face, "Y/n, it's no big deal?"

"No big deal? Are you fucking Willy Wonka! What do you mean you made me a box of chocolates?" You ask quickly, slurring your words in excitement.

"Ah, calm down. It was nothing."

You stare at your best friend for a minute, really stare at him. He's wearing one of his old black shirts and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. Both are covered with various, small stains. His bangs are clipped to the top of his, out of his eyes. If you didn't know any better, you would think that he didn't even go to work. That he stayed home, working on the chocolates for you. You know for a fact that he downplays everything, making it seem like everything is easy for him, even if they were really difficult.

"Eat your food and stop gawking at m--Why are you crying?" Minho pauses, his eyes soften as he looks at you. You didn't even know you were crying until Minho pointed it out. Your emotions betraying you as usual.

"Because that's the nicest thing anyone's done for me." You sniffle, still holding onto the box of chocolates.

"Not my fault you date losers." He laughs to himself.

"I'm serious. You...you just...Minho, what the hell??"

"You're welcome, now eat."

Minho's face is as red as the chocolate box as you continue to quietly sniffle and cry. Nobody's made this much trouble for you ever. They treated your allergy as an inconvenience rather than trying to accommodate you. Including your parents.

You sniffle, putting the chocolate box back on the table before finally digging into your food. A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon spreads across your face.

"Don't smile like that, it's unsettling."

"I'm happy, Minho."

"I know, that's what's unsettling."

"Thank you," You say softly.

"You're welcome, now shut up and eat. Sitting here crying over a box of chocolates."

"Careful, Min. People are going to start thinking you're in love with me or something," You tease, taking a sip of your drink.

"So? What if I am?"

The soda goes down the wrong pipe, causing you to choke on it. You're sputtering for air as Minho slaps your back.

"Jesus, I was teasing you back. What is wrong with you?"

"D-don't do that!"

"Where's the fun in that?" He smirks, his hand resting on your back.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[moljh]

Boy Next Door

Steve Harrington X Reader

Summary: Steve lives next door and each night he sneaks into your room but you aren't ready to admit how you feel.

General fluff, mentions of sex, no trigger warnings

Your house was situated next door to the Harrington's and you'd lived there forever. Despite living in a very nice part of Hawkins your house was definitely the worst on the block, compared to those on either side, yours looked slightly out of place. Whilst most had pools, formal dining rooms and enough garage spaces for at least four cars, yours didn't even have space in the garden for a pool, let alone a garage. But that didn't bother you, home was a comforting place for you, although your parents weren't exactly home a whole lot, when they were there were family dinners around the table and constant talk.

When you had been younger you had resented that your parents had to work so much, but now you understood why and since your two older siblings had left for college already, you basically had a house to yourself. Although most teenagers would've used this to have some parties, it meant you could watch whatever television program you wanted and go to bed when you pleased. More importantly though it meant that any late night guests wouldn't be questioned.

Living next door to the Harrington's definitely had meant many things for your family, but one you hadn't anticipated was the lonely Steve Harrington coming over every night to see you. He'd been doing it since you two were in middle school. His parents were also usually working, but for them it was in the city or another state and they generally left without much notice or care for their child. You hadn't really thought about how in a house that big with everything a kid could want that Steve would be lonely and desperately so.

Your bedroom window coincidently looked directly into Steve's room and one night when you should've been sleeping you had gotten up for a glass of water and when making it back to the warmth of your comforter, you made eye contact with him. You had both stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure as what to do next when realisation that you were staring at the most popular boy in school came over you and you dashed away from the window.

The next day at school you were grateful not to see Steve and have to give an awkward explanation regarding their night time encounter because you weren't even sure what you would have said. Though to your surprise later that night as you went to bed once again you met eyes with the lonely Harrington in his window as he looked over at you. This strange nightly tradition continued until the end of the week when instead of seeing his eyes from a distance, you were shocked to come face to face with Steve right outside.

He mouthed something at you and gestured for you to open your window as he clung to the window sill, that you presumed he had scaled.

"What are you doing?" you exclaimed, quickly lowering your voice as he clambered in

Tumbling to the carpeted floor he sat up in a huff "Thought I'd come by" he said nonchalantly as if this was something he did all the time

You stood frozen in place for a moment, confused if this was really happening. Not only was a boy in your room but someone who you'd only every spoken to in polite passing and rarely even made eye-contact with at school.

"Why are you in my room?" you questioned him again

"You let me in" was all he said

"Steve" you firmed said to try and get a legitimate response from him

This became a nightly tradition for the two of you. After a shower and getting ready for bed, Steve would show up at your window and you'd let him in. In the beginning he'd simply sit at your desk and doodle with your stuff, but as time went on the two of you starting actually talking and you realised you actually really enjoyed his company. You'd gone over to his house a few times when people had been home at yours, but he preferred your house.

Despite efforts though he never really offered an actual reason as to why he'd snuck into your room that first night. Though it wasn't hard for you to deduct that he didn't like being home by himself and was lonely, potentially even scared of the vacant home apart from his own presence.

You weren't sure if your siblings knew what was happening while they had still been at home, though they never brought it up and your parents were either in a coma-like sleep or working a night shift.

One thing you never questioned however was that despite the intimate friendship the two of you had, why Steve never spoke to you when at school. You weren't popular so you assumed he just probably didn't want to try and explain to his friends why he'd be taking to someone like you. But you also enjoyed when you two were together and didn't want to ruin it by asking.

"I'm assuming you haven't studied for Mrs Connors history test that's on Friday" you asked over your shoulder

"Oh you know me so well y/n" Steve chuckled as he lay on your bed flipping through one of your magazines

"I'll give you a copy of my notes" you said as you continued to take notes

"You're too good to me"

"I know"

You continued to work through the syllabus some more, when you looked at your watch and noted it was nearly midnight.

"I need to go to sleep soon" you declared, turning around to properly look at Steve

"Ok" was all he said, continuing to read whatever article he was up to in the magazine "do women really wear these?" turning the page to you it was an article on how best to wear a thong

"Why are you reading that?" you rolled your eyes

"Just trying to stay educated"

"Oh yeah cause you wear thongs all the time" you laughed

"One of us has to" he quipped back

"How do you know I don't?" you said before processing your words, which made Steve very quickly put down the magazine

"Girls wear thongs y/n" was all he said

"Well last time I checked I'm a girl"

"You know what I mean… like a girl girl" he said trying to make his words make sense

"Yeah ok" you bluntly replied walking to the window "time for you to go"

"Aw fine" he whined and gave you a hug before leaping off the edge

Although he was now practiced in jumping out of your window, it still worried you every time he did it. You waved to him as jumped your fence and dashed across his perfectly manicured lawn and around the to the unlocked back door of his own house.

Later that week you were surprised to hear the familiar tapping on your window as it was a Friday night. Usually Steve would've been out at a party, he was never usually home.

"Why aren't you at Tommy's?" you asked as you pulled open your window

He climbed through "I need to ask you a serious question" he said ignoring your words

"What?"

"How do you get a girl to like you?" he seemed genuine in his question which was odd

The two of you proceeded to have a conversation about how he was desperate to get Nancy Wheeler to fall in love with him. You were confused because he'd never shown any interest in her until now, but you pushed that aside and gave him your best advice.

"Just show interest in the things she likes" you started, "ask her questions about herself and make sure you're looking at her…" adjusting slightly you moved away from Steve as you two were sitting side by side on your bed "girls like it when you show interest"

You two regularly talked about the girls Steve had hooked up with, but this time felt different and you didn't like that. You had never thought of Steve in any other way than just a friend but as you kept giving him advice on how to get Nancy you couldn't help but feel the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy brewing… and you didn't like it.

"You're incredible y/n!" Steve exclaimed cupping your face with his soft hands "I love you!" he said pressing a brief kiss to your forehead and leaping up

The moment was brief but you felt butterflies in your stomach from his unexpected touch. Before realising it, you had lifted your hand and gingerly touched your head where his lips had just been. You were glad that Steve had been too caught up in his thoughts to noticed your actions, as you quickly put your hand back down to your side.

"I've got to go then," he told you, moving back over to the window "I invited Nancy to Tommy's party and hadn't thought of what to do next"

And with that he was gone just as fast as he had come.

You were used to not being anyone's first choice, or their second or even their third or tenth. It hadn't really ever bothered you, but for some reason it now did. Steve was your only real friend, while you had friends as school they were just people you sat with during lunch and next to in class, you never had deep conversations. But with Steve you did.

You knew about how his father treated him, how he cried when he accidentally hit a bird when driving or how he preferred the company of strangers to his own thoughts. And vice versa. He knew of your fears, how you were scared to let your family down by being a burden or when your siblings left you knew they wouldn't be coming back.

This new feeling wasn't welcomed. You didn't like thinking of Steve other than a friend or how his clear interest in Nancy bothered you somehow. So you pushed it down and did your best to ignore it.

Over the next few weeks Steve came over less and less. You'd wait for him until late but then he eventually just stopped showing up at all. It hurt.

In class you found your thoughts drifting and tuning out from what the teachers were saying, you just didn't care. That was why you guessed that when a blue car with California plates showed up one morning you took interest.

Billy Hargrove wasn't like Steve. If anything he was the opposite and that's what you liked. You had always been the girl that people hadn't seen and guys hadn't considered and now the guy that all the girls wanted was looking your way.

You knew it was dumb and that you probably shouldn't have done it but you played along with Billy's interest. He was strong, controlling and knew what he wanted, which was something you weren't used to. It was different and exciting and new.

You and Billy weren't dating but it was obvious to people at school that you two were sleeping together. He'd be seen hanging near your locker and would drop you to and from school each day, usually with you wearing the same clothes as the day before.

It was a strange feeling that you were just floating through life and no one seemed to notice or care. You guessed that was why you enjoyed the company of Billy, you'd replaced the emotional connection you'd had with Steve with that of a physical one with Billy. It was solely just sex between you two, but in that moment it was intimate and you were happily close with someone.

It was fourth period and you had a study break, so you were walking out the front of the main building, with the intention of just sitting on the bleachers in the sun or the time. Concentrating on balancing the books in your arms, you gasped as someone grabbed your arm and pulled you down the side of the building.

It took you a second to process what was happening and then once your eyes focused you were shocked to see Steve in front of you.

"Steve? What the hell?" you exclaimed, going to turn to leave

"Y/n stop" he firmly said, grabbing a hold of your arm once again, "we need to talk"

"What the fuck about?" you raised your eyebrow

"About you!" he shouted waving at your body "about all this"

"What about it?!" you replied, annoyed now at what he was implying

"Y/n what are you doing with Hargrove?" he calmly asked, lowering his voice "He's an asshole"

You scoffed as his words, rolling your eyes at the idea he cared.

"I don't think it's any of your business Steve," you replied "why do you care who I fuck?"

He seemed taken aback by your words "Because you're my friend y/n"

"Since when Steve?!" you said "I think this is the first time you've even spoken to me in like three months and the first time at school I might add!"

He didn't say anything as you kept shouting at him.

"You're embarrassed by me and I'm sick of being your dirty little secret! Billy mightn't be the best person but at least he's not ashamed to be seen with me"

"I never said I was embarrassed by you y/n" he said

"You didn't have to SAY anything" you challenged him "I'm not an idiot Steve"

"I'm sorry…" he muttered

You felt your anger slowly subsiding and the feeling of sadness wash over you. Grabbing your things again, you turned your back to Steve and walked away.

"I would've thought you of all people would've known what's it's like for someone to just not show up" you didn't give him a chance to reply, didn't want to give him the right to have the last word.

You felt a tear slowly roll down your cheek and your cursed that your arms were too full that you couldn't brush it away.

As you lay beside Billy, only a thin sheet between your skin you couldn't help but think that his sheets felt rougher than Steve's. It was dumb. You'd never done anything romantic with Steve and as you were there naked, post sex, you could only think of his sheets.

"Do you miss California?" you rolled onto your side, and asked Billy

"Yeah" was all he said, still staring at the ceiling, hands on his bare chest

"What do you miss about it?" you kept asking, trying to get a feeling for him

"Why do you care y/n?" he suddenly shot back , seemingly uncomfortable by the question

His response made you sit up "Jesus Billy, just trying to get to know you a bit"

He rolled his eyes as he looked at you "We're just sex y/n, this is all it is, don't try and make it something else"

"Yeah, I know" you nodded and slipped out of his bed

He didn't seem to care as you silently pulled up your jeans and grabbed your bra off of his dresser. Once clothed you grabbed your bag and left. Leaving in that moment you were glad you'd never ran into or even seen his parents before.

The sun hit you as you walked back out into the afternoon Hawkins air, the sun was lower in the sky, so you'd been there for a few hours at least.

Getting into your car you felt your chest heave and without warning you began to cry. You didn't like the feeling of not being in control and up until that moment you had felt that you and Billy's situation was on your terms. But you felt stupid for thinking such a thing.

It was just sex. You knew that, that's all you wanted. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself to make it ok.

Driving back home, the sun slowing began to descend and darkness started to replace the light. Taking the usual turns, you pulled into your street and parked outside of your house. It wasn't until you were walking along the front path that you noticed the figure standing in front of your door.

He was waiting there, clearly wanting to have a serious conversation based off of the express burdening his face.

"Steve go home" you bluntly said trying to find you house key

"I'm not going y/n" he said, "we need to have a proper conversation"

"No we don't" was all you said

"Y/n I don't care what you said but you're my friend and I care about you," he replied "I need to know you're ok, I just want my friend back. I miss you"

"Steve I can't go back to what we had before, I deserve more than that" you told him

"I know you do and I'm sorry for treating you like that, it wasn't fair of me" he said

He took a step towards you and you stumbled as your foot slipped off the step behind you, to which Steve impulsively reached out to steady you.

You could feel your heart pounding against your chest and he kept moving closer and closer to you, as he pulled you into him. He wrapped his arms around you, his frame surrounding you whole. He'd held you before but this was different, this was warmth and desire all in one.

"I'm sorry Steve, I just can't do this" you said, pushing yourself away from him chest "your with Nancy and I know you just see me as a friend but…" you couldn't find the right words, you felt stupid trying to find the right thing to say

He cut you off "Nancy and I broke up" he said slowly

You lifted your eyes and looked up at him, studying his face, "Nancy and I just didn't work, it just wasn't right" You heart stopped at his words "She wasn't you"

You went silent as you looked into his brown eyes and slowly moved your hand up his chest. As your hand moved, you felt his own move from your lower back and up towards you face. As you stood there pressed against one another, he lowered his face and soon you felt your lips pressing against his own.

His lips were soft as you had thought they would be. Moving with the motions of his lips, his teeth grazed against your lower lip causing your mouth to open. Soon his tongue met yours and you couldn't help but sigh as he clutched the back of your neck.

His mouth was so gentle against your own and you could feel the slight stubble that was growing on his chin and cheek. You were lost in his touch and you loved it. You felt safe. You felt like your were home.

Standing out there in there on your dimly lit front step, held in Steve's embrace, his lips on yours, it felt right between you two. You could've never have known that all those years ago the boy next door would end up being so much more to you.

[ghostlychief]

I gasped really loudly when I saw your post, can I request a thing with our baby girl, Master Chief? Like something cute with him reuniting with his s/o, or just something with him getting all the love?

i'm so glad we are on the same page about master chief being baby girl <3

--

goodnight n go

(you should listen to the slow version of goodnight n go by ariana)

master chief, John 117 x gen!reader

wc: 1473

warnings: none, just excruciating fluff

~*~*~*~

You were used to the wait.

You were used to the constant pining and apprehension that would seep through you every time you watched John walk into those battle ships, never knowing if the glimmer of his armor would be the last thing you would see of him.

Every time he left, you would just hope that he would return, and that you would be in his arms sooner rather than later. You could say that it has gotten slightly easier over the years, since John seemed to be made of luck. He always came back in one piece. Maybe a couple of scratches here or there, but he always came back to you.

Typically, when John was on his missions, you would keep yourself busy by overworking yourself in order to keep your rambling thoughts at bay. At first, your supervisors were wary about how much you were working yourself. But over time, they either gave up trying to convince you to go home, or realized how much it helped you to stay busy, to stay moving. You had to, otherwise you would go crazy just thinking about all of the danger John puts himself in every day. It didn’t matter if he was gone a few days, a week, or even a month. The time he spent away from you always felt like an eternity.

You were now standing in the loading dock, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind your back, looking out at the runway.

Homecoming days were always your favorite, and you always arrived at the dock much earlier than needed in order to greet the Blue team just as they arrived back on Reach. You’re pretty sure the other Spartans poke fun at John for it, but you couldn’t care less.  

You’ve probably been waiting for a little over forty-five minutes when you finally see that familiar pelican flying towards you. You know it’s him and his team because of the bright red Firebird painted on the nose of the ship.

The ship starts to land and gusts of wind make your hair ruffle, ruining all of the time and effort you put into it to look presentable. You quickly forget about your hair state when the door of the pelican slides open and those familiar Mjolnir shoes peak out, and begin descending the ramp.

John is always the last to exit, so as the other Spartan start to pass you, you briefly acknowledge them with a slight nod, but your eyes never leave the ship. They’re only looking for him.

Finally, finally you see the gold tint of his helmet’s visor and the infamous green glint of his armor.

Your feet have a mind of their own when they start moving towards him, breaking into a light job. Your face breaks into a breathtaking smile and when you finally reach John, you basically crash into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. You hear him slightly laugh through the comms from his helmet, and he returns your hug, lifting you off the ground with ease as he holds you tight.

“Hey, bug.” He sets you down gently, and runs a gloved hand down your head, cupping your cheek. His thumb softly moving back and forth on your warm skin.

You bring your hand up to his, and grasp it as you smile up at him, “Hey, you.”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later you find yourself in front of John’s door, waiting for him to let you in. It’s been a few hours since he touched down on Reach. You gave him some time to un-suit from his armor, debrief HQ, among other things. He’s a busy man, and there’s always at least one official that needs to talk to him.

Luckily for you, the mission he was just on wasn’t super long, and also not as critical as his past missions. Therefore, the debriefs didn’t take up the whole day like they usually do, and he was back at his apartment at a reasonable time (for once).

Which leads you to now, standing at his door, once again rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

The door finally swings open, revealing a smiling John, and he ushers you inside. He places his hand on the small of your back as you walk into his living room, making small talk about your walk over to his place.

It’s evening now, and John has the low lights turned on in his living room, giving the impression that his home is glowing. The comforting atmosphere wraps around you like a blanket as you go to sit down on his couch.

“So, what do you want to do? I have dinner made for us, but afterwards is completely up to you.” You run your hand down his arm, touched that he thought to make dinner for you. He was surprisingly a great chef, something you weren’t expecting when you first started dating.

“That’s an after-dinner worry, let’s eat then figure it out.” John lightly laughs and agrees.

You spend most of dinner asking him about his mission and he tells you all that he can (seeing that most of his missions are classified). It’s one of your favorite pastimes. He’s been all over the galaxy, to so many different planets and places and you love to hear all about these adventures through his eyes. You sometimes wish he would take you with him to these far-off places, no matter how unrealistic that is.

You guys decide to keep it simple and watch a movie after dinner, so you wrap yourselves under two big blankets, and John tucks you under his arm, your head resting on his chest. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing as his chest moves up and down. His steady heartbeat thrums through his chest, once again reminding you that he’s real and not a figment of your imagination. The laundry detergent that lingers on his clothes makes a feeling of ease wash over you because it always reminds you that you’re safe and that he’s here with you and that he’s okay, alive.

Your hand rests on his upper abdomen, and you can feel the taught ridges of his abs underneath his black t-shirt. You absentmindedly trace circles on him with your fingers and you feel his hand do the same on your shoulder. Your leg is thrown over his lap, and there is no inch of you that is not pressed up against John. You are completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, not even a piece of paper could fit between you guys. His hand comes up to rub your hair, and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“I missed you a lot, you know.” His chest rumbles as he confesses this and your heart warms at the sentiment, a slight smile pulls at your lips.

You squeeze him, and feel his arm tighten around you. You move to sit up straighter so you can look at him and your hand cups his face, your thumb brushing over the slight stubble that’s grown since he’s been gone.

You confess, “Me too,” then lean in to kiss him.

He deepens the kiss as his hand gently cups the back of your head. You and John exist in this diminutive pocket of time where it’s just you two, and nothing else. You find yourself slipping into this space whenever you’re with him, and never wanting your time here to end. Never wanting to enter the reality in which he leaves again. You push those thoughts away for now though, and just continue to exist as you are with him.

You finally break away from each other, and you smile at him, taking in every detail of his face. Your thumb traces over the scar that starts above his left eye, and continues down the side of his temple. You leave a kiss there.

Next, your eyes flit over to the jagged scar in the hollow of his cheek. Your lips softly press down there, tracing the line of the wound he got many years ago. When you reach the end of it, your lips are at the corner of his, and you place one last kiss there.

You break away, and quietly say, “I’m glad you’re here.” He gives you a longing look, his eyes flitting to yours and his hand smooths down your hair as he replies, “Me too.”

~*~*~*

You and John spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other, getting lost in each other’s touches and confessions, finding simple pleasure in just being able to be close to one another.

You think to yourself, the wait is always worth it for moments like these.