#though that nice walk usually involves

[swolfeh]

Saaammmmeeeee

missing someone is crazy because you’ll have dreams that r like “we went on a nice walk together :)” and you’ll wake up feeling like you’re gonna throw up

[yujisdreamgirl]

husband!nanami who is also the father of your 2 children. dated for 6 years and married for 3–you couldn’t ask for anything more.

husband!nanami who is visibly confused during a conversation he had with his colleagues.

nanami usually avoids the break room whilst it was crowded. unfortunately, on a rare day that he’s forgotten to pick up his coffee from his favourite café, he had to walk into a break room full of a bunch of his coworkers talking about their children’s birthdays. they immediately turn to nanami who was standing in the corner and involved him in the conversation.

“it’s my daughter’s birthday soon. yeah i’m probably getting her one of those dolls and shit—she’s turning 5.” the suited up man takes a sip out of his coffee.

nanami nods apprehensively, wishing to leave the room already. “that’s nice. what are you getting for your wife?” he asks.

“what?” all four of his coworkers turned to look at him, and suddenly it felt like an episode of The Voice.

“…don’t you get your wife a gift when it’s your children’s birthdays??” the only time nanami is ever confused is when he does crossword puzzles. this.. is a whole different level.

his coworkers laugh at the absurd statement, some scoff and one pats nanami on the back.

—

nanami drives back home from work but he was more quiet than usual. he would typically turn the radio on and tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. the car however was dead silent.

“who doesn’t give their wife a gift..? tch.”

“do these young men even love their wives anymore? eugh.”

“y/n always seems really happy when i give her gifts on the girls’ birthday.. i can’t imagine not giving her any.”

—

he arrives home and parks in the garage, sighing and cracking his back before bursting through the door.

“i’m h—” before he could finish his sentence, his 3-year-old twin girls came running to hug him.

“daddy! daddy! you’re home!” they giggle and cling onto his legs as nanami leans over to place his hand on your back and kiss your lips. “hello my darlings,” he smiles.

“you’re home early.”

“just missed my girls a lot.”

—

it’s 11pm. the kids are asleep and you’ve done your skincare, the night lamp on as you lay in bed with your husband.

as you snuggle under the sheets, you suddenly feel big arms snake around your torso. you giggle and pull them closer to you before deciding to turn around and face the man beside you. you lay your head on his chest and he immediately caresses your back.

“my love?” nanami speaks up.

“yeeeees?” you sing. he holds you tighter now, before uttering: “you know how i give you a gift for the girls’ birthday?”

you smile softly at the memory—how could you forget? every birthday for three years, he always manages to surprise you with a gift. he treasures the day dearly. it’s your daughters’ birthday but it’s your birth-day.

“i just found out that not every father does that. at least.. my coworkers don’t.” you look up at him now, seeing his scrunched eyebrows and solemn pout—you can already tell it bothers him. “it’s absurd, isn’t it? what do you think?”

you hum, your eyes never leaving his expression. “to be honest, i’ve never witnessed someone do what you do. it’s not exactly common practice,”

nanami sighs, “i guess you’re right. i just love you so much, you know? i’ll keep showing my appreciation on the day that means a lot to me, to us. it’s the day we became a family and i.. i want to make sure you know how important you are, too.” his voice is soft, as though he's been carrying this thought for a while. you blink, the weight of his words settling in your chest. he doesn't say it often, but when he does, it’s clear he means every syllable.

a small laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity. “i know, baby. and i’m thankful for it, for you.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you as if he’s trying to hold on to the moment. “me too, darling. more than you’ll ever know.”

͙͘͡★ dividers by @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune 👔

[slut4thebroken]

Baby Fever

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x wife!reader

Summary | Free use wife.

Warnings | Smut, breeding kink, free use lol, in public, exhibitionism, pregnancy (very few details cause… c’mon lol… I’m the one who wrote it💀), light humiliation.

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | Yeah this gif still makes me feral

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 2: free use + breeding kink

Tommy didn’t expect much from you as a wife. There were already staff who cooked and cleaned and you didn’t have any children yet. The one thing he did expect from you though, was being ready and willing to take his cock at any time of the day. 

Sometimes he’d be more gentle about it, coaxing you away from whatever task or conversation you were involved in to somewhere more private where he’d ravish you until you could only think about him and his cock. Other times, he’d be more desperate. 

If you happened to bring him lunch on a particularly stressful work day, he’d drag you in his office and bend you over the desk, fucking away all of his stress, if at least for a few minutes. 

Sometimes at the race track he’d pull you away to a more secluded— but still very public— area and cover your mouth as he plowed into you, rough and desperate, borderline animalistic. If the sound of your muffled moans didn’t give you away, the loud slapping of skin definitely did, but he didn’t care. If he wanted you, nothing was stopping him from taking you. 

A few times you even woke up to him lazily rutting into you, fucking you deep, but keeping the pace slow. He’d moan quietly, kissing and biting your neck, even sucking on the sensitive skin to leave marks. 

If he was ever short on time, he’d force you to your knees and fuck your face, making you gag and choke on his cock until tears streamed down your cheeks. Sometimes he’d blow his load down your throat. But if you weren’t in public or in too much of a hurry for anything, he’d paint your pretty face with his come, marking you as his. 

He knew you were embarrassed everytime you came back after he dragged you away. Every single time, without fail, you always looked like you were just fucked stupid. But that only encouraged him. He liked showing people that you belonged to him— that his wife was more than happy to satisfy him, even in public. 

It was also common for him to pull over and make you ride his cock in the car, smiling at all the people who drove past. If he couldn’t pull over, he’d grab your hair and force you down on his cock. Even if he arrived at the destination, he wouldn’t stop until you drained his balls and swallowed every last drop. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or if it was pitch black out— it didn’t even matter if the window was open or not. He’d fuck your face and throw his head back as the pleasure consumed him until he finally fell over the edge. Sometimes, his sounds would attract attention, and he loved the look on people’s faces when you lifted yourself up, smiling and wiping the lower half of your face with the back of your hand. 

This didn’t happen often, but if he were ever in the middle of fucking you, too consumed by the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, and someone knocked on the door, he’d tell them to come in. It was usually someone you didn’t even know— one time it was Arthur… that was a particularly humiliating experience for you— but he wouldn’t stop. He’d keep you bent over his desk or on his lap and continue fucking you as you tried to not make any sounds. He always thought it was amusing when you tried to be quiet. 

One time, he walked in on you holding Ada’s baby, smiling and cooing at him, making him giggle relentlessly. As soon as Tommy got you alone, his cock was inside you and he rambled on about fucking a baby into you, breeding you nice and deep until he knocked you up. His words were almost incoherent with arousal as he described this fantasy of your belly full with his kid, your tits swollen with milk, and the glow that you’d have from all of it. He rambled on about raising them together, how good you’d look as the mother of his kids, how he wanted to fuck baby after baby into you… breed you until he fucking ran out of come. 

That sparked a conversation between the two of you. While the original plan was to wait a few years, you both agreed to shorten that time frame. So less than two years later, you were off of birth control and he was breeding you every chance he had. Honestly you were getting a little worn out, but you never complained. No matter how tiring it could be, you still absolutely loved it. 

It became even more of a frequent occurrence for you to be walking around with either come soaked panties or come running down your thighs. He also took a liking to cock warming. In bed, on his desk chair, in the car— anywhere he could— he’d fuck you and fill you with his come, then keep you plugged up, wanting to make sure it really had a chance to take. 

At home, he’d put you in the mating press position, then stuff you full of his come. Only instead of letting you relax, he'd keep your hips tilted up so none of it could leak out and make you come again with his mouth as a reward for staying in that position. 

The first time he fucked you after finding out you were pregnant… he was practically feral. The fact that there was a baby inside you— that it was his baby, made him all but lose control. He ravaged you with an intensity he’s only had a few times, rambling on about how he planned to fuck you like this for a while since he would eventually have to be gentler— if he could even fuck you at all. The problem was that his promise didn’t just apply to when he fucked you in the privacy of your own home, but it was just a problem for you. Tommy loved that you couldn’t keep quiet. 

Months down the line, rough, hard fucking turned into gentle love making. He’d kiss you tenderly as his hips rocked into you, keeping the pace almost tortuously slow. He tended to kiss over your stomach whenever he could and caress it with gentle hands. Both of you were surprised and disappointed by the fact that your breasts were far too tender for any touch to feel good. So he kept his hands and mouth elsewhere. 

The love making usually took place in bed. But every once in a while, he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your small frame, placing his hands on your belly as he kissed your neck until he finally got too impatient and lifted your dress to slip his cock inside. 

Around eight months, and even for weeks after the birth, he showed no sign of needing you like that. He never made you feel pressured either, even when he’d hold you at night. You were grateful though because your body definitely wasn’t ready for that yet. 

It was a little after two months postpartum that you were becoming a bit too needy though. One day, after watching him play with and hold the baby, you finally snapped. The second you were alone you practically jumped his bones, kissing him almost animalistically and pulling on his hair until he moaned into your mouth and finally grabbed your hips. 

“Love,” He started, but cut off when you unzipped your dress and let it fall to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to lose my mind.” You warned breathily, working on ripping his clothes off. 

“Slow down, darling. You have to be careful.” He said gently, making you more frustrated.

“Thomas Shelby, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me, I’ll go find someone who will.” You growled, giving him one last warning. He raised his brows, shocked and amused by your words. “I carried your child for nine months. The least you could do is make me come on your cock until I forget my own name.” 

“You’re that needy, eh?” He smirked, making you scowl. “Calm down, Mrs. Shelby, I’ll give it to you…” you still get butterflies when he calls you that, “but you know I can’t resist teasing you.” 

“You’ve teased me for months. Either fuck the shit out of me or I’ll get it from someone else.” You said, voice low and almost threatening, but you knew it only made Tommy more amused. 

“How have I teased you for months?” He asked innocently. 

“Christ, Tommy— just fuck me already. You have to do what I say because I just birthed a whole baby for you.” 

“I guess you're right.” He said with a sly smirk. “Until you forget your own name?” You nodded eagerly and he walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed. Once you were laying down, he crawled over you and kissed you deeply, making you moan against his lips and bring your hands up to his hair. “As you wish, darling.” 

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

[uramakimochi]

GALA COUPLE

Damian Wayne x Reader

Art credit to 02png

SUMMARY: Damian is forced to go to a gala and asks you, his girlfriend, to be his date. (3.6k words)

WARNINGS: Nothing, just fluff. Damian is aged up, like in his 20s, but i write cute stories, i don't do it to sexualize him so i see nothing wrong with this leave me alone. First time writing for Damian so i hope he's not ooc. FEM!R but no use of Y/n. Use of petnames. R is a bit shy and sweet for this story.

LISTEN TO 'LOVE STORY' BY INDILA

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"No"

"It's decided now"

"I don't want to come"

"You're 20 Damian, don't start throwing tantrums like a child"

"Since i am, in fact, an adult i am perfectly capable of making decisions on my own and one of these is not coming to the gala"

"Do you have anything else to do?"

"Yes-"

"That doesn't involve staying at home to cuddle your pets?"

Damian remained silent and Bruce smirked knowing he won that little battle as he walked down the stairs to the Bat-Cave, followed by his youngest son.

"Everyone else will be there too, so i forbid you to be the only one who is not going show up" Bruce continued and Damian threw his head back with an exasperated groan.

When they both arrived at the cave, they saw that Dick, Cassandra and Duke were also there, all three of them in sports clothes, training while father and son were busy arguing.

"Is everything okay?" Dick asked when he noticed the pout on Damian's lips (even though he always had a frown on his face, but this time he looked more annoyed than usual).

Bruce waved a hand, going to sit in front of the Bat-Computer. "I'm forcing Damian to come to the gala on Friday. Nothing new"

Dick smiled amusedly and after standing up from the push-ups he was doing, he passed the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe it away from the sweat and in the meantime Cass and Duke also stopped their training to join the conversation.

"Aw come on, little D, it'll be fun!"

Damian crossed his arms and glared at him.

"You never liked balls either, Richard"

"We're all used to it. You just have to be nice and elegant and greet all the guests, nothing too complicated right?" the older one retorted and the other rolled his eyes. He hated greeting guests.

Then it was Duke's turn to try to convince him.

"At least this time we will all be together" he continued with a soft, shy smile. "It would be a shame if you were the only one absent"

Damian remained silent and although his sharp gaze could have cut a fly in two at that moment, Duke still noticed his eyes soften, if only slightly. Cass raised a hand.

"Steph and i are only going for the food. Her mostly for the alcohol. And Jason just to talk bad about rich people. Do you think those are good enough reasons for you?"

Bruce turned in his chair to give the girl an unimpressed look and Duke looked down sheepishly, while Dick chuckled. Damian sighed and without saying anything he walked away from the cave and locked himself in his room, knowing that he couldn't back out now.

Meanwhile, you were busy at your house baking cookies for your family when you suddenly heard the phone ring and when you glanced to see who it was, you stopped your work to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello beloved"

You couldn't stop the smile from crossing your lips when you heard his voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hi Dami. You doing okay?"

Damian nodded, but since you couldn't see him he just hummed.

"Mh. What about you?"

"I'm making cookies for my parents" you replied, clutching the phone between your shoulder and ear to continue rolling out the dough as you spoke to him. "If you want i can leave some for you for when you come here"

Damian smiled, letting himself sit on the edge of the bed.

"You are always kind beloved. I don't think i deserve you"

"Well i think you do" you replied with a small laugh that made his heart beat faster.

And even though Damian would have loved to stay and talk on the phone with you until the battery died, he thought back to the main reason he had called you.

"Listen, i have to tell you something..." he sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked him almost immediately.

Another reason why Damian loved you was the fact that you always worried about him, no matter what it was or how serious it was. And it didn't matter how much he insisted that there was no need for you to worry about him. He knew you would never put yourself first.

"Nothing serious, but..."

The more Damian thought about what he had to tell you, the more anger and irritation rose in his body. He let out a grunt and flopped back, lying perpendicular to the mattress and with his green eyes fixed on the white ceiling.

"I know we were supposed to meet this friday, but my father forced me and my siblings to go to a charity gala" he said in one breath.

...

"Oh" you replied in a soft voice. "That's okay, no problem"

Damian closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, more irritated than ever. Damn it, he knew it. He promised you that you would spend the evening together and now he had broken your heart. Stupid Bruce. Stupid gala.

"I'm sorry" Damian muttered. "If it were up to me i wouldn't go, but you know what my father is like and-"

"Dami, it's okay" you interrupted, smiling reassuringly, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm not upset, really. Attending these events is your family's duty. I'm just sorry that you don't want to go"

An angel. You were an angel, there was no other explanation for him. You were always so sweet and understanding, you never got angry. Damian still didn't know what good he had done to make a girl like you part of his life.

But then, suddenly an idea came to him. A bright idea. And before he could stop his tongue the words slipped from his lips.

"Come with me"

Both you and him were silent for a few seconds, while Damian only heard the sound of the kitchen tools you were using in preparing the cookies.

"You mean..." you murmured slowly, stopping what you were doing. "At the ball?"

"Yes" he replied without hesitation. "Come with me to the ball as my date"

Damian heard you let out a small sigh and his heart sank a little. Had it been a stupid idea? Of course, he had to imagine it.

"I don't know, Dami..." you mumbled in an uncertain tone. "All those rich people like you, who knows how they would look at someone like me"

"Are you saying that i'm as obnoxious and spoiled as those people and that i would look down on you with disgust?" he retorted with a smirk, knowing that it wasn't your intention to offend him and that your insecurities were speaking for you.

"N-No, that's not what i meant! I'm sorry" you replied quickly, regretfully.

"It's okay beloved"

You sat on one of the chairs at the table, staring at the cookie dough spread out along the table, but with your head now somewhere else entirely.

"It's just that... I'm not rich, i'm not famous, no one knows me except you. I've never been to a gala, i don't know what it's like. It's not really my scene, you know?"

Damian nodded, but remained silent, sensing that you wanted to say something else.

"I don't want to make a bad impression!" you sighed anxiously. "I mean, what do you talk about at a gala? What if someone asks me something that i can't answer? No, more importantly, how do you even dress at a gala?? I don't think i have suitable clothes in my closet, i'll have to buy new ones. Oh my god but what if i look like an idiot then?? No wait, you said your father and siblings will be there too, right? So that means i'll have to meet your family, right?? What if they think i'm bad because we never told them about our relationship?? Your father is Bruce Wayne, for god's sake, how the hell am i supposed to act around THE Bruce Wayne??"

"My love, please breathe" Damian interrupted you with a light laugh. "You're going to faint"

You did as he told you and took a deep breath, but your heart was still beating fast with anxiety, even though the gala was in a few days.

"Sorry, i'm just a little nervous" you murmured with a nervous smile. "You caught me a little off guard with this request of yours, you know Damian? Haha"

"Look, i know you're scared and i don't blame you. It was selfish of me to ask you this" Damian said calmly. "I asked you to come with me just to keep me company, because i know i would spend a more than pleasant evening with you. It is not my intention to make you do something that you are not comfortable with, so you are free to refuse if you don't feel like it"

"Wouldn't you be upset if i said no?" you asked shyly.

"No my beloved"

Silence fell again as you pondered what to do. Damian expected your refusal, but he wasn't going to get angry about it. But then...

"I'll come"

Damian slowly sat up, not believing those words. "You'll come?"

"Yes. I suppose i'll try the experience of living a gala with you. And i'll consider whether it is as bad as you claim"

He chuckled lightheartedly.

"You don't have to accept if you don't want to do it"

"I know, but i want to. Because i love you and i want to be with you"

Damian believed that the famous 'butterflies in your stomach' were just something you saw in romantic teen movies (that you forced him to watch). But he had to change his mind when for the first time in the course of your relationship he heard those three words slip from your lips like sweet musical notes of a Beethoven symphony. And realizing that every time you said "I love you" it was aimed at him, made him prouder than ever. He would never get tired of hearing those words. Never.

"I love you too beloved. I'm glad you're coming. Thank you" he replied softly. "And you don't have to worry about anything. You just have to be yourself and people will like you as much as i do. And if they can't appreciate your beauty, both external and internal, then they are just blind idiots"

You giggled, feeling your cheeks heat up and he continued.

"It doesn't matter what you wear, because you will always be beautiful in my eyes. Even if you were to arrive with a garbage bag on your head, to me you would still be the most beautiful person in the entire ballroom. In fact in all Gotham. And in all world. And about my family, leave it to me. I'm the one who didn't inform them about our relationship, if they have anything to say, i'll talk to them. Okay?"

You nodded with a relieved smile feeling your heart still beating, this time not from anxiety but from affection towards your boyfriend and his words, which never failed to console you.

"Okay. Thank you so much Dami. For everything"

"It's nothing, my love. See you on Friday evening then?"

"I can't wait"

Damian just wanted to leave. It had barely been an hour at that stupid gala and he already wanted to run away to go home. To you.

That was supposed to be your evening together. Right now he was supposed to be with you, lying on the couch cuddling with Titus and Alfred the cat, while you watched yet another romantic comedy that he hated and eating takeout and other snacks and sweets.

Not in the middle of a ballroom full of people he didn't even know and who thought they were the most beautiful and intelligent just because they had a lot of money and who he was forced to welcome and get to know because of his father.

But while you weren't around, at least his siblings were there to be as bored as he was and that was a good thing, right? Or wasn't it?

"Ugh, do you guys think there's anything on the buffet that has any caffeine in it? I have work to do as soon as we get home" Tim muttered as he stared in disgust at the glass of wine in his hand after he'd only had one small sip.

"No Tim" all the other siblings chorused.

"You know, i know it's bad to say this but i wouldn't mind if some criminal decided to interrupt the party, like right now. It would definitely be more interesting than all this" Jason muttered boredly, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the wall, while Steph raised a hand and moaned a tipsy "Agree".

"You're behaving like children" Barbara then interjected, crossing her arms and glaring at the two. "Try to act as your real age"

"Yeah, aren't you happy that at least we're all here?" Dick continued in his typical big brother tone (But Duke was the only one who nodded slightly, while the others looked at him unimpressed).

"At least the food is good" continued Cassandra.

She delicately took the last canapé from her plate with two fingers and then put it in her mouth and swallowed it without even chewing it. Then she wiped her mouth with a napkin and Tim gave her a strange look.

"How many of those have you already eaten?" he murmured, pointing to the empty plate, almost afraid to know the answer.

Meanwhile, Duke noticed Damian's gaze fixed on the crowd and his foot tapping repeatedly on the floor.

"Are you alright Damian?"

Those words attracted the attention of the other siblings who focused their eyes on the youngest.

"Yeah you're actually quieter than usual tonight Demon Spawn, it's not like you" Jason replied with a smirk. "You still haven't complained about any old lady pulling your cheeks and saying you reminded her of her grandson or-"

As Jason spoke he approached Damian and reached out to his thin face, then pinched his cheek between his thumb and forefinger and pulled lightly. Damian's gaze immediately changed to an angry expression and he raised a hand to make the older one pull away with a slap.

"Keep your filthy hands off of me Todd!" he said nervously, but the other only chuckled.

Damian crossed his arms again and glared at everyone present, annoyed by all the attention that was on him. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm just waiting"

"Waiting... For what, exactly?" Dick asked tilting his head.

But Damian didn't answer and looked back at the entrance to the ballroom, even more frowning than before, while the others exchanged a confused look, not used to his vagueness. And although from the outside he seemed like the usual gruff and grumpy Damian, in reality he was nothing more than a bundle of nerves on the inside.

Maybe he shouldn't have sent Alfred to pick you up at home and take you to the ball. It would have been better if he had come himself, right? What if you changed your mind at the last moment and never came? Now he understood how you had felt a few days ago with him. He shouldn't have put all that pressure on you to attend the gala. You probably hated him now and-

"Hold up, who the hell is that??"

Stephanie's voice rang out among the siblings even before his gaze could register the figure that had just entered the ballroom.

Damian's eyes widened when he finally saw you right there in flesh and bones, a few meters away from him, standing with shy eyes and trembling hands in the middle of that sea of people who you were afraid were staring at you as if you were a monster, when in reality they were just busy enjoying the party.

But where you considered yourself a monster, Damian on the other hand, had so many words to describe you that at that moment they were spinning in his head like a tornado. Beautiful, breathtaking, enchanting. Ethereal.

All of Bruce's children had their eyes fixed on you: some confused like Jason and Tim because they had no idea who you were, others surprised like Steph, Duke and Cass because they had no idea who you were either and others both confused and surprised like Dick when he saw Damian suddenly walk away from them without saying anything, leaving them there.

"Damian, where are you going?"

But the other ignored him again and soon after, after having nimbly dodged all the guests who suddenly seemed to have become his worst obstacle to overcome, he found himself in front of you.

"Beloved" he called softly and you jerked your head up to look at him, taken aback.

"Oh! H-Hi Dami"

Before he could control himself, he reached his hands towards yours, squeezing them tightly. You looked at him awkwardly, knowing he could probably feel how sweaty they were from anxiety, but if he noticed, he didn't comment anything about it.

"You came" he said and you gave him a small shy smile.

"You thought i had changed my mind? You asked me to come, didn't you?"

He smiled back and your heart flipped at the sight. He was so handsome, so elegant. His dark, glowing skin, his clear bright eyes, his soft raven hair, his warm smile.

You really wanted to just stand there and watch him for hours, when your gaze suddenly fell on the small group of people behind him who were looking at you with more than shocked faces, every single one of them.

"Um, are those your siblings?" you asked shyly and he turned to see where you were looking.

He gave a small sigh and nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. But you don't have to be afraid of them. They're all just a bunch of idiots"

"Be nice" you gave him a small tap on the shoulder, then looked around. "Is your father somewhere here?"

"He's probably busy talking to all the other guests" he shrugged indifferently. "The 'advantage', if you want to call it that, of being Bruce Wayne. I'll introduce you later"

Suddenly a sweet melody echoed throughout the room and when you moved your eyes to see where the music was coming from you saw that the orchestra (you hadn't even noticed them when you entered) had started to play a slow song. Couples formed around you, joined hands and began to dance, more and more of them filling the dance floor.

You and Damian exchanged a look and he gave you a small, tight-lipped smile, before taking a small step back and offering you a hand.

"Will you grant me the honor of dancing with you, my beloved?"

And without hesitation you gently placed your hand on his palm.

"I'd love to"

He lifted it to bring it to his lips, kissing the back of it delicately and then holding it in his and making you come closer to him, so that he could place his other hand on your hip, while yours went to rest on his thin but firm shoulder. You began to sway side to side slowly, following the sweet melody of that romantic music and you looked into each other's eyes, full of the love and devotion you felt towards each other.

"You don't have to do this, you know?" you murmured softly, knowing that Damian wasn't used to showing your level of intimacy in front of an audience, especially one as large as a gala and in front of his family.

"If i didn't want to i wouldn't have asked you, you know me" he replied and you softly nodded.

"I do"

You continued to dance and while you couldn't take your eyes off Damian's, soon everything and everyone around you disappeared. There were only you, him and the music that accompanied your dance.

"We can leave whenever you want" he continued then and you looked at him slightly confused. "If at any point you don't feel comfortable, just say the word and i'll take you home"

"I know you would" you smiled and turned your face to rest your temple against his shoulder, letting him pull you further into his body. "But i think i'll be fine. I like being here and dancing with you"

"Me too beloved"

Damian smiled and tilted his face to rub his cheek against the top of your head and you closed your eyes, enoying the warmth of his body against yours, cradled by the music and the feeling of his tapered hands on your body.

And while you two were now lost in your enchanted world, certain siblings were staring at you shamelessly as if they had just made the greatest discovery in the world.

"They're too close to be just friends, aren't they?" Jason asked and Tim and Cass nodded slowly without saying anything.

"So that's why he seemed so strange earlier. Who would have thought Damian had a girlfriend?" Duke asked aloud with a tender smile, still shocked, but happy for him nonetheless.

Dick, Barbara, and Stephanie were looking at the two of you side by side with puckered lips, shining eyes, and clasped hands, as if they had just seen the cutest thing in the world.

"Aw Little D has now become Big D" Dick murmured, wiping away a fake tear. "I'm so proud of him. I mean, i'm upset that he didn't tell us anything, but i'm still proud of him"

"She's so sweet~" Steph cooed, squeezing Barbara's hand, who nodded. "I wonder how she managed to fall in love with someone like Damian, but love is love right?"

"They're so cute dancing together~" the redhead continued, then took out her phone and opened the camera. "I absolutely have to take a photo of this"

And while the group was still busy looking at you and Damian, Bruce suddenly appeared next to them, also with his eyes fixed on you.

"Are those two Damian and his girlfriend?" he asked curiously the others nodded simultaneously.

Bruce smiled softly.

"They're cute"

[puptrefied]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

　let's start by saying caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

masterlist

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Gossip Chronicles

Word Count: 835

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Y/n, both lovers of gossip, eagerly dissect the drama after the drivers dinner

________________________________________________________

The low hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Y/n lounged on the plush hotel bed, scrolling through her phone. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her eager expression as she refreshed Twitter for the umpteenth time, hoping to catch a glimpse of what went down at the drivers’ dinner. She loved drama, and being with Lando Norris only fueled her insatiable thirst for F1 gossip.

She glanced at the clock. 10:45 PM. He’d been gone long enough.

When the door finally clicked open, Y/n practically leapt off the bed. Lando walked in, pulling the hood of his light blue hoodie down as he set his keycard on the dresser. The hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, giving him that effortlessly casual vibe that Y/n loved.

“Finally!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it lightly at him. “What took you so long? You know I’ve been dying to hear everything.”

Lando laughed, dodging the pillow with ease. “Nice to see you too, love.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting. “Spill. Now.”

Lando tugged off his sneakers and flopped onto the bed beside her, the faint scent of cologne lingering as he did. “Alright, alright,” he said, adjusting his hoodie. “Where do I even start?”

“Max and George,” Y/n said immediately, her eyes lighting up. “I saw the clips from the press conference earlier, and you can’t tell me there wasn’t tension. What happened? Did they fight? Was it awkward?”

Lando chuckled, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly under his hood. “Oh, it was so awkward. Max barely looked at George the entire dinner. He was polite enough to everyone else, but you could tell he was still pissed about the whole sprint race thing.”

“I knew it!” Y/n practically squealed, sitting up straighter. “Did George say anything to him?”

“Well,” Lando said, stretching his legs out, “George tried to be civil—like, he even made this joke about the weather or something—but Max just gave him that look. You know the one.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “The ‘I’m about to crush you on the track’ look?”

“Exactly,” Lando confirmed, smirking. “It was so uncomfortable that even Carlos had to jump in and crack a joke to break the tension.”

“Of course Carlos did,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes fondly. “What about Lewis? Was he Switzerland as usual?”

Lando snorted. “Pretty much. He was sitting between Charles and George, though, so he didn’t really get involved. But I swear, Valtteri was eating it all up. You know how he loves watching chaos unfold without actually being in it?”

“That man is the definition of petty,” Y/n said, laughing. “What about Charles? Was he just… being pretty and clueless as usual?”

Lando burst out laughing. “Pretty much. He was just sitting there, sipping his wine, probably wondering how he got stuck in the middle of all this drama. Carlos kept nudging him like, ‘Just stay quiet.’”

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “Tell me more. Who else was doing what? Did Pierre and Yuki cause a scene? Did Oscar say anything?”

Lando laughed, pulling his hood back up for dramatic effect. “Yuki almost spilled his drink trying to get Pierre to stop flirting with the waitress. And Oscar… well, Oscar just looked like he was mentally filing for a restraining order from all of us.”

Y/n laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Poor Oscar. He didn’t sign up for this chaos.”

“No, but he’s learning quickly,” Lando said, chuckling.

“So,” Y/n said, leaning closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “what’s your personal take on the Max and George drama? Whose side are you on?”

Lando gave her a playful side-eye, tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You trying to get me in trouble, love?”

“Always,” she said with a grin.

“Well,” Lando said, drawing out the word dramatically, “Max is definitely holding onto a grudge, but George isn’t exactly innocent either. I think they just need to have a proper shouting match and get it over with.”

Y/n nodded sagely. “Agreed. Maybe I should lock them in a room together during the next race weekend.”

“Or we could just sit back and enjoy the show,” Lando said, smirking. “You know there’s bound to be more fireworks soon.”

“True,” Y/n said, settling back against the pillows. “I swear, F1 is better than any reality TV show.”

Lando wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “And you’re my favorite co-star.”

Y/n smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re just saying that because I let you gossip as much as I do.”

“Maybe,” Lando admitted, laughing. “But hey, it’s our thing.”

[ohhowjooniewept]

ex childhood best friend jungkook x y/n

angst, fluff, smut

living in a small town, secluded from the majority of other neighbouring cities was a life most couldn’t handle. it involved everyone knowing each other, secrets, and a rigid routine - a sense of day to day normalcy that felt more manufactured if anything. you had lived here since birth, much to your disdain, and you wanted nothing else than to just pack up and leave. to never see anyone ever again. to never see him again.

you were a quiet person by nature, reserved by choice. knowing everyone meant you had to be cordial regardless of your true feelings, and lord knew you had many opinions about the people you shared the same streets and establishments with. the only people you loved, entirely, were yoongi and yejin - the dark haired twins who had moved here five years ago. they didn’t talk much, and certainly didn’t delve into why they would move to such a secluded place. you didn’t pry, there were too many people here seeking secrets already.

the town was mostly run and governed by 6 families, all with different abilities and power. they, in turn, were managed by one single individual - hyunki jeon. they were all relatively nice, genuinely - not the sickly fake sort that you had been used to all your life. the older man, however, was known for his stoicism, always unfeeling and certainly not kind. their sons were around your age, and though you chose to stick to the twins, you had conversed with namjoon and taehyung a few times and found them to be lovely. it was jungkook, however, who made you raise your guard.

once all dimples and sparkly eyes; the tatted boy was an anomaly. people like him didn’t live in places like this, half rage and half silence. you knew him, once, when you were young. friendship was once defined to you with an 8 letter name, as the boy brought you such joy. you were inseparable, and his parents held a fondness for you that you were sure they didn’t hold for many. his grandfather did not share the same sentiments - it was clear to all he found you to be unworthy, the fact you loitered in his home and ate his food whilst being from such a lowly family disgusted him. you were a child, in need of love and affection, two things jungkook and his parents offered in absence of your own mother and father. he did not like this. but no matter, it all meant nothing in the end.

you both turned twelve, only a few days apart, and you’d shown up at your usual hang out spot to actually celebrate together. you brought a handmade gift, hats and a little cake you spent time baking yourself, excited to show him. you had planned this together for months and months and months; the excitement was palpable. only, he didn’t show.

you’d spent an hour waiting, at first worried due to his lateness. he was always early, always. you waited another hour in hope, and another hour after that in confusion. four hours in, you stupidly realised he had no intention of coming down but yet, your heart still quickened in worry. after you packed everything up, you took a quick walk to his home, sat on the end of the street you lived on, wrapping your knuckles on the door.

the door swung open to reveal jungkook who’s eyes held a swirl of guilt you couldn’t quite place. he simply stood, both unmoving and quiet. you noticed his face seemed blotchy, as though he had been crying and the shake of his hands were clear to you.

“are..are you okay? thought we were gonna celebrate.” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“you should go home, y/n.” he replied, cold and stiff. your eyebrows furrowed even further as a frown appeared.

“is today not a good day? i’ve been waiting for a while, you could have told me.” you mumbled. you felt so confused. “i made you a cake.”

he watched as you revealed it, showing it to him with a glimmer of hope.

“i told you to go home.” he repeated, voice raising. “i don’t want your stupid cake, i don’t want to celebrate your stupid birthday and i don’t want to hang out with stupid you!”

your face was distraught, no doubt. you felt as though someone had punched you in the stomach, your best friend, your only repose in this horrible town, telling you to leave him alone and over what? what did you do? what had you done? being only twelve, you could feel your lip quivering and your eyes beginning to water.

“why are you being so mean?” you asked, hands shaking around the little cake tin. “i don’t get what’s happening, why..what did i do?”

he didn’t respond, your eyes meeting his to find his own unshed tears beginning to stream down his face. “we aren’t friends anymore, y/n. so please just leave me alone. don’t come here again.”

he stepped back before slamming the door shut in your face. little, newly twelve year old you stood, legs shaking in your pretty dress as sobs began to wrack your body. you left the cake tin at the door before grabbing the rest of your stuff and running home, tears ruining your vision.

you cried for months, not that anyone was there to care or listen. two absent parents and no siblings or cousins, no one really bothered to check in on you. all you had was jungkook, and he knew it and yet still pushed you to the side as though you meant nothing to him. as though the days you’d spend having family dinners at his house meant nothing, or the days you’d spend hours and hours and hours strolling through the forest and park just talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

jungkook, your only friend and the boy you fell in love with each passing spring, was also the boy who broke your heart. you’d never forget it, and you certainly weren’t ready to forgive.

——

“want to get a burger?” yoongi asked, hand running through his already messy hair.

the boy had shown up out of the blue, as he often did, at your house with no more than a food craving and a quiet grin.

you rolled your eyes before turning back around into the house. “yeah, let me put some concealer on first. i’ve been rotting away all day.”

he chuckled, stepping in behind you before closing the door. “what, parents not in?” you hummed, walking to your room. “are they ever?”

“touché. you know you can stay at mine, right? know you don’t like being here alone, yejin’s been saying you can share her room.”

you looked at him through your mirror, with a warm smile as you dabbed your makeup. “i know yoongs, love you both forever.”

he grinned again, stretching his arms before heading downstairs, waiting for you outside. after ten minutes, and a little walk, you stood in front of the old diner that had been here long before you were ever born. the decor was chipping and peeling, the seats uncomfortable but the staff were warm and sweet.

“there you guys are! what took you so long.” yejin grumbled, embracing you in a tight hug. “haven’t seen you in like a week, which is practically a millennia in this town. you good?”

“yeah, don’t worry. just didn’t feel to good; don’t want to spread anything.” you laughed, arm around her waist while yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking towards your usual booth.

you slid in, yejin following and yoongi sitting in front as you watched your waitress come forward. you all ordered your usual cheeseburgers and milkshakes before giggling and chattering quietly as per usual. you never grew tired of the twins, they were your only joy in both this town and world - wherever they went, you wanted to follow and you knew they felt the same.

“i can’t be bothered going to the council meeting tonight.” yoongi groaned, head falling to the table with a quiet thump. “same old shit every single time. remember to clean the streets, report anything you see, bla bla bla.”

you grinned. “yeah, maybe they should get you up on that podium, hm? you seem to know the dialogue too well.”

he grimaced at you, before yejin shook her head. “i don’t know, i was getting groceries earlier and you know the lady that lives two streets down from the forest? the one with the cute gate?” you both nodded. “i overheard her chatting and i think something’s happened. i can’t imagine it’s anything too crazy, but she seemed to be fishing for something.” yejin muttered through bites.

“someone’s always fishing for secrets in this bastard place.” you frowned.

the toil of the bell on the door rang loudly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, lost in your thoughts. yoongi was playing with his food whilst yejin whispered some more gossip she overheard, making you all giggle absentmindedly.

“y/n?” you looked up, the sound of someone calling you gently pulling you out of your trance before you saw a familiar smile. jin.

you had spoken to him a few times, nothing extreme and certainly no long conversations or anything. he still went out of his way to say hello and give you a greeting whenever he’d see you, and your friends too. despite being from the eldest family of the 6, he was arguably the politest out of all of their children - known in town for being a sweet soul.

“hi!” you grinned softly up at him.

“sorry. this is so rude of me, i hope i’m not interrupting.” he flushed pink, eyes flickering to yejin who openly stared up at him with a tilt of her head. “not at all.” she answered for you, smoothly.

his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before turning to you with a slight gulp. “could..could i just grab you for a moment? just need to speak privately with you.”

you hardly noticed his group of friends walking past him to a table a few seats down from yours, your eyes furrowing. you simply nodded, climbing over yejin to get out of the booth before following him outside. this was odd, you didn’t really have an established relationship with the guy so you were slightly uncomfortable, in all honesty.

“firstly, let me just apologise.” he began, nervously chuckling while shifting from foot to foot. “this isn’t something i usually do and i’m embarrassed but just wanna do this right, you know?”

you nodded, somewhat reassuringly which made him grin. “yejin..i really like her. i want to approach her but i get nervous and i’m so scared of embarrassing myself, which i think i’m doing right now actually.” his eyebrows furrowed.

you couldn’t help the soft smile that began to form on your lips. you knew your best friend would probably jump up and down screaming if she was privy to this information, considering she wouldn’t shut up about how handsome the tall boy was.

“jin, believe me when i say i think you’ll be okay.” you promised. “and she’s really easy to talk to, have you tried?”

he nodded, grinning back at you, relieved at your reassurance. “you think so? i tried the other week, you guys were at the park but, i couldn’t bring myself to come over, psyched myself out and i’m pretty sure yoongi noticed me going back and forth so..”

you laughed. “listen, just approach her. try catch her alone, even? she’d really like that, promise.”

he let out a short laugh. “i sound like a schoolboy, sorry to put this on you.” you shook your head, reaching out to pat this arm. “this is so cute, i’m happy you came to me.”

“i’ll let you get back to them, sorry again for taking your time. oh!” he stopped, turning to you again. “you’ll be attending the towns meeting right?”

you nodded, shuffling in your spot. “yeah, my parents aren’t..they’re not here so. i’ll go.”

it embarrassed you to your core knowing your parents were the way they were. abusive when around, which was rare these days - but that meant the burden of representing your family always fell on you. you hated it, couldn’t stand the pity looks and the murmurs people would share.

“i’ll see you there, then!” he simply assured, not an ounce of anything other than genuine niceness. “a few of us are getting drinks after, if you’re all down, i’d love for you guys to come.”

“yeah, i’ll let them know.”

soon, you were headed inside again. he thanked you again before moving to his table and you to yours, sliding in next to yoongi this time with a small grin over at yejin, who secretly had an inkling of what the conversation was about but didn’t pry.

you informed them on the offer to which yoongi shrugged. “could be fun, why not? i heard hoseok has a studio in his house and i have some questions i’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

“wow, yoongs. when people meet others for the first time, they usually extend a casual greeting.” yejin scoffed, eating the fries from his plate. “but yeah, let’s go, it could be fun.”

you grinned at her as yoongi laughed, stealing his plate back away from her. your eyes naturally drifted to behind yejin, where jin and his friends sat, your eyes casually flickering over all of them before they fell on him.

brown eyes were already watching you. your breath hitched slightly as you made eye contact with the boy that once ignited every emotion in your body to the surface, the boy that for some reason, was still able to. your throat bobbed, unable to look away for a few seconds before doing so, blinking rapidly to rid yourself of him in your brain; a futile attempt of building your walls up again. a single look was able to undo you - you had no idea it did worse to him.

jungkook, the boy that broke your heart, sat next to jin, appetite lost and throat constricting. you looked so beautiful today, he thought, though you always did - you were so good at making yourself smaller and unassuming wherever you went in town but he always managed to find you, to look at you. to really see you. he thought of you everyday, longed and yearned for you. it was all going to end today.

today, the time had finally come. he was free, and he was going to get his girl back.

——

the meeting had begun ten minutes ago and yet the overall atmosphere was off. everyone seemed rather unsettled, and frankly, it was clear that yejin’s earlier mention of something going on was actual fact.

after a few more minutes, the stage podium began to be surrounded by the jeon family. jungkook stood beside his mother, with a hand on her back and and one on his father’s too in clear assurance as the latter began speaking into the microphone. they looked exhausted, and despite your feelings for the boy, you felt a pang of worry. his parents had never shown anything but pure kindness to you, even after your friendship break up with jungkook - though they didn’t know the reason, alongside yourself, they didn’t treat you any different. his mother would drop off meals to your house, cookies and sweets whilst his dad personally paid for all of your after school clubs, and made sure your tutoring and hobbies were well nurtured. they loved you like their own, so were confused at the sudden distance between you and their son.

“thank you all for coming today. i wish this could be on better circumstances.” the older man began. “i regret to inform you of the passing of my father, hyunki jeon. he passed peacefully two nights ago surrounded by family. we ask for both your respect and discretion during this time.”

silence filled the room, everyone looking at one another. your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted man, standing tall and strong for his parents, only to notice his eyes already on you. you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, your chest rising and falling.

everytime you had seen jungkook over the years, you noticed how quiet he was. it was unsettling, the once bright boy so purposefully silent - but it was the look of anger that radiated from him that really shook you. he just seemed so on edge all the time, every council meeting, every time he was out with his friends - you noticed jimin, the candy haired boy, would often pat his back in comfort. though it didn’t alleviate the pain he caused you, you still had empathy for the sweet boy who once loved you as much as you loved him. you just wondered if he existed anymore.

even now, with eyes unmoving, you watched as he took in a deep breath, blinking slowly at you before forcibly looking away, and towards his mother who gently held his hand. she noticed his gaze your way, and offered a sad smile to which you quickly reciprocated.

“that was not what i was expecting.” yejin whispered, between you and yoongi. he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “can’t say i’m too upset, he was a horrible man.”

you couldn’t bring yourself to really say anything, you had met the man’s cruelty personally years ago and it still made you shiver. your eyes flickered between the three people on stage, and though they looked exhausted and appropriately sympathetic, none looked overtly upset. no one was crying, nor distraught. people came up to extend their sadness, and they expressed their gratitude but again - they didn’t look like a family that had just lost a patriarch.

soon, you too rose, waiting your turn to wish your best wishes. yoongi and yejin had gone before you, extending polite exchanges, watching as they stepped to the side to let you forward.

upon sight of you, jungkook’s mother let out a little noise before stepping forward and wrapping you in her arms tightly. “oh my darling girl, i haven’t seen you all week, are you alright?”

your cheeks flushed pink, she usually dropped food off at your job as much as she could, considering you worked so close to her home. “I’m okay, just been sick. i’m so sorry for your loss.” your eyes turned to his father who also pulled you into an embrace. “thank you, sweetheart. don’t stress your head.” he cooed.

jungkook stood beside them. you pulled away, your eyes turning to him with a small frown. “sorry for your loss.” you murmured, shuffling.

“thank you, y/n. that’s very kind of you.” he responded, voice deep and fingers twitching. you simply nodded, lump in your throat at the intensity of his gaze before giving his parents one last small smile, turning to your friends and walking away.

“i know you hate him, but i very much think he wants you.” yoongi teased, with a giggling yejin circling around you outside. you scoffed, pushing his arm. “no he doesn’t. he made that very, very clear.”

“hm, i don’t know. i noticed him earlier in the diner, staring you down and when we were sat in the hall. he’s been pretty bold today, what’s changed?” yoongi questioned, rubbing his arm. “yeah, i noticed earlier when you and jin were talking outside, he was watching you guys, seemed a bit annoyed.” his sister continued, giggling away.

“you guys are genuinely insane.” you grumbled. “conspiracy theories won’t change anything.”

two seconds later, jin walked over, same grin on his face with two of his friends in tow. hoseok and jimin.

“hi! we’re getting drinks down at the bar, you guys still up to join?” he asked, nervously, eyes flickering between you all but mainly on yejin.

“depends..” she hummed, head tilting. “my drinks on you, jinnie.”

you watched as he nodded, trailing after her as she walked away forcing a laugh out of you and a grumble out of yoongi. hoseok and jimin walked closer to you, properly introducing themselves. yoongi’s sour mood improved in mere seconds once he began asking his questions to the younger boy, only for him to answer them with equal keenness.

“i’ve noticed you around a few times, sorry i haven’t introduced myself sooner.” jimin laughed, watching the two as you began stepping toe to toe. “that’s alright, everyone knows each other here anyway, no need for introductions.” you responded, prompting him to laugh even more.

“i get the sense you don’t like it here very much.” he questioned, cheekily.

“do you?” you asked, grin forming. you liked him already, all smiles and crinkled eyes. “because from where i’m standing, i don’t think there’s much to like about this place.”

“touché. can’t say i don’t agree with you, so why don’t you leave?” he asked, suddenly curious. “is it your boyfriend?”

you began coughing suddenly, eyes widening as you looked at him in pure shock. “boyfriend?”

“is he not? am i confused?” he matches your confusion, his own eyes widening.

“definitely, definitely not. pretty sure he doesn’t bat for women, so.” you shook your head, a blush on your cheeks.

“huh. all this time, jungkook’ll be pleased to hear that.”

your blood ran cold, your eyes flickering to the cheeky boy once more as you walked towards the bar. “what do you mean?”

he grinned, nice and wide before opening the door to the bar for you, wiggling his eyebrows. “oh nothing!”

before you could even begin questioning the boy, yejin called you over. you were sure your face was showcasing a million different emotions, but by the time your legs carried you over to the large bar, you noticed that it was mainly jin’s friends AKA the founding families’ sons. your eyebrows furrowed even more once you watched jungkook walk through the doors.

everyone seemed so cheery. even the tall tatted boy who surely should be in some sort of mourning, seemed much more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. his air of anger and quiet demeanour replaced by something that resembled peace.

“time to drink!” namjoon shouted at out, making everyone cheer. yoongi came up beside you, both of you unaware of jimin mumbling something in jungkook’s ear just behind you.

“not to be that person, but this is..” yoongi quietly whispered. “odd.” you finished for him.

“i can answer that for you.” someone wrapped their arms around you from behind, the stentch of both tequila and vodka swimming in the air. “tonight, we fucking celebrate.” taehyung laughed loudly, between you both, arms caging you both in by your shoulders.

yoongi’s face was priceless, both alarmed and curious. “uh..what exactly?”

“we celebrate because he’s dead. that bastard finally fucked off and took his blackmailing with him.” he grinned with a squeal, twirling around in front of you all before jumping behind the bar alongside the bartender, popping his hip. “so, i expect you all to get drunk, and cheer as much as you can. want him to hear us from beyond the grave.”

you felt slightly uncomfortable and frankly out of place. yoongi, yejin and yourself shared confused glances before the former was taken away by hoseok, no doubt to redirect the conversation to their shared interest in music and the latter’s attention taken by the tall haired boy who had bought her a drink. you stood, shuffling from foot to foot before taking a seat.

“two beers.” a voice behind you called to the bartender who nodded immediately. you didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but you simply ignored it, assuming he wasn’t taking to you.

once the beers were pushed forward, you watched as he stood beside you, taking a hold of one before sliding the other towards you. you gawked at him, confused. “drink.”

“w-what?”

he didn’t respond, simply drinking his beer with a deep rumble in his chest. you frowned up at him before childishly pushing the drink back at him, turning your back to him before catching the bartenders attention to order something else.

jungkook’s jaw twitched. he understood, of course he did, but you didn’t.

“i think we should talk.” he calmly said, swiping his card for your drink before you could protest.

you scoffed, frown deepening. “i don’t have anything to say to you, jungkook.”

“i know, baby, but i’m gonna need you to look at me, please?”

your breath hitched, baby? that was new, and you could feel something locked and hidden away force its way to the surface in your stomach. you hated that you liked it, hated that it made you pool between your legs.

you nibbled on your bottom lip. your hands were beginning to shake again, a tick that only amplified when you were in anxiety inducing situations and you were pretty sure nothing could get you as nervous as the situation you were currently in.

“5 minutes? i know i don’t deserve your time but i swear i’ll make it worth it.” he all but begged making you exhale deeply before your eyes flickered over to him slowly.

his hair, slightly messy, outfit all black to signify his mourning. although he looked anything but a mourner - frankly, he looked downright sinful and it made your head swim.

“2 minutes. that’s all you get, and then you go back to leaving me alone.” you hissed at him, sliding off of your stool before looking away, waiting for him to lead away.

you missed the way his jaw ticked, before nodding, doing exactly that. his long legs guided you to a quiet room beside the bar, both yoongi and yejin watching you carefully. the latter grabbed your arm before you could walk on, eyes narrowing suspiciously at jungkook. “call us if you need us, hm?”

you nodded, before catching up to jungkook. he closed the door behind you, watching as you sat on a chair. the room was relatively bare, a big table in the middle where no doubt the governing body often came. you felt slightly out of place but you couldn’t pass up this opportunity out of pure curiosity.

jungkook pulled a seat out beside you, sitting down. it surprised you slightly, you expected him to sit opposite you, or even assert himself by sitting at the top of the table but this? interesting.

you both made eye contact, unspeaking for a moment as he simply let his eyes run over your face. you could feel your cheeks heat without your will, breaking the silence immediately. “1 minute and a half left.”

he couldn’t help the little grin that formed and you couldn’t help but admire it. stupid.

“firstly, i need to apologise to you. i know it’s been years and years, but i’ve wanted..needed to tell you that.” he murmured, eyes never leaving your own. “i know i hurt you that day, but i need you to understand i was trying to protect you, i had reasons and i knew it was the only way you would listen to me. doesn’t make it fair and definitely doesn’t make it okay, but i couldn’t lose you any further than i had to y/n.”

your throat bobbed. “what reasons?” you whispered out, unsure of how to take his apology. in response, you watched as he looked away, jaw ticking as though he had no intention of answering you.

your eyebrows furrowed. you could feel a semblance of anger growing inside of your chest and clawing at your throat. “you don’t get to come here and give me an apology for something that broke me and then tell me oh i had my reasons. if you don’t plan on sharing them, you’ve wasted my time.” you spat out, standing up to walk away.

his hands reached out, taking a hold of your hips, fingers flexing gently against your body before ushering you to sit back down which you reluctantly did. both of you seemed slightly shaken from the physical contact.

there was a moment of silence, jungkook’s eyes closing tightly before opening again. he was clearly debating something, but as he made eye contact with you again, he knew he had to. “my grandfather.” he whispered.

“what about him?” you asked, carefully. the man had just died and no matter your opinion, he was family to jungkook and you were too empathetic to bring your own emotions into it.

“i’m glad he’s dead. makes me free. makes us all free.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, remembering taehyung’s outburst from earlier.

“what do you mean?” you whispered back, confused.

his jaw ticked at the memory swirling in his head, hands shuffling. you noticed he began getting lost in his thoughts and they were increasingly making him uncomfortable, forcing him to shift. “he didn’t like you. thought you were a distraction to me, and therefore you got on his list of people to exterminate.” he simply replied. “he hated my dad for marrying my mum, made our lives a fucking hell every chance he got knowing he had power and then realised one day that all of this, this bastard fucking town could be mine instead of his.”

you were sure your face was showcasing a million emotions, your heart clenching deeply. you knew he was a horrid man, but to extend his abuse to his family was incomparable.

“you’d come over for dinner, and i swear my parents love you so much, y/n..” he sighed out, hands running through his hair. “mum would get excited over buying stuff to decorate the table with, she’s always wanted a girl but after me, she wasn’t comfortable with bringing another child into the hellhole that fucker was causing, knew he’d give her hell too.”

you gulped.

“little things you know? he’d get annoyed you were round, annoyed you were eating in a house he said he had a claim in. he didn’t even fucking live there, but logic didn’t matter. then..then he’d get violent, usually to my dad. my mum would hide away, take me with her but he’d always find us too, you know? couldn’t say anything cause he knows all these people, has connections, money buys everything.”

his hands were shaking a little harder, and for the first time in years, you found yourself reaching over, taking one in your hand whilst they rested in his lap, wide eyes meeting yours. you said nothing, simply allowing him to continue whilst you comforted him.

“he knew you made me happy, made fun of me for liking you so much. said he wouldn’t let me make the same mistake my dad did, marrying my mum.” he spat out, jaw ticking. “we were kids, y/n, and he couldn’t stand to see me happy, see me enjoy your presence, he wanted you gone. he’d do anything, and i knew he’d go as far as he could so..”

your throat bobbed.

“so i did what i did. i hated myself so much, y/n, but i convinced myself that this would save you, and it did. he’s left you alone for so long because he thought i didn’t care anymore.” he gulped, turning your hand over so he was now the one caressing it. “but he’s wrong. all i ever think about is you, my mind is plagued and all i can comprehend is y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n. i see you around town and i want to pull out my own hair, makes me so angry and i know it’s so selfish but i want you to myself, want to be in your arms again like when we used to under our tree in the park.” he all but whispered. “want to feel like you’re mine.”

he looked up at you, he could see the glassy dew forming in your eyes and the way your little lip trembled. his other hand shot out, thumb tracing your little lip. “knew i could never have you, not until he was dead. dreamt of him dying in so many different ways, violent and painful but even in death he gets lucky. peaceful.” he whispered, hand dropping and eyes closing. the familiar anger was back and you could see it. “he hurts us for years, and he gets to die in peace?”

his voice broke at the end of his sentence, a small and uncharacteristic whimper leaving his lips. you couldn’t think, tears streaming down your face, your hands gently twitching beside your body, desperate to reach out and comfort him but the passage of time had made you uncertain.

regardless, the intimacy of the situation charged you, sniffling as you hesitantly reached out to him. a single hand on his knee, unsure but you knew it was necessity. you remembered how much a single touch used to calm him. you knew that the pain he caused you was for something that caused him an immense amount more, that didn’t alleviate how much it hurt you but it did allow for a reason. that felt enough.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered to you, his own hand taking yours from his knee and instead clasping it. “you don’t have to forgive me, but i promise you i’m going to be better. gonna prove it to you, hm? no one can hold me back, not anymore.”

you simply nodded through your sniffles.

after pulling away slowly, just enough so your fingers were touching. this felt oddly intimate in itself, even more so than before. “how could he do that to you? you were just a boy, you’re still just..it’s not fair, you shouldn’t apologise for doing what you felt was necessary, i’m just sorry it had to happen this way.”

you watched his eyes soften clearly at the mere mention of forgiveness, before closing and letting out a deep exhale. he reached for your hand again. “you meant the world to me then, but you have no idea what you are to me now. i’m going to relearn you, y/n, going to be a man you deserve, a man that won’t walk away but a man that’ll protect you. gonna do this properly.” he promised before pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

——

a month had passed since jungkook’s confession and at first it felt like your entire world had shifted.

in the first following days, you cried and cried and cried. you mourned the childhood that had been stolen from you knowingly by an older man. you mourned the life jungkook and his family should have lived. more specifically, you mourned what could have been. what should have been yours and his from the beginning.

the next two weeks were what you called the baby step period. jungkook had asked for your number and you’d share a few texts, as if testing the waters, both too afraid to push the other away. it wasn’t long until that helpless feeling of infatuation for the boy returned, which made your throat bob. you were scared to bare your heart to him, you had changed so much but you knew that he had too, these two new versions of what once was weee now what occupied the hollows of your brains.

now, last week and present, jungkook went out of his way to spend as much time with you as physically possible. he had shown up at your house one day, knocked on the door despite your parents being home, for no other reason than he missed your face.

you flushed red when he told you, but he couldn’t stop staring at you. you thought he was going to kiss you, and you weren’t above admitting the fact how excited you were at the prospect. alas, disappointment came when he simply kissed your knuckles and walked away.

the next day, again, but this time he lingered. the day after, he walked into the house. today, you let him up to your room.

he walked around, examining little trinkets and pictures of you, yejin and yoongi in curiosity. it made his heart pain to see you have lived a completely separate life to him, but to see you find family in others relieved him of guilt.

“wanna know something funny?” he asked, picking up a picture of the three of you in a photo booth.

“hm?”

“used to hate yoongi.” he muttered which made you gawk. “why? how could anyone hate yoongi?”

“thought he was your boyfriend.”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, especially when noticing the little grin forming on his lips. “seriously, i’d get so annoyed, knew i had no right but i hope you know i was preying for the downfall of your relationship.”

“petty boy, you snooze you lose.”

he smirked, putting it down before turning over to you, tongue in his cheek. “yeah, and i don’t plan to lose.”

you felt a breathless at that, breaking eye contact before taking a seat on your bed. he had come round to watch movies, and considering you were in your cute sanrio pyjamas, you were evidently very excited. jungkook, the man who never left his house in anything other than black, was now adorned in spiderman pyjama bottoms that you had bought him and a tight t-shirt that stretched over his chest and back in a way that made your mouth water.

you slid under the covers, pulling them up a little, watching as he slid into your bed beside you. it was comical to see such a big man in your smaller bed, and it was clear he was maybe struggling due to his size.

“you don’t fit.” you simply frowned at him, his body hanging uncomfortably on the side as he looked at you with a darkened expression.

he didn’t respond, simply moving your laptop to your side table before taking a hold of you and manoeuvring you so you were now on top of him. “there.” he mumbled, looking at your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth. “rest on me. this way, we both win.”

you were sure you had died and gone to heaven. you were half embarrassed half incredibly turned on, though you had enough sense to hide those feelings before they jumped to the surface. you simply watched him tuck you into his chest, before wrapping you both up in your duvet. “comfortable?” he asked.

“yeah.” you confirmed, voice quiet and evidently shy as your bodies pressed intimately together whilst a film began to play on you laptop beside you.

you got through the first half hour easily, or so you say. you couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into his chest which he clearly enjoyed from the way he had his hand rubbing over your head and hair, breathing in your scent. this was affecting him in a way that you couldn’t even begin to unravel. as the film progressed, a steamier scene began to play causing you to shift slightly against jungkook. in turn, you felt something poking your core slightly.

you froze, realising quickly what exactly you were feeling. jungkook however seemed unfazed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your lower back, maybe lower than what was deemed appropriate. you couldn’t think, feeling him so close and intimate when you’d already been having bad thoughts that you were desperate to rid yourself of. he looked so good in this t-shirt though.

he watched you, secretly. he could see how red your cheeks were and how you were shuffling closer and closer into him, in a subconscious effort to feel him more firmly against you. he wanted to moan out at the thought alone, his pretty girl.

his hand on your back suddenly lowered further, hand over your ass as he positioned you shamelessly so both of your cores were now firmly pressed against each other. you couldn’t help the gasp, feeling him so clearly through his pyjama bottoms.

he looked down at you and you slowly peered up at him, the eye contact palpable. his free hand pushed your hair out of your face before his thumb began tracing your lip. the tension was getting higher and higher.

“pretty.” he mumbled, his thumb prodding your bottom lip. it found its way past your lips, only slightly, touching your tongue whilst staring at you darkly.

you knew your cheeks must have been pink and burning, but you couldn’t stop your core from clenching at his actions, they were so dirty and yet he was acting like they weren't. his face was inching closer to yours as he traced your tongue with his thumb, teasing you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

he slowly pulled his thumb out, tracing your bottom lip. suddenly, the loud bang of the downstairs door ensued, indicating your parents leaving the house without any warning, causing you to jump slightly in his arms whilst clutching his chest.

this made you both moan out in shock as you pushed down, your cores unconsciously grinding against each other just right to cause a pang of pleasure in your stomachs. you peered up at him through your lashes to find his eyes shut closed tightly with a tense jaw. upon opening them and finding you looking up so sweetly. fuck it.

jungkook swooped down, one hand moving to your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours, unable to wait for you to keep up, moving his lips against yours like a man starved. despite the initial shock, it didn’t take long for you to match his movements, little noises and moans leaving you as he ground his hips back into you, grunting.

the kiss was pure sin, filthy from every inch as you both erupted. this was years of tension, of unspoken apologies and stolen glances - this was the boy that had broken your heart with every intention of patching it up. you, the very object of his desires and the owner of his soul, having you in his arms was one thing but feeling you so intimately made his brain flip.

he slid his tongue into your mouth, leaving you mewling as he took time to explore you, hands trailing to your hips and grinding roughly over him. he was wasting no time, he’d yearned for a taste of you for what felt like eons and here you were, twitching and begging for more underneath him.

he flipped you over suddenly. lips began moving down your neck, pulling at your legs so they were wrapped around his waist whilst he left traces of himself all over your skin. the thought of purple skin all over your neck, a clear indicator that he had been there was enough to make him groan.

“jungkook..” you moaned out, hips lifting desperate to feel attention.

his fingers moved over your stomach, lightly dusting over your skin as he pulled your top up slightly before his fingers grazed the waistband of your shorts. he wasted no time, eyes searching yours for content, his fingers moving further upon your little nod.

the first feel of him against you was enough to make your brain short circuit, but the casual way he began rubbing circles against your clit immediately, slow but assured, drove you to let out a loud whimper.

your eyes connected, foreheads pressed against each other as he drew deliberately slow circles against your core whilst your hips rose and fell, moans filling the room and breaths mingling. every time you’d close your eyes, he’d nudge your nose, forcing you to look at him again. no matter how you felt, what you thought and what you wanted - he needed it longer. you were everything plus one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind, like a grape vine tangling in every ridge and panel.

“jungkook.” you whimpered out, already growing close. he could see the way your breaths were quickening and your hands tightening against his hair. he pulled away without a word, breath heavier than your own before hovering over you again. he grabbed your bottoms and pulled down until you were completely bare before diving in without a second thought.

he let out a loud groan at the taste of you, lips and tongue moving rapidly, a clear contrast from his touch earlier. nothing was slow about this, it was rushed and desperate - a show of his feelings clear as day. “can’t get enough of you, baby, want you all the fucking time.” he all but growled against you, tongue penetrating you before suckling on your clit.

his fingers found his way at your entrance, pushing in two as he began to pump whilst his mouth moved in tandem, groaning and grunting against you while your own moans filled the air.

you couldn’t believe this. the boy you had secretly loved, and then openly hated for so long, now head between your thighs with his mouth sucking and his fingers thrusting - you couldn’t think, could barely comprehend. the sight of him grinding into your bed to relieve himself only made you moan louder, your chest constricting.

“gonna cum for me, y/n? gonna cum on my fingers for me?” he cooed at you, a juxtaposition to the rapid movements he was indulging you in

it was only moments later you found your hips lifting, back arching and eyes closing. your breath hitched as your body began to shake, jungkook continuing his relentless pace as your high washed over you, prolonging it as much as he could.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss, you opened your eyes to see jungkook sat hovering over you, staring at your face with an expression that felt unreadable. your chest was still heaving, your fingers twitching towards him.

“my girl.” he murmured down at you, thumb moving over your lips. your heart constricted at his words. his? definitely his.

“want you.” you simply murmured out in response, pulling him over you again.

he groaned at how needy you were being, capturing your lips in a series of kisses. “yeah? want me baby?”

you couldn’t even begin to respond, watching as he too lowered his bottoms until he was bare, sliding his t-shirt off too. your hands ran over his hardened chest and abs, noticing faint scars running all over him. you selfishly couldn’t bring yourself to ask about them, but you knew why they were there or rather who had done it. one of his hands gently took a hold of yours, stopping the tracing and in turn stopping the racing of your thoughts.

he tilted your head so your eyes connected with his, watching him as he openly stared at you again. he had a habit of doing that. weeks since you had reconciled and you would catch him staring so openly, with no shame; he wanted to sear every inch of you inside his brain.

he looked away momentarily, grabbing his cock and slowly running it up and down your core. you began mewling, half from sensitivity and the other in anticipation - you’d never had anyone as big as him and the thought made your heart flutter.

slowly, he began pushing in, eyes connecting with yours once more as he leaned over you, arms caging your head in until he was fully inside of you. you were breathing heavy again, hands pathetically pawing as his chest as you fell into his trance. “so big, kookie.”

jungkook faltered at that, the nickname driving him insane, eyes closing for a moment. after a minute, you nodded up at him, legs spreading wider as you gave him the green light to start moving.

this was all he needed. he began to thrust, deep and slow, both of you moaning out loudly. he couldn’t help it, his pace almost instantly growing rougher at the mere feel of you - skin slapping on skin and breaths mingling. you felt divine.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.” he grunted over you, his bruising pace making you mewl out, gripping his large biceps desperately. “made me go insane all these years, in your cute little outfits, hm? knew i’d make you mine one day, wouldn’t rest until you wanted me like i wanted you.” he growled.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head. having someone tell you so openly how deeply they desired you was enough to make you grow wetter by the minute, but knowing it was jungkook? your jungkook? it was enough to make you never ever want to let him go again.

“wanted you too, kook.” you whimpered in admission. “t-tried to hate you but couldn’t stop..couldn’t stop thinking about you.” you moaned loudly once he began thrusting deeper in response to your words. “yeah, baby?” he cooed, fingers clutching the sides of your hips, forcing you to take every inch.

you nodded, arms now wrapping around his neck. “just looked so good, wanted you so badly.”

his forehead fell against yours, pressing your lips in a hot and dirty kiss. it was pure filth, the way he was pounding into you whilst draping his tongue over yours, claiming you in ways no man could ever dream of doing. “you’re my girl, y/n. always have been, yeah? my fucking girl, gonna give you the world if you let me, won’t let you ever be sad again.” he growled, grunting promises. “never gonna let you go. gonna buy you a house, put a ring on your fucking finger and make you my wife forever.”

despite growing closer over the past month, you hadn’t really talked about what you were doing. you were both quite touchy, with jungkook not shying away from grabbing your waist or putting his head in the crook of your neck regardless of who he was around. it caused for many situations where you found yourself shying away from others’ questions because you simply didn’t know the answer. hearing him openly say he wanted you, in such a primal way was enough to begin the climb in your stomach.

“forever?” you whimpered out loud. “promise?”

“fuck.” jungkook groaned, practically picking up your body from the bed as he fucked into you, rough and hard. “i’m never letting you go again, baby, my sweet girl. look at you, you were made for me.”

the combination of his words, his thrusts, and the way he had your entire body caged in his much larger arms were enough to make your brain go blank. you found the coil in your stomach tightening before you could even think, your breath hitching as your orgasm washed over you.

your body twitched and shook as his pace grew rougher, moaning loudly at the feel of how tight you had gotten. he wasn’t far behind, pumping into you sloppily a few more times before he came himself, holding you tight to him as he rode out your highs.

a few moments of silence ensued. he looked down at you. your eyes were closed, chest heaving and hands shaking. you were holding onto him so adorably he swore he could have screamed.

he gently placed you back down onto the bed, hovering over you still. slowly, pulling out, he watched as his cum dripped from your core in a way that has him hardening again. “god, you’re so pretty.” he murmured, fingers gently pushing it back in despite your squirms.

he grinned down at you, before joining you and pulling you to his chest. hand running over your back as your eyes opened up, hesitantly staring up at him only to find him already looking at you, as per usual.

“i meant it, y/n..” he murmured gently, other hand tracing your face and swollen lips. “i’m going to give you it all, okay? gonna give you a ring, house, baby - whatever you fucking want. gonna spend the rest of my life servicing your every need.”

your breath hitched, core tightening. the feel of his cum oozing out of you suddenly felt so much deeper, and you knew you wanted this feeling for the rest of your life. “promise, kookie? want all of that with you.” you pouted.

he grinned. “no one can hold me back, baby. i’m here now, and i’m gonna give you the live you deserve okay? if you wanna leave this shitty place, just say the word, i’ll follow.”

———

yoongi stared at the view in front of him, half in annoyance and other in silent content.

you were all at hobi’s house, who had invited his friends alongside yourself and the twins for a night to just relax - alcohol in everyone’s hands as everyone lightly chatted in the living room, everyone sprawled around. there clearly wasn’t enough room for everyone so you all had gotten creative. for instance, you were sat on jungkook’s lap, nibbling away at a sandwich jin had made.

“you know, two months ago she hated you.” yoongi teased jungkook, whilst eating his own snacks. “so this is very interesting.”

the tatted boy couldn’t help his smirk. his jealousy had brought him to hate yoongi for a while, but now knowing his relation to you; he brought himself out of his spell. even liked him, surprisingly enough.

“can’t blame her, can you?” jungkook murmured back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair whilst you chatted over at yejin.

yoongi took a sip of his alcohol with a grimace. “yeah but it was all a lie. you know that, right?”

he looked up at the older boy, eyebrows furrowing.

“she’s always loved you. always will.” yoongi murmured. “so don’t fuck it up. you’d be surprised at what me and yejin are capable of.”

jungkook knew the two were mysterious, no one really knew where they had come from or why they’d entered such a secluded and secretive town, but in that moment it all seemed to become a little clear. “i wouldn’t dream of it.” jungkook confirmed, arm tightening around your waist with a kiss to your back.

“oh i know.” yoongi grinned. “we wouldn’t let you.” he finished, with a wink.

[moonlight-records]

Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts | LN4

pairing: Jock!Lando Norris x Nerd!Reader

summary: Formula Ivy Academy, or FIA for short, is the most renowned private in the world who takes such a select few. Usually those from wealth with status and secrets and so much to lose. Yet, you are selected to join the FIA on a full scholarship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain scares a lot students, especially their star athlete who will do anything to protect those he cares about. Though, he didn't expect you to have as much of a...bite to you for a little nobody.

warning: cursing, bribery, jealously, angst (ig???), possessive!lando maybe??? def ooc Lando at points i know it, leclerc & reeader are besties, open ending??? maybe???

fc: none!

wc: 4.4K

current | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Formula Ivy Academy was the most renowned private school tucked away in Monaco for the brightest people. Whether that was inventors, politicians, artists, thinkers, or athletes was anybody’s guess since FIA was very hush hush about what happens behind their walls. Which, in theory, should be the first sign not to get involved with a school like that. With the amount of money, fame, and reputation of how secretive this academy was, why the hell would anybody want to go there?

Well, anybody who wanted to be anybody, obviously.

Everybody and anybody tried to get in. Thousands of applications went in every semester. Most applications that were submitted were from those that came from wealth that expanded to celebrities and even royalty applied and were rejected.

The rest of the world only dreamed of going there and some had the balls to apply though they knew that they would be rejected. They didn’t have the funds to cover even a quarter of the tuition cost. The only way most people would be able to get in was on a full ride scholarship and according to rumors, full ride scholarships to FIA was like winning the lottery. A one in a million chance for most people. It seemed that FIA was painfully selective about who they let in.

Yet, you were that one in a million person who got accepted into FIA with a full ride.

“Who is she?”

“I think that’s the new girl.”

“Really? She’s really pretty, how come she’s never been here before?”

“Rumor is she’s not from wealth.”

A few gasps erupted, “What?! How did she get in?”

“Full. Ride.” There were some murmurs, “apparently she was valedictorian at her high school and she applied and the school was impressed. She has to keep her GPA at least a 3.5 to keep her scholarship and,” there was a pause and throat cleaning, “she needs it if she’s going to stay.”

You roll your eyes hearing these girls before shaking your head. Casting your gaze at them the group quickly realized that they were talking much louder than attended and quickly scattered. You sigh softly while shaking your head because it was tiring.

You’ve been listening to the whispers and murmurs about yourself for almost a month straight since moving into the dorms back in August. The only places you found peace was in your dorm, since FIA had been so nice to accommodate you with a single room dorm so you can avoid that whole roommate thing, and the vast walls of the library but alas, instead you found yourself walking through campus as more people look and whisper.

You’re cutting through the green to get to your dorm building when a larger pair of Jordan clad feet fell into step besides yours. The pace was deliberate and rhythmic to match yours. You didn’t have to look over to know who it was. You stayed silent and forced your neck to look the other way though it’s no use. Everyone is looking at you and the new found walking partner though when you met their gaze they looked away. You let out a silent huff before craning your neck like a flower turning to the sun but the sun was actually the most annoying boy to ever roam campus who was 1 of FIA’s 20 star athletes and apparently, you’re upstairs neighbor that you try to avoid the best you can. He’s smiling, curly hair unruly, green and white jersey with his lucky ‘4’ on the front and his iconic gray sweatpants.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘Miss Popular’. You know I was getting a bit worried that you had already left before I got the chance to really know you.”

“First off, don’t call me ‘Miss Popular’ because I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “second you can’t get me to leave that fast. I’m sure the whispers and rumors about me are going to die down rather fast considering I think people are realizing that there really isn’t a lot going for me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t have wealth like that nor do I care. I’m here to get my degree, make connections, and get a head start on my career and I plan to make sure that happens,” you glance at Lando then forward again, “There’s not much to me.” You shrug as you enter the building and you head down your hall towards your room.

“Bullshit.”

You scoff and look over at Lando, “excuse me?”

“I said bullshit. I don’t think that’s the real reason you’re here.” Lando stares down at you, “I doubt you’re just some random insanely smart person who got in with an amazing application. Celebrities and even royalties themselves get rejected but they let you in? Full ride? Just because they like you?” He scoffs. “But fine. Let’s go with that story but I highly fucking doubt that you’re going to keep your head down and just mind your business for the next four years. There’s a lot that happens here at FIA, a lot that would be rather dangerous if it got out. A lot of reputations on the line.” Holding out a stack of cash, “Maybe it would be for the best if you left, don’t you think?”

You stare at Lando in disbelief. Lando’s known as one of the friendliest athletes on campus. He’s always smiling and laughing and making everyone feel welcomed. Even you, the rare times you spoke before this moment but it became crystal clear in this moment that it was nothing more than a ruse to bribe you out of this school and this life. For what? Protecting the students' reputations? You could care less about your classmates and what they do in their spare time. It was none of your business and honestly you probably would forget about most of them and any scandalizing thing they do now.

But Lando wouldn’t believe that and it upset you more because it made sense. You were a nobody who got accepted into the most renowned school that was super selective. Everyone here had three things: money, power, and secrets. You have none of those. You are just a simple person with a simple life that really just wanted to further your education and make a better life for yourself so you didn’t have to worry when you grew older. Pay your parents back for all the sacrifices they made for you. Give back to your friends who saved you when you were drowning…or jumped in so you weren’t drowning alone. Unlike everyone else who had everything to lose and nothing really to gain, you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stare at the stack of cash in Lando’s hand trying to mentally count how much was there, “How much—”

“100,000 in USD,” Lando finishes, “more than enough for you I’m sure. Unless you want me to just pay for whatever school you transfer to, I can do that as well.”

“No, no, the cash is fine—”

Lando smiles wider, “I th—”

You reach out for the money before slamming your hand down. The bills go everywhere as they fall from Lando’s hand and the Brit is stunned. His eyes widen as he stares at you in pure shock before his face darkens.

“IF I was shallow and had no self respect,” you snap back, “how dare you try to bribe me? You probably wouldn’t believe this but I actually do not give a single care about you or any other student on this campus. All you guys care about is your fame, your wealth, and the carefree lifestyles that you all get to have. Unlike you all, I actually have to work for my shit and I will continue doing that. I don’t have time to collect evidence of all these scandals and sell them to news outlets. Besides, I need connections so the last thing I want to do is ruin that chance by breaking the number one unofficial rule of FIA which is what happens within FIA walls stays within FIA walls. What do you take me for? A shallow tool?” Looking Lando up and down, you sneer slightly, “You know what you can do for me, Lando?”

“What?” The Brit snaps.

“You can take your cash and shove it up your fucking ass right along with the lacrosse stick that’s been wedge up there,” you give him a mocking smile, “have the day you deserve.” You turn, flipping Lando off as you continue down the hall before going into your dorm, slamming it behind you. Finally, tears spill past and you clamp a hand around your mouth to silence your cries. You stumble to your bed, vision blurry before crumbling against it, hiding your face into your comfort, sobbing as the weight of Lando’s words settles.

Nobody wants you here. Nobody trusts you nor likes you. To them, you’re nothing more than an outsider who was going to ruin all their reputations. Obviously, someone like you just could not be here to further your education and take this chance to connect and get a huge head start down your career path. That was all just some ruse to really make a quick buck off the rich and their bullshit drama. That you will never be accepted by them and you should quit while you’re ahead. Another sob rips out of your throat as you bury your face further, body shaking, trying so hard to will yourself to stop crying but it was so hard as a month worth of worry and pains had manifested as the cold hard truth and the reality was heartbreaking.

Then it dawned on you. It wasn’t bullshit. What was bullshit was the fact Lando thought you were so shallow. Actually, it was bullshit the entire campus thought you were that shallow. Are they so self absorbed that they really assumed you had applied just to expose what goes on behind the walls of FIA? God, you needed money but you weren’t that desperate for money. Unlike them, you actually gave a fuck about what you wanted to do in life. Especially because you were happily picking something that wouldn’t be destroyed so easily by mere rumors or a single photo to destroy your entire reputation. You didn’t care how much you got to gain to expose all of them, especially Lando after that lovely chat, because that’s what they expected of you. Instead, you were going to completely ignore them. Prove them wrong. Prove Lando wrong.

Settling, you sit there for a bit before slowly lifting your head. You ignore the oncoming headache or the fact your face is wet and puffy. You sniffle softly before patting yourself down and pull your phone out with slightly shaky hands. Arthur Leclerc was a rare friend you had. Well, you assume anyway but now you weren’t sure as you text him.

Do you hate me?-YN

Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t hate you. Nor does Mick, Ollie, Kimi, or Charlie.-AL

Well, Lando just tried to give me 100K in USD to get me to leave the school since everyone hates me and nobody trusts me and that I’m here to expose everyone for money and not for my education and to get a head start of my career.-YN

…He fucking did what?-AL

Yeah.-YN

Oh my god. I’m going to punch him at practice. Actually, I have piano so I won’t be at practice—I’ll have Charlie do it. No, he won’t—Kimi will-AL

No-YN

Don’t ‘no’ me! Y/N! You just told me that Lando bribed you because the rest of the school doesn’t trust you for some stupid fucking reason! Also, I know that you were actually warming up to Lando for this to be the reason? Oh god I should tell the couch! I’m going to tell coach—AL

No. No, I don’t need any more issues than already. I just…I just need reassure that you actually like for who I am-YN

Of course I do Y/N. Me, Charlie, Mick, Ollie. We adore you. You’re a breath of fresh air to us, really. You remind us that not everyone is stuck up and snooty and loves to be careless and wild because money and fame will save them. You remind us to slow down and enjoy the moments. You remind us to do things that we love even if nobody else cares because we enjoy the things we love. I promise, we wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.AL

Arthur…that’s so sweet I might cry again but I won’t.-YN

It’s okay to cry!! I can come over with ice cream and blankets for cuddles-AL

No no, it’s fine. I don’t think I have any tears left. I kind of let out a month’s worth of sadness just out, so, I’m good but I might take you up on the offer for ice cream and blankets after your piano practice-YN

Okay, yeah. God Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you.-AL

It’s fine. I’m kind of upset Lando did this privately because the look of shock on his face when I smacked the money out of his hand was priceless.-YN

You WHAT?! Oh my god! You didn’t tell me that!!!-AL

Yeah well, I’m done being sad. I’m angry now.-YN

Anyway, yeah he basically found me. Walked me to the dorms asking if I was avoiding him and stuff. I had said that I just wanna focus on my education and get a jump start at my career and he literally was like ‘bullshit’. I was like ummm what?? Yeah so he goes on about how im a threat and all this—me, the nobody but whatever—and he was giving me cash or offering to pay the tuition of the school I would transfer to in full if it meant leaving since I’m just a wee peasant who’s only here to gossip and get paid by the news and get the school shut down. So I was like, “oh no the cash is fine”…-YN

Oh my god. What did he say?-AL

Oh he was gonna go on that I was making the right choice before I smack the money out of his hand. Man he was pissed-YN

I could imagine.-AL

Arthur, when I tell you watching his face darken out of anger was—kinda scary. Though mama ain’t raised a bitch so. I went off about how I can’t believe he thinks I’m shallow and that I truly could care less about my classmates and that I need these connections so why would I risk losing those connections by outing everyone, ya know???-YN

Oh I know.-AL

Thank you! So then I was like “you know what you can do for me” and he was like “what?!” all snappy and shit. I told him he can pick his money up and shove it right up his ass along with his lacrosse stick and have the day he deserves and the I flipped him off as I left…then I broke down and cried and now we’re here-YN

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR THAT!!! AS YOU SHOULD! Oh my god, I am buying you dinner for that because that is amazing. Also, Lando can go fuck himself and I will personally make sure it happens at practice.-AL

Arthur!-YN

It’s fine! I already laid out that Charles is just to make Lando go a bit insane. No physical harm, all mental.-AL

…Fine. Only because there’s no way I can convince either of you to not do anything-YN

You’re learning! Okay, I have to run but I will see you later tonight. You don’t have to, considering how news gets out around here but, Charlie would like to see you at some point just to make sure you’re okay so, just show a sign of life to him? Please? I’ll cover the ice-cream if you do-AL

I will, promise.-YN

Alright, see you see y/n!-AL

You too, Arthur.-YN

It’s only been 20 minutes since your conversation with Arthur and you really didn’t want to leave your dorm let alone the field after everything that happened. You had finally found the energy to climb into bed curled up under the comfort while staring at the wall before frowning. You know that if you didn’t Charles would go insane with worry and blow up both your phone and Arthur’s and you really didn’t want to upset the only rare few people in your corner. Sighing, you force yourself out of your bed and go through your closet.

The school had uniforms that students must wear to classes. Outside of classes, students were free to wear whatever they wanted and you chose a baggy hoodie with a t-shirt underneath and fuzzy pajama pants that had snoopy all over them. Sliding your crocs on, you grabbed your keys, phone, headphones, and lanyard with your ID before heading out of your dorm and to the field. Putting your headphones on, you gently bobbed your head to the beat of the music as you crossed the green towards the field. Seeing the empty bleachers, you make your way up the ramp as you look out at the field.

There were the two lacrosse nets at the opposite ends of the field. The boys were lingering around the benches as they all chatted among themselves with five minutes to spare in this break. You scan among them, thankful that none of them spotted you. Expect the one that was sitting on the bench away, staring at a small group down. You saw the ‘16’ on the jersey and knew exactly who it was. You straightened up slightly when the player turned and saw you before lighting up like a child on Christmas and scrambling over to you, almost tripping over his own two feet.

“Mon chérie, there you are. I was worried you weren’t going to show that I was about to start calling for a sign of life,” Charles grins as he stands below the bleachers laughing softly. You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face as you lean over the edge of the bleachers looking down at Charles.

“Sorry, I was just—gathering myself.”

“I could imagine,” Charles frowns. “I truly am sorry that happened to you,” Charles whispers. “Just say the words and I will tell the coach or I can punch him. Really, I am angry enough to go through with it.”

“No you don’t have to punch him or tell coach,” you reassure Charles, “I think me slapping the money out of his hand, telling him off, telling him to shove the money up his ass, and flipping him off while telling him to have the day he deserves is probably enough.” You smile, “besides, I have no plans on transferring at all. Especially not after this. Him having to see my face should be enough of a hell for him.”

Charles laughs breathlessly while smiling up at you, “You truly are something else Y/N.” He grins while shaking his head, “Arthur mentioned something about ice-cream and blankets?” He questions.

You go to answer but feel someone just staring at you. Casting your gaze up you lock eyes with the sea green eyes staring at you. It seems that you and Lando are in a stare off that neither of you intend to lose but you only forfeit when you hear Charles scoff below you. “Charles,” you murmur softly and Charles looks up at you, a slight pout on his face, “please be nice so you can join Arthur and I and probably the others for ice-cream and cuddles. That’s what we mean by blankets.”

Charles gasps softly, “and I can join?!”

“If,” you start, “you leave Lando alone.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you and weighs his options, “okay, deal.”

“Leclerc!” Lando shouts, voice clipped, “lets go! No more talking!”

“Duty calls,” Charles murmurs and you shake your head, murmuring to Charles that it’ll be fine. You sit in the stands and switch between watching the practice and looking at your phone. You stand up when the coach blows the whistle to have the team come in to wrap practice up. You make your way off the bleachers and linger at the entrance of track as the team all heads to the bench to gather their things. You watch Charles swiftly grab his water bottle and bag before making his way over to you.

“You did it!” You applaud happily, “you survived practice and didn’t kill him.”

“I know, I know. Took a lot of self control,” Charles murmurs as he steps closer, “I’m pretty sure he was targeting me after seeing me talk to you. The audacity of him, can you believe that?”

“I could, sadly,” you roll your eyes, “he’s an ass. Just ignore him. Why don’t you get change and I’ll wait here and we can then head back to my dorm together?” You offer, “Arthur said he’d bring the ice-cream and Mick would bring the blankets.”

“Okay, I’ll be right out!” Charles says and is off.

You watch him leave and smile slightly before looking away and nearly jumping at Lando who just spawns in front of you. You look up at the Brit and all the emotions from early claw at your throat for an escape. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to curse him out. You want to ask him why. There are so many questions in your head and you know that no matter what, you won’t get any answers so you settle for this stare off with Lando, even if your neck gets a cramp.

The silence is finally broken by Lando, “What were you talking to Charles about?” His voice is cold and icy. It almost seems uncharacteristic of the Brit but then again, he was full of surprises!

“None of your business.”

“I think it is my business since he’s a teammate of mine and I am also co-captain, so,” he lets his voice trail off as if indicating his importance, “kind of my responsibility to make sure our players are accounted for and safe.”

“Oh? Is it because he’s with me? Cause if you were really concerned, I doubt you nor Max would really be okay with the heavy partying that happens. Then again you two would be hypocritical.” You retort.

That strikes a nerve. He clenches his jaw and stares down at you in anger though he stays silent because he can’t really argue with you. Instead, Lando takes a deep breath while glaring, “well, is coming back to your dorm?”

“Why do you care?”

'“Cause I really don’t need you being so fucking loud and distracting me.”

“Seriously? You’re rarely in your room. When you are, you’re doing anything but homework. The only thing I might give a damn about is your streams for the poor people that watch you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, “but if you need to know since apparently hell has frozen over with you doing homework, I am having a few guests over and Charles is one.”

“Who else?”

“You don’t get names,” you snap. “First off, it’s not your business. Second, you don’t care because I’m just a nobody who’s here to gather intel and sell the secrets and make so money and get the school shut down instead of learning more and making connections and wanting a better future for myself since I’m not privileged like that,” you mock before scowling at him, “you think I’m dumb? No way am I giving out the names of the few genuine friends I have here.”

Lando goes to argue before Charles cuts in, loud and clear, “Oh mon chérie!” Charles stops next to you and glares at Lando who glares back at you, “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes. You are.”

“No, you’re fine.”

You and Lando stare at each other before you turn to Charles who slings an arm over your shoulder, “Ready to go then?” Charles asks you, smiling and you nod. “I am.”

“Well. Have a good evening, Lando,” Charles tells him as you just turn and start walking off, leading Charles with you.

Your gut twists and you can’t help yourself even with Charles talking your ear off since you stopped so Charles could tie his shoe. You’re about to look back at Lando until Charles tells some stupid story which gets you to laugh loudly and you nudge Charles when he stands saying that it was a good story.

You hear a thud or something which gets you to turn.

Lando is standing there holding with his head of the lacrosse stick now snapped off. He’s got Max and Oscar on either side of him both concerned and worried while trying to talk to him but Lando is staring at Charles as if he’s trying to strike Charles down mentally before finally looking at you before. He stares at you for a moment before looking at Charles and scowling before turning sharply and heading to the locker room with Max and Oscar trying to figure out what the hell just happened before following Lando.

You stand there watching the trio head off. Your eyes fall on the broken lacrosse stick head. You can’t wrap your head around why Lando was so determined to figure out who was hanging out with you. Was it to turn the little friends against you? Was he just upset that you weren’t bending to his will and made a fool of him earlier today? Why was he like this

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” Charles asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head and smile, “I’m okay. Just…distracted, that’s all. Come on! I’ll race you,” you start and take off, giving yourself a head start as Charles is cursing and scrambling after you.

Even if Lando wanted you to leave and threw the world’s biggest tantrum as it seemed, you were quite comfortable staying here since you added a new life goal to your plans. It was a very simple life goal.

Make Lando’s regret trying to bribe you.

[fleurriee]

— cat’s out of the bag ; spencer reid

pairing ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; you thought you and spencer were good at keeping your relationship a secret. spoiler alert: you weren’t.

themes ; fluff, established (secret) relationship

warnings ; none!

author’s note ; first time writing for spencer after having watched criminal minds. i’m in love with him so it was only fitting that my mind starts coming up with ideas for him — send in requests for spencer!!!!

main masterlist request a fic

You and Spencer had agreed on one thing when your relationship first started:

“Let’s keep it just between us for a while.”

Not because you were ashamed — far from it — but, because the BAU wasn’t exactly known for being a quiet, private place. The second Garcia caught wind of anything remotely romantic, you’d both be wearing couple t-shirts and getting shipped like characters from a CW drama.

And, it was nice for a while.

You lasted four months.

It started with a coffee cup.

Specifically, the one with Spencer’s name on it, sitting at your desk.

Morgan strolled in that morning with his usual swagger and an armful of case files. He was halfway through a yawn when he spotted the cup and froze mid-step.

“Hey, Pretty Girl?” he called over his shoulder. “Why’s Reid’s name on your latte?”

You didn’t even look up from your desk. “Oh. He picked it up for me.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes like a detective in an old noir film. “And when did Reid start remembering your custom order down to the almond milk and two pumps of caramel?”

You finally looked up. “I… mention it a lot?”

Morgan snorted. “Okay.”

The next day, he walked into the breakroom to find Spencer standing very close behind you, reaching for the same muffin. There was laughter — soft, easy — and then Spencer let you have it with the kind of look that didn’t belong in any HR-safe workplace.

Morgan didn’t say a word. Just walked out with his coffee, grinning.

“Gotcha, Boy Genius.”

Penelope Garcia’s superpower wasn’t her hacking skills — (though, yes, she could probably access the Pentagon with a shoelace and a floppy disk) — it was her intuition. Especially when it came to anything involving hearts, unspoken feelings, or long looks across briefing tables.

So when she noticed Reid texting someone with a tiny, goofy smile on his face during lunch, her curiosity sparked.

She sidled up next to him.

“Who ya texting, Dr. Reid?” she sing-songed, peeking at his screen before he could lock it.

He jumped. “N-no one. Just… a friend.”

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you call Y/N ‘sunbeam’?”

Reid’s face turned the color of a fire hydrant. “It’s — it’s just a nickname. She — uh — likes the sun.”

“Mmhmm.” Garcia leaned in. “Reid… are you dating my girl?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let out a tiny shriek, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! My OTP is real!”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

To her credit, Garcia didn’t spill — not yet.

But the sparkle in her eye was pure chaos.

Prentiss wasn’t nosy — she was observant.

So when you came into work with what looked like Spencer’s scarf around your neck and a sleepy smile that screamed I didn’t sleep in my own bed, she raised an eyebrow.

But she didn’t say anything until a week later.

The team had just wrapped a case in Portland and were gathered at the airport. You and Spencer were seated across from each other at the gate, trying — and failing — not to play footsie under the chairs.

Prentiss watched the whole thing, sipping her coffee like it was a reality show.

Later, on the plane, she slid into the seat next to you.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

She tilted her head toward Spencer, who was sitting two rows ahead, hunched over a book — but not before sending a not-so-subtle glance back your way.

Prentiss smirked. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I recognize the ‘pretending not to stare at my crush’ look.”

You flushed. “It’s not like we’re hiding it — ”

“But you are,” she said, patting your arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you come out in your own time. Just… maybe don’t play footsie where Rossi can see. He’s got surprisingly good peripheral vision.”

You genuinely thought Rossi wouldn’t notice.

He was older, more focused — a man who’d seen it all. Surely, he wouldn’t pick up on subtle glances or the way Spencer’s hand lingered on your back a little too long after briefings.

You were wrong.

He invited you both over to his house for dinner, claiming he was “trying a new risotto recipe and needed test subjects.”

The moment he caught you stealing a bite from Spencer’s plate with zero hesitation, he set down his wine glass and gave a slow, smug smile.

“Interesting.”

You froze mid-chew. “What is?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching young love blossom over truffle risotto.”

Spencer choked on his wine.

You coughed. “What makes you think —?”

“Please,” Rossi waved a hand. “I’ve written three books on behavioral profiling. You think I can’t tell when two people are secretly dating?”

You opened your mouth.

He held up a finger. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Just know I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

You both gaped.

He raised his wine glass. “Eventually, of course.”

Hotch was the final boss.

You and Spencer had been very careful around him — no lingering looks in the field, no brushing hands in the briefing room, no coordinated lunches. You were practically platonic professionals around him.

Until he caught you.

It happened at 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the team had already left, and you and Spencer were still in the conference room, finishing paperwork.

You thought you were alone.

So, when Spencer reached over and laced his fingers through yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, you let your guard down for just a moment.

And Hotch walked in.

He stopped mid-step.

You both froze like teenagers caught making out on a porch.

Hotch blinked once. “Should I… come back?”

You yanked your hands apart. “No! We were just — ”

“Finishing paperwork,” Spencer blurted. “Very platonically.”

Hotch raised a brow. “You were kissing her hand.”

Spencer blinked. “Right. Well… not that platonically.”

There was a long pause.

Hotch sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just — no PDA at crime scenes, okay?”

You both nodded, mortified.

As he left, you could swear you saw him smirk.

You didn’t plan to tell everyone. At least, not in one grand announcement.

But the BAU had other plans.

It happened during a rare, sunny weekend BBQ hosted at Rossi’s estate. Everyone was scattered across the lawn — beer bottles in hand, kids running around, music playing.

You were helping Garcia string lights along the fence when she casually said, “So, when are you and Reid going to make it official-official?”

You nearly dropped the string of lights. “What?”

She pointed. “Oh, don’t play coy, sweet pea. Everyone knows.”

You blinked. “Everyone?”

Morgan, walking by with a burger, grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve had bets running for weeks.”

Prentiss added, “Morgan owes me twenty bucks. I said you’d crack before Valentine’s Day.”

Rossi raised his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple.”

Even Hotch gave you a nod that could only be described as… warm.

You turned to Spencer, who looked equally horrified and relieved.

“They all know?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Apparently for a while.”

Garcia beamed. “What gave it away? Everything.”

You and Spencer exchanged a look.

Then you both laughed — loud, breathless, incredulous.

So much for secrets.

Later, as the party mellowed into dusk and someone lit a bonfire, Spencer pulled you close beneath the string lights.

“Do you think it’s weird… that I’m kind of relieved?”

You looked up at him. “Relieved they found out?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… I don’t have to keep something good hidden anymore.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not something I want to hide, Spencer.”

He looked at you then, all soft eyes and quiet awe.

Even in a team of profilers, even under the most watchful eyes — you and Spencer had managed something rare.

A love worth noticing.

[justauthoring]

The Man I (Unfortunately) Love.

Request: I’m BEGGING foaming at the mouth can we plsplspls have more jealous zoro (or luffy 👀 I want to see you take on that as well) Requested by: Anonymous

Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

A/N: I wasn't sure if you meant live action or anime so I went with anime since I haven't written for anyone else but Luffy lol. Hopefully this is in character!!

Also, I don't really know why Ace is with the crew. That fact is not important. Whats important is I wanted to include Ace and thus, jealous Zoro was born.

Word Count: 2,135

And, as usual, it's not spell-checked :)

Zoro, by nature, was not a jealous man.

At least, not overtly.

He literally dealt with a shitty cook who could not keep the lovesick act together for even a second whenever there was a woman anywhere near his presence. It didn't bother Zoro, at least not enough to do anything about it.

(Anything major).

He'd tell the cook to quit it or grunt disapprovingly but Sanji was apart of the crew and he knew that he respected yours and Zoro's relationship at the end of the day.

He could handle boys flirting with you. Honestly, most of the time they were boys (not men) and really, they're the ones who looked like fools at the end of the day. Fumbling with red cheeks and look like an idiot. Zoro didn't have any fear of you choosing one of them over him any day because really--

Could they do anything he could?

No.

And his confidence was always rewarded when you'd all but tell the boy you were interested, harsher if they were more pushier, and then would turn your back to them like they were nothing. And who would you go running to?

Him. Every time.

You'd call his name in that sweet voice of yours, face soft with warmth and excitement twinkling in your eyes. He'd watch with a smug smile as the boys face would fall and then gradually turn to fear when they got a proper look at Zoro.

Zoro didn't love being public with his affection. He was most content sharing those more intimate moments when it was just the two of you. But in moments like those, he'd be a little bit more deliberate about wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.

The flush of your cheeks and the light giggle you'd let out were added rewards.

So, no. Zoro was not a jealous man. He was confident and secure in his relationship with you.

But that didn't mean he couldn't be jealous.

-

Zoro truly did not understand what was so fascinating about Luffy's brother.

But clearly you thought he was the greatest thing to walk on this very earth.

Ever since Luffy's brother had stumbled upon the crew, explaining he was missing his dear younger brother and wanted to check in on him, you'd been absolutely glued to his side.

Zoro had been surprised, to say the least, when your face had broken into a wide grin with literal stars in your eyes at the sight of Ace. You'd exclaimed that you'd heard of the 'Fire Fist Ace' before and thought he was 'an amazing pirate' that you'd 'always wanted to meet'.

Zoro still scoffs at the thought.

Sure, Ace was... strong. He was nice, Zoro guessed. And he was Luffy's brother so that meant he was obviously... okay. But Zoro couldn't understand why you looked starstruck.

You hadn't been with the crew yet when they'd met Ace back in Alabasta. Zoro would be relieved about that fact if Ace wasn't here now.

After a whole day of the regular silliness the crew got up to, they were celebrating in their useful festivities. Normally, Zoro would be just as ramped up with the rest of the crew. Even if that only involved him simply drinking while sat with the rest of the crew.

That night though, he'd proceeded to... for lack of a better word, sulk.

He was sat in a corner, far away from the rest of the crew, huddled in the darkness (still drinking) and watching you with a heavy frown.

Normally, you spent these nights glued to his side. Not somebody else. Not... Ace. You'd dance with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper or chat with Nami and Robin while being fed drinks and food by Sanji. But, for the majority, you'd be with him.

Sitting with him. Drinking with him. Just... talking.

Zoro loved those nights.

But you'd barely glanced his way all day, let alone that evening.

The drink he knocks back is particularly soar as he watches you laugh at something Ace has said. He can't hear either of you, but your smile is wide and your laugh is loud and genuine. Ace is smiling at you too, glancing down at you with warm eyes as he indulgences in your questions.

Even Luffy almost seems out of place between the two of you. Not that he cares; Luffy seems simply ecstatic that his crew is getting along with his brother so well.

(Some more than others, clearly.)

If Zoro were a jealous man and he stooped to those sort of levels, he'd imagined he would've marched right up to you and Ace by now and made it clear who you were with. But Zoro was not a jealous man, nor did he fall privy to his emotions so easily.

Instead, Zoro sulked.

It's a few hours into the party, however, that Zoro decides he has had enough of sulking. He won't do anything but he doesn't want to sit here and watch this any longer either.

He's just about to stand up when he hears you calling for him;

"Zoro!"

The sound of your voice, light and airy in that way he loves, gives him pause. His body freezes and slowly his head turns to face you, only to see you frowning at him.

"Where are you going?" Your eyes flicker on the bottle on the floor back up to Zoro, head tilted.

"To bed," he says, harsher than he means to. "Night."

He looks away before he can see the look of hurt and shock he knows washes up on your face. Zoro knows he's being unreasonable, but the words seem to leave his lips nonetheless.

Just as moves to walk away, though, your hand is around his wrist, stopping him.

"Already?" You ask, still thoroughly baffled. (Obviously you're confused, Zoro thinks to himself, you don't know how stupidly jealous he's felt all day). "But you've been tucked away by yourself all night when we're supposed to be celebrating! Luffy's brother is--"

"I know!" He cuts in, voice pitching as you flinch in response. He turns to face you, eyes set in a mean glare. "I get it, okay? Luffy's brother, the amazing Fire Fist Ace that you think is just so amazing and strong and wonderful, is here so we have to celebrate it, right? So much so that you haven't left his side all day! I'd begun to think you'd forgotten I'd even existed."

At this point, his words were loud enough to catch the attention of the entire crew. All noise, chatter or otherwise, falls completely silent as they watch Zoro berate you.

You, however, simply stare back at Zoro. Your face has fallen from your previous excitement and the hand you'd had around his wrist has returned to your side as you take a step back.

"Zoro, I--"

But he doesn't let you say anything.

"Save it, okay?" Zoro practically bites at you. "Just go back to hanging with Ace and leave me the fuck alone."

He turns and walks off in the next second, practically slamming the door shut behind him.

-

It takes ten minutes before someones knocking on the door.

Zoro has half the mind to tell them to fuck off, but then he remember show he had done exactly that to you and the guilt eats him up. He knows what he did was wrong. He knows he'd overreacted. And what sucks more is that Zoro isn't the type of guy to overreact.

And yet he had. He'd hurt you in the process too.

When Zoro doesn't say anything, Luffy invites himself inside.

Zoro isn't sure who he's expecting. He thinks briefly it might be you, but he also doesn't blame you for the fact that it isn't. He figures Luffy makes the most sense. The look on his captains face his clear.

Pressing his head to his hands, Zoro huffs. "You don't have to say anything."

Luffy is silent. His arms are crossed over his chest, his face strangely not in a grin and rather, his lips are downturned into a disapproving frown. The look in his eyes, though, is the worst.

Disappointment.

Zoro pushes himself to a stand in frustration.

"I know, okay?" He snaps at his captain, "I know I was a dick."

"Good," Luffy finally says. "Because you were. And you need to apologize to Y/N."

Zoro sighs. "I know."

"But that's not why I'm here."

Confused, Zoro turns to Luffy, shaking his head. "I--"

"Y/N spent the whole day talking about you." Luffy says, in that way he always says things when he knows he's right. "She constantly tried to get you to come join us but you dismissed her at every point. Ignoring everything, that's not how I let my crew treat each other."

The guilt festers deeper in Zoro. A nasty feeling that eats away at him.

(Fuck. He screwed up).

"Whatever your problem was," Luffy starts, voice dark. "Fix it."

And then Luffy walks out the door, leaving Zoro to stew in his own guilt and thoughts.

-

You're not with the rest of the crew when Zoro goes to find you.

Nami won't tell him but when he turns to Sanji, the cook simply just glares at him, gesturing over his shoulder towards the crows nest with a barely concealed threat; "try that shit again, moss head and I'll throw you off this ship myself."

He also notices Ace is gone.

You're staring up at the stars in the night sky when he makes it to the top.

You meet his eyes but don't say anything and so Zoro crawls up into the small space and moves so he's across from you. He lets a beat of silence follow his arrival before he says;

"I'm sorry."

It's important he starts with that.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "I'm sure you are."

"I am," he asserts, making sure his tone conveys how serious he is. "I was an asshole. And I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I never should."

Finally, you turn to look at him properly. "You ever speak to me like that again, Zoro and we're through."

"I won't," he says. And he means it.

You nod, and then; "were you jealous, then?"

(Zoro is not a jealous man, but...)

"Yeah." He admits, even though it's hard to. "I was."

"Why?" You ask, hugging your knees to your chest. "You've never been jealous like that before."

"It was... different. Different than the shitty cook or random guys who flirt with you." Zoro explains, trying to ignore how uncomfortable he is. You deserve an explanation, and he's going to give it to you. "You looked so... impressed by him. By Ace. And I'm used to you only looking at me like that. It's shitty and doesn't excuse it but that's how I felt."

You frown. "Zoro," you call and your voice is considerably softer than it has been. "It doesn't matter if I think some other guy is cool, you are the only one I want to be with. You have to know that."

"I do."

"Then why?"

"I..." But he trails off, because he doesn't know.

"Zoro?"

"I... don't know," he admits. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but I don't know. I was blinded by emotions. I'm... sorry."

You nod, slowly. Zoro notices the way your nails are digging into your hands, a nervous tick of yours, and taking the chance he reaches for your hands. You don't pull away, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

(He doesn't know what he would've done if you had.)

"I love you," he whispers, "and I'm sorry."

You stare at him for a long moment. Just... taking him in.

Then, your hand squeezes him back.

"You made Ace leave."

"Next time we see him, I'll apologize to him."

You raise a brow; "that's big of you."

"I'd do it for you."

That pulls a chuckle from your lips, rolling your eyes. "I would like you to apologize to Ace because you feel bad about how you treated him."

Zoro grins, "you know that's not why I'll do it."

Letting your head tilt to rest on your arm, a soft smile curls on your lips. "I know."

"Good."

"I spent the whole day talking about you, you know."

Zoro tries to hide his smirk. "I know. Luffy told me."

"So you should feel extra shitty."

He tries to wipe the smirk off his face, it doesn't work.

"You're far too smug," you huff half-heartedly. "I should be more mad at you than I am."

"But you're not?"

"No," you mumble, voice warm with love. "I'm not."

(Because Zoro, despite everything, is the man you love.)

[staff]

We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world? 

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism. 

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

[multific]

In This Together

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: Your period is late.

You tried your best not to panic. You tried your best to keep it together.

You tried... but on the inside, you were panicking over it.

And who wouldn't be?

Your period was late! And you wanted to crawl into a hole and cry all day.

Overdramatic? Possibly, yes.

But you were scared, so in your mind, it all made sense.

You even got to a point on your third day that you avoided Mattheo at all costs.

Which he of course noticed.

He tried to catch you in the halls but you were quicker.

He even debated barging into the girl's restroom at one point. 

On the fifth day, he finally caught you and cornered you in the library.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he genuinely looked hurt.

"It's just..." you looked up at him, you knew no one was around you, so you decided to tell him. "I'm late."

"What do you mean? You don't have any classes."

"No..." you wanted to cry and yell but you just let out a sigh. "My period is late." you whispered and he froze in one place.

"But we always used... protection."

"Yes."

"How would it be possible? Did you check with the nurse?"

"I didn't check. My period always came when it should."

"We should go to the nurse."

"I'm scared." you said and you sounded so honest and desperate Mattheo hugged you.

"I'm here, we will figure it out okay? It could be that you are just a bit later than usual. Everything will be fine." he kissed your hair as you hugged him closer.

The next morning, you woke up to a certain pain.

A pain you knew very well.

And indeed, your panic was for nothing. You were simply later than usual.

You felt so relieved. 

Someone knocked on your door before barging in.

"Good morning, Beautiful, so, I made a plan. Simple but I think we could do it. So, you stay in school, I drop out. I go and work in a store or at the Ministry, anywhere. I will put all my paychecks to one side and it would be a start. Then, you can give birth and we would have a home, you can decide if you want to go to finish school after or work, but I also have a small inheritance from my father so we can figure it out."

You blinked at your boyfriend. 

"You didn't sleep did you?"

"Not a blink! Theo threw pillows at me because I kept mumbling, but I thought my plan was good. What do you say?"

"I really do appreciate you coming up with this, Matty but-"

"We are keeping the baby. I don't think that is up for debate... at least not to me."

"We don't have to keep the baby."

"But I want to! I-I realize we are young but we can do it."

"Matty, I'm not pregnant. You were right, my period was just later than usual."

"Oh." his shoulders slacked. "And I spent all night thinking..."

"I appreciate it, and it is very nice to know you wouldn't just leave."

"Of course, I wouldn't."

"Yes, I get it. You look disappointed."

"I'm not going to lie, I spent probably the last four hours just imagining the cutest kid with your eyes and smile and... I kinda am disappointed. It's okay though, I know your father would have killed me so at least now we can wait until after marriage."

"Yes, what? You want to get married?"

"Don't get me started on that. It was another sleepless night after you told me about your father and his... older views." you smiled and walked over to him. 

"I love you." you wanted to say so many things, but you knew this would be simple and enough.

"I love you too." you hugged him and kissed him. "Then, I will get you some chocolate and candy."

"Aww, thank you. Who could have thought you would be such a great boyfriend."

"Well, duh. I'm the best Slytherin."

"That you are."

"And the best boyfriend."

"Exactly." you pulled him in for another kiss.

You really feared that he would just run and be like the guy your friends thought he would be, but it was good to know that he had his own plans, and his future certainly involved you.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[pretentious-blonde]

confidence

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a few cocktails and an evening with Robin reveal a new side to your boyfriend, one you really didn't see coming

warnings: 18+ this contains smut, scars, alcohol consumption (reader does not partake), graphic descriptions of sex, oral f receiving, p in v, cocky steve, condescending steve (ikr!! just trust me), all around filth here, steve has one too many cocktails and runs with it

a/n: this was so fun and is my treat for putting you through all the angst (and there will be more trust me) but hey, consider this part a catharsis. we also needed to get robin involved for what comes next so this is what you get. tipsy steve is WILD you have all been warned.

series masterlist

You scramble around your flat, tossing items from one surface to the next, desperate to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything crucial. Keys, check. Purse, check. Chapstick, check. 

Whatever you have on your vanity table feels like it’s winking at you, reminding you that, no, you’re still not quite ready. But you can’t let yourself fuss any longer because outside, through your window, you catch the glare of headlights and hear the impatient beep of a horn. 

Steve’s here—and he’s been here, and you should have been ready ten minutes ago, at least.

You’re still excited, even though you’re late, because tonight is special. Tonight’s the night you finally get to meet the Robin Buckley, the person who’s been such a staple in your boyfriend’s new stories. 

He was determined to pick the “nice bar” in the next town over, the one that apparently “played the good music.” 

You had to bite your tongue. His idea of “good music” usually lines right up with the biggest chart hits, but you figure hey, if he’s excited, you’ll go along for the ride. What matters is that this night is one of his design, and you find it completely endearing that he’s gone out of his way to make it special for you and Robin both. 

He can listen to Ace of Base as much as he wants... even if you have to stifle a fond snort whenever he’s not looking. 

He’s told you so many wonderful (and ridiculous) stories about her that you practically badgered him into setting this up. Tales you hadn’t been privy to before—now slowly unravelling as he let slip new, juicy details bit by bit.

Your big chance to meet the girl who’s shared so much of your boyfriend’s humour and history. And if tonight ends up being half as fun as the pictures you’ve conjured in your head, you’re in for a wild ride.

You snatch your bag and do one last mirror check—just a fleeting glance, making sure your dress is sitting just right and your hair hasn’t decided to rebel. This time, you went for something a little more daring: a flirty dress that shows off your figure in a way you know Steve won’t be able to ignore. 

On a good day, he could barely keep his hands to himself—let alone after last weekend. Taking things all the way had only cemented his need to be close to you, and now, whether in public or private, he always had to have some part of him touching you.

And in this dress? You knew his hands wouldn’t just wander—they’d roam.

Maybe, by the end of the night, you’d let them.

Finally, you rush out, keys jingling in your hand, and clatter down the stairs leading to your shop door. You lock up carefully, tugging the handle to ensure it’s secure—no matter how excited you are, you still need to be responsible—and you pivot on your heel and walk out onto the pavement.

Your steps falter as your eyes land on your boyfriend, casually leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking completely at ease—like this wasn’t a big deal at all, just another night to unwind. But even in that brief glance, you could tell he’d put in just as much effort as you had. 

He’d told you to dress up a little and clearly, he’d taken his own advice. The oversized jumpers and worn jeans were nowhere to be seen. 

This Steve was something else entirely. 

And Jesus, he knew how to clean up well.

He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to hint at every plane and angle of his torso. Over it, a sleek black suit jacket, open in front, sleeves rolled just enough to conceal the marks, but also revealing his toned forearms.

It’s like some casual afterthought, but you know him better than that. Every detail is deliberate. The jacket’s tailoring is perfect, nipping in at the waist and broad across his shoulders. It gives him a certain sharpness, a polished edge that you’re not used to seeing in his typical laidback outfits. 

And by God, does it work—too damn well, if the heat creeping up your neck is anything to go by.

His sunglasses perch on the bridge of his nose, not because of one of his migraines—you’d recognise that look a mile away—but purely to complete the aesthetic. They’re modern, minimalist, and do nothing to hide the playful smirk curling at the corner of his lips

The glint of something metal at his wrist (a simple watch) catches your eye, and then your focus is back on his face, following the neat slope of his hair. It’s perfectly styled, golden-brown waves shaped in that signature swoop, but smoother, sleeker—like he spent real time in front of the mirror, carefully combing each strand into place until it sat just right. 

By the look on his face, he knows you’re staring—knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He watches you approach, eyes dragging over you slowly, drinking in the sight of you just as shamelessly as you’re doing with him.

You step toward his car, face warming at the sight of your date. He lowers his sunglasses in one exaggerated motion, revealing the hint of mischief in his eyes. A slow whistle slips from his lips, just as corny as you might have expected—and somehow twice as charming.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, letting his gaze travel over you from head to toe, “you walk up to me looking like that, we might not make it to the bar.”

Heat seeps into your cheeks, and you roll your eyes in a halfhearted attempt at nonchalance. It’s near impossible to pretend you aren’t melting under the weight of that gaze. 

“I could say the same,” you counter. “What happened to Mr. Harrington, huh? Thought you were all about faded jeans and paint covered nikes.”

He throws back his head with a laugh, then glances at his watch, pretending to read the small face. 

“We might still have time for me to swing home and change if it's—”

You bat his wrist down before he can so much as move. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. Because right now, he looks so sinfully delicious you can hardly keep your focus.

“Really—it’s no problem,” he jokes, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays him. His hand slides behind your neck, warm and sure, and your breath hitches at the teasing sensation of his touch.

“It’s gonna be hard to concentrate on anything coming out of your mouth tonight,” you admit, pulse jumping when his thumb brushes a circle over your skin. Pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head, nudging some stray hair off his forehead. 

“Good,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “I’m alright with being your eye candy.” 

He leans down, kissing you in a way that makes your toes curl and your mind fog over. On instinct, you try to deepen it, hands sliding to his lapels, but he draws back with a soft chuckle.

“Whoa there, angel,” he murmurs, his voice playful. “We’ll get to that soon enough.”

You pout, bottom lip pushing out a fraction. Instantly, he shakes his head, one brow lifting. 

“Hey, don’t go getting all pouty on me.” He brushes your lower lip lightly. “You’re the one who’s been on my ass about this whole thing.”

He had a point there. 

Damn him. 

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent. “But you’ve got to make it up to me when we get home.”

The shift in his expression is downright wicked as he leans in. 

“Honey, with that dress?” He tongues the inside of his cheek in a way that sets fire to your nerves. “I’ll be more than making up for it.”

The bar is chic in that slightly pretentious way—low lights, plush seating, a neon sign glowing over shelves stacked with rainbow-coloured bottles. The bass of some popular track flows through the speakers. 

You can’t help but grin when Steve, ever the gentleman, strides ahead to pull open the heavy door for you. He gives you a playful nod as you step inside, his hand warm against your back. It’s reassuring, filling you with the same confidence he seems to be sporting tonight.

“After you,” he teases, voice low, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you pass him. Even though it’s cheesy, there’s an endearing sincerity beneath his grin.

Once you’re both settled at the bar, he presses a kiss to your temple before glancing at the bartender. 

“What’ll it be?” he asks, tipping his head toward you.

“Just a tonic water,” you say as he frowns.

“You sure?” he drawls, leaning in. There’s an irresistible tilt to his lips, a look that says he’s perfectly fine with either choice as long as you’re happy.

“Yup.” You nod. “You go crazy, though—it’s your night out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your night out too,” he points out, turning his body to face you more fully.

“Ah, yes, but I have to make a good first impression,” you shoot him a knowing smile.  “Remember?”

He slides a hand around your waist, squeezing you into his side. There he goes with the full on physical affection. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he shrugs as his fingers trace your shoulder. “If I’m anything to go by, Rob’s got questionable taste in friends already.”

Your laugh escapes in a soft huff, and you lean your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, savouring his comforting heat. 

“We’ve gotta work on your self-deprecating humour,” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket.

He snorts, pressing another quick kiss to your temple. 

“I told you, angel, I am working on it.”

When he lifts his arm to catch the bartender’s attention, you let your gaze trail over him: the lean lines of his shoulders, the way his hair curls just so. You feel a stir of something low in your stomach at how ridiculously good he looks in the dim, moody lighting. 

Watching him come out of his shell was absolutely delectable—seeing him navigate a crowded room with such ease felt like witnessing a victory in real time, a step forward that was physical proof of progress.

He places the order—your tonic, his own cocktail—and is about to make another witty remark when there’s a gentle tap on his arm.

You glance over to see a brunette woman with an explosive grin, practically vibrating with excitement. She’s dressed up just enough for the night—high-waisted black trousers that elongate her frame, paired with a silky button-up in a deep, jewel-toned shade, the sleeves casually rolled to her elbows.

Her face is alight as she meets Steve’s eyes, and she looks moments away from flinging her arms around him—though she’s clearly checking herself, as if aware of exactly how he handles the unexpected. When he spins, and his entire face brightens in recognition.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaims, wrapping her in a hug that’s enthusiastic. She squeaks as he squeezes a bit too tight.

“Oof—yeah, I did,” she laughs, patting his shoulder. “Yep—alright—good to see you too, maybe let’s not crush me to death?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says sheepishly, releasing her. Straightening up, he glances back at you, a hint of a blush crawling across his cheeks. 

This is it—the moment he’s been waiting for. He’s known you for a few months, but somehow, it feels like so much more. This is the event he’s imagined over and over, finally introducing you to his closest friend. 

The idea of bringing a romantic partner into this part of his life had once felt so far out of reach, but now that he can? 

That’s exactly what’s fueling his confidence tonight.

“Uh, so… this is—this is who I’ve been telling you about. This is my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

He pauses, savouring the word like it’s something that delights him every time he says it—because it does. 

His eyes flick to Robin, and he can tell there’s something on the tip of her tongue as she takes in his expression. He knows how proud he must look, how transparent his feelings are, but for once, he can’t bring himself to care.

He steps aside for you two to be introduced properly. Her eyes are bright as she takes you in, a wide smile stretching across her face.

“So, you finally asked her?” she asks him, but she’s already beaming at you like an old friend. The excitement in her voice makes your own heart feel more at ease.

Steve’s flush deepens. “Yeah—yeah, I did.”

The girl doesn’t hesitate. She engulfs you in a hug, and the warmth of her personality radiates through every second of contact. 

“Oh my god, I’ve heard so much about you,” she gushes, pulling back just enough to look at you but still keeping her hands on your arms.

You can’t resist flicking your gaze at Steve over her shoulder, your lips curving into a playful smile. 

“Really?”

You didn’t expect any less. 

“Oh absolutely, who do you think he called after every date you guys had?” She steps back to give you a little breathing room. “You should’ve heard him. He was like—”

“Hey, hey—no,” Steve interrupts, pressing one hand to his friend's shoulder. “Can we not share all the embarrassing details of my life right now?”

“Get a few more drinks in him, and you can ask him yourself.” She snorts, rolling her eyes at you. 

Steve laughs, feeling your eyes flick up to him. He doesn’t need the drinks to loosen his tongue—he’s already so hopelessly smitten with you. That much was obvious.

Still, he’s eager to get the night started, to show you off the way he’s been dying to.

“Alright,” he says, finally breaking that little reverie, “I got the drinks, you two go find a seat.” He turns to Robin. “Rum and Coke?”

As always.

“Ugh, yes,” she says, linking her arm with yours. It’s easy, natural—there’s an immediate sense that you’ll get along just fine. As the two of you meander toward a free table, she leans in conspiratorially. 

“So… did he tell you about the ice cream uniform?”

“Oh my god, yes.” A flash of amusement dances across your face. “Please tell me there’s more?”

Her chuckle is mischievous. 

“Oh yeah, there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Time feels fluid as the three of you settle into conversation, the low thrumming pulse of the bar’s music weaving around your table, though not too loud to drown out your voices. 

It’s been a while since you first claimed your seats, and yet you barely notice the hours slipping by. Every story Steve and Robin launch into starts with them tossing playful jabs back and forth, only to pause mid-sentence and glance at you, beckoning you to weigh in. 

You find yourself giggling along, giving opinions on whether a certain scheme was more ridiculous than some ill-fated date night, or whether one of them was actually to blame for a mishap they still remember. They trade banter like it’s second nature, and you feel like you’ve been part of their duo from the very start.

At some point, the discussion circles back to their high school days—a topic they both seem to have endless material for. You’re practically on the edge of your seat, soaking in every detail they’re willing to spill. Robin leans forward, clutching her glass as she narrows her eyes at Steve with playful accusation.

“Well, this guy could have been hanging out with me a lot sooner,” she says, wagging a finger in his direction, “if he’d actually paid attention in class, that is. Did you know I sat behind him in history for a whole year? Yeah—a year.” She stretches out the word for emphasis. “Didn’t even remember it.”

Steve huffs in protest. 

“Hey now, that’s not entirely true—”

“Yes, it is,” she cuts in, her grin bright with triumph. “When we both started working together, he introduced himself to me. Honestly, like I didn’t already know who he was.”

“In my defense,” he insists, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I was trying to focus.”

“You were so not.” Robin snorts. “How many tardies did you get that year?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. 

“I passed, didn’t I?”

“Barely.” She arches an eyebrow, and you laugh at the indignation blossoming on your boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, well,” he shoots back, folding his arms across his chest, “how many times did you have to take your driving test, huh? What was it—three? And who was stuck chauffeuring you to band practice before class even started?”

Robin’s jaw drops in mock outrage. 

“That’s not fair, driving is hard!” She punctuates her point by thumping Steve’s shoulder, though there’s no real force behind it.

“Yeah, sure it is,” he snickers. “Especially when you shut your eyes at a junction because you’re scared to get on the freeway.”

She shoves him more firmly this time, but her eyes sparkle with affection. You can practically feel the fondness thrumming between them. Every playful jab is undercut with closeness, revealing just how much they trust one another. 

Steve is so at ease—practically glowing. There isn’t a hint of the anxiety you sometimes catch in his eyes, no shadow of the stresses he’s hinted at before. He’s all laughter and bright colours here, the multiple cocktails probably loosening him up even more.

Watching them, it dawns on you just how special his friend is. She’s watched him become the man he is, seen him through phases you’ve only heard vague references to. There’s a sweet, sibling-like bond between them that would have made you insecure if not for how purely platonic they obviously are. 

They’re too busy ribbing each other and finishing one another’s sentences to harbour any romantic tension. And the sincerity in their smiles, the way they drift into each other’s personal space—this is the foundation that’s helped him grow. As you observe the two of them, you feel nothing but gratitude towards her.  

Does he feel this way around you too? 

Or is this kind of bond reserved for someone who’s known him since high school, who’s seen him through everything.

You lean in closer, meeting his gaze as his expression softens. As you sip your drink, you catch the way his playfully annoyed look melts into something fonder—a small, boyish smile taking its place. 

He nudges your foot under the table, a quiet little gesture just for you, as Robin continues listing her many reasons for despising driving. When he shoots you a wink, you can’t help but hope that one day, you’ll share that same camaraderie—the kind that comes with knowing someone inside and out.

The conversation drifts into a lull before Robin suddenly pipes up again, leaning toward you with a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. 

“Has he cooked for you yet?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows as if preparing you for some shocking revelation. “He better have with all the work I put in teaching him.”

“Oh, he has!” You nod eagerly, sipping your tonic. “I guess I have you to thank, huh?”

“You sure do.” She leans back with a self-satisfied grin, crossing her arms. “Should’ve seen him the first time I tried to get him into the kitchen—boiling an egg was apparently a herculean task.”

The boy groans in protest, shooting her a halfhearted glare.

“They cracked! That’s not my fault.”

Robin laughs, drink nearly sloshing over the rim. 

“Yeah, because you turned the heat too high.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he defends himself. “They get hot and break.”

Bless him.

“Uh, no, Steve.” You try to stifle your own laugh, but fail completely. “It’s because the water was boiling too hard, they bang around in the pot.”

His brow furrows in puzzlement. 

“That’s what that is?”

Robin's expression matches your own, and both of you fall into giggles again at his earnest confusion. 

God, he’s sweet. 

“Seems like I have more work to do,” she sighs, taking another sip of her drink.

“Clearly,” you agree, throwing Steve a playful side-eye. He raises his hands in protest.

“Wow, okay—” he says, rolling his eyes, “so you’re both ganging up on me now?”

He sees how it is.

Typical. 

Robin props her elbow on the table, her head tilting back with a grin that’s gone a little hazy from too many drinks. 

“Yeah, well,” she begins, voice lilting with mischief, “you have gotten better. Remember when you basically refused to go into the meat aisle? You said it smelled like the tunnels, but I asked Dustin about it and he said that—”

She’s halfway through the sentence when Steve stiffens, his foot giving her a not-so-subtle nudge under the table. At once, the mirth drains a bit from her face, and she glances over at him, clearly realising she’s stepped onto sensitive ground. 

You perk up—another piece of information. But instead of clarifying anything, it only adds to the puzzle. 

A tunnel? 

Steve had never mentioned that before, but your brain immediately tries to slot it into the story you already know. Was there a tunnel at the old mall? 

It's possible.

But that wouldn’t make much sense in the context of meat. He worked at an ice cream shop, not a damn butcher’s.

“Sorry.” Robin whispers, looking apologetic. You know you were not meant to hear that apology and you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“What?” Your eyebrows draw together. “What is it?”

Tell me. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” He forces a tight-lipped smile, shrugging a little too casually. “Don’t worry about it.”

You want to be sad, but you can’t. And you certainly can’t press him on it, not here. Not when he was so excited about tonight, so eager to show you off.

You feel his hand resting on your thigh, but now there’s a tension in it that wasn’t there before. That shift, that change from the easy one he had just moments ago, is what makes the decision for you. There will be other times for this, other moments to piece things together. But not now.

You exchange a lingering look between them—Robin mouths out another apology, and he gives her a small, forgiving nod. 

You don’t dwell on the moment. Besides, you still have a new piece of the puzzle. 

That was better than nothing.

By the time you step out of the bar, it’s just past midnight, and the cool air rushes to greet you. Steve is practically attached to your side, his arm draped over your shoulder as though he might topple over without your support. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find it adorable—his usual guarded composure replaced with an open, slightly wonky, grin.

And it's hilarious to witness.

“C’mon, Steve,” you coax, wrapping an arm around his waist for balance. “We gotta get back.”

He’s clearly not ready for the night to end as he opens his mouth to protest. 

“Nooo, we can stay,” he pleads, turning big eyes on Robin, who stands nearby with her own contented smile. “Rob, tell her we can stay. She got all dolled up for this, wouldn't be fair—”

You exchange a conspiratorial smile with her. Leaning in close so Steve can’t quite hear.

“Does he always get like this?” You whisper.

"When he drinks?" Robin stifles a laugh. "Oh yeah, big time—gets super sappy."

Then, turning toward the pouting grown man beside you, she huffs. 

"I told you to take it easy with the mojitos."

Steve was clearly not listening. 

“Pssh, whatever,” he interjects, only half hearing her. “I don’t have to be up tomorrow, and neither do you,” he says, pointing somewhat dramatically at Robin.

She lifts a hand, palm out to stop his rambling. 

“Yeah, well, if I go home to Vickie like that, she’ll have more than a few choice words for me.”

He tips forward in a woozy attempt at reassurance. 

“You can… you can blame it on me?” He offers, voice trailing off into a sweet but slurred laugh, like he can't even take himself seriously.

His friend just shakes her head, clearly endeared. 

“Nice try—but no.” She says before turning to you. “You alright getting him home?”

Glancing up at your boyfriend—his eyes half-lidded, a sleepy smile hinting on his lips—you nod, your own fondness tugging at your heart. 

“I’m sure I can handle him,” you confirm with a tiny smirk. 

You’ve guided him through worse nights than this.

“Alright, Steve, let go of your girlfriend for a sec so I can say goodbye,” Robin says, trying her best to be stern. He frowns but reluctantly loosens his hold on you.

You slip away long enough for her to wrap you in a quick hug. Her voice is brimming with excitement as she pulls back. 

“We have to do this again. I haven’t even told you about working at the video store and his terrible sorting system—”

"Hey!" A spark of protest ignites in Steve's gaze. "I don’t wanna hear it, alright? It was superior to whatever—" he waves his hands in front of him, searching for the right word, "carnage you had going on."

“Alphabetical is far from carnage.”

He huffs, nose wrinkling in mock indignation, but even through his tipsy state, he can’t hide the affection in his eyes. He tugs Robin into a hug goodbye and you can feel the tenderness between them. 

And just like that, you’re left with a very happy, very tipsy Steve Harrington—who has promptly glued himself right back to your side.

You guide him, swaying on his feet, into the passenger side of his car. He flops in with a soft grunt, blinking as though everything around him is subtly moving. You close the door gently, careful all of his limbs are inside, before walking around the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The interior still carries the faint trace of his cologne, a small reminder that—despite how he looks right now—he is, in fact, a put-together adult. 

Well, mostly.

“All right, Mr Harrington,” you say, scanning the dashboard. “Where’re your keys?”

He puts on an exaggerated, perplexed expression, patting his chest and shaking his head. 

“I dunno what you’re talking about…”

Rolling your eyes, you lean over, determined. 

“We are not going back in there,” you tell him, stern enough to make him give you a dramatic pout when he realises you won’t budge.

“Fine,” he mumbles, fishing around in the inner pocket of his blazer before finally producing the car key. He hands them over, and you give him a grateful smile, slipping them into the ignition.

“Seat belt?” you prompt.

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs as though you’re asking the world of him. His voice is playful, edged with that mellow tone people get after a few too many drinks.

“You’re so bossy,” he continues in a tone that cannot be taken seriously. “Are you usually this bossy?”

“Well, sorry for caring about your physical safety,” you fire back, carefully easing out of the parking space.

“Always looking after me, aren’t you?”

He releases a soft laugh, leaning against the passenger door, his eyes remained fixed on you. 

“Someone’s gotta,” you reply, face softening as you glance over at him. “You feeling okay, or are things spinning?”

“What? I’m fine.” His eyes widen in mock indignation. “Do I not look like fine?”

You flick a wry smile his way. 

“You look drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he objects, though his lopsided grin and rosy cheeks tell a different story.

You look at him now—not as perfectly put together as when he picked you up, but somehow, he looks even better. 

His hair is no longer an art form, tousled and a little wild, and his posture has lost all its careful composure, slumped and comfortable. His eyes, softer now, lock onto yours, completely unguarded. 

He looks utterly relaxed—and for him, that’s something big.

It seems like the perfect time to test just how far gone he is, just a little fun—tease him while he’s in this gullible, blissed-out state.

"Good," you start, the drawl in your tone unmistakable, eyes flicking over him knowingly. "Because if you were, I would’ve stayed the night. Helped you through the hangover tomorrow."

“What?” His reaction is immediate. “You’re not staying?” He sits up straighter as if you’ve just admitted to murder.

You shrug with as much nonchalance as you can manage. 

“Not sure. I have a few things I need to get done tomorrow…”

"No—baby," he blurts out, sounding more pitiful than you’ve ever heard. "I’m so drunk, practically wasted here—can’t even see straight."

“Oh yeah? That bad, huh?"

"So bad," he nods vigorously, eyes wide with dramatics. "You gotta stay."

He tilts his head just enough to sell it. 

"C’mon, what if I wake up miserable and there’s, like, no one there to feel sorry for me?"

A laugh bursts out of you. His soulful, puppy-eyed expression tugs on your heart. For a moment, you feel a tiny pang of guilt for teasing him—but it was just so goddamn easy.

“All right, then,” you relent. “I guess I’ll have to stay—” you shoot him a sly smile, “just in case.”

His relief is obvious. A broad, boyish smile breaks across his face, and he exhales a dramatic sigh as he melts back into the passenger seat. 

By the time you park outside his place, he’s steadier on his feet—though still leaning on you for support, but you suspect it’s not from the drinks. His fingers trail along your waist and up your spine, as if he can’t bear to stop touching you for even a second. 

Once inside, you gently push the door shut behind you and help him shrug out of his blazer. He doesn’t flinch or resist—not a single indication of the usual tension that sometimes appears when his arms are exposed. 

Whatever self-consciousness he carries about his scars is nowhere to be found right now. As soon as the it’s off, his hands return to your waist, pulling you flush against him so he can bury his face in your hair.

“Steve,” you murmur, pressing a hand to his chest. “Let me get you some water.”

“In a second,” he groans, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw. “I haven’t given you nearly enough attention tonight.”

“You’ve given me more than enough, trust me.” You laugh softly, sliding a hand up to his cheek to coax him back. “C’mon, water first, then bed.”

He lets you guide him into the kitchen, though he still can’t resist peppering little kisses along your shoulder whenever he can sneak them in.

At the sink, you fill two cups of water—familiar with where everything is kept by now—but the moment you straighten, he is behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder, lips lightly grazing the side of your neck.

“Hey—nuh-uh," you chide, reluctantly. “We can’t right now. You’ve had a drink.”

No matter how much you want to.

“No—can’t do that to me.” He groans dramatically, pressing himself against your back. “Y'knew what you were doing with that dress. Been thinkin' about it all night…”

A flush warms your cheeks at his plea, you turn in his arms and hold out the glass. 

“Drink this, please?”

His frown is exaggerated, but he dutifully tips back the glass. Downing the water in a few large gulps, then setting it aside, blinking down at you with heavy-lidded adoration. You stifle a laugh and take a sip from your own cup while he keeps his gaze locked on you.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity.

“Steve…” Your cheeks heat even more.

It's the drink talking.

“No, I’m serious—” He shakes his head, eyes soft. “Couldn’t believe it when I saw you tonight—was just… so excited to have you on my arm, for everyone to see.”

See how far he'd come.

The statement makes your heart thump, and when he lifts a hand to brush some hair off your forehead, you lean into his touch.

“You think she liked me?” you ask quietly,. A half smile curves on your lips as you probably know the answer, but you need the reassurance that you made him proud.

“Don’t think it’s possible for someone not to like you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and your heart melts a little further.

“You’re real sweet when you’re drunk,” you tease.

“I’m sweet all the time.” His hands trail languidly down your arms, leaving your skin tingling in their wake. You nod, breath catching slightly. 

“Yeah, you are,” you admit, cheeks still flushed. His lips graze your neck again, sending a pleasant shiver through you.

“You gonna let me be real sweet to you?” he whispers, his breath tickling your skin.

You hum, gently pushing him back just enough to meet his eyes. He’s gazing at you so intently, smitten and serious all at once. The haze of alcohol may linger in his system, but the affection shining in his expression is crystal clear.

He looks down at you, catching the hesitation in your eyes. He knows exactly what it means—you won’t do anything unless he’s fully there, fully present in the moment. And that only makes him want you more. 

The fact that you’d wait for him, that you care enough to make sure he’s in the right headspace, has him feeling completely enamored.

But he’s right—he has been patient. And the cocktails? They aren’t clouding his judgment in any way that concerns him. He’s a little fuzzy, sure, but not intoxicated. Well—maybe by you. And if he’s being honest, he’s been itching to get his hands on you all night.

He drops a soft kiss to your lips, then pulls back. 

“I’m not drunk, angel,” he insists quietly. “Just a little tipsy.”

You still look unsure, and he sees it instantly. But Steve knows exactly how to sweet-talk you into trusting him—how to make you see that this isn’t the alcohol talking, that you're gonna be safe with him.

He's choosing this. 

"I want this, angel," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Not because I’ve been drinking—because it’s you. I've got you."

His fingers trace gently along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You're nearly there.

The final blow.

"So if you’ll let me… I’d really, really like to show you just how much."

You cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his warm skin. 

How on earth can you say no to that? 

“Alright, we can—”

You’re cut off by him letting out a triumphant breath and scooping you right up, hands slipping under your thighs to support you as he strides toward the bedroom. You squeal, clinging to him in surprise as you try to talk through the stream of nervous giggles.

“Steve!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing off the walls.

He just laughs in return, the sound rich and throaty, carrying you through the doorway as though you weigh nothing at all.

He practically tosses you onto the bed in his haste, eliciting a squeak of laughter from you as your back hits the soft covers. It’s immediately clear there’s something different in him tonight—he’s excited, charged, and looking at you with eyes that burn like embers. 

Before you can fully process his transformation, his mouth slants over yours in a desperate kiss that has you gasping into him. His palms roam over your body, broad and possessive, like he can’t decide which part of you he wants to touch first.

A startled giggle leaves your lips when he breaks away to mouth along your jaw. You tip your head back, giving him room, unable to stifle a grin at how single-minded he is.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, voice breathless.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, pupils blown wide with desire. His hair’s slightly mussed from your fingers, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. 

“Honey—if you knew half the shit I was thinking about at the bar,” he says in a low rasp, “you wouldn’t be teasing me right now.”

A shiver courses through you—filled with pure want. There’s a spark of mischief in your veins. Something about seeing him like this, so unguarded, emboldens you. 

“Big words,” you reply, cocking a brow, “for someone who still hasn’t touched me properly yet.”

He barks out a laugh—almost incredulous, the corners of his mouth quirking like he’s delighted you’d dare to challenge him. 

“Is that how you wanna play tonight?”

He doesn’t know what’s come over him. He wasn’t lying, he wasn’t drunk, but there’s a desperation bleeding out of every part of him, something hungry and entirely focused on you.

He feels confident—only spurred on by the way you’re pawing at him, the way you were looking at him all night.

Like you belonged to him.

For once, there’s no hesitation, no fear of disappointment when he will rid himself of his clothes. He knows you’ll like what you see, and that sends a realisation through his mind, tipping him straight back into King Steve territory—sure of himself and completely in his element with something he is verifiably good at.  

Judging by the way you arch up into him, the way your fingers grip at his skin like you need him closer.

You can feel it, too.

He gently gathers both your wrists, guiding them above your head, pressing them into the bed which sends a slow, delicious shiver down your spine.

He’s testing now, feeling out this new territory between the two of you. He feels you hold your breath and his grip stays firm—but never forceful. His strength is potent, but he wields it gently, a reassurance that you could break free at any moment if you wanted to.

He glances down at you, breath still heavy, eyes searching. His fingers squeeze yours once.

Are you okay with this? 

He waits, unmoving. 

And when your hands squeeze back, the answer is clear.

You’re allowing him to do this to you.

And fuck, that sends something primal through him.

He leans down, teeth grazing the juncture of your neck and shoulder in a teasing nip that has you keening.

“Careful what you wish for, baby,” he murmurs, moving his kisses along the curve of your throat. “I don’t do halfway.”

A thrill of anticipation flares in your belly at his words. This new side of him—so sure, so hungry—has you spinning. Each nip draws a gasp, your entire body stirring under the onslaught of sensation.

After one last kiss pressed into your collarbone, he releases your wrists and skims his palms down your torso, pausing at your hips. The shift of power jolts your heart when he slides off the bed, kneeling at the edge.

He wears a crooked grin as he grabs your thighs and unceremoniously yanks you closer, your lower half practically dangling off the mattress. Then he hooks a finger under the waistband of your underwear, his gaze dropping like he’s savouring every detail of you.

He runs the pad of his thumb over the thin fabric, right at the wet patch where you’re most sensitive, and your breath seizes.

He’s gonna have some fun with you. 

“You know,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, tantalising circles, “I could be mean… take my time, really make you work for it.”

You swallow.

Hard.

Where the hell did that come from?

Steve has flirted with dirty talk before, tossing out teasing remarks that left you flustered, but he’s never drawn it out like this—never tested your patience with such slow, deliberate cruelty.

It’s so different from the way he usually is, and his look tonight only amplifies it. His all-black outfit is still visible through the planes of your thighs, a monumental contrast to the flustered, second-grade teacher you stumbled upon all those months ago—the one who could barely string together a sentence to ask you out outside his classroom.

Now he’s like this—in control, commanding, completely reveling in the role he’s taken tonight.

It hits you all at once: how much he’s changed.

How much he’s grown.

You can hardly imagine that past version of Steve taking charge the way he is now, and fuck.

It’s beautiful.

It makes you want to give in completely, to relinquish yourself to him, to let him feel what it’s like to lead again—to call the shots, to take what he wants, to be the old him once more.

“You wouldn’t,” you manage to retort, but your bravado falters the moment you see his face.

He arches a brow, amused by your statement.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chides as he runs a hand down your leg, “you know I would." He pulls himself closer to your core, never breaking eye contact. "Not just gonna hand it to you, not tonight—you’re gonna ask for it, real sweet for me, okay?”

You’re about to fire off another witty remark when he slips your underwear down your legs, the fabric disappearing in one swift motion. Goosebumps race over your skin at the cool air against your heated flesh. 

His eyes darken at the sight of how wet you are, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he fights to stay in control. You see his throat bob when he swallows, like he’s genuinely trying not to devour you on the spot.

A surge of embarrassment rises in your chest at how the exposure, but it’s overshadowed by the torrent of desire swirling inside you.

He settles in, nudging your knees apart, and plants soft, teasing bites along your inner thighs. The gentle scrape of his teeth makes you shudder. It’s maddening that he’s so close yet deliberately avoiding the place you need him most.

“Steve… please—”

You stop, voice cracking on the final syllable, unable to fully spit out what he wants. The vulnerability of wanting something so fiercely—of needing him so shamelessly—clutches at your chest. But he only smiles against your skin, smug and satisfied.

He's enjoying this.

“Mmm,” he hums “that’s a start, baby." His large hand presses lightly on your hip, keeping you still. "But you can do better than that, c’mon.”

Christ—he’s really doing it.

Making you earn it tonight.

His words shoot molten heat straight to your core, and your cheeks burn at how easily he’s backed you into this corner. You’re used to him being sweet, doting, bending to please you. Now he’s making you work for it.

A new wave of arousal slides through you, and your pride cracks under the tension. 

“Steve, fuck—” you grit out, “I need… I need your mouth on me.”

Your voice is so pitiful, so wrecked, that it makes him pause. Just for a second. Letting your request hang in the air between you. He tips his head back, eyes shutting as the pretty words sink in, echoing in his mind, wrapping around his ego like silk.

You always ask so nicely—so sweet, like you know he’s the only one who can give you what you need.

When his gaze drifts back down to you, his lips curl into a slow, wolfish grin, full of intent and promise.

You got it, angel.

“See?” he murmurs, voice buzzing with triumph. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His fingers grip the underside of your thighs, the press of his thumbs guiding you to spread open for him. He’s so sure in his movements—like he’s found a new rhythm to the confidence that’s always been under the surface.

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, silently asking for every ounce of trust.

“Now,” he purrs, “be good for me and hold still.”

Your half-formed reply dies on your lips the moment his tongue flicks out in a slow, deliberate stroke, and every one of your senses sparks with raw heat as you gasp.

The slick sound of him feasting on you, the wet slide of his mouth and the soft, desperate little hums in his throat—it’s a rush of sensation you can’t possibly process all at once. Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back, and you grasp at the sheets for any sort of grounding.

He’s relentless, and your responses only spur him in more, bracing his arms under your thighs and pulling you closer as he licks you in languid, thorough passes that have you panting. 

You’ve felt his enthusiasm before, but never quite like this—he’s devouring you, every flick of his tongue precise, and he's barely even started. His nose nudges in precisely the right spot against your clit, sending another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

You can feel his smile against you as you writhe beneath him, he knows exactly how good he is, and he’s revelling in it. And he doesn’t waste a second—doesn’t tease, doesn’t draw it out—just gives you exactly what you need, slipping a finger inside your walls slowly. 

He’s reading you like a damn book, tracking every little reaction, every shaky breath, every twitch of your body. And when he feels you clench down around his digit, a quiet, broken sound slipping from your lips, he looks up—just to see the glazed-over look in your eyes, the telltale sign that your mind has emptied of anything but him.

Perfect. 

Exactly where he wants you.

A strangled moan bubbles up in your chest, almost slipping free, but your reflex is to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the embarrassing sound. 

Immediately, he notices your movements. He stills, bites down on your thigh—not too hard, but with enough force to jolt you out of your pleasured haze—and you gasp, eyes snapping down to meet his.

“Oh no, baby,” he admonishes, voice reverberating against your skin, “none of that. If I’m makin' you feel good, I wanna hear it.”

Flustered heat floods your cheeks. 

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, sweetheart, you were,” he cuts in with a smile that’s maddeningly confident. “But that’s alright.”

He reaches for your wrist, prying your arm away from your face. The gentle kiss he presses into your palm is so achingly tender it makes your breath stutter. Then, he guides your hand to the top of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair.

“Go on,” he murmurs, sighing when your fingers scrape against his scalp. “Keep me here. Let me finish what I started.”

You don’t need to be asked twice. Your grip tightens in his hair, trying to ground yourself against the swirling sensation of his mouth and hands. He groans in approval at the tug, the vibration sending fresh sparks of pleasure dancing along your spine. 

It’s overwhelming—the sloppy sound of him working, the heady smell of desire in the air, the blazing heat coiling in your stomach that’s already coiled too tight.

The pressure builds fast, almost too much. A litany of moans and half-formed pleas stutter from your lips, and your thighs clamp around his head, unconsciously trying to pull him closer. He doesn’t let up, his mouth so perfectly focused that you feel yourself hurtling toward the brink.

“Steve,” you gasp, voice cracking as you arch your back. “Please—I need you inside—”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your wild, pleading gaze. A cocky smirk paints his face, and you’re distantly aware of how your own arousal slicks the lower half of his jaw. 

He looks downright smug.

“So bossy,” he drawls, drunk on lust and repeating the earlier sentiment. He slips his fingers out, ignoring the needy tremor that wracks your body. “But you knew how this was gonna go—first you come on my tongue. Then you get my cock.”

Jesus.

Did he really just say that?

He dives back in without waiting for your reply. Shock ripples through you at the brazen filth coming out of his mouth, but it’s drowned by the delirious pleasure of his tongue lapping at you again. A strangled moan escapes you, and you tighten your hold in his hair.

The pleasure whips through you in dizzying waves, and you can’t hold on any longer—your voice cracks on a broken cry as you cum, your muscles seizing, back arching off the bed as he drinks in your release. The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure blooming hot beneath your skin. 

He groans, feeling your thighs quake around him, but he only slows when you start to whimper that it’s too sensitive. Gently, he eases the pressure, placing a series of soft, almost apologetic kisses against your shaking inner thigh.

He could get used to this new confidence.

Especially when you reacted like that.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still hooded and dark, chest heaving as he looks at you sprawled on the bed. A deep flush staining his cheeks, seeming almost in awe of you—of what he’s just done.

Of what he was capable of. 

“Fuck—” he breathes, voice ragged. “That was so fucking beautiful.”

And he’s gonna make you do it again. 

He leans back on his heels, gaze tracking over your trembling form. For a moment, all he does is toy with the hem of your dress, the fabric rumpled from all his manhandling.

“Dressed so pretty for me,” he murmurs, dragging his fingertips along the edge of the material. “Should’ve been patient, taken my time peeling it off first.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to punch a hole through your chest. The desire in his eyes is thick—tangible enough that it makes every nerve in your body light up. You lift your shoulder slightly, desperate to be rid of the clingy fabric.

 “T-take it off—”

He huffs a low laugh and shakes his head, catching both of your wrists gently and pressing them back onto the bed. His grip is firm but never harsh, the contrast makes your pulse jump even higher.

“Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he chides. “Lemme enjoy it a little longer.”

You wore it for him, after all. 

Still fully clothed himself—his slacks pressing against your hypersensitive core—he leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that has your head spinning. You can feel the rough fabric nudge between your thighs, stoking the heat that hasn’t subsided one bit since he first put his mouth on you.

His breath warms your neck as he breaks the kiss. 

“Begged so pretty for my mouth—how 'bout you tell me how bad you want my cock?”

His voice is all tease, dripping with amusement as he watches the effect his words have on you. He holds back a chuckle when you tug at his shirt. His impatient girl.

He knows what you want.

He’s not dumb.

He just likes watching how precious you are when you're needy.

“I swear—if you don’t—”

He grins, cutting you off.

“If I don’t what?” The low rasp in his voice vibrates through you as he finally lets go of your wrists to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, taking pity on you at last.

He doesn’t even register the scars covering his torso—you’ve already seen them, already traced them with careful fingers, already accepted them. Right now, that’s not what matters.

The only thing on his mind is you—how far he can take you, how much he can push with this new trust you’ve given him. He’s going to drag this out, drink up every second.

And later, when the night is over, he’ll revisit this moment again and again, replaying it until it’s burned into him,

Until it’s engraved into his eyelids. 

“You want me to take these off?” he drawls, glancing at your still mostly clothed figure, “What d'you think?” He pauses and pretends to contemplate his question. “Should I make you beg for that too?”

God no, you plead looking up at him. 

Your expression must be downright pitiful—eyes big, mouth parted—because after a few agonising seconds of letting you squirm, he exhales a soft chuckle. 

He’s not gonna be that mean. 

At least not tonight.

“Alright,” he says, voice warming, “waited long enough. Let’s get you out of this—before you tear it off yourself.”

Finally.

His hands move with purpose, helping you out of the dress in record time. The bra follows in one swift motion, baring your skin to the chilled air. The hunger in his gaze intensifies, and you instinctively cross your arms over yourself, but he gently pulls them apart with a soft, adoring look.

He might be all sharp tongues and teasing words, but he’s still your Steve—and it slips through the second he sees you like this, sees the softness in your naked body.

Every time, it wrecks him. Leaves him in awe, staring like he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He has to school himself, to remind himself why he’s here.

Not just to have you.

To make love to you.

Fuck you so good you forget your own name.

He stands to rid himself of his jeans and underwear, fumbling briefly with the button in his haste. The condom he grabs from the top drawer is on in a flash, and you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes your lips.

“Were you planning this?” you quip, arching a brow.

He smirks, bracing a hand on the mattress as he crawls over you. 

“Wouldn’t call it planning,” he admits, “more like wishful thinking.”

He looks down at you, gauging every little reaction as he settles between your thighs, his mind spinning from the way you’ve handed yourself over to him tonight.

Every teasing thought that crosses his mind? 

He says it. 

Every slow, deliberate movement? 

He makes it. 

He’s always had a quick mouth, always had a knack for getting the last word, and it turns out that skill translates pretty well in the bedroom. 

From the way you’re responding—whimpering, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, he understands it's effect.

He drags his cock through your slick, soaking in the way you shudder, still sensitive from your last release. The broken little sound you let out nearly ends him right there. 

He almost slows down, almost stops to check in, almost asks if you need a second—

But then he sees it. 

That look in your eyes.

Like you’re seconds away from combusting. Like if he doesn’t fill you up right now, you might actually fall apart. That puts his mind at ease real quick.

You can take it. You can take him.

You always have, every curveball his fucked up life has thrown at you and now, this is your reward. 

His tough girl—so pretty, so pliant, and all his.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he murmurs, rolling his hips just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. "Fuck—bet I could make you cum again before I’m even all the way in—"

Your body clenches at the idea, but a flicker of alarm crosses your features. He notices and offers a crooked grin, leaning down to press a comforting kiss to your cheek.

You can have him now. 

"Shhh—I'll be nice, promise.” He assures, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. "I know—let me give it to you, yeah? Just how you like."

He pushes inside with deliberate slowness, guiding himself until he’s fully sheathed, and the stretch is a sharp, blissful edge that has your toes curling into the sheets. Heat flares bright as you take him in, your breath catching in your throat at the way he fills you.

"Shit," he breathes, voice wrecked, eyes fluttering shut. "You—fuck, you have any idea what you did tonight?"

His mind flashes to the bar—how pretty you looked, how fucking dangerous you stared at him, all soft-spoken and sweet while chatting with Robin, while his brain was miles deep in the gutter.

"Had me losing my fucking mind, baby—kept looking at me like you wanted me to bend you over the damn table—"

Your cheeks burn, fresh embarrassment creeping up your neck. Sure, you were flirting with him—but not to that extent, right?

The way his eyes darkened whenever you brushed against him, the way his jaw tensed, like he was barely keeping himself in check. And now, hearing him say it out loud, knowing just how much it got to him.

Yeah. 

You don’t regret it one bit.

“I-I didn’t mean to—”

His hips flex, drawing a startled cry from you. 

“No?” he challenges, leaning down so his breath skates across your lips. “Then why're you squeezing me like this, huh? Feels like you wanted it real bad.”

A strangled moan rips from your chest when he adjusts his angle, the friction almost too exquisite to bear. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon imprints on his skin, and he seems to relish it. It only spurs him to thrust deeper, rolling his body in a fluid, deliberate motion that has you arching up into him.

“Can you feel how deep I am?” he rasps, pressing a broad palm over your lower stomach.

You nearly wail at the added pressure, your body tightening involuntarily. Every nerve feels overexposed, and the sweet ache is already coiling again, dangerously close to snapping.

"Yes—yes," you pant, voice breaking, eyes squeezing shut like it’s too much. "Fuck—fuck, I can feel it—"

His own breathing is ragged, that confident smirk never fully leaving his face. 

"Yeah—you do," he groans, voice cracking. "Fuck—stretching around me so fucking perfect—"

He pounds you into the mattress, each thrust driving sparks of ecstasy through your veins. The headboard knocks against the wall, but all you can do is cling to him, trying to keep your mind from fracturing under the overwhelming pleasure.

“Steve—Steve, I—,” you gasp, the tension in your core reaching a fever pitch, “I’m gonna—”

“Shhh, baby,” he croons, sliding a hand under your back to pull you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “It’s okay—I got you. Been so good for me tonight—go on, let go.”

Your body locks up, the orgasm tearing through you with near-blinding intensity, muscles clamping around him in a cascade of pleasure that leaves you sobbing out broken moans. His rhythm stutters, his eyes squeezing shut as he chases his own release.

“That’s it—” he mutters, voice cracking with urgency. “Fuck, I can’t—I—”

One more thrust and he’s lost, groaning low in his chest as he spills into the condom. The two of you ride out the final tremors together, foreheads pressed, breath mingling in the heavy air.

It takes a moment for you both to resurface after his release, his chest still heaving against yours. The pleasure in his eyes slowly gives way to something gentler.

He leans down, pressing a series of lazy, heartfelt kisses to your forehead, your cheekbones, the corners of your mouth—wherever his lips can reach. Each touch is imbued with care.

“Did so good,” he murmurs between kisses, voice affectionate. “So good for me, angel.”

You melt under the praise, letting your eyes drift shut as you soak in his breathless devotion. It contrasts how wild he’d been just moments ago—downright relentless—makes his current tenderness all the sweeter.

With a gentle grunt, he pushes himself onto his elbows, brushing back the stray hair that clings to your damp forehead. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”

In your blissed-out state, all you can manage is a drowsy hum of assent. He slips off the bed, and you watch through lidded eyes as he pads across the room, disappearing into the bathroom. 

You hear the tap running, the faint rustle of him disposing of the condom, then the soft swish of water in a washcloth. Your body feels utterly spent, a pleasant tingle still humming along your skin.

There’s a quiet care in the way he cleans you up. The washcloth is warm and soothing against your overly sensitive skin, and you shiver at the sensation. 

His gaze follows your every little twitch, making sure he hasn’t hurt you. You can feel his hand trembling ever so slightly—not from uncertainty, but from the flood of emotions surging through him.

“Hey,” he says, voice subdued, “that was okay?” His eyes lift to yours, a glint of worry in them. “I mean… you’re good, right?”

You let out a lazy, content laugh. 

Yeah, you're pretty fucking good.

“Think I’m gonna need a week to recover.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up. 

“Definitely.” A mischievous curl graces your lips. “Now, come here and let me fall asleep on you.”

You really are bossy tonight. 

“Alright. Gimme a second.” He stands up, rummaging through a drawer for a pair of boxers. When he slips them on, you catch a glimpse of the faint lines of his scars, but he still doesn't seem bothered.

He fishes out a soft, worn T-shirt for you, returning to the bed to help you pull it over your head. The patience contrasts all of his previous actions.

“Better?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

You nod, contentment seeping into your bones. He climbs in beside you, pulling the covers up until you’re both tucked in. He wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you close enough that you can press your face against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you, punctuating the silence.

You open your mouth to say something—maybe to tease him about how he just passed some imaginary line from shy to sweet to downright insatiable—but before you can form the words, you realise his breathing has already gone soft and rhythmic. 

The drinks and all the exertion apparently caught up to him, and he’s fallen asleep, mouth parted and face slightly smushed into his pillow.

“Good night,” you murmur, a fond smile tugging at your lips, even though you know he can’t hear you. You lean up to plant a delicate kiss on his jaw.

You knew he'd appreciate it if he was awake.

He mumbles something incoherent, shifting only to pull you tighter against him, and you let out a quiet giggle that he sleeps right through. Feeling his warmth, your own exhaustion rushes in, and you finally let your eyes flutter shut.

The hungover teacher stirred with a low groan, rolling onto his side as the dull ache behind his temples made itself known. His mouth felt tacky and dry, and he blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through the blinds. 

Nine o’clock was the time displayed on his alarm—usually he was up before then, but after the night he’d had, it was hardly surprising.

Last night was fun.

Last night...

Last night.

Oh, God.

The realisation hit him like a jolt of caffeine. He cast a quick glance around the bed. The rumpled sheets on your side were cool to the touch, and his heart gave a lurch. He noticed right away that the clothes the two of you had tossed around last night were no longer strewn across the floor. 

His mind whirred with images of the previous evening: how he’d practically been glued to your side in the car, half-drunk and babbling. How he’d lost every ounce of self-consciousness once you got inside… 

And dear lord, that torrent of absolute filth that had poured out of his mouth.

He didn’t regret the closeness—far from it. But the specifics came rushing back, making him wince. 

He’d definitely gone too far, pushed some kind of boundary here. A flush crept over his cheeks at the recollection of the way he’d practically manhandled you, said things to you he hadn’t allowed himself to say in years. 

And the marks—no, not his—he vividly recalled leaving little reminders of himself on your skin. What if you were hurt or upset? Is that why you weren’t next to him in bed?

Fuck this is bad. 

So very very bad. 

Just as he was about to scramble out from under the covers to search for you, he heard the bedroom door creak open. His stomach flipped—and there you were, peeking in with a bright grin, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand.

“Oh, Casanova has finally risen,” you teased, stepping fully into the room.

Relief flooded him so quickly he almost felt dizzy. You were still here. 

And you looked…

Well, you looked content. 

Happy, even?

You were practically glowing.

He stayed propped on one elbow, eyes roving over the fresh T-shirt you’d thrown on, a new one from the previous night, hair still mussed. He swallowed, trying to find words, but they didn’t come. He settled for a sheepish smile as you rounded the bed and set the cups on the bedside table before perching on the edge of the mattress, near his legs.

“How’s the head this morning?” you asked, tilting your head in concern.

“It’s, uh…” He shrugged a bit stiffly, still grappling with the residual embarrassment. “I’ll live,” he managed, realising only then how dry his throat was.

You leaned back, letting out a laugh, you couldn’t help it. He looked so frazzled in the low light of the morning. Your movement caused your hair to shift, and he finally noticed the marks he’d left on your neck. 

His stomach lurched. Guilt surging through him.

Crap. 

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, pushing himself upright. His hands slid over your shoulders, fingertips grazing the bruises with excruciating caution. “I swear, I never should’ve done that. Please tell me they don't hurt—are you hurt? I promise—”

You pressed a finger to his lips to stop his apologies spilling. 

“I’m fine,” you soothed.

He shook his head, eyes clouded with worry. He didn’t believe it, you were just being nice—too nice—like you always were. 

“Angel, you don’t have to lie to me,” he insisted, voice hushed. “I got carried away, I know I did. Just—just look at your neck. I—”

He never wanted to leave anything physical on your body. 

You batted his fussing hands away before he could delve into another apology. He felt you shift closer, sliding a leg over his lap and effectively straddling him. The contact made his heart thump in a way that was not filled with desire, but with reluctant relief.

If you were willingly crawling into his space like this, you couldn’t be too upset. 

Right?

“Hey,” you said softly, “look at me.”

He did, brown eyes trained on yours. The moment they did, he felt the tension in his chest loosen just a fraction. 

“Were you ever going to tell me where you learned to talk like that?” You teased, voice playful as you decided to steer the conversation in a new direction. 

You knew he’d be beating himself up—that’s just how he is. So, it was up to you to pull him out of it, to ease his mind from the intensity of the night before and steer him somewhere lighter, something more playful.

Also, you were definitely curious about where he got that mouth from.

A deep crimson spread across his cheeks. He remembered fragments of last night. The shamelessness of it all, the confidence, the raw desire that had him spouting every sinful thought crossing his mind. 

“… I don’t know!” He admitted, eyes shifting away but he knew you would not be satisfied with that answer. “Back in high school, I, uh… picked some stuff up, I guess. Whenever I just said what I wanted, reactions were… enthusiastic.”

“Reactions, huh?” You arched a brow. “Were you some kind of player?” You press further, leaning into him and watching him squirm. “I can imagine you had all the girls wrapped around your finger.”

Steve’s stomach knotted—he hated how this conversation was going, even if you punctuated it with a compliment. 

“I wasn’t, like, a player player,” he defended, lost as to how to word it right, “but I—fuck—I know my way around a woman, okay?”

“Way around a woman? So romantic.”

He groaned, planting his face in his hands in a thoroughly mortified gesture. 

“You know what I mean, God—” he mumbled, voice muffled. “You’re bullying me right now—this? This is bullying. Shouldn’t have introduced you to Rob, she’s rubbing off on you.”

With a grin, you gently peeled his hands away from his face, enjoying every once of embarrassment. 

“Call it payback,” you said, eyes dancing. “Because if this is bullying, I don’t know what to call your behaviour last night.”

He tried to retort, but ended up pressing his lips together. 

You got him there. 

He couldn’t bear it any longer, needed to put an end to this ruthless interrogation and wipe that cruel expression off your features. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said, voice still raw from sleep. Slipping his arms around your waist, he tugged you beneath him, rolling you onto the bed in a playful tumble. Your giggles filled the space, effectively silencing your questions.

When the laughter finally subsided, you stroked his cheek, a question in your eyes. 

“So I take it the hangover isn’t too bad?”

You’re finally done with torturing him.

“No, not too bad,” he shook his head, lips curving. “Told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

You gave him a dramatic eye-roll. 

“Yeah, alright,” you teased, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. “Hop in the shower. I’ll make us breakfast.”

His brows rose, something like hope glinting behind his eyes. 

“You’re not gonna have one too?” He tried to sound casual, but truth be told, he was already imagining the possibility of you joining him.

“I already did,” you replied, shrugging. “You were dead to the world. Didn’t wanna to wake you.”

“Well, next time, do.” He huffed in playful protest. “I could’ve helped.”

You shot him a pointed look as you slid out from under him. 

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

He tries to follow, strong arms itching to have you back in them. 

“Depends what you mean,” he countered with a sly half-smile. “I can be very useful when I wanna be.”

You’re sure he could. 

“Go shower, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and grab a pillow, swatting him lightly. “I’ll get us something to eat.”

He laughs as he stretches up, blanket slipping to expose his torso as he clicks out all the sleep of his spine. He slips off the bed, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he scurries through the doorway.

You wander into the kitchen, the morning sun giving the space a homey atmosphere despite the sparse contents of the fridge. When you open it, you are met with a mildly irritating discovery.

Three eggs. 

Damn it. 

You decide he’s earned two of them for all his hard work last night. A shopping trip is definitely in order, he’s not going to survive on leftover cereal and a couple of condiments. Setting the eggs aside, you gather bread and butter for toast, determined to whip up a breakfast that’s at least semi-nutritious. 

Grabbing a small notepad from a drawer, you remember that your boyfriend tends to dump half his belongings in the console table by the entrance whenever he can’t find a proper place for them.

So you wander over, opening the drawer and flipping through random scraps of paper in search of a pen. Old receipts, a couple gold star stickers, a manual for an appliance that he apparently never installed—typical Steve Harrington clutter.

Your fingers still on something that immediately stands out. A small stack of official-looking envelopes, bold printed letters across the front. The same sender, repeated name after name on each envelope. 

The stamp—some government seal or maybe an organisation’s letterhead—catches your eye. Your heart gives a peculiar jolt. 

National Laboratory? 

You’re not entirely sure, but it’s definitely not from his school. It looks official, maybe serious. Possibly part of the story he’s only given you glimpses of. You hover there, tempted. 

It’s not your place. 

You know that. 

But curiosity thrums in your veins—if only you knew more about where these came from and how they tie into his past. You catch a snippet of text on the paper, scanning just enough to see some names that mean nothing to you—except that they might mean everything to him.

Before you can open it fully, the shower in the next room clicks off, the pipes clanging in that telltale way. Mild panic surges up your spine, and you hurriedly tuck the envelope away. 

Grabbing the first pen you spot, you practically race back into the kitchen with it clutched in one hand, notepad in the other, as though scribbling down a grocery list had been your sole focus this entire time.

Trying to steady the beat of your heart, you begin jotting random items—milk, bread, eggs, fruit?—each word an effort to keep your thoughts from drifting back to those envelopes and the million questions you suddenly have. 

You care about Steve, more than you can articulate, and you still yearn to know every piece of his history. 

A soft rustle of movement alerts you to his presence before you feel it. He steps up behind you, pressing a warm, damp kiss to your shoulder. The heat of his skin seeps through the thin T-shirt you’re wearing. You notice his hair’s still dripping from the shower, and he smells faintly of soap.

“What are you up to?” 

“What does it look like?” Feigning ease, you hold up the list. “Making sure you don’t starve here. Clearly, you didn’t plan on feeding yourself for more than a day or two.”

He leans in, peering over your shoulder at the small list, then huffs a quiet laugh. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Wanna go to the store with me later? I’m sure there’s some pizza in the frozen-food section calling my name.”

You turn your head enough to catch his eye, relieved he hasn’t noticed anything amiss. 

“We should probably go soon,” you point out, recalling Sunday hours. “They won’t be open all day.”

Instead of answering right away, he skims his lips up the side of your neck,. The bare expanse of your skin prickles with goosebumps, and you fight the urge to melt against him entirely. He chuckles at your reaction, pressing a little closer so you can feel the solid weight of him.

“I can be quick,” he teases, voice dipping into the same husky register you remember all too vividly from the night before. 

“You’re not tired enough from last night?”

He’s insatiable.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning into you, “you’ve got me wide awake this morning.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he turns you around, guiding your hips so you’re facing him, your notepad nearly forgotten in your grip. He kisses you then, slow but with a playful flick of his tongue that reminds you he’s not quite done pushing your buttons. 

“Bet I can have you calling my name again in five minutes, tops,” he whispers, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You roll your eyes—though your pulse jumps traitorously—and push gently at his chest. 

“We’ve got errands now. If you wanna eat something besides toast for the next few days, you better rein it in.”

You playfully bat his hand away, though you can’t suppress your grin. He leans in for one more quick kiss before he finally heads into the bedroom to put some clothes on.

You watch him go, and he’s still the Steve you know. There’s still a layer of him you’ve only just glimpsed, wrapped up in those official envelopes, as well as Robin's previous slip-up.

That is the real Steve Harrington, the one you intend to fully understand. 

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi @just-lilita @negomi123 @catluver02 @tinythebunni @everythinghasafacee @irrelevantbutembarrassing @almostfullstarfish

[rottenherbs]

Lover

Pairing: F.W x Reader Request: “It sounds so cliche, but my request involves Taylor Swift's Lover song — I think this scene of mine might be fitting around the time of GoF for the yule ball scene and his long hair era. And on behalf of the reader's house, it's really up to you, but I would say her demeanor is a shy or a lone type of girl that prefers to avoid attention and crowded places at all cost (for the sake of the plot 🥲). And because of this, it took some time for Fred to eventually notice her, but when he did, she got him wrapped around her fingers entirely just by existing. Word Count: W/C: 3.2k A/N: Ravenclaw was chosen! Though I must say it is not mentioned frequently so reader! Could be easily manipulated to be Hufflepuff or Slytherin. I also think playing the song once the Yule Ball scene starts is ACTUALLY so cute. Thank you so much for requesting <3 [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

Unbelievable. Your mother has sent yet another letter through the post asking about what you were going to wear to the Yule Ball. It was not your definition of fun…perse, but that was only because you knew no one was going to ask you. Even just the thought of going stag made your hands shake.

Sitting in the great hall alone, you hesitated to open it. The thought of being berated yet again to ‘gain some courage’ or ‘go with a friend’ just frustrated you slightly. You knew your mother didn’t understand your social anxiety or lack of relationships at school, but reading the words felt like a stab in the gut. You set it to the side as you finished your jam and toast, relishing in the morning light. After a few minutes, you took a deep breath, picking back up the envelope slowly.

A boisterous crowd entered the great hall catching your attention; letter still in hand. Their scarlet and gold uniforms almost gave it away before their fiery red hair did. As they walked, they laughed and hit each other on the back, plopping themself into the gryffindor table just a few feet away. Luckily for you, they sat with their backs turned; but even then you could recognize which twin was which. Fred often would whip the dangling hair in front of his face with his head, while George would tuck the hair quickly behind his ears. Their movements mirrored each other in many ways, even the food they grabbed as they built their breakfast plates, but something made you see Fred differently.

After a few moments you looked away, embarrassed at yourself for staring. You held the letter in your hands, slipping your nail under the fold opening it delicately. In her usual fashion, your mother wrote on beautiful blue cardstock, a small drawing of an eagle, sloppily, yet endearingly, on the envelope.

Flipping it open, it read;

“Darling, I know you have read the last two letters I have sent. I know it seems daunting to go to a school dance but you wont regret it. Life is short. Whether or not you get asked should not hold you back from having a good time by yourself.

I love you.

Please don't hesitate to write back~~

Ps. I hope the owl dropped off a sack with this letter. Maybe you could use it to find a nice dress on my behalf.”

Just as you finished the letter, a small owl dropped a sack of coins on top of your empty plate, sending crumbs all over the table. With a small chirp, the owl flew away leaving you alone once more. You sat there for a moment, letter still in hand, looking at the cloth of coins in front of you. Exhaling, you thought over the possibilities of going to the ball. Could you muster up enough confidence to go? What if someone did ask you? You sighed lightly, conflicted with the letter and your own mental gymnastics. Fiddling with the coin sack, you made a mental note to write your mother back after class today.

Glancing over at the twins, you started daydreaming. The idea of being asked by Fred romantically at the Yule Ball, being swept away to the dance floor just as a slow dance started, what the smell of his cologne would be like, how tall he would be with you in his arms, how he would lean down to kiss yo-

Breaking you from your trance, a large old owl barreled through the postal entrance, hitting several candles on its way down. The eyes of all students in the great hall followed the train wreck as it dive bombed towards the gryffindor table.

“Errol! No!” George yelled. The bird hit the table, dropping a large parcel while knocking over several drinks and meals in the process. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a laugh as the chaos ensued. You watched the twins attempt to clean the area, opening the box, shooting the bird off quickly.

“Oy, looks like this ones for our little brother.” Fred chuffed, shoving the box down the table towards Ron. A ghastly red dress suit with ancient frills could be seen from miles away. As the table enveloped in laughter and disbelief, you cleared your plate gathering your belongings in your arms, quietly leaving the great hall without a trace; the thought of being whisked away by a certain tall suiter is still fresh in your mind.

———-

Over the weekend before the ball, you decided to shop around Hogsmeade in one last ditch attempt to find something you felt comfortable in. If you didn’t find something today, you were not going at all.

Wrapping your neck tightly with a scarf, you topped your head with earmuffs ready to face the elements. Snow crested the hills and paths; crunching softly under your feet.

Just ahead, two ginger boys formed snowballs in their hands, one sending it up in the air while the other attempted to hit it down with another snow ball. They frolicked and played, stopping students who walked passed.

As you got closer, you crossed your fingers; praying they would let you go through without acknowledging your presence. Of course you dreamed of kissing Fred in your free time, but the idea of him even perceiving you sent shivers down your spine. Walking with your head held down, you took one step after another, thinking if you just kept moving nothing would happen.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you.” You heard a voice shout just to your left. You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening. Please don't be talking to me. Please don't be tal-

“Hey! Wait, sorry.” Fred's voice got closer with each step. You gulped, turning to face him, a small polite smile across your face. Your hands held each other in your hoodie, gripping your coin pouch tightly in any attempt to calm your nerves.

“Could you settle a debate? We could use an outside interpretation of something.” He gestured towards George just off the path. You made eye contact with George, waving you over. The words were caught in your throat. You attempted to find a response.

What could you say?

You stumbled over words, stuttering slightly before huffing and just nodding your head in agreement.

“Great! You wont regret it.” Fred said, pulling you over to George. “I think…” He added, just under his breath. Your arm was intertwined with his for only a moment as he pulled you to the side. George walked up to you both, a smile plastered from ear to ear. You suddenly became aware of what was happening, stopping in your tracks.

”I swear if you are pranking me.” You mumbled, brows furrowed. Fred stopped just a foot ahead of you, his eyes widening. His hands released your arm, holding his hands up in defense. You couldn't help but notice how his eyes glistened against the snow. His nose and cheeks red from the cold, sniffling slightly. He took a small step towards you shaking his head. Fred could feel the sudden apprehension from you, worried you thought they would do something cruel.

“No no I promise. Purely just need your opinion for our business.” Fred waited for a moment, both of your eyes attempting to read the emotion on the others. His heart fluttered as you looked over his face, suddenly taken aback by your beauty. His brain wracked any previous memory of you, in the hallways, or in class, at meals. He had never seen you before and it astonished him. He thought he knew everyone.

You didn’t respond, just a small smile building across your cheeks walking towards him with more confidence. George looked between you and Fred several times, already sensing something growing between the tension. George smirked but kept to himself, knowing he’d be able to inquire later.

“Simply put, we need a consensus of the general public, you see, from students we don't typically sell to, and that's where you come in” Fred gestured to a small box behind George, hidden in the snow. You fiddled lightly with the coins in your pocket, waiting for the big reveal. Fred leaned down, picking up the box and holding it in front of you.

“Now. Just tell me which item you would be more compelled to buy.” Opening it slowly, two large spheres wrapped in foil laid neatly in the box; one gold, one silver. You leaned in, trying to get a better look. The twins stood silent, awaiting your response.

”Gold.” You spoke, looking up at them both. They looked back at you, and then at each other for a moment. Fred nodded in acknowledgment, his bottom lip out slightly almost as if he was impressed by your answer. He closed the box quickly and turned to George. Their movements were fast and abrupt, taking you by surprise. They slid the box in a satchel, Fred lifting the strap over his head and across his torso.

“Thank you so much for your participation.” George dramatically bowed, Fred following. Fred glanced up at you as he leaned, winking at you before he looked back down. Your heart raced, standing still. As they rose, you stayed silent, just watching the way they proceeded, mesmerized by how Fred kept looking your way.

“We will keep in touch.” Fred whispered, turning on his heel and walking away with George. You stood alone for a moment, watching them both go down the path back to the castle. You looked around in disbelief, not sure what happened. Turning back towards hogsmeade, you couldn't stop replaying the conversation, the way he held your arm even for a moment. Maybe you were more inclined to go to the ball, the thought of seeing Fred there made it more appealing.

———- ((Lover By Taylor Swift))————-

The day had arrived and you couldn't be more tense. Like you had thought, no one had asked you to the dance, yet a part of you was happy that you could come and go at your leisure. You told yourself if it was a terrible idea, you could come back to your room and end the night early.

You sat in front of your mirror applying makeup to the best of your ability. You slipped on your gown, struggling to zip the back up, jumping around in any attempt to shimmy up the zipper. After a few minutes of bouncing and movement, you successfully adjusted the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Slightly shocked in the confidence it brought you, you admired the way the dress sat on your hips and flowed to the floor; a slight swish as you moved left to right. Taking a deep breath in, you slipped on your shoes and practiced walking around your bedroom before leaving and heading out to the common room. Many of your peers all dressed in bronze and blue, a slight nod to your house colors. You could feel the tension in the room as students paired up with their partners, walking awkwardly together out of the common room. It seemed more people were more nervous than you thought, reminding you that it was just a bunch of teenagers going to a dance. Conversations in the hall were light; students attempting to participate in small talk, many stumbling over their words, fingers grabbing each other. The nerves were almost palpable coming off the students the closer you all got to the great hall.

Following the crowd, you arrived at the great hall, your hands held tightly together with your clutch, finding it to be a great fidget as your heart raced harder. Students from all houses joined together outside the great hall, not yet entering as they met and chatted with friends. The large group made you hesitate, moving through it slowly to enter the exquisitely decorated room.

You almost couldn’t recognize it. The large tables and benches were replaced with several tall round tables. Beautifully decorated christmas trees lined the walls. Snow fell from the ceiling, magically disappearing before it hit your head. You smiled, turning in a circle taking it all in. The room was beginning to fill, still giving you time to become comfortable in the space before the event started.

Fred was outside in the large crowd, watching you as you passed. He noticed you as you turned the corner, the first thing catching his eyes was your gold dress. His hands shook slightly, gripping the edge of his coat pulling it lightly. Ever since you caught his attention by hogsmeade, George hadn’t stopped teasing the way that Fred talked about you. His mind was constantly elsewhere, not able to focus on their pranks or schoolwork. As much as it annoyed George with how distant Fred was, he knew how smitten he had become and he was happy for his brother.

“You alright mate?” George whispered, noticing how Freds eyes followed you through the crowd. Fred didn’t respond, just sighed and looked at the floor.

“I’m lost Georgie. I don't know what I'm doing here.” Fred whined, his hands shoved deeply in his pant pockets. George rolled his eyes, nudging Fred over in your direction.

“She showed. That’s all you were moaning about all week! Just go talk to her. You did it once before.” George whispered, gesturing towards the entrance. “If you don't ask her, I just might.” George added, a cheeky grin growing across his face.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Fred furrowed his brows, his voice husky and dark. George just laughed, shaking his head.

“No way. That’s all you.” He patted Fred’s shoulder, pushing him towards the great hall, physically prodding him to take the next step. Fred stumbled slightly, taking a deep breath in before attempting to walk in casually.

You took a table close to the stage, sipping a small glass of punch. Glancing at the clock, you noticed a familiar redhead enter the room, your breath hitching in your throat. Almost choking on your drink, you turned and faced the front, trying to look distracted in the band setting up. You held the glass lightly, not letting your agitation show in your body language. You were cool, calm, and collected. Right?

It felt like minutes passed before Fred joined you at your table. Your back facing the entrance, not aware of his presence. He stood for a moment, admiring you from behind, the way your hair laid on your shoulders, how your back was exposed and glistened under the lights from above. He swore he could feel how soft your skin was, even from feet away, his fingers itching to know how you’d react if he reached out right then.

Instead, he cleared his throat, garnering your attention. Your eyes meet with him in a soft embrace. His chest swelled, the feeling of his body tingling just by looking at you. You smiled at him, leaning your arms on the table leaning over slightly.

“Hey.” You blushed softly, inexplicably happy to see him. Fred took a step closer to you, looking at the stage for a second. “Looks like you kept your word.” You added, looking at the band with him. His elbows leaned on the table, his muscles relaxing slightly.

“I'll always keep my word.” He cooed, looking back at you. Every time you made eye contact his brain went blank. He was entranced every time he laid eyes on you. He swore it could’ve been 20 seconds or 20 years, yet he felt under your spell.

“So. Who’s the lucky lady with you tonight?” You asked, lifting your cup to your lips. Part of you hated that you asked, but you’d rather rip the bandaid off now than be in emotional torment all night. The thought of watching him dance with someone else made you sick, but who wouldn’t ask Fred Weasley to the dance.

Fred cleared his throat, surprised by your question.

“Um..” His hand raised to the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “I may have just come for the experience. See where the night takes me.” He smiled down at the table, his eyes unable to meet yours. You nodded your head, feeling of relief rushing over your whole body. You set the cup down, both of your hands only inches apart.

“Huh…. Me too.” You mumbled, smiling at your drink. You swore you saw Fred bite his lip, but he quickly coughed, ducking his head into his elbow. You laughed, watching him regain his balance. He patted his chest dramatically, his hand now outstretched towards you.

“Please, may I get you a refill m’lady?” His voice was dramatic yet sincere, making your stomach flip. You chuckled, your hand reaching up to your lips, thinking for a moment. You reached down, handing over the glass. Both of your hands meet, the feeling of his fingers overlapping yours sending bolts of electricity through your body. Both of your eyes met each other, your hands still touching each other, as if time had stopped. He reached further, holding your hand over the glass entirely.

”Ill be back.” He smiled, your hand releasing the cup into his. Your cheeks were flush, the touch of his fingers still reminiscent of your hand. As much as you’d love a drink, you hated the idea of him leaving, even for just a moment.

“Can i go where you go?” You asked softly, your eyes bouncing between his. Fred swore he would walk across hot coals barefoot in order to hear you say that again. He felt like he could tear down mountains to get you a refill of punch. He couldn't believe what he heard. His empty hand reached down enveloping yours, the feeling so natural and warm. He pulled you lightly, walking ahead of you through the crowd.

Walking across the great hall, you swore the entire school was watching you both, the feeling surreal and uncomfortable, but all you could think about was the boy pulling you forward, hand in hand, just to get you some another drink.

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

Take me out

Take me home

Your my my my my my

Lover

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you. 

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction. 

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.  

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly. 

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.  

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says. 

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze. 

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit. 

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement. 

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge. 

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.  

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore. 

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?” 

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.  

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together. 

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth. 

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him. 

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth. 

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand. 

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his. 

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment. 

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed. 

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready.  But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own. 

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent. 

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both. 

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”  

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie. 

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case. 

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back. 

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up. 

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken. 

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it. 

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed. 

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.