#I'm going to miss having this show to watch every Friday
Note
omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!
EVERY INCH 2
2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader
follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3
SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.
A/N: He's never unmasked so ANY Ghostface with a 🍆. Thank you so much for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of the engagement & enthusiasm so keep that in mind. night walks coded.
WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, ghostface calls himself daddy once, peeping tom, dirty talk, masturbation (both), knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names (baby, sugar, nasty). NO USE OF Y/N.
You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day. You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror. He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .
Yeah, his cock. You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry.
It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie. You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted. You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone. Your phone is still on silent from the theater.
The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"
"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you.
You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."
"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."
"What do you want?"
"I asked how you liked the movie."
Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight. "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively.
"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . . Missed a great kill."
Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion.
He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”
"wishful thinking," you reply.
Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”
You’re not even going to argue.
“How was your date?"
"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.
"You didn't look interested.”
"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.
"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”
You freeze.
He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"
You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"
"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.”
You scoff.
". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"
"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."
"Pervert."
“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.
"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.” His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special. “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”
You look out your window, which faces the woods. "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains. You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you.
“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?”
Are you that predictable?
“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly. His breathing becomes audible. “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . . . .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on.
“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.”
Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal
“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You lie there clenching your thighs together.
“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together. “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on.
“Yeah, that’s it . . .”
You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast.
He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.
You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock.
"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.”
He’s right about that. You close your eyes as you touch yourself. You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?
“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.”
"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.”
You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core.
“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?”
You turn up the intensity of your vibe.
“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl. Swallowed it right up.”
“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”
“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.
“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops.
“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”
You’re getting close. “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting. You need a shower.
—---
You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.
“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.
“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”
You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears. There’s nothing you can do. You squat down, hugging your knees. There’s no good option.
The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.
“My turn, baby." The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment. Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked. He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see.
The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you. One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife. He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.
He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”
You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.”
“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower. He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak.
He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle. “Coulda had it how ya wanted.”
The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen.
“Now you’re gonna take it right here.” He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down. “You’ve put me behind you after all.” He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick. He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.
“Who are you?”
“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.
“What do you want?”
“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds.
He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh. You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it.
The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now. He pants as he thrusts into you harder. “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel.
“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly. “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.”
He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.” He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you. You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own. Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load. He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core. You can’t help but moan and sigh.
“Good girl,” he says.
His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants.
------
Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on. He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.
“Now where’s my knife.”
“I don’t have it,” you claim.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“It’s mine.”
“The cops have it.”
“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”
You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe. You look behind him toward the toilet.
He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.
NEXT: PART 3
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Please engage (reblog/comment) if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.
Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.
Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹
@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.
Slasher master list
@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07
#ghostface x reader#ghostface smut#mickey altieri x reader#billy loomis x reader#ethan landry x reader#ghostface x you#slasher fanfiction#danny johnson x reader#cw noncon#slasher smut#tw noncon#ghostface#slasher fucker#toxicanonymity ☠️#mickey altieri#ghostface ☠️#every inch ☠️
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warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.
word count: 5.5k
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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.
You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.
While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.
And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.
You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.
However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.
You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.
Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.
You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.
Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.
"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.
"No-" You begin.
You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.
He pauses for a moment and stares you down.
You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.
"As I was saying..."
Thank god.
He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).
Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.
Everything you do irks him.
Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.
Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.
As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.
You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.
Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.
Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.
You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.
It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.
But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.
Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.
To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.
You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.
"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."
People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.
You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.
"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."
He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.
Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.
Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.
"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."
You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.
You look at them, confused.
"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.
"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.
"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"
"All of this?" Your eyes widen.
"When's your next class?" He asks.
"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.
"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."
"But-"
"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."
"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"
"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.
You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?
You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.
"Do you have a pencil?"
He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.
The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.
You hate that he hated you.
His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.
"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.
After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.
With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.
You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.
Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.
Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.
He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.
"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.
He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.
"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."
He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.
You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.
So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.
The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.
Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.
"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."
He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.
"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.
There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.
See me after class.
There is literally nothing but a see me after class.
Oh my god.
What did I do?
Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?
Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?
You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.
See me after class.
At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.
Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.
"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.
You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.
You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.
With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.
"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.
"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"
"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.
"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."
You shrug.
"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"
"I'm not trying to fail."
"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."
"What?"
"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"
"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"
"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."
"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.
Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.
"You're wearing tights."
"What?"
"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.
You grow red, and angry.
He keeps humiliating you.
"Who are you trying to impress?"
"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"
"I want to know who you're trying to impress."
"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.
You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.
"No, no. We're not done."
You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.
"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."
"I want to leave."
"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."
"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."
"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"
You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.
"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.
You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.
"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.
You're flushed.
What the fuck was going on?
You thought he hated you.
And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.
"Let me see."
"Professor?"
He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.
He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.
"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.
You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.
"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"
To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.
"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"
"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."
"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"
You stay silent, for a brief moment.
"Not in this way..."
But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.
"Yeah?"
The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.
But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.
"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.
It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.
"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.
"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.
"I don't see you asking me to stop."
You're silent, again.
He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.
He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.
He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.
"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.
You comply; he's already seen a lot.
"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.
He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.
He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.
He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.
"Professor-"
"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"
You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.
"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."
He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.
You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.
He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.
"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.
He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.
"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.
"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."
"What?"
He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.
"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."
You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.
"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."
You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.
He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.
He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.
"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."
"Shut the fuck up."
He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.
Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.
"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"
He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.
"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."
He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.
"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.
You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.
"Fucking answer me."
"Yes," you cry out.
"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.
His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.
He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.
"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.
"Professor, I don't know-"
"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."
"Professor..."
"I'll stop when you give me three more."
You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.
"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"
You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.
"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."
He slows his pace some more.
"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"
"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."
You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.
"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"
"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"
You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.
"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"
You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.
"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"
You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.
"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"
His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.
"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"
He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.
He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.
That's six.
You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.
"You said six-"
"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."
He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.
"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."
You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.
"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."
He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.
You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.
"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."
As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."
He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.
"Clean it."
You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.
"You'll get me hard again." He says.
He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.
"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.
"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."
"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."
"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"
"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."
You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?
But then he looks back up at you.
"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"
#jonathan crane#dc scarecrow#scarecrow#the scarecrow#batman imagine#the batman#batman#the dark knight#cillian x reader#cillian murphy#cillian x fem!reader#cillian x y/n#cillain murphy#jonathan crane smut
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WINNER TAKES IT ALL ★ CS55
PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader
SUMMARY ✦ you and your boyfriend both seem to be very lucky recently: you in opening for taylor swift, and him in winning the australian grand prix [ SMAU ]
WARNINGS ✦ cursing
REQUESTED ✦ here!
NOTES ✦ for the purpose of this fic, taylor has added an extra date in melbourne for the friday before the australian grand prix. as per request, the fc i've used is sabrina carpenter, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)
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liked by carlossainz55, taylorswift, and 3,055,971 others
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yourusername and with that we have one show left: back to melbourne in a couple of weeks! thank you all so much for the support, love you all like crazy 🫶
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user1 you're such a disney princess i can't
user2 DON'T MESS W ME RN IM SO SAD UR NO LONGER OPENING.
user3 FR what will we do without all of her content???
user4 ☹️☹️
carlossainz55 so proud of you!!
yourusername im way prouder of you 💘
user5 PARENTS WOOHOO
taylorswift i'll miss you, my angel! ❤️
yourusername love you sm 😢💘💘
yourusername
( caption one: just woke up and my boyfriend's got appendicitis hellooo?? wtf have i missed while i've been in singapore. | caption two: never mind guys all is well ❤️ ( i am a photographer and i took THIS photo ) )
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yourusername impromptu visit to jeddah after SOMEONE'S appendix was removed...thanks for giving me an excuse to see you carlos 😘💘💘
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user6 THE WAY HE STILL WENT TO SEE THE GP IS CRAZY ur boyfriend is hella strong
yourusername ur telling me 🤷♀️
user6 OMG YOU REPLIED??? I LOVE YOU
user7 nah carlos acc has to be some sort of super human because how THE FUCK did he walk after that surgery.
user8 literally convinced he is atp.
carlossainz55 the appendix wasn't my fault...
charles_leclerc or was it 🤷♂️
yourusername hmmm...
user9 i'm acc their biggest fan you don't understand
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yourusername from the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you for all of the love and support i've received over the past couple of weeks. they've honestly been such a fever dream for me: like you're telling me that i was opening for THE taylor swift?? twelve year old me would be screaming right about now, let me tell you that much. i've loved every minute of this experience, and i can't wait to see what era is next for me 🫶
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user13 i still remember watching you when you were eighteen, just releasing music on youtube 🥺
user14 she's come sooo far since then im so proud of her
taylorswift loved having you with me!! couldn't think of anyone else better to keep me company during these times ❤️
yourusername thank you sm tay, im going to miss youuu 💘💘
user15 why am i acc tearing up this is so sad
carlossainz55 now i have you all to myself ❤️
yourusername yeah well you have ur cars AND charles so i guess it's not just me is it.
charles_leclerc why am i being mentioned
yourusername ur just like collateral damage in this argument
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 989,911 others
carlossainz55 back from my surgery and into P2 👊 looking forward to the race!
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user16 SMOOTH OPERATOR IS BACKKK
user17 the surgery did NOT hold him back
user18 NO REAL THE GUY WAS FLYINGGG
user19 the extra weight is gone and now he's in first row THIS IS WHAT WE NEEDED
yourusername do you ever actually rest like. ur appendix was just taken out when i get colds i stay in bed longer.
carlossainz55 yeah i know from firsthand experience 😘
user20 SHE'S SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH
yourusername either way i'm so proud of you! smash it tomorrow 💘
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user21 the way y/n is literally so supportive of him is my fav thing
user22 all whilst telling him off for not resting enough 🤣🤣 she's too iconic for us, i fear
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yourusername me and kika are truly THOSE BITCHES 😘
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user23 SPEAK ON ITTTT 🗣️🗣️🗣️
user24 my fav wags fr 🫶
fransisca.cgomes my girlll 😍😍
yourusername foreverrr 💘
fransisca.cgomes that second pic is soooo yum
yourusername leave pierre for me RIGHT NOW.
fransisca.cgomes gladlyyy! 😍
pierregasly HUH??
yourusername got ur girl tripod how does it feel 🤣
carlossainz55 ❤️❤️
yourusername love youuu!!
liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,443,999 others
carlossainz55 P1 babyyy!! Onto Japan we go 🎢❤️
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user28 THE SMOOTHEST OPERATOR AROUND
user29 staying up until 2am to watch it was SOOO WORTH IT
user30 SO PROUD!!
yourusername YESSS I KNOW THAT'S RIGHTTT!!
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yourusername MY FUCKING MANNN LET'S GOOO!! P1 BABY 💘💘
carlossainz55 ❤️
user31 the way she supports him will never not warm my heart
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yourusername he only went and did it!! after his appendix got removed and all. couldn't be fucking prouder 💘
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yourusername proud of @/charles_leclerc as well!! what a way to end the weekend 😘
charles_leclerc thank you y/n!! 😍
yourusername FORZA FERRARI 👊
user31 the way they support each other >>>
user32 actual power couple idc
user33 i need to find myself a y/n asap.
user34 WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECT
carlossainz55 te amo siempre ❤️
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carlossainz55 it was the lack of an appendix that did it 🤣
yourusername @/charles_leclerc are you taking notes??
charles_leclerc already scheduling an appointment for the winter, don't worry 📝
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#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x female reader#f1 social media au#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x you#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#formula one x reader#mclqren
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Soft Adrian Chase/ Vigilante Headcanons (Peacemaker Request)
Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante (Peacemaker) x GN! Reader
Rating: Fluff
Author's Note: I'm not watching anything new and exciting at the minute, so I'm visiting some favourite characters for inspiration, and of course Adrian Chase is where I'd start :)
Soft Adrian Chase/ Vigilante Headcanons:
- This man is completely incapable of playing it cool. It doesn't matter if you meet him as Adrian or Vigilante, the minute his eyes met yours he would turn into a babbling mess, desperately trying to keep your attention, capture your favour, and best of all make you smile.
- It'd be hard to tell exactly how much of his behaviour was flirting and how much was just his sweet, if not a little intense, dedication to friendship. He would go out of his way to meet you after your classes or work, always 'just happening to be in the neighbourhood' and walking the same direction you are. When you ask if the flowers he's holding just happen to be for you, you can get to watch him squirm and falter as he pretends he was on his way to a funeral that got cancelled and so you 'can have them if you want?'
- Despite his obvious dedication and infatuation, you would have to be the one to ask Adrian on a real date, the thought of you feeling the same way he does is frankly too far outside the realm of possibility for him to consider until you confess your own feelings first. Which of course have developed through weeks of his being the sweetest and most attentive man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing.
- Dates with Adrian are pretty low key - lots of pizza and movies at home, walks in the park on sunny days, and running errands together that somehow become a lot more fun when there's someone beside you doing his best to make a joke out of everything. Gradually Adrian's apartment stops feeling like home to him unless you're there too, and one night he slips you a key laced on a BFF keychain that you know he treats like a sacred vow.
- You find Adrian's a surprisingly good listener to whatever's on your mind. He's spent a lot of his life feeling lonely and misunderstood, so any chance he can take to make you feel like someone is seeing the real you and accepting it 100% is a chance he feels privileged to take. Over time he opens up to you too, about his family and childhood and all the strange and winding paths that lead him to be Vigilante as well as Adrian Chase. You know there are some moral grey areas where Adrian has stepped further over the line that you would have liked, but somehow when he's staring up at you through his thick glasses, telling you every thought he has as they occur to him, you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt - if he's such a bad guy, why is he such an angel to you.
- Adrian's favourite thing in the world is when you come meet him after his shifts at his day job, the euphoria of having someone waiting for him to be free never fading no matter how long you're together. He'll make a big show of pointing you out to all his doubtful colleagues, feeling proud and safe as he runs out the door and over to you, scoping you up in his arms and telling you every day just how much he missed you.
- Adrian's place is pretty basic when you first start visiting - he's got all the necessary furniture but no soft or personal touches that make the place his own. One day you decide to gift him a soft teal blanket that inexplicably makes you think of him. Another time you buy him a couple of extra mugs so your morning coffees can match. Slowly Adrian watches his house become a home, begging you to spend a Friday night scouring the local thrift stores with him for more little pieces, hoping that the more you help him decorate, the less time you'll want to spend away from his apartment in the first place.
- Vigilante keeps some strange hours, and can't always keep in touch as much as he'd like to when he's out on patrol. The two of you would come up with your own code to keep close though; a special knock that only the two of you know for when either of you get home, Adrian sending a merman emoji every two hours without fail to let you know he's still safe, and always getting home before you wake up in the morning so you never have to wake up in an empty bed without him.
- The little life that you and Adrian build together would feel like a safe harbour in the stormy waters of his fight against crime and isolation, your company the softest and cosiest presence he never imagined he'd be able to find, or feel deserving of.
#writing#fanfiction#requests#one shot#adrian chase x y/n#adrian chase smut#adrian chase x reader#adrian chase imagines#adrian chase#vigilante fluff#vigilante imagines#vigilante x reader#peacemaker vigilante#vigilante#peacemaker headcanons
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Following Friday’s events, Eddie Munson was on a mission to apologize to you, though everything fell short when your life began to crumble in a matter of hours.
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, violence, experienced anxiety and panic attack, mentions of childhood abuse and neglect, and brief mentions of blood, body shaming, and non consensual touching.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need all of you to ignore the blatantly unrealistic process of making a book in this story, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡
Whatever mantra of the Munson Doctrine Eddie had been feeding himself to believe about the highest of the social hierarchy embedded within Hawkins High was really starting to fall short, specifically when your pretty face started monopolizing every one of his thoughts imaginable.
As much as he’d like to admit otherwise, Eddie Munson liked staring at your face, and it was really starting to piss him off just how much he really liked doing it. And the situation only became worse when he steadily watched your wonted bewitching smile fade into a disheartened look of dejection, because that following weekend after your impromptu photo shoot with Hellfire, became the worst week of your life.
And Eddie Munson watched it entirely unravel right in front of him.
It never really occurred to Eddie just how much he’d casually gawk at you prior to said photo shoot. I mean, you were the face of the school, of course, you were hard to miss when you practically lit up the halls with your smile. And that’s merely what Eddie had chalked it up to; your popularity involuntarily placed you at the forefront of his attention. It wasn’t the small strands of baby hairs that perfectly framed your face, whether you decided to keep your hair natural, or styled it for the fun of it; it wasn’t your enthralling eyes that seemed to almost squint close because your cheeks became so full of delight with your spellbinding laugh; and it definitely wasn’t your apologetic reassurance that everything was okay to the kid from the drama club who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop your books, and you gave Andy McAvoy a stern talking to when he tried to defend your honor with violence against the poor kid.
No, it was none of that that caught Eddie Munson’s attention to you (he forced himself to believe).
But now, things are different.
He’d actually gotten a chance to talk to you—yes, that cafeteria instance was the first time Eddie Munson had ever actually spoken to you, and he berated you with dehumanizing comments—and he blew it with his rash decision to automate you into a box of prissy cheerleaders that had nothing better to do than gossip with their friends- ah yes, that box, that was formulated by sexist losers who used it to justified their mean actions against innocent teenage girls. Oh, fuck, Eddie cringed to himself at the sudden self-realization.
He had to fix this. He didn’t even have to confess his feelings—which, he didn’t have *cough* *cough*—he just had to apologize for his mistakes. What he wanted to believe to be patronizing was actually sincere on your part, and you didn’t deserve any of his degrading tirade. And his conscience was letting it be known. Resuming the campaign had been a shit-show that Friday, when all he could focus on was your crying face. It became even worse when he realized that he’d never actually seen you drive—always painfully third-wheeling with Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham, or silently pleading to Patrick McKinney to control Andy McAvoy when he felt entitled to nonconsensually feel you up in his convertible when they drove you to school—meaning you were probably left crying alone at night waiting to be picked up, or worse, walking home. And you did it just for him. For his friends. To be included in some stupid fucking yearbook, because he made a big deal out of it in the first place.
Oh, shit, he was an awful fucking person, Eddie thought.
So, come Monday morning, he would apologize. He had all weekend to find the right words, rehearse his apology to perfection, and plan when to actually say it to you.
But Eddie Munson never got to correctly apologize to you on Monday.
Because aforementioned, Monday was the start of the worst week of your life, and he got scared and simply watched everything happen.
-
“No running in the halls, young lady.” Mr. Long sternly reminded, as you zoomed past him.
“Sorry, sir.” You weren’t sorry. The second he turned the corner, you picked up the pace and ran to the newspaper room, frantically attempting to shove the slender key into the slot with shaky hands.
Earlier on Saturday, the Yearbook Committee had worked to finish the final draft of the Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook, and with the team’s effort, you all concluded the first official copy that held the recognition of all staff and students intertwined with a school year’s worth of memorabilia, squished between the glossy green and orange cover that encapsulated Hawkins High.
And now, you were about to destroy it.
Sixty minutes. You had sixty minutes. You managed to wake up early that Monday morning, practically running to school, and situating yourself within the newspaper room—sweaty and exhausted—an hour early before the bell rang to commence the school day. In truth, you’d like to say you were a badass, and demolished the yearbook with no regrets, but reality had quite literally sucked, and you were panicking for a solid five minutes before you came to a consensus.
It had to be destroyed- well, not destroyed, just unbinded. God, you were such a dramatic coward.
See, that Saturday afternoon with the Yearbook Committee, you had done your part, you really did. You gathered photos, helped have them printed, assisted Nancy Wheeler with the placement of pages, and took over binding the book together when Fred Benson’s scrawny hands cramped into oblivion. You also may have—very discreetly—had Hellfire’s picture printed, created an entirely new page to fit them between the Glee and Math Club, and it was then you realized you didn’t even know half of their names. It had never occurred to you on Friday night that—with the exception of Eddie Munson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler—you never caught the names of the other four members, prompting you to lose precious time after having to locate their stupid names in the student registry for identification—they weren’t stupid, you were just really frustrated at that point.
And now, on this fine Monday morning, you persevered through blistering callouses, contracting muscles, and sore knuckles to unbind and bind back the yearbook with an additional page within the “Hawkins High’s Clubs” recognitional section.
Hellfire’s page.
And it was perfect.
The pages were still intact with their crisp stiffness of that of a newly unopened book, and you cleaned off any smudges that impaired the quality of work within the creation. You stood back. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that left your lips at the mere sight of Hellfire sticking out like a sore thumb against the formality of the other photos—in true Hellfire fashion. But there it was. Their title, their photo, and their names that gave them the minimal ask to simply be acknowledged in a school that consistently disregarded their beings, and you were happy they finally got it. They deserved it. Even if Friday’s event left you crying alone in your bed feeling awful. It was worth it. Your thumb gently caressed the smooth page of their photo—Eddie’s photo—and reminisced on that night.
Had you actually done something terrible? Was Eddie right to call you out on your actions? You certainly knew you hadn’t caused this entire commotion out of pitiness, though you understood where he may have interpreted it as such. I mean, even though you never did anything, your friends made his life a living hell, villainizing his differences, casting him as a danger to society, affecting his life beyond just a superficial high school social life. It was true torment.
You understood the facade which Eddie Munson had to put on to protect himself, but what you didn’t understand was the sudden shallowness that appeared when you thought you proved yourself to be more than just a ditzy cheerleader. Why were you even trying to prove yourself to some guy? Eddie Munson was an awful person. Right? He yelled at you, judged you, degraded you, and all for nothing- well, as far as you knew. So yeah, Eddie Munson was an awful person. You may have understood him, but he was still an asshole. You’d done your part, adding Hellfire to the yearbook, and that was that. That was all you needed to do. You no longer had to think about his stupid feelings, his stupid hair—which you totally didn’t want to run your hands through—his stupid brown eyes that made you shutter as they bore into yours, and his stupidly beautiful smile. You also kinda wondered how his hands might feel on your-
“What are you doing here?”
Jesus Christ, how long has Nancy Wheeler been standing there? You didn’t even hear the door open.
“Uh, um, j-just looking at the, uh, yearbook?” You mumbled. You wished you had better control over your facial expressions, because right now, Nancy Wheeler was eyeing the fuck out of your worried guise.
“You came to school early just to see the yearbook?” She questioned.
“W-well, yeah, I mean, isn’t that why you’re here early? …Right?” You prayed.
Nancy blinked. “Yeah, I guess, just had to make sure everything was correct before Fred takes it to make copies.”
“Oh, Fred’s here?” You piqued with interest.
Fred Benson didn’t actually pique your interest all too much—though, it was quite fascinating seeing how fast his slender fingers would cramp after just a couple minutes of working—but he did give the perfect escape from Nancy Wheeler’s captious glare.
“Uh, yeah, he’s out front waiting for the book-”
“I’ll hand it to him!” You interjected, watching her face scrunch with confusion. You could only awkwardly laugh, “You know me and Fred,” you zoomed right past her, “just always so, uh… tight.” And you left without further explanation.
Shoving Mr. Long’s word of chastisement right up his ass, you ran down the empty hall, yearbook held tightly in your tired hands, as you rejected any of Nancy’s calls for you to come back. Reaching the double glass doors, you spotted Fred mindlessly tweaking with his camera in the front seat of his car.
“Fred!” You could visibly make out the bewildered “huh” that fell from his gaping mouth from your sudden appearance. “Fred, here take this and go!” You shoved the yearbook past the small crack of his window.
“W-wait, didn’t Nancy want to che-”
“No, she sent me to give this to you!” You urged. “And she said go now, or else the copies won’t be done in time!” My god, the entirety of this situation had you lying more than you ever had in your life.
“But the distributors don’t close until six-”
“Fred, I don’t care!” You whined. “Do you really want to make Nancy upset?!” If your calculations were correct, Nancy Wheeler’s flats were currently speed walking—she was one to follow the rules—past Mrs. Durberry’s science classroom, meaning you had ten more seconds until she appeared.
“Well, n-no-”
“Then drive! Now, please!” He scrambled to turn his car on, and luckily, the old piece of junk managed to roar alive with a heavy blow of carbon dioxide, and you heaved watching Fred Benson skirt past the incoming wave of students on bikes and cars, leaving tire tracks on the cracked pavements. When he came back, you’d be sure to apologize for demanding him so aggressively.
Nancy Wheeler screamed your name.
Turning around, she came pummeling towards you with a might of pure irritation. “What the hell was that?! I didn’t even get to check the book!”
You huffed with exhaustion. It was only 8:18 a.m and it had already been a long day. “Nance, come on, I’ve been on the Yearbook Committee for the last three years, don’t you trust me by now?” Admittedly, guilting Nancy probably wasn’t the best option, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“I don’t care how long you’ve been in the committee, I have the authority to make final calls, not you!” Gee, you really had an act for getting people to yell in your face. Were you actually the problem?
“Look, I understand, but I promise everything was perfect with the yearbook. I mean, come on, you saw the finished product on Saturday when we completed it.” You reasoned.
Nancy took a deep breath to regulate herself. “This is your only strike.” She pointed a finger at you like a child. “You pull something like this again, and you're off the committee. Understand?”
You swallowed thickly. The trouble you went through just for Eddie Munson- his friends. Just for his friends. “Yes, I understand.” You submitted quietly. “But I promise, the book was fine, everything is going to be perfectly okay.”
Everything was not perfectly okay.
Because unlike your little white lie of being “tight” with Fred Benson, he actually was with Nancy Wheeler, and, boy, did he rat you out when he paged through the printed copies of the yearbook and found the seven believed satanic cultists mischievously smiling right back at him, tainting the committee’s precious work.
-
It was in the midst of your A.P U.S History class when the staticy call of your name over the intercom interrupted Mr. Whitney’s lecture of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and prompted you to the principal’s office at 10:57 a.m. Now, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Principal Higgins to often call you down as you were a valued student representative of Hawkins High, though you quickly knew your visitation had nothing in relation to an honor medal or scholarship award. No, it became quite evident that such subject matter was beyond any congratulations to you, because upon entering, you were faced with a choleric Nancy Wheeler, displeased Principal Higgins, and timid Fred Benson. You were fucking screwed, I mean, Principal Higgins quite literally had a yearbook in his hand. Crazy part of it all is that a good third of your being actually believed you may have gotten away with it, but they managed to find out in a matter of two fucking hours. Who were you kidding?
There was only so much nonchalant-ness you could mask, though your previous revelation of being unable to control your facial expressions was really biting you in the ass, and your insistent cracking under pressure was palpable.
Your wide eyes flashed between everyone as they stared you down. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t even manage to speak. And they didn’t speak. Why wasn’t anyone speaking?
“Aw, you miss me already, Higgy-”
Everyone’s attention snapped at Eddie’s sneering voice as he strutted his grand entrance, though he was quick to flinch back in surprise when he saw everyone looking at him. And you, shit you were here! You were here looking at him. He’d been searching for you all morning just to apologize, and now you were here… with everyone… why was everyone here?
“Now that I have everyone situated,” Principal Higgins cleared his throat, “I’d like to clear up a matter that has been brought to my attention. I’m sure as you all are well aware of, an unauthorized change has been made to our yearbook and I’m looking to get to the bottom of it.” Higgins turned to you, “Ms. Y/L/N,” he spoke with such care, “this is a safe place for honesty. Did Mr. Munson subject you into making these changes?” With a dramatic slam to his desk, the yearbook was turned open to showcase Hellfire’s designated spot on the page.
“What?!” Both you and Eddie questioned in unison.
“I didn’t “subject” her to shit!” He was quick to rightfully defend.
“Language!” Principal Higgins was even quicker to yell back.
The atmosphere was taut, and it felt like their judgmental stares were swallowing you into an endless blackhole of utter disappointment and failure. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to meet their gaze, simply staring at the old rug beneath your sneakers, wishing it’d come alive and consume you already.
“Ms. Y/L/N, is that true?” Principal Higgins lectured you.
A part of Eddie actually wished you would have lied and accused him of being the aggressor while you were the helpless victim, because that was the usual reality of Eddie Munson: to be denigrated. It would have justified his previous beratement against you from Friday, it would have supported his initial beliefs about you, it would have cleared him of being an asshole, and most of all, it would have changed the way he viewed you, from a genuinely beautiful person inside and out that took a sincere interest in bringing simple recognition to him and his friends to a cold-hearted superficial bitch that chalked up this elaborate plan as a vendetta with your jock friends.
But Eddie Munson knew you weren’t like that.
Which only made it hurt worse when he watched you pain through the sting of your manicured nails stabbing into your palms and your teeth sinking into your tender lip.
“Y-yes, that’s, uh, true, sir.” Your voice was so delicate, Eddie was ready to jump in and just take the blame. “He didn’t make me do anything, it was, uh, all me. I lied, and made him and his friends take the photo. And, well, I, uh, added the page and told Fred to print it.”
You shuddered at the sudden slap of the book, as Principal Higgins closed it with much despondency against you. “And is there valid reasoning as to why?!” Principal Higgins wasn’t one to be known for his placidness and he was quick to make that apparent. “You are the best student at this establishment, you should not be falling under influence of a hooligan like Mr. Munson! How have you fallen so naive all of a sudden?!”
You were really tugging on Eddie’s heart the way your eyes grew round with panic, completely helpless to the grown man scolding you, just as he did last Friday. And while he may have caused it the initial time, he’d be damned to watch it happen to you again.
“Hey, look, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t have to yell at her like she made some dire mistake!” Eddie lambasted Principal Higgins, far more harsh than any regular tone Eddie used when he was regularly being reprimanded.
Higgins could only scoff in disbelief. “Vandalizing school property isn’t a mistake to you, Mr. Munson?! Well, given your grotesque track record of uncivilized activities, it seems as though I’ve answered my own question!” He sneered back with intended offense.
“Please, ‘vandalizing school property?!’” Eddie mocked. “She fucking put our picture in the yearbook, and for good reason, too. You’re the one at fault here, excluding students from recognition!”
The thudding sound of your heartbeat was completely muting you from the onslaught of shouts that was suffocating you in the tight room. While Nancy Wheeler was beginning to contemplate if telling Principal Higgins was too far, Fred Benson was merely watching with joy that none of the blame was being casted on him, and you, well, your body was racking with stiffness, as it suddenly felt like your airway was tightening every breath out of you. Your hands began shaking by your side, unable to control the instantaneous wave of trepidation, as everything was beginning to blur around you.
And no one was noticing.
“I have rightful reasons to exclude your gang of misfits from my yearbook!” Principal Higgins walked from his desk, standing against Eddie with pure spite in his eyes. “You and your posse of cons and aberrations have done nothing but taint the reputation of our school and town, running around like imbeciles who have nothing better to do than waste their lives away! And I will not stand to have you be associated with the work I’ve done to correct this school from delinquents like yourself!”
Chest heaving and nostrils flared, the Eddie Munson from the cafeteria instance was back, though angrier, and he was two seconds from actually gaining an assault charge from hitting Principal Higgins square in the face. But the older man was quick to turn, and eject his dissonant castigate towards you.
“And you, missy!” Your eyes were blinking posthaste with fret to control the swell of tears that were burning your eyes, at the clashing outburst being directed against you. “How did you even gain the facilities to take such picture?!”
Your mouth was dry with consternation, unable to formulate words, and simply quivering your mouth open.
And unlucky for you, Fred Benson spoke for you.
“After our yearbook meeting on Friday,” heads snapped at his gravelly voice, “she said she was going to stay after to work, and that she would lock up herself. She must have taken the key, and stolen a camera.”
Higgins scoffed with great disgust as he judged you, before turning to Nancy. “Ms. Wheeler, as president of the Yearbook Committee, had you permitted her to do so?”
Nancy looked at you with guilt. She hadn’t anticipated the situation to blow up this much, though she spoke honestly to the authoritative eyes of Higgins. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” She meekly answered.
“And Mr. Munson,” Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to control his frustrations before doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back. “When did Ms. Y/L/N enforce these photos?”
“Why the hell does that even matter?” Eddie gritted with a clenched jaw of tension.
“Mr. Munson, you choose not to answer me, and I will not hesitate to place you as an accomplice, and you certainly cannot afford another detention or suspension if you’re planning on finally ending this school year as a graduate.” In a perfect world, Eddie Munson would have lied for you and lessened whatever punishment you were about to receive, but Hawkins, Indiana was far from perfect, the threat made him budge under the pressure of his potential future and your distraught eyes.
“It was, uh, after her cheer practice. After school.” He sheepishly murmured with regret.
“Ah,” Principal Higgins turned to your shaking stature. “So, not only did you make unauthorized changes to the school yearbook, but you stole school property, used our equipment prohibitively outside of school hours, and actively unsubordinated my authority. I have to say, I am awfully disappointed in the person you have become, Ms. Y/L/N, and I am ashamed to have valued you so highly when you simply choose to go down the path of delinquency.” Everything about Principal Higgins words were humiliating and slammed you into a vicious cycle of believing the worst about yourself. “Finish the rest of your day,” he sighed, “but you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week for your actions.” Your heart sank at his news, and Eddie stood dumbfounded that he contributed to it.
Your visions grew blurry under the swell of tears, and your breath was becoming sporadic with panic, and everyone just kept fucking staring at you. “N-no, sir, p-please!” You choked, “I-I have scholarships, a-and acceptances that I-I’m still waiting to hear back from, this could ruin that for me, p-please, sir!”
While your pleads were being disregarded, everyone stood stun watching your fate unfold in front of you. Eddie Munson didn’t know what to do. Nobody did. On top of being berated by him from Friday, you were now facing the worst possible consequence for something so trivial, and he watched it happen. Granted, there was quite literally nothing Eddie could do to fix the situation, but seeing you stand there, panicked about your future and trying to conceal your incoming sobs through the ache of heart palpitations, it was fucking excruciating for him to witness.
“You should have thought about that before you made your choices. Everything is on you.” His words were ringing in your ear like a loop confirming everything you’ve ever hated about yourself. “I’ll be sure to let your father know of the news, and as for your spot on the committee, it is up to Ms. Wheeler to determine where you stand. Now go, everyone back to class.”
Fred Benson was first to leave, giddy to have been cleared from any trouble. Eddie Munson should have left, but he couldn’t stand to leave, simply watching you turn to Nancy Wheeler in a flash. Your round eyes were pleading to her to let you stay, but her previous words of “This is your only strike,” was tormenting you. She sighed, “I’m sorry,” and the shake of her head answered everything before she could verbalize it.
You were off.
You stormed out of the room, bumping shoulders with Eddie, though with no malice intent, just simply needing to get out. The second you reached the clearing of the empty hall, your tears were drowning your cheeks, your sobs so unbearably hard your breathing staggered for release. Suddenly, your little cashmere sweater felt like it was sticking to your skin, giving you hot flashes that brought dizziness to your pounding head. The blood battering your ears cleared out any noise, including Eddie’s calls of your name. He reached out to hold your arm, causing you to severely flinch in hysteria, and he appeared devastatingly concerned for your state of being.
“Sorry! Ar-are you okay?” He winced at the loud sob you choked out, as he felt stupid for even asking you that question. “Look, everything, uh, everything’s gonna be fine.” He rushed to reassure. In truth, Eddie Munson was completely talking out of his ass, he didn’t know if everything was going to be fine, your panicking was just causing him to panic, and all he wanted was for you to be okay. “J-just, uh, breathe for me.” He offered.
“I-I c-can’t! I’m scared, Eddie, help me!” You pleaded with frightened eyes.
Your beg hit too close to home. Suddenly, Eddie was a little boy curled up in the corner of his trashed living room, as he watched his parents abuse one another with words and fists. He pleaded the same words to his parents, who merely ignored his shaking little body. Such horrific events disfigured Eddie Munson’s belief of healing. No one cared for his emotions, no one cared for his feelings, and no one cared to make sure he was okay. So, yes, Eddie Munson yelled at you Friday night because he was petrified. Petrified to be hurt, just as everyone else had done, because to Eddie Munson, that was his fate. To be hurt and to be forgotten. Maybe that’s why he cared so much about being excluded from the school yearbook. While anyone would have rightfully been upset, being excluded cemented the notion that Eddie Munson was disposable. His father spoke it, the townspeople spoke, his teachers spoke, and his peers spoke it. But you didn’t, and that fucking scared him. It’s why he yelled, it’s why he panicked, and it’s why he’d try anything to help you right now.
“I-I know, sweetheart, just listen to me, please.” He quietly spoke. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, I just really need you to listen to me.”
You fervently nodded your head, and he sighed with relief, because though minor, it was progress, and progress was incredible.
“I, uh, I want you to focus on my voice, okay?” His wide eyes connected with your red ones. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and I mean it when I say everything will be okay. I-I’ll make sure of it.”
Could he physically do that? No. But would he try his damn hardest, putting his being through anything to make it happen? Yes. For you.
“Okay, I want you to-”
“What are you doing to her?!”
Eddie’s eyes screwed shut with disappointment.
Jessica fucking Lewis.
“Get away from her!” She charged past him to get to your hysterical figure. “Did you do something?!”
“No, no, I’m trying to fucking help her.” Eddie implored. “Stop yelling, she’s having a fucking panic attack.” He gritted through his teeth.
“Don’t fucking come near her ever again, you freak!” Eddie watched as you tried to get your words out, but your shrinking throat made it impossible to get your voice out, and he recoiled, watching the fear in your eyes as Jessica held a tight grip in your arms.
But before he could stop her, Jessica was dragging you into the girls bathroom, and he stood frozen doing everything in his power to not rip out his hair in frustration.
-
Aside from her fault-finding comments against Eddie, Jessica Lewis had actually been a fairly good friend to you through the years of cheer, connecting with the girls through the pact of lifelong sisterhood, as she insisted. Though such pact also came with unwarranted advice when she felt one of you was “falling out of line” with a pristine, perfect image. That being said, when she found you panicking at the hands of Eddie Munson, she was actually concerned, impetuous, yes, but concerned, nonetheless. She’d sat with you, decisively skipping the rest of Mrs. Otis’ home economics class, to console you, bitching out any innocent girl to leave as they attempted to alleviate themselves, while you sat heaving with the back of your thighs sticking to cold tiles of the bathroom. When you did finally manage to catch your breath and calm your heart rate to a healthy status, Jessica had petted your hair with care, constantly asking what was wrong and what Eddie had done. Through your tremored voice, you hoarsely clarified that “He didn’t do anything,” and “He was just trying to help.” That revelation had actually baffled Jessica Lewis, honestly, some part of her believing you to be lying, but she gave it a rest when you assiduously shook your head in response to her asking what was actually wrong. By then, the bell had rung to signal the start of third period.
And it was during said third period when your situation only worsened completely unbeknownst to you.
While you were in the middle of trying to focus on your quiz—which proved damn near impossible after today’s events—Fred Benson was seemingly trying to get back at you for nearly inducing him into a heart attack after your actions almost cost him his spot on the Newspaper and Yearbook Committee (In reality, Nancy Wheeler had only yelled at him for not previously checking the books).
See, once Fred had informed the rest of the Yearbook Committee of what you had done and how you were being punished, the news had spread like wildfire; nerds, geeks, punks, jocks, everyone knew one version or another. “Perfect Cheerleader Falls Under Satanic Cultist’s Influence and Vandalizes School Facilities,'' small town high school students sure had a talent to dramatize any given situation. You’d only taken a picture, that’s all it was, but the students of Hawkins High had conspired together to formulate you into a freak slut who allegedly got fucked by the Eddie Munson after cheer practice in exchange for putting his club in the yearbook.
As the students of your class hurtled to mitigate the dreaded boredom of the school day with the clashing laughter and stale food of lunch, you sighed in your seat, head pounded and anxiety still churning in your mind and stomach, slowly packing up your belongings before handing over the quiz—quite literally the worst you’ve ever performed on one. Lunch seemed like the worst possible thing to conquer, right now. Despite the horrid grumbling of your stomach, you felt no need to satiate that hunger, as your appetite was long gone for the afternoon. In addition, you’d known Jessica Lewis long enough to know that she had informed all your friends of your panic attack, and if you chose to call her out on it, you knew you would only be met with a “I’m only trying to help,” as if you needed an intervention. She’d done it to Paige Semore when the girl healthy gained a couple pounds over the summer and got ridiculed by Jess.
But when you entered the cafeteria, you quickly wished you were subjected to Jessica Lewis’ harmful “advice”, rather than the reality you got.
The sound of the heavy double doors announced your arrival, and suddenly all eyes were on you. No, like quite literally, all eyes were on you. No greeting smiles from acquaintances, no shying-away looks from crushing students, no bright wave hello from Chrissy Cunningham from across the cafeteria, in fact, she was heavily avoiding you, seemingly finding the table more interesting as Jason Carver glared at you. Everyone was staring at you as if, without notice, you had become the town pariah. Because you had. Your perturbation had bombarded you like a missile hit, as quiet whispers flooded your senses. Peering around you caught his eyeline. Eddie. His brows had severely been furrowed with much worry, because he knew. He knew how quickly it went around, and he knew just how bad the news got twisted. Now, he was no stranger to the onslaught of destructive rumors, but you weren’t, and with the day you had, his chest was pounding with dread for you.
Chalking it up to merely being in your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat, and with quick steps, you sped to your usual lunch table. But everyone kept staring- your friends were staring. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” You whispered, as they genuinely looked at you with disgust.
“Why don’t you tell us?” Jason scowled. “Seems like you’re the one who caused all of this, you desperate slut.”
Your mouth dropped incredulously. “What did you just call me?”
“You fucking heard me!” Jason stood from his chair, rejecting Chrissy’s quiet ask to not cause a scene. “It’s exactly what you are.” He laughed.
Eddie Munson’s residual anger was fueling. Hard. He stood from his chair all the way across the room, metal legs scraping the floor with a deafening screech. But his presence only caught the worst attention. “Oh, would you look at that? Your little freak coming to help you?”
Eddie faltered at your watery eyes, begging for everything to just stop. If he spoke, nothing would help you. “What are you talking about?” Your voice stung with pleads to just understand what was happening to you.
“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know!” Andy’s booming voice startled you. “You wanna choose some gross freak to fuck, then fine by us, go right ahead, but don’t think that you’ll be able to with us!” Andy McAvoy was taking it far more personal. He liked you. That was obvious. But hearing the rumors simply led him to believe you chose Eddie Munson over him.
“What?” Your voice cracked in distress.
Eddie had had enough.
“She didn’t fucking do anything!” He marched his way over. All the boys of the basketball team stood in preparation for a fight that Eddie Munson was known to love to finish. Finish, not start. “Your bland lives got that fucking boring you all have to go around making shit up to make things interesting?! She didn’t do anything!”
“Aw, defending your precious little fuck toy, isn’t that cu-”
Chrissy Cunningham's shrilling scream startled the entire cafeteria as Jason Carver’s blood stained her powdery skin. You flinched at the bone-crunching punch that busted Jason’s pretty face, and everything felt heavy in your chest. Your hands were beginning to shake beyond your control, as everything was horrifyingly disfiguring in front of you. It was happening again. Before your mind was about to shut off from the assault of today’s events, your instinct had elicited all rash decisions, and you had to leave. All you could comprehend was the diffusing sounds of students instigating the fight before everything fell silent and you trudged down the hall to escape.
Staff were quick to call Eddie’s name before another detrimental hit was casted upon Jason. It was only then, Eddie’s judgment was left unclouded, and he noticed you were gone. “Did she leave?” He hadn’t necessarily asked anyone in particular, moreso questioning himself, but Chrissy Cunningham had ardently answered him with a swift nod of her head and bulging eyes of fear.
Eddie broke through the doors with force, catching you near the end of the hall. “Y/N!” You didn’t turn, though. Every repeated call of your name fell with no response, and he chased you down, following you into the zephyr of the afternoon weather outside. “Y/N, c’mon, wait!” He’d grabbed your arm.
“What?!”
Eddie staggered at your biting tone. Not once, in the four years he’d known of you—freshman to senior year—had he ever heard your voice so malicious, yet drowning in urgence to make everything stop. Your inconsolable state devastating him helplessly.
“I-I’m sorry.” He sighed so softly.
“‘Sorry?’” You affronted. “Now you’re sorry?! After everything that’s happened! Why, is it out of fucking pity?!” Internally, Eddie was begging you to stop, because if you kept yelling at him like this, his defense mechanism was going to lash out, especially when he was already angry from everything that’s just happened. “I don’t want some stupid apology, not when every time you appear, my life gets worse! I just want you away!” You cried.
Eddie scoffed in disbelief. Were you actually blaming him for all this? No, you weren’t. But after the day you just had, you were not looking to be comforted by someone who partially hurt you. But Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. His judgment had a habit of being clouded; his cynicism about anything good happening to him had protected him from a lifetime of hurt, and now, unfortunately, your rightfully pent up polemic about him was believing his suspicions to be true.
“This isn’t my fucking fault, you’re the one who wanted to take our picture in the first place!” He shouted, shielding his vulnerability.
“Because you made a big deal out of it!” You screamed with frustration. “You yelled at me first, you said mean things to me first- why- why were you so mean to me?!” You blubbered through drowning tears.
“Because- be- ugh,” Eddie pained with vexation. “You fucking terrify me, okay?! You terrify the living shit out of me!” Guarding his tearing eyes from your shattered being, he groaned realizing you weren’t going to understand unless he opened up, but he couldn’t bear to, and maybe that was the best solution to move on, run away. “It’s just fucking hard when, you know, you look like that and you’re fucking you, and I’m just me, and you have a great life-”
“‘Great life?!’” You derided through tears. “You know nothing about my life!” You shoved him. “You know nothing about me!” You shoved him again. Eddie was quick to retrain your wrist in a tight grip, preventing you from touching him again, no matter how hard you tried. “Stop acting like you know everything about me when you know absolutely nothing! I’m not going to stand here, and let you say mean things to me, when you know nothing, do you understand?! I have never done anything to you, and I never will, because unlike you, I’m not some sulking asshole who can’t handle their fucking emotions, and uses their sorry life to lash out at people because they’re too pathetic to deal with their own problems!”
And maybe your rash psycho analysis of Eddie Munson was too much, or not harsh enough, but either way, your critical comments derailed him off the edge of sanity. He aggressively dropped your wrist, and got into your face with a full might of fury. “You are such a miserable bitch!” He shouted, invading your space with intent, causing you to wince and step away from him, but he wasn’t relenting. “For once, you got a fucking taste of what your bullshit friends have been doing to me, and now you can’t fucking handle it?! God, just love playing the fucking victim, don’t you?! Maybe they are right, maybe you are just some fucking desperate slut craving fucking attention?! Is that why you did all this shit in the first place?!”
The way your face flashed with sudden dejection had him biting his tongue. Oh, fuck. He regretted it. He fucking immediately regretted it.
Eddie began furiously shaking his head in denial to what he just uttered, he couldn’t believe it. “No,” he heaved out. “No, I-I didn’t mean it, I’m s-sorry.” He could only muster a whisper.
You didn’t even have the energy to fight back, merely accepting his words as truth with a silent sob that burned your being. “Yeah,” you shakily sighed with a sniffle of sobs. “I’m sorry, too, Eddie. I would have loved being your friend, and now I just want nothing to do with you.” His heart dropped at your calmness. When he first spoke those words to you, demanding you to stay away from him and his friends, he knew a deep part of him didn’t mean it. Why would he, you were fucking perfect? But you, the stillness and tranquility of your words cemented them to be the final verdict. You were done. “So please,” you wiped your drenched face from tears, “just leave me alone and stay away from me.”
No malice, no anger, no fury.
Just pure defeat.
𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | This is my first time making a tag list, and I got overwhelmed—in a good way—that I simply tagged anyone who commented. If you were not looking to be tagged, I’m so sincerely sorry, and please let me know to respect your wishes and remove you!
(Big, fat kisses to all of you) @televisionboy @batkin028 @lostdreamingwallflower @cevais @myfavoritesareproblematic @btbabyy @married-to-the-music01 @super-nova-03 @deathnote6666 @cherrytc @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @averagestudent03 @freakymunson @princess-eddie @imagine-a-world-blog1 @negativity4you
@nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64 @redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555
@gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn
(I’m so sorry, some blogs are not popping up when I try to tag y’all, if it’s an issue on my part, I’ll try my best to fix it as soon as possible)
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#mean!eddie munson#the yearbook: club pictures
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Hearts [S. R] part 2
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
word count: 3.9k
part 1!
summary: morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected.
N/A: I never thought this would be so well received and I honestly feel so happy! I am very grateful to all the people who requested a second part, I hope you like it and if you want to tell me something in the comments I will read it with pleasure!
people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx
That morning Spencer came to his desk with coffee in hand and set it carefully to one side, the sight of his scrawled name looming large throughout.
Spencer <3
What did that mean? It was his name, that's obvious, but it was written with such a careful and clean line that it was very beautiful to admire and the heart drawn next to it was what didn’t quite add up in the whole thing. Reid knew that it was an ideogram used to express the idea of affection or love, so the most logical conclusion was that you were trying to communicate a feeling of that kind, but then he wondered: was it affection between friends? a simple show of affection, he supposed. Nothing further, surely it could not be anything else.
There were days when you and he barely saw each other, as the team had to go out to handle cases in the field and you stayed behind to do literally whatever you could do to complete your service hours, but every morning without fail you looked for him to deliver the long-awaited coffee. You were keeping your promise and for three days you arrived with two cups on the tray, one clean and the other labeled for him: Reid, Spence, Doctor R., all titles followed by a drawing of a heart. When Friday rolled around and you handed him what he thought would be his last cup, you decided to propose a deal.
"Today I was thinking that I could buy your coffee permanently, if you want” you exclaimed kindly, while you watched him from the chair that you had pulled to sit next to him. Some mornings when there wasn’t so much movement you would stay there to drink a few shots of your coffee and share a small moment of the day "It's on my way here and it's obvious that you like it"
“Oh, I… I couldn't even think about it, no. I would take too much advantage of you"
“You're going to pay me back, Reid. I'll just bring it” you laughed, watching him turn red to the ears while he drank a little to try to mask it.
"Then, I'd love to," he exclaimed with a tight-lipped smile. He was a little excited to continue having excuses to talk to you every day and, above all, to drink the delicious coffee that he had already gotten used to.
"Although I'm running out of ideas, to be honest," you said amused, because that day the cup didn’t have any inscription due to that lack of creativity. But as by the work of fate, an idea came to your mind, so you smiled from ear to ear while you took a black marker from your friend's desk and took the cup from his hand. Spencer looked at you carefully and curiously while you were writing and just when you finished Hotch called you from the other side of the tables "I have to go, don't miss me too much" you murmured, handing him the glass and then winking at the boy, who in response only awkwardly raised his hand.
Once you left, he looked at what you had written, less neatly than the other times, and felt himself grinning like a fool:
My fav agent and again that damn heart.
“Y/N”
"Yeah?" you asked, looking up at another of your fellow interns. You had a room where everyone could stay for a while to work on their own business, but on this occasion, curiously, only women had gathered at the table, there were about five of you in the entire building. Among them Jennifer, a girl you liked very much and with whom you could presume to have something like a friendship, and for some strange reason there was also Victoria.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Huh… yeah, I guess" you muttered a bit confused, and even though you didn't know the girl she smiled in your direction.
“Is that brown-haired guy you talk to every morning your boyfriend?”
“Spencer?” you asked, widening your eyes at the surprise with which the question had taken you. You expected her to ask what band you listened to the most, your favorite food, or some other stupid thing, but not that. Now all the girls' attention was on you, including Victoria's inquisitive scowl and Jennifer's amused look “I wouldn't say that”
"And do you think you can introduce me?" she said with more enthusiasm than she intended, and they all laughed collectively.
“I get second in line”
"Girls, girls..." Jennifer intervened and you knew that from that moment the topics of the internship would take a back seat “He may not be her boyfriend now, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want him to be”
"Jenn!"
"Am I lying?" she sneered “You smile every time you see him and you two look so in love whispering to each other every morning. Also, a week ago I saw you go out together at night”
"Jenn," you insisted, muttering to her in the hope that she would notice that you wanted her to shut up. It wasn't that you were ashamed of being associated with him, you just didn't want to spread wrong rumors that might embarrass him.
“How come he's already an agent? He looks very young”
“It's because he's a prodigy, duh. He’s as attractive as he’s intelligent”
"I imagine that being such a smart man he knows perfectly the weak points of a woman" another girl murmured, joining the conversation "If you know what I mean"
“For now we are just friends. That's all" you said trying to end the conversation, completely embarrassed that such a personal matter had ended up as the talk of all the female interns of the FBI. It was supposed to be a serious job and you guys looked like gossipy high school girls.
"Maybe he's waiting for someone better," Victoria said into the air, a venomous tone permeating every word.
"Anyway, if you give up, can you get me his number?" insisted the first girl. You nodded just so as not to break his illusion, but you knew very well that Spencer didn't use a phone beyond what was necessary for work.
Even though you yourself had told him that surely many girls liked him, you didn't expect that he really had admirers so close and to be honest a pang of jealousy invaded you. Victoria was the most obvious of them all, but you knew that being college girls they were more likely to admire the masculine charm of perhaps the youngest member of the FBI. They too were young and beautiful, but you chose to trust that you had the upper hand in winning the man's affections.
You tried as hard as you could to concentrate on your tasks, but now that his name had come up it was hard to think of anything but him. Spencer wasn't a very expressive guy, but you knew that he was comfortable with you or else he wouldn't seek you out or agree to talk to you like you did, although clearly that didn't ensure that he was attracted to you. Maybe he just saw you as a good friend.
At night, when you were about to go home, you tried to look for him so you could see him again with the excuse of saying goodbye, but you were surprised when you saw that he was talking to Victoria in an already empty section. Curiosity to know what they were talking about invaded you and you stood where you were, squinting your eyes to try to read their lips. Reid wasn't participating too much in the chat, you'd even say he looked awkward, but she was shamelessly flirting with him. Perhaps the sudden change in attitude that she had had was what your friend had missed so much and just when you thought of approaching to go save him from the situation, she stood on her toes and crashed her lips against his, leaving you standing just in your place and completely in shock.
You didn't expect her to dare to do something like that, but the reaction he had left you even more surprised, because, although it wasn't so favorable, he didn't seem bothered by the show of affection he had just received either. He just stood in front of her, looking her up and down as if he were analyzing her.
You didn't want to stay there any longer and almost instantly you turned around to walk out the front door, hoping that this had meant absolutely nothing to him and the next day you could look him in the face without feeling the jealousy boiling in your veins.
It was almost time for dismissal when Spencer remembered that he had a file to go through that he'd ignored all morning, and he cursed himself a little for leaving things until the last minute. His coworkers told him that he could finish it the next morning, but he knew that if he did that he probably wouldn't have time to drink coffee with you so he preferred to stay a little later there.
Little by little the offices emptied and when there was almost no one left, he finally finished, feeling the discomfort of the recurring pain in his back due to the bad position in which he sat. He put his things away, put on his coat, and slung his briefcase over his shoulder, ready to go back to his apartment, but a person got in the way when he was about to cross the hall. Due to exhaustion and seeing that it was a female body he assumed it would be you, but when he paid more attention, he noticed that it wasn’t even remotely possible that the ironed black hair was yours.
"Doctor Reid"
"Miss Evans" he greeted her, without losing cordiality, but not with too much emotion either.
"What are you doing here so night?"
"Job. There's nothing else to do around here at this hour,” he said without looking at her. But the girl was determined to get that one-night stand that she was sure you had, lie as it was.
“It's a shame, but I know a bar near here that you might like if you want to have a little fun”
“Bars are noisy and are one of the biggest sources of infection that can exist. Sweat, alcohol, and unknown fluids permeate the environment and it is very probable that the consumption of drugs affects not only those who consume them but also those who are close to them, so I prefer to decline your invitation" he exclaimed, hoping that this explanation would be enough to make it clear to this woman that he wasn't interested.
“So you're more of hanging out in the apartment? I have a lot of great things in mine, including a jacuzzi."
“Jacuzzies are unsanitary” he insisted. If he proposed, he would know that he would find a valid excuse for whatever plan she might suggest.
"What a killjoy, Agent Reid” she giggled, but he wasn't too amused by any of it. "Do you ever have fun?"
"I think my concept of fun and yours diverge a lot" he murmured, still not looking at her directly and ready to end the conversation.
Spencer was about to leave when she raised herself to his height and in a quick movement that caught him off guard, she smashed her lips against his. As she turned away from her the man froze completely in his place, looking at her from head to toe as if she were some strange natural specimen.
"What if I promise there will be more of that?" she asked, in a last-ditch attempt, faking a honeyed voice. He was going to respond when there was something that forced him to look in the direction of the exit door, where someone else was already walking. From the pattern of colored stripes on the jacket he knew it was definitely you and if it was you then you probably witnessed the entire exchange. He felt the urge to run after you to justify himself for something he hadn't even done, not knowing why he was embarrassed or worried that you'd seen that. “Come on, are you really going to say no to all this?”
"Listen to me, Victoria. I understand if having power over others gives you pleasure because you are the least noticed and recognized member of the family, or if you enjoy saying hurtful things to people to feed your own insecurities, but I ask that you please stay away from me and stop trying whatever you're trying. I don't like you, you're a bad person and I won't allow you to kiss me without my wanting it, or to make your sexual advances that won't get you anywhere. So again, I say don't bother me again” he said and without waiting for any answer he walked out of sight of her. Even if he had stayed, Victoria had her ego so hurt that she didn't think of anything to say back and instead she just let helpless tears fill her eyes, followed by a gesture of a tantrum.
When Spencer came downstairs he couldn't find you anywhere and the anxiety in his stomach only increased, wishing he had misrecognized the person who had left so it wasn't about you. The matter didn't keep him awake, of course, but when he noticed the next morning that you weren't at his desk, he thought it was reason enough to worry. Worse still when he noticed that you had left a lonely cup on the table, with absolutely no adorable titles decorating it. It made him feel so guilty, like he somehow knew that you were upset because you'd seen Victoria kiss him the night before and he wasn't worthy of your affection anymore.
Even Hotch noticed that he was more distracted than usual and although he had already seen your exchanges, he thought it would be better not to intervene in anything that had to do with young love. Being a cupid was a more difficult task than the one he already fulfilled at the BAU. So when night came and he didn't look at you anywhere, anxiety was already eating him to the ground, wishing he could have your phone number to at least comfort himself with hearing your voice. Going to your apartment was something he considered, but then it became unthinkable because he didn't even know how you would react.
Victoria became less of a concern as she seemed to get the message perfectly and every time during the day that he crossed her path she just looked away, totally offended.
But when the same situation arose twice, he felt that something was wrong and he wasn't going to endure a third time. It was then that Spencer left the house early that morning to stop by a bakery and buy a couple of fresh sweet buns, hoping that this time you were expecting him. But his disappointment was greater when he saw that once again there was only the bare cup of coffee.
"Didn't you see Y/N?" he asked Elle when he arrived, nervously fiddling with the paper bag he was holding in his hands.
“No, she just left your coffee and left, but I don't know where. She seemed pretty rushed”
Spencer inwardly cursed and sighed in frustration, until a few seconds later he caught sight of you on the other side of the building, carrying a stack of folders and talking on the phone. He didn't hesitate for a moment before running (at first, then he slowed down a bit as he remembered the incessant times Hotch had scolded him for it) towards you so he could finally talk to you.
“Y/N,” he said softly as he reached your side, and he took the bright smile you gave him as you turned to look at him as a good sign.
"Wait a minute" you mouthed, still answering the call you had on the line, and when you hung up you finally turned your attention to him "Hey, Reid. Good morning"
"I bought you this" he murmured, showing you the bag with food inside, and you almost moaned with happiness.
“Food is what I need most to survive the day”
"What are you doing?"
“Two days ago, your boss Gideon thought it was a good idea to make me his personal secretary. So right now, I'll do everything he asks me to do” you snorted, obviously exhausted by the work you had done and by the ones you surely would have to do.
It clicked in the boy's mind and then he understood that this was the reason you hadn't seen it, not because you were angry. Relief ran down the length of his spine.
"Really?"
“I don't even think that's legal, you know? I'm an intern, they don't pay me a penny and they take advantage of me like I earn the same as the fucking president” you complained. Until then he noticed that you were struggling to hold the papers and he decided to stretch out his hands to help you carry them, like a real gentleman "Thank you"
“Where should you take them? I'll accompany you” he offered. You led him through the halls to a file store that even he doubted he knew about, and explained that your job for the next several weeks would be to sort and categorize the case files for a more efficient process of future searches.
“I'm seriously thinking about giving this whole damn thing up and selling hotdogs in some park or whatever. I would be happier and I would earn almost the same” you joked, raising your arms to stretch your back a bit like a cat that had just woken up. The place was completely alone, silent and the lighting was so dim that it even looked gloomy “Did you get my coffees?"
"Yes, I did," he muttered, "I thought you were mad at me though”
"Why?"
"Because..." he hesitated for a moment if it would be wise to mention what he thought was the reason for your anger, until he realized that saying it out loud would simply sound absurd. There shouldn't be a reaction on your part to the facts “you weren't there. And you didn't write anything”
"Oh, I was in a hurry. I'm sorry,” you sincerely apologized. While you were talking to him you thought that you could start to categorize the documents that you would have just brought and you got to it, hoping that he wouldn't interpret that as a sign that you wanted him to leave; luckily Spencer rushed to your side to help you as soon as he could.
"Alright. I'm glad to know you're not upset."
"If I had known that you loved my notes so much, it would have taken me a few seconds" you smiled and when you turned your head you noticed that you were too close to him, or he to you, rather.
You were silent for a few moments until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know your opinion about what you had or hadn't seen that night.
"Victoria looked me up the other day," he said disinterestedly. You smiled victoriously for not having to be the first to mention it, even though the matter was slowly burning inside you.
“Oh, I know. I looked at you talking to her” you exclaimed bitterly, without taking your eyes off the files.
"And she too... huh..."
"Calm down" you interrupted him, taking a bunch that were already ordered and moving away from him to take them to a filing cabinet "I saw that too"
“It was so strange”
"It was pathetic," you said without any embarrassment. You finally looked up and noticed some fear in him, as if he thought you meant that he was pathetic "It wasn't even a good kiss"
"And what would one be like?" he replied without thinking. You stifled a laugh and looked at him kindly.
“That's not something I can explain to you, Reid. I would have to show you"
“Well…” he said, finally breaking away from your gaze and staring at you with those big beautiful hazel eyes.
You were surprised that he wasn't averse to it because you honestly didn't expect to achieve anything with that sentence, you just wanted to tease him a bit. Spencer kept looking at you in silence for a few seconds and you knew what that look meant, or at least you thought you did. Those pleading eyes only screamed one thing: show me. Kiss me.
You walked enough steps to close the distance and stand right in front of him, looking down at him with a smile of pure mischief.
“Well, what?"
“Nothing, nothing, I just… I thought you could enlighten me a bit on the subject. As unbelievable as it may seem, I am very uninformed about the standard of what is considered a good or bad kiss” he admitted. Even flirting he sounded like a walking book.
You weren't going to give him time to regret it so you took him by the lapels of his formal shirt and with a yank you pulled him to you. Spencer's breath caught at how sudden the contact had been, and you heard him release the trapped air over your lips, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. At first he was tense, but after a few seconds you felt his shoulders relax considerably and that's when you slid your hands down the length of his neck until you reached to hold his cheeks. One of your hands left that position only to guide the man's hands to your waist and once you were in this way you took the opportunity to push your body against his a little more, with your torso attached to his. There was no mention of how the tip of your tongue experimentally flicked across his lips and made him sigh audibly.
Spencer nearly whimpered as the heat from your body left his.
“We just shared approximately 80 million bacteria” you blurted out, but he was too flushed and shocked to corroborate denying the information. Just to play with him you decided to give him another kiss, shorter and louder than the previous one "And you just had a good kiss"
You didn't wait for any reaction before separating completely and that made him come out of the trance he was in, still not believing what had just happened. He couldn't even say anything before your phone started ringing with a call.
"I'll see you later?"
"It's up to you," you said with a smile. Spencer nodded and not knowing what else to do he decided to walk out before he could embarrass himself "Oh, and Spence…”
"Yeah?" he answered, trying not to let you notice how it affected him that you called him that way.
“Do you remember the other day when I told you that surely hundreds of girls liked you?” you asked and when he nodded a couple of hairs got messy "Although I'm sure it's true, on that occasion I was only talking about me" you confessed. You couldn't ignore the ringing sound any longer or you'd lose it, so you picked up the hook and started a business conversation, but not before winking at him as a farewell.
Spencer came out of it trying to look as normal as possible, but he still couldn't figure out how he'd have the strength to work objectively for the rest of the day when he'd just gotten such a good kiss from the prettiest girl he'd ever met.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jason gideon#JJ#penelope garcía
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moon, a hole of light
pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader
day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia
-> read her day one here
summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.
warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean
word count: 2.4k
rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni
a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.
main masterlist
A lot of life is weeping.
In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh.
It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’.
So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room.
But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.
He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave.
Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain.
He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him.
He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed.
It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.
You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.
Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded.
He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.
Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone.
Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined.
You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.
When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed.
Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone.
“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.
Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?”
You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”
He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?”
He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush.
“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”
You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water.
“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.”
Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”
He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”
You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge.
There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening.
So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high.
He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.
You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.
“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”
“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”
Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.
“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.”
You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.
His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much.
“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”
He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.
“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.”
“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.
“Cry about it.”
Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh.
And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core.
“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up.
With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest.
The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face.
Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room.
He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal.
You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts.
“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”
“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?”
You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting.
He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.
He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.”
You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling.
“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”
Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.
You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.
He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat.
“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller/reader#joel miller fic#kinktober 2023#kinktober
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love you twice — j. wonwoo — part two
pt.1 pt.2 pt.3
description: in which your extremely hot and sexy one night stand turns out to be your son’s teacher. naturally, chaos ensues, but you might just find love as your life continues to take an unexpected turn.
w/c: 7.7k
tags/warnings: sexual content (18+), first-grade-teacher!wonwoo, mother!reader, fluff, angst (light), dirty talk, car sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), dry humping, unedited
a/n: aaaand here is part 2! there's more emotions in this one, and it's more dialogue heavy—at least i hope! thank you for all the kind words on part one, i'm so glad many of you liked it! i hope you enjoy part 2 just as much c:
“Hey Mommy?” your son asks, walking into your room as you rummage through your clothes.
“What’s up Kei-Kei?” you say, looking up at him as you put one of the skirts you’re holding down.
“What time is Uncle Jun coming?”
“Huh, that’s a good question,” you murmur, pulling up your phone to go through your messages. “He’ll be here soon Kei-Kei, give him like an a few minutes. You excited to see him?”
Kei nods, skipping up to stand right next to you. “Yah-huh. I miss him,” he says honestly, and you smile at the thought telling Jun his nephew missed his presence.
“He missed you too, I’m sure,” you reply, ruffling Kei’s hair before waving him along to follow you to the kitchen. “You can watch some TV now if you want, just while we wait for Uncle Jun so I can get ready,” you tell him, sitting him down at the living room couch to turn on the TV.
Kei swings his legs back and forth over the edge of the sofa, nodding in agreement as you put on one of his favorite shows and retreat back to your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes
Friday night? Friday night. Fuck, it’s Friday night, and you are hit with the daunting realization that you don’t know what to wear. Huffing in exasperation as you toss your clothes from your drawer down on the ground, you silently curse yourself for not having more clothes that were actually…actually nice.
It isn’t as if you don’t enjoy dressing up—the opposite quite really—it’s just that after having Kei, there was never really the chance for you to do anything that required you to get all dolled up. Well, up until now, at least.
Wonwoo wasted no time texting you that night after your…well whatever that was, sending in the simple message of, ‘friday night?’ His shameless straight-forwardness had you biting down on your lip in your kitchen as you tried to not squeal, before quickly typing out your response of, ‘yes,’ and then thoughtfully, ‘but only if i can find someone to watch kei.’
That evening was spent with you calling Jun, figuring out when he’d be back from his trip, nearly jumping up and down when he responded with a, “yes, yes, I can watch Kei,” followed by a conversation with Kei about how he’d get to see Uncle Jun again this Friday, much to his delight.
Which brings you here—pouting to yourself in the mirror over the fact that you might just have to show up to your date in a skirt you haven’t worn in three years. Granted, it is a cute skirt and you’re flattering yourself when you realize that it still fits, but it is pretty old, and it has you thrown back into memories of when Kei was much younger.
Having Kei in your life was never anything but a blessing, but you would be a liar if you said that some times weren’t especially difficult. From managing your new corporate job, to not having any support from Kei’s father and not much more from your parents, to living in a new city where you hardly knew anyone besides Jun—it was a lot.
Yet, you’ve never regretted your decision of keeping Kei by your side, and looking at the skirt in your hands right—while does remind you of late nights of crying in your bed—makes you feel nothing but pride and happiness for getting this far and holding Kei’s hand every step of the way.
Smiling to yourself at the thought, you quickly fold all the other loose clothes and put them back in their place before slipping on the denim skirt and choosing a white sweater to layer on top. Pleased with your appearance, you walk out of your room as you text Jun about when he’s going to come, since you vaguely remember asking him to come around this time. As you’re just about to send the message of, ‘where are you?’ there’s a knock on your door.
“Is that Uncle Jun?” Kei asks excitedly, jumping up from the sofa to join you on your walk to the doorway.
“I sure hope so,” you chuckle, peeping through the little hole, opening the door when you catch a glimpse of your cousin’s blonde hair. “Hey!” you greet as Jun’s figure reveals itself in front of you, “I was just about to ask you when you were going to come.”
“I—” Jun begins to speak as you give him a little side hug, but he’s cut off by Kei’s squeal.
“Uncle Jun!” he beams, running toward the tall man next to you with his arms wide open. Jun swoops down and swings Kei up by his underarms, throwing him into the air slightly before catching him into his arms.
“What’s up Kei-Kei? I missed you!” Jun exclaims, booping Kei’s nose as they both laugh. You bite back a bright smile at the sight as you close the door behind Jun, helping him take his bag and setting it down while Jun carries Kei to the couch.
“How was your trip with Minghao?” you ask him as you both sit in the living room armchair while Jun settles on the ground with Kei in his lap.
“It was so amazing,” Jun replies, “and we took so many nice pictures. I gotta show you when you’re back from—well, wait where are you going? I just realized you never told me.” You suck in a breath and glance at Kei who’s mindlessly watching the TV while playing with one of Jun’s hands, giving your cousin a look which says, not now, not in front of Kei. Jun purses his lips after understanding your message, nodding slightly before turning his attention to Kei who’s telling him about the show.
“I made dinner for you guys,” you tell Jun as an attempt to avert the topic, at least for now. “I made your favorite, as a thanks for watching Kei—fried chicken.”
Jun lets out a happy sigh, “Oh my god, thank god. I seriously have been deprived of that stuff. It’s just in the fridge right?”
“Yeah, I can show you.” You stand up and make your way to the kitchen and Jun sets Kei down on the couch to come and follow you. As you show him which container the food is in, your voice starts to hush so you can answer the question that you know is on Jun’s mind. “Okay so I have a date,” you say, watching his eyes widen.
“No way! Really?”
You roll your eyes in a mix of annoyance and humor, “Yes! Is it that unbelievable that I’m going on a date with someone?”
“Okay, you know that’s not how I meant it. It’s just, well after Seojun…” Jun’s voice trails off as he gives you a sympathetic look—you know what he’s hinting at. “Okay like you get my point. I just wasn’t expecting this.”
“I guess you have a point,” you murmur to yourself, chewing on your lip.
“Who’s the guy, if I can know,” Jun asks curiously.
“It’s kind of…okay it sounds sort of weird when I say it,” you try to tell Jun, thinking about whether or not you should reveal who you’re going on your date with.
“Ugh, fine, you don’t have to tell me yet. Is there a reason you don’t want Kei to know about it?”
You sigh, leaning against the counter. “It’s not like that…I just—he’s so young? I don’t even know if it’ll work out with this guy—” but god fuck do you hope it will, “—and he’s only just at that age where he’s realizing that most people have two parents and I don’t want him to be confused. Do I sound crazy?”
“No, no, it makes sense,” Jun responds comfortingly. “How’d you meet this guy though?”
“That doesn’t matter,” you quip, turning your head away to walk back to Kei.
“Oh I’m so going to find out eventually,” Jun teases following behind you. “God, this guy even has you wearing that skirt! When was the last time you wore that thing?”
You look down at your legs clad in denim, smoothing down the fabric with your hands. “I dunno, honestly,” you think aloud before looking up at Jun and Kei who are looking at you from the sofa. “It’s nice though, right?” The two boys smile and nod vigorously, and you open your arms wide to pull them into a hug. “Gosh I love you two.” When you pull back you crouch down in front of Kei, holding his cheeks and squishing them. “Especially you, Kei-Kei. I have to head out now, okay? Listen to Uncle Jun.”
Kei sticks out his tongue at you as you place a kiss on his cheek. “I always listen to Uncle Jun!”
“I know, it’s because you’re such a good boy right?” you say lovingly before turning to Jun. “Remember, chicken in the fridge and Kei’s coloring set should be in his room. I’ll try to be back before nine so I don’t keep you here too long,” you instruct your cousin who seems a little preoccupied with squishing Kei’s cheeks.
“Don’t worry about that—I could spend all day with this kid,” he replies without even looking up as you scoff lightly before your lips morph into a grin.
“Whatever. I’ll catch you later, yeah? Love you!” you say one last time before picking up your purse, slipping on your shoes, grabbing your keys, and hopping out the door.
In the privacy of your car, you take a moment to just sit and take a deep breath, leaning your head against the headrest. The possibilities of how this night might run through your mind, and you find yourself biting your nails anxiously—an old habit that never quite died out.
After a few minutes of rumination, you feel there’s no point fantasizing any longer, pulling up your phone to confirm the details that Wonwoo had sent you. Butterflies flourish in your stomach when you see the little heart next to the message reading out, ‘can’t wait to see you,’ and you nearly want to smash your head into the steering by how much it makes you want to scream.
Taking a deep breath as you start the car, your two focuses while driving are 1) not crashing, and 2) not bursting into a big ball of mush at the thought that you’re going on a date—a date with Jeon Wonwoo. Fuck, this man has been doing these to you because you haven’t been on more than two dates in the past three years, and neither of them have had you this excited.
God, you don’t even know what you’re doing on this date! The only information Wonwoo gave you over text was to meet him at a restaurant early in the evening, and then he’d take you ‘someplace nice.’ Now usually, you’re more insistent on having your date actually tell you where you’re going. But you also usually don’t go on dates with your son’s teachers, so you figure that there’s always got to be a first for everything, and that you’d like to share some of your firsts with Wonwoo.
After around ten minutes you’re finally pulling up to the little dine in restaurant Wonwoo sent you, chewing on your lip as you look through your window to see if he’s already there. It takes you a few moments to see him, but soon his figure catches your line of vision and you’re giddily grabbing your purse and tucking some hair behind your ear before leaving your car.
At the moment, Wonwoo is looking down at his phone scrolling through god-knows-what, so you take it as your chance to catch him by surprise, steadily walking up to him until you’re just within arm’s length, finally tapping his shoulder. His head snaps up at you quickly, but a warm smile is making his way onto your face after immediately realizing it’s you.
“Uh, hi,” you greet, bringing your hand down and holding them behind your back. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, I had to talk to my cousin about some stuff.”
“It’s okay, I only got here a few minutes ago too,” Wonwoo says sincerely and holy crap you almost forgot how deep and velvety his voice sounded in person. “You look pretty,” and he says it so casually, as if he was commenting on the weather, that the compliment takes more than five seconds to register in your head and then your eyes are widening slightly before looking away.
“Thank you,” you mumble in response, caught by surprise, before returning, “you look really nice too.”
“We can get dinner first,” Wonwoo suggests, pointing at the door to the restaurant. “I know it’s a bit early but I have some place I’d like to take you.”
You raise a brow at him as you follow the direction of his arm, walking through the doors so you two can get seated. “Do I get to know where you’re taking me, Mr. Jeon?” you tease as you sit down at a seat at a table across from Wonwoo.
“Nope,” he replies with a sly smile. “It’s a secret.”
“I should have you know I actually despise secrets,” you tell him, leaning back in the seat.
“Well,” Wonwoo says smoothly, leaning back as well, “I should have you know that you’ll like this one.”
“And how are you so sure of that?”
“A little someone may or may not have told me his mother likes sunsets.” He takes a sip of water, watching the expression on your face turn from something teasing to something of slight embarrassment.
“You talked to Kei about me?” you ask, somewhat accusingly. Wonwoo puts his hands up, shaking his head as he laughs.
“No, no, not like that. He was drawing a picture of a sunset and he told me it was for you because you liked them,” he explains. That makes more sense. “It was a really pretty drawing, did he show you?”
“Yeah, it’s up on our fridge actually,” you say with a smile, recalling the moment when Kei brought the drawing home, all grinning and proud. It’s around now when a waitress comes and takes your orders, returning to your conversation as she leaves. “So you still haven’t really told me where you’re taking me.”
“Well it seems like you aren’t really listening but I told you it’s a secret.”
“Well maybe you’re not listening because I said I don’t like secrets!” you whine.
“I feel like I’m arguing with one of my students right now,” Wonwoo chuckles. “Surprisingly, Kei is a better listener than you.”
Scoffing, you grumble, “Well you should try to feed him vegetables.”
“That is luckily not one of my duties as his teacher.”
“Well it should be!”
Wonwoo is a good talker. And a good listener. Wonwoo is pretty much good at everything, you start to realize as the night progresses. You aren’t sure if everything’s going so natural because you two just click, or because he’s just inhumanly amazing at making you flustered and giddy, or both, but you find that time flies when you two talk.
When you’ve both finished your meal he stands up and takes your hand, the touch so gentle you think you might just faint. He leads you to his car, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. “Hey wait, I have my car here.”
“I know, but the place I want to take you is pretty close and I want to drive you there,” Wonwoo explains. “Trust me, okay? I’ll bring you back here so you can take your car home.” You give him a look and he sighs. “Please,” he says, looking down at you while tilting his head in a way that makes you want to crumble.
“Okay fine, but I have to be back home no later than ten, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” Wonwoo cheers, opening the passenger seat for you before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Trust me, you’ll like this place.”
“You know you’ve been telling me to trust you so much that it’s making me suspicious!” you point out as he begins to drive.
“You’re awfully suspecting, I’m just trying to make sure you have a good night.”
“Well you’re being awfully suspicious! I can’t help it. What if you’re taking me to a scary place to murder me or something!”
“I teach little kids, not kill their mothers.”
“Maybe the teaching is just a cover up,” you speculate as you pretend to think with a finger on your chin. Wonwoo laughs as you look out the window and observe the scenery around you. The once residential area you were driving through has now turned into a scatter of trees and fields—you’ve driven by this place before, but never quite gone into the smaller, inner roads.
“You can think whatever you want to think. But I take it you like the view?”
“It’s pretty,” you say, absentmindedly gazing out the window.
“I told you. We’re almost there—you can close your eyes if you want?”
“This is so suspicious,” you note, albeit closing your eyes and placing your hands over your lids.
“You seem all too willing to go along with the plans of someone you think is a murderer.”
“I don’t think you’re a murderer, I’m just speculating.”
“I’m pretty sure those are the same thing,” Wonwoo mutters as you feel the car turn to a stop, assuming you’ve parked. You shift your body a little, somewhat aimlessly, and you hear a breathy laugh come from your side causing you to frown.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you pout with your hands still over your eyes. “If you’re going to kill me, at least help me out of the car!”
“Alright, alright, just wait one moment.” You hear the seat squeak as he gets up, the sound of the door opening and closing behind him ringing in your ears as you rest back in your seat, anticipating Wonwoo’s next moves.
Sure enough, within seconds your door is being opened, and you feel warm fingers wrap around your upper arm as Wonwoo carefully pulls you out of the car. “You’re being pretty gentle with someone you’re about to kill.”
“You’re really morbid, you know that right?” Wonwoo states.
“What!? I’m only joking,” you whine, following his lead and stepping out onto the ground carefully, letting Wonwoo guide you through wherever it is he’s taken you, finally stopping when he places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them firmly.
“Okay, you can look now,” Wonwoo instructs, and you can tell from his voice that he’s standing right next to you. As you let your hands fall to your sides, you slowly open your eyes, quickly shutting them back closed by the intrusion of light to your unadjusted pupils. Wonwoo watches as you blink your eyes back open a few times, your faces going from bothered to enamored as the scene in front of you becomes visible.
In front of you is a large field of grass, enclosed by trees around it, pockets of daffodils flowing with the wind, and small yellow flowers dotting its surface. Looking up, you catch the orange-pink sky that’s settling over you, and while your eyes are still adjusting, you can confidently name this as one of the prettiest things you’ve ever seen.
“Wow,” you breath out, turning to look at Wonwoo. “You’re telling me this place has been like 20 minutes away from my home and I’ve never known about it?”
Wonwoo snorts at your comment before leading you to the edge of the dip in the road where he parked. “The roads were closed off for a few years and I guess people forgot about it,” he says with a shrug, pointing at a bench that sits at the edge of the field. He sits down while you stay behind, still marveling at the scene in front of you.
“Do you usually enjoy taking the moms of your students to see pretty sunsets?” you ask Wonwoo, wiggling a brow as you sit next to him after a few moments.
“That depends,” Wonwoo replies, leaning back and smoothly resting an arm behind you, his hand falling on your shoulder. You scoot closer to him, and the way his arm follows your movement has your stomach doing tumbles.
“On?” you ask curiously, slightly anxious about his answer—what if this is a normal thing for him?
“On whether or not you want to make this a usual thing.” You nearly choke on your saliva, not expecting that response, eliciting a laugh from the man next to you. The fucking things he does to you. “I take that as you want this to be a regular thing?” he continues.
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest indignantly in faux pettiness, but Wonwoo catches the way you rest your weight on him. “I guess it depends on how pretty the sunset is.” His arm adjusts around you, pulling you closer so you’re pressed up against his side with a hand ghosting its touch on your hip.
“Well I think it’s pretty pretty. Seems kind of hard to turn down a round two of this, don’t you think?” he reasons, and you giggle.
“I guess you’re right.” A comfortable silence settles over you as you both look at the grass and the ever-changing that sits above it. “The grass looks pretty,” you think aloud, stepping up from the bench and towards the lush green fields in front of you. You don’t say anything as you walk into the grass, crouching down to your knees before sitting in the grass, legs straight out in front of you as you rest your upper body on your arms behind you.
Wonwoo follows, and before you know it he’s sitting down next to you, his upper arm brushing next to your shoulder. It’s silent for a few moments as you look ofer the view, trying to collect the racing thoughts that zoom by in your mind.
You must look like you’re deep in thought—which, to be fair, you are—and Wonwoo speaks. “Is everything okay?”
“I, uh—sorry wait, I’m just thinking a lot of things,” you mumble, burying your face in your hands, somewhat embarrassed that you stopped this moment for nothing other than some useless thoughts. You groan quietly as you lay back, letting your head fall onto the grass, looking straight up at the sky.
Wonwoo watches you and purses his lips, grabbing your wrists and gently pulling them away from your face so he can properly look at you as he turns his body over and lays next to you. “Tell me.”
“I guess…” you huff, taking a few moments to think of the right words. Jeon Wonwoo waits. “I think I’m worried. Worried that whatever this is, it isn’t more than just like, a fun night and a nice fuck for you.”
“Do you mean—”
“That sounds bad—ugh—it’s like,” you stutter over your words as you try to come up with a way to say this. Jeon Wonwoo waits. “We hooked up and all, and then there was nothing after that, except there is something after that, you know? And I want to be on the same page with you with what that something is.”
Wonwoo stares at you with some kind of clouded message in his eyes and you take it as your sign to continue speaking.
“That night was…not something I usually do but I don’t know if it’s something that you usually do. And even this—dates—I don’t think I’ve gone on more than one or two a year since I’ve had Kei and,” now you begin to ramble, not even being able to look Wonwoo in the eyes as you pour your heart out, “but you make me want to and this is different for me but I don’t know one hundred percent what your thoughts on this are,” you conclude, shyly looking up to meet his gaze.
You catch Wonwoo chewing his lip for a moment before taking a deep breath and beginning his response, “I think…I know I really like you,” he admits. “I don’t usually hook up either, but you were so pretty. I kept thinking about you the whole next day.”
You perk up at that. “Really?”
“Really. Why do you think I offered for you to stay the night?”
“I thought you were a gentleman,” you joke.
“I am a gentleman. Just only for you,” he adds with a wink that you catch from the corner of your vision.
“So you don’t butter up all the other moms too? I doubt you don’t—there’s no other way for you to have gotten that reputation.”
“I just happen to be a good teacher.”
“A good looking teacher,” you correct. Wonwoo gasps dramatically, turning over again so he can face you.
“Are you defaming my skills as a teacher?”
You scrunch up your nose at his accusation, turning over too and laughing a little at the way the grass tickles your neck. “No. I’m just saying you’re a good looking teacher. You’re a great teacher, I can tell from Kei.”
You don’t expect Wonwoo to bring a hand up to your cheek and press a firm kiss on your lips. It’s the first time you’ve felt his lips in days, and although it’s short, it’s sweet and fulfilling. “You’re a great mom,” and he pauses, “I can tell from Kei.”
You grin so widely you have to turn away from him out of embarrassment, hoping the cool evening breeze will soothe your burning cheeks. “I try.” You sit up finally, looking down at Wonwoo who’s still laying down on the grass, watching with two hands behind his head. “How’d you find this place anyways?”
“My mom used to take me here.” There’s something in his voice—it’s unidentifiable for a moment, but when you see the look on Wonwoo’s face, you place it. Pursing your lips at where you have a feeling this is going, you reach your hand out, motioning for him to hold it.
You two don’t speak as he sits up, encasing his warm hands around yours. It’s a silent message, you think, and you don’t need to say anything for Wonwoo to know that you understand. “I’m happy I’m here with you,” he finally says, squeezing your hand just a bit tighter.
“I’m happy that you took me here,” you admit.
The air is lighter now, and Wonwoo asks, “So you finally understand that I’m not trying to kill you, right?”
“Um, I think I still need to think about that…” your voice trails off as you look off into the distance with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe another kiss might convince me, though…” You give Wonwoo a look and doesn’t hesitate to pull you by the hand and into his hold, pressing his lips against yours.
His hold on you is so gentle yet so firm, pulling you close and sliding his tongue against yours. The innocence that laced your fingers with his is replaced with an overwhelming feeling of desire—you think you might just go insane. When he pulls away, you audibly whine. “Is that good enough for you?” Wonwoo coos.
“You can’t just kiss me like—like that and then just stop,” you complain, shifting to sit on your knees so you can face him fully. Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs at you, but when he looks back at you, his gaze on you is—fuck—it’s definitely something.
“Car?” he asks, and your eyes only need to flicker towards his SUV that’s parked just a few meters away before he’s standing up and you’re scrambling to take his hand so you can follow him, nearly running into the back seat with him.
Wonwoo sits in the backseat and you climb in right after, situating your knees on either side of him as he closes the door behind you. The second he’s done he’s pulling you by the waist impossibly close to his body, capturing your lips in another fierce kiss.
Wonwoo kisses you the same way roses bloom in spring, the way sun shines in summer, the way leaves brown in autumn, the way snow falls in winter—he kisses you like it’s so natural, it’s imprinted into his very DNA.
The thought has you melting under his touch, and when his hot mouth leaves yours to trail its way down, sucking and nipping at the flesh of your neck, you find yourself aching for more. There’s that buzz at the depth of your core and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck.
“This skirt, fuck, you were driving me crazy all evening,” Wonwoo mutters into your ear as you grind into him, hands coming up to squeeze the flesh of your thigh, fingers inching up and under your skirt.
“Maybe,” you gasp as he pushes you down harder, your clothed core pulsing at the contact, “you’re just really horny.” Wonwoo scoffs, and although you know he’s trying to come off as composed, you watch the way his eyebrows are slightly furrowed.
“Maybe,” he retorts, “you just make me horny.” You’re about to lean in and kiss him again when a passing thought comes to mind. “You should know I really want you and me to go somewhere, but if you want reassurance that you are more than just an amazing lay, I didn’t plan on this happening today,” he groans as you go back to rocking your hips into his, leaning down to push the seat back so he could lay further down making it easier for you to straddle him. “And to add to that fact, I didn’t even bring condoms,” he adds shamefully.
“Guess I’m just that irresistible huh,” you murmur into his mouth as you lean in for a kiss, Wonwoo’s arms making their way back to your waist.
“Mhm,” he agrees. “But seriously, no condoms,” he grunts when he brings his fingers under your skirt and over your soaked panties. You gasp at the familiar feeling of his fingers running over your clothed folds, stilling your hips so Wonwoo can continue his ministrations.
“Okay so you like skirts,” you note, voice strained as Wonwoo watches you try to keep your composure, “Anything else that turns you on? You know, so I can make sure that I totally don’t wear that next time.”
Wonwoo chuckles as his middle finger rubs over your clit, and you let out a high pitched moan. “Well I’m not sure yet…still have to see you in different outfits, you know?” Fuck, it’s really hard to pay attention to his words when his deft fingers are nearly having you humping his hands from how fucking good it feels.
“Ah—Won—fuck,” his name escapes your lips as you look down at his hand that’s buried beneath your skirt but not giving you quite what you want. “I guess that means—ah—that you’re just going to have to take me out more,” you manage to gasp out as he slides your panties to the side, the cool evening air hitting your slick core.
“Yeah?” Wonwoo looks amused when he says it, and you burn from the humiliation of falling apart on top of him, but you don’t back away. “Want more, angel?” he coos and you can’t even help the way you clench around the ghost of his fingers at the words. Yeah, angel, you want to be Wonwoo’s angel. His angel.
“Yeah, Wonwoo, want more,” you plead, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can look at him with glassy eyes. “Please? Make me feel good, please?”
Wonwoo isn’t sure how he’s holding himself back. Yes, he’s usually good with self control in all situations but the way you’re looking at him has his mind overcome with nothing but pure hunger. The thought of you being bent over the back seat, fucking you so hard that he’s the only one you can smell, see, think, feel, has his pants feeling incredibly tight.
The release of tension that he once felt when you were grinding against him is no longer there, but the only thought at the forefront of his mind right now is making you feel good. The way your eyebrows are slightly pinched together, eyes shutting tight when he runs a tentative finger through your wetness, the soft pleas of his name on the tip of your tongue—god, Wonwoo would do anything and everything for you if you just asked him, saying his name like that.
“You want me to make you feel good?” he finally gives in, circling the tip of his middle finger around your hole before finally plunging it knuckle’s deep in one go. You cry out at the welcome intrusion, letting your head instinctively fall to Wonwoo’s shoulders as you needily grind down on his finger, wanting—no, needing—more.
Wonwoo takes his time with you, using only one finger to drag in and out of you until you lift your head up and look him so fiercely in the eye, silently begging for more so intensely, that he can’t heed your requests. Easily slipping in another finger, he downright moans at the feeling of you hugging his digits so tightly.
“Wo—” you moan, “Wonwoo,” and fuck the way you say it has him nearly falling apart just as much as you are. “Feels so good,” you tell him, delirious on the feeling of him fingering you. His fingers reach so much further, so much harder than you could ever imagine doing on your own, and this moment reminds you of the many nights in the past month you’ve spent squirming on your bed, trying to recreate the same feeling from weeks ago.
“You look so pretty like this,” Wonwoo praises, and the words do wonders for you, and even moreso, for you cunt. “So wet—dripping all over me,” he whispers, and you whine at the way you feel yourself grow closer to your edge from his filthy words alone.
As his two fingers continue to rub against your hot, clenching walls, he brings his thumb up to smooth over your aching clit, and the way you gasp tells Wonwoo that whatever he’s doing, he should keep doing it. He doesn’t stop his fingers, nor does he stop his mouth, occasionally pulling your head up to kiss you and other times whispering pure filth into your ears as you begin to tremble under his hold.
“I—wanna cum,” you plead, bringing your head up from his shoulder and using your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “Can I cum, Wonwoo, please—please?”
Your face is flushed, pupils dilated, lips swollen, and Wonwoo can’t ever imagine another universe where he can say no to you. “Yeah baby,” he urges you on, “cum all over my fingers. Make a mess.”
And who are you to deny him? Your orgasm hits you at full force as Wonwoo’s fingers speed up one last tight, thumb circling your clit simultaneously until his touch is the only thing you can feel and his eyes are the only thing you can see.
His name flows from honey off your tongue and Wonwoo loves the sound so much, he thinks he might just cum in his pants. He shakes the thought, watching you come down from your high, slipping his fingers out to readjust your panties and skirt. You watch him with hazy eyes as he does so, and Wonwoo takes his chances with your fucked out state.
Bringing his slick fingers up to your face, it doesn’t even take half a second before you’re wrapping your mouth around his digits, tasting yourself, tasting him. God, if Wonwoo didn’t think you were the one earlier, he definitely thinks you’re the one now.
He pulls his fingers out with a small ‘pop’ sound soon enough, looking at you with a grin. “Seems like you wanted this just as much as I did, huh?” Wonwoo teases, watching you as your erratic breath slowly comes to a steady pulse. “So much for calling me horny.”
“I-I told you,” you tell him shakily, “You look really nice.”
Wonwoo looks down, scanning over his outfit before replying, “So jeans and a t-shirt? I guess I’m listing those down as your turn ons. C’mon, give me something else to work with.” You roll your eyes as you slowly push yourself off of him, much to his confusion. You settle yourself in the cramped space between his legs, feeling yourself squirm at the sight of him realizing what you’re about to do.
“Uh, well,” you start off by bringing his hand that’s placed on his thigh to your cheek, the moist touch tainting your skin. “When you put your fingers in my mouth,” you say shyly, feeling yourself grow desperate again at the why Wonwoo’s eyes darken, “that was really hot.”
He doesn’t say anything as he nudges a finger against your cheek before prodding at the corner of your mouth. Without warning, he plunges two fingers back into your mouth as you open your lips up for him, pads pushing down on your tongue. You both groan at the implications of what you’re doing as you swirl your tongue around his digits, coating them with your wetness once more.
“Okay, fuck, I can’t do this anymore,” Wonwoo groans, and you open your mouth to free his fingers of yourself as you watch him unbuckle his jeans and push them down to his knees. You quickly crawl forward, sitting up higher as you reach forward and pull his boxers down along with his pants, freeing his length.
You nearly moan at the sight—it’s been so long since you’ve last seen it—long, thick, veiny, and dribbling a bead of precum down the tip. You settle yourself comfortably between his legs, but your feet are still in an awkward position behind you. Nevertheless, the only thing you can think right now is how badly you want to make Wonwoo feel as good as he made you feel.
You waste no time running your palm down the length of his cock, making sure to run your fingers over every curve, every vein, every part of him, as if you were trying to memorize him. As you bring your face closer to his tip, you hear Wonwoo’s breath hitch, lacing his fingers in your hair gently.
Carefully guiding your face closer to him, you stick out your tongue, lapping at the precum that decorates his cock’s bulbous head, and Wonwoo fucking moans at the contact. “Fuck,” he throws his head back, and you can feel your sensitive pussy already begin to heat up again. Eager to please him more, you open your mouth and then quickly close it around his whole top, drinking in the way his grip on your hair tightens. Swirling your tongue around his cock as you slowly push yourself down its length, you moan lowly when his hips jerk into yours slightly, the vibrations only adding to Wonwoo’s pleasure.
“Don’t—fuck nevermind—” Wonwoo grunts, as you pull your head back so that only his tip is brushing against your lips again. Looking up at him with those eyes, you inhale deeply again so you can hollow out your cheeks and push down on him further than before.
You do this a few times, and your jaw begins to ache—Wonwoo is big and his cock is forcing your mouth open so wide you don’t know how you’re even able to move your mouth anymore. Each time you try to push down further, his words of “you’re doing so good angel,” and “fuck, just like that,” are encouraging you to take on more and more and more, and you’re enamored by how you still can’t seem to fit all of him in your mouth.
Using your hands to rub whatever of his length your lips can’t quite reach, you begin to speed up, Wonwoo’s hips thrusting slightly into your mouth simultaneously, and you can now feel his tip kiss the back of your throat. Fighting off the urge to gag, your eyes well up with tears as you grip onto his thigh tightly with the hand you aren’t using to hold him, being egged on by the way Wonwoo repeatedly calls you his angel.As he looks down at you, mouth so fucking full, eyes glassy from the batter of his cock against the back of your throat, Wonwoo can’t think of anything that looks prettier. Not the sunset, not the fields—none of that—just you and all of you.
“Fuck,” his voice is rough and strained as he fights back to cum too early, trying to bask in this moment because holy hell do you know how to use that mouth. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns as you push down so far he can see how much you’re struggling. You pull off of him with heaving breaths, swiping away the globs of saliva that run down your mouth.
Your lips are red and cheeks are slightly shiny from tears and Wonwoo swears he feels his dick twitch at the idea that he did that to you. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, ignoring his words as you return your mouth back to the tip of his mouth, letting your tongue glide over the slit at the top before hollowing your cheeks and letting him use his hands to push you down.
“Fuck, fine,” he groans, being less composed with the way he’s snapping his hips into your mouth. His movements are becoming erratic while yours become sloppy, moving your head up and down so fast it’s dizzying, not pausing your hands rubbing along his length. “I’m gonna cum,” he grunts out one last time, letting go of your hair so you can pull yourself off of him.
The look in your eyes tells him you want otherwise.
Not breaking eye contact, you continue to run your mouth all over his cock, saliva and drool coating your chin in a way that’s so erotic and intimate, it has Wonwoo cumming down your throat within seconds with a heaving groan.
He thrusts into your open mouth a few last times to ride out whatever of his orgasm is left in him before you’re slipping off of him so you can swallow his cum in one large gulp, opening and closing your mouth a few times after to soothe some of the ache in your jaw. Riding down from his high, Wonwoo notices this, gently cupping your face with one hand to look at you carefully. “I’m sorry, did I go too hard?”
You grin, shaking your head. “No. Loved it,” you tell him looking up with bright eyes. Wonwoo feels his heart swell at the sight as he pulls his boxers and pants back on, pulling you up so he can kiss you firmly once before pulling away. You chase his lips for a moment, but he holds back.
“No more of that. I don’t think you’re ready to do another round,” Wonwoo tells you as you roll your eyes, sitting down on his thigh.
“Fine,” you huff, looking out the window to see that the once orange sky is being replaced with a deep purple. “I probably should get back to Kei too…” you murmur to yourself, looking around for your phone to check the time. Wonwoo watches you with his hands on your waist—he finds it so cute how you’re so…comfortable in his hold.
“You wanna drive back to the restaurant now? So you can get your car?” he suggests as you begrudgingly shuffle off of him and out of his hold.
“Yes please,” you reply, not bothering to open the door, simply crawling over the small space between the two front seats and slipping into the passenger seat. Wonwoo waits for you to get over before leaving the car himself so he can move to the driver's seat, fumbling with his keys for a moment before starting the car.
“So, how does it feel to be proven wrong?” Wonwoo asks as he starts driving. You raise a brow at him, signaling him to go on. “You know, since I didn’t kill you and all.”
“I guess you not being a murderer was a pleasant surprise,” you say dramatically. “But be careful Mr. Jeon. I’m on your tail.”
“I haven’t done anything!”
“Not yet.”
You two bicker back and forth and before you know it, the sun has fully set and he’s pulling up to your car parked in front of the restaurant from before. He’s about to get out of the car with you as you reach down to pick up your purse, but you quickly stop him.
“You should probably stay,” you tell him. When he looks at you with confusion, you point at the dark spot on his jeans shyly, giggling at the way your eyes widen. “Yeah, sorry about that,” you murmur. Wonwoo chuckles, looking back at you.
“No it’s okay. It’s hot. But you’re right…I think I’ll just stay in here,” he agrees before letting his gaze fall on you as you place your hand on the door. “Wait,” he says gruffly, and as you turn around you’re met with a soft kiss as he cups your face with one hand. It lasts hardly a second, and when he pulls away his lips pull into a genuine smile. “Text me when you get home, okay?”You nod, butterflies erupting at his care, pulling the door and slowly stepping out. “I’ll see you later, Wonwoo,” you tell him one last time through the open window as you close the door. As you turn around and retreat to your car, all you can think about is how this evening has gone just how you wanted it to, and more. As you begin your drive home, a funny thought pops up in your head among the multitude of memories that make you go giddy.
Jeon Wonwoo may not be a murderer, but he just might be the death of you.
a/n: hope you enjoyed! ngl the past few days have been so shitty for me and my only escape is writing this story bc it makes so happy so ummmmm yeah! i'm not super happy with the ending but i hope it will suffice. please like, reply/comment, and reblog! you can also send me an ask or add a comment if you'd like to be tagged in pt.3 or if you want to be removed from the series tag list c:
tags: @etherealyoungkngk @noonareads @mingycr @everyw0nu @hananibooboo @gaebestie @rhaenyras-raven @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @wonw00t @galursi @horny4hosh @everyw0nu
#jeon wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo smut#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fanfic#jeon wonwoo fluff#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo x you#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt fanfic#seventeen fanfic#📝 writing
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Enhypen Hyungline when you cockblock them :(
Jake panicking in photo (>_<) ------⤴
A/N : Hellooo I am writing this after most of you picked it from the poll :) Hope you enjoy! I'm accepting emoji Anons! (I'm making a list!)
Pairing : Bf!Hyungline X Fem!Reader
Warnings : Suggestive, boners, just hyungline tryna get their dick wet.
Word Count : 1,026 Words (about 250 words each)
Masterlist
» Lee Heeseung «
His eyes shot open, his breathing ragged as sweat beaded his forehead. Fuck. He just had a wet dream. A dream a little to realistic. "Heeseung! Ahh" he could still hear your sweet moans ringing in his ears as you fucked yourself on his cock in his dream.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying too ignore the aching between his legs. He already knew it; He was hard. He tried to ignore his erection, but the more he tried the more painful it felt.
He couldn't get off without you, even if he tried. He rolled around, gratefully finding you next to him, rolled on your side. His hands found your waist almost out of instinct, pushing you closer to his crotch.
The second your ass made contact with his clothed cock, he shamelessly started rocking his hips against you desperately for relief. "Y-Y/n" he whimpered out, hesitant but also wishing you just woke up and took care of him. "Y/n" he called out again, a little guilty for waking you up this late.
"Hee?" you asked softly, trying to turn around and face him.
"Yeah, baby it's me" he replies, biting his lips at your innocence.
"Everything oka-" you felt it.
"Y-yeah, I just need you" he admits, voice raspy with sleep.
"At 2:46 Am in the morning?" you asked, rubbing your eyes "No" you firmly added, unwrapping his hands from your hips and shutting down your eyes again.
He physically whines out and pouts "P-please baby, it hurts" he begs, though keeping his hands to himself.
"Nope, I don't feel like it tonight" you explain "stop being a horn dog and control your erections" you said, smiling to yourself and going back to sleep.
"You're so mean" he sighs to himself, accepting the fact that he got blue balled. :(
» Park Jay «
Jay knew he had a busy schedule. Lately he's been coming home late and very horny. But, being the thoughtful person he was, even if he had a raging boner, he wouldn't want to wake you up very late at night just to relieve himself.
But today, he came home fairly early. Well, even if it was half past ten at night, he found you in the kitchen, still washing the plates from dinner. This was his chance.
He makes his way over to the counter, wrapping his hands around your waist - just to back-hug you.
"Hi baby~" he greets happy to be with you after a long day of work. You greet him back, turning your head around to give him a short kiss.
"How was work?" you ask him, your hands still busy with the dishes.
"It was okay" he starts off sighing "I was thinking about you most of the time" he admitted.
"Is that why you're trying to get your dick wet?" you ask bluntly, referring to the not-so-subtle movements of his hips against you.
"I- uhh, maybe?" he feels his cheeks heat up.
"Too bad, I'm on my period" and with that you dry up your hands, lay a kiss on his flushed cheeks and go get ready for bed, leaving him staring blankly in disbelief.
Sigh, guess he's gonna have to rub one out in the shower.
» Sim Jake «
It was a lazy Friday and you and your sweet boyfriend Jake were one the couch, binge watching a random Netflix show. He was on one end of the couch, you were on another.
As the show went on, he felt himself getting more and more bored when he could be fucking you right then and there. You however, were very invested in the show, laughing at every little joke that Jake missed or paying close attention when he was just yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"Y/n, don't you think this is a little boring?" he asks all of a sudden, making you pout.
"You could've told me you weren't enjoying the show" you pouted.
"Yeah, I'd enjoy you much more" he smirked, flicking his eyebrows up and down.
"Oh" you simply say, shrugging your shoulders and resuming your show.
He stares at you in shock, expecting you to at least do something, but when you don't he makes his way to your end of the couch, burying his face in your tummy and holding your waist.
"Y/nnnn pleaseee" he begged, squeezing you harder, making you giggle "Need you"
"Nah uh, I'm not in the mood Jakey, sorry" you confirm, nevertheless stroking his hair.
He puffed out, getting up "I have to go to the bathroom" He announced, kissing your forehead and making his way to the bathroom.
At one point you turned off the television and decided to listen to his exaggerated moans as he jerked himself off, secretly laughing to yourself.
» Park Sunghoon «
You jumped in shock when Sunghoon slid the shower curtain open, sliding in behind you.
"Hoon! Jesus you scared me" you sigh, sucking a breath in.
"Jesus, am I that scary" He jokes, tickling your sides, "Booooo!"
"Shut up dummy" you laugh, turning around to face him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. His hands rubbed all over your back, before landing on your ass, giving it a squeeze. "Perv" you roll your eyes playfully.
"You have a nice ass babe" he admits, giving it another squeeze to emphasize his point.
"So do you" you say, reaching for his ass and giving it a light slap.
"Heyyyy" he whines, swatting your hands away. You giggle at his blushing cheeks, pinching them. It's only when you realise why he's blushing after feeling his tip nudge your belly.
"Extra perv" you giggle, watching as he tries to defend himself.
"It's not my fault your ass is so soft" he blames you ass of growing him an erection, making you shrug your shoulders.
"Unlucky for you, I'm not a fan of shower sex" you say, sliding the curtain open and getting out, leaving him hanging with a raging boner. "B-but" he sighed when you he realised you were already out of the room.
He better have a good mental image of your nice ass cause he's gonna need it to get himself off.
Hi, thanks for reading till the end! I hope you enjoyed this post! Have a good day/night and remember that ily <333
If you enjoyed this post, you could support this blog by tipping me here! Anything it greatly appreciated.
#enhypen#enha#enhypen masterlist#enhypen smut#jake enhypen#jay enhypen#enhypen jake#lee heeseung#jungwon#yang jungwon#sunghoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon smut#jay park#jay smut#sim jake smut#jake smut#enha smut#jungwon smut#enhypen ff#enhypen hyung line#enha hyungline#heeseung smut#heeseung hard hours#enhypen hard hours#enha heeseung#heeseung fanfic#enha hard hours#enha hard thoughts#nat writes : enha
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Surprise
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x mom!wife! Reader
Warnings: just fluff
Summary: Surprising Lewis with little Hamilton’s first time in the paddock.
Lewis and I met in Spain when we were on vacation.
I was on vacation from my job and he was on summer break and by some kind of miracle we met in a bar.
I was alone drinking while my friends were dancing, I was excited that we were going to go out until minutes before my ex-boyfriend had the courage to send me an invitation to his wedding with the woman he cheated on me with.
My mother had sent me a message warning me because the address he knew was the address of my parents' house.
So this let me down completely.
Not that I was still in love with that idiot, far from it, but the fact that he had the courage to invite me made me realize that I have spent three years of my life with that person who didn't even deserve one month of my time.
And that's when Lewis showed up, I guess the fact that he found a sad woman in a bar, drinking alone on a Friday night caught his attention.
That's when we started talking and I as a person completely uninterested in any kind of sport didn’t knew who he was, in fact I only found out months later that we were already talking.
He didn't hide who he was, in fact he told me both his name and what he did, but he didn't specify that he was a formula 1 driver and that he was one of the best ones that existed.
We exchanged numbers and talked for months until he was in England for a race and invited me to go, this was when I fell in love with the sport but also where I realized how much damage it would do to my life just to be seen with him.
People found my social medias which at the time were bombarded with horrible comments about me and my appearance and that it was impossible for him to be with a person like me.
It was then where I became terrified and distanced myself a bit from him because of this. After much insistence he managed to convince me to go out to dinner with him.
That same night he was honest with me, that if we decided to try to have a relationship unfortunately it would be like that, people hating me without even knowing me and telling lies about me.
In other circumstances I would have walked away because this life of being known was not for me, I liked being unknown to the public eye and that the amount of people who would judge me would be less than being the girlfriend of the most famous Formula One driver.
But I knew that if I didn't take the risk I would miss out on one of the best things that would happen in my life, and now I'm sure I would have regretted it.
Lewis and I have been together for 5 years now, and every day I realize how much in love with him I am.
The first years of our relationship were very hectic, the weeks away for races and events, the thousands of messages exchanged during the day and FaceTime calls at night, and those were also the most complicated years of the relationship.
It was like a test, a test to know if the relationship would survive the thousands of lies about betrayal from both parts, the manipulated photos to look like things that weren’t true, the nights of crying and tears for not knowing what to believe even though we were absolutely sure that everything was just a big lie.
I'm sure these years were essential for both of us to learn to trust each other.
——————
It was the weekend of the Silverstone GP and I had lied to Lewis that I couldn't go because I had a lot of work to do, but in fact here was Luke and I in the car heading to the track.
Lucas Hamilton was our 3 year old son. This would be his father's first race that he would be watching straight from the garage.
When we found out that I was pregnant, we agreed that above all, Luke would be preserved from the toxicity of the internet. His fans knew that he existed and also knew his name because when he was born we thought it was only fair that the fans knew about him from us and not from the paparazzi, but they had never seen more than a small body in the pictures we posted.
Lewis had already shown interest in taking the little one to watch him race but I still didn't feel comfortable about showing him to the world, but I knew how much he wanted me to go this weekend and I also knew how upset he was that I couldn't go.
So nothing better than to surprise him with our presence plus Luke's first time.
Toto had helped me with the plan, sent me the paddock passes and let the security guards know that I would be here.
I got out of the car, I put the paddock passes on mine and Luke’s neck and carefully pulled him out of the car.
"Where's daddy?" He asks as soon as I lock the car and we start walking towards the paddock.
"We're going to go see him now okay?" He agrees and takes my hand again as soon as we enter the paddock
As soon as they recognized me the cameras all turned to me and with Lewis Hamilton's faceless son along it was as if the photographers multiplied.
As we were getting close to the garage, Lewis was coming out of it with Roscoe along with him and as soon as Luke saw him he let go of my hand and came out screaming.
"Daddy." Lewis recognized that little voice on and he opened the most beautiful smile as soon as he saw his son running up to him, even Roscoe started barking.
"Hey buddy." He bent down and picked him up on his hip. "What are you doing here?"
"Me and mommy came to see you." He says excitedly and soon he sees me. "I missed you daddy."
"I missed you too buddy." Just then the three of them come toward me. "You said you were going to work."
"I lied, I wanted to surprise you."
"You sure surprised me." He gives me a kiss.
"It's bad to lie mommy."
"It really is, isn’t." Lewis says in a teasing tone. "We're going to have to ground Mommy."
"That's right."
"Are you taking your father's side?" He agrees.
Luke was definitely a daddy's boy, besides being an exact copy of Lewis, even more now that he’s bigger, the only thing that’s the same as me is the eyes, Lewis has dark eyes and mine’s are green.
"Daddy can I sit in your car?"
"Of course you can, let’s ask uncle Toto to give you some gloves too, come on."
We pulled into the garage where Lewis put Luke into the car, after we were together for a while Lewis had to go because the race was going to start and when he won we ran to the front of the podium where as soon as he jump out of the car he came running over to where we were.
And I could have sworn that this race was the most special one for him.
Bonus scene!
Y/nhamilton instagram post
Liked by @lewishamilton, @anthonyhamilton, @mercedesf1, @sebastianvettel and others 91939
Y/nhamilton The best Weekend we had in a long time. Me and Luke had the best time here in Silverstone and there’s nothing better than an F1 race, specially when daddy win the race.
Thanks to everyone that came to support my husband, Lewis and our family really appreciate the love.
Tagged: @lewishamilton
LewisHamilton thanks for everything, you are the best mama and I’m so lucky to have you. Thanks for bringing our baby boy to the race.
Y/nhamilton we love you so much
Sebastianvettel so nice to see the two of you this weekend, beautiful family
Y/nhamilton thank you Seb, we have to plan a meeting with the kids
Yourmom miss you guys so much, the three of you have to come visit. He also looks a lot like Lewis.
Liked by LewisHamilton and y/nhamilton
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1#lewis hamilton#england nt#f1 instagram au#lewis hamilton art#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton headers#lewis hamilton edit#lewis hamilton fanart#lewis hamilton icons#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton wallpaper#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton masterlist#lewis hamilton instagram au#lewis hamilton aesthetic#lewis hamilton angst#lewis hamilton social media au#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton drabble#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton blurb#mercedes#mercedes amg petronas#mercedes amg f1
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A Little Bit More
25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington
Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m)
A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.
Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.
It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.
Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.
He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.
It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself.
Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.
His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.
She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.
“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.
“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.
“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”
She groaned over the line, “Billy.”
“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”
“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”
He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”
“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”
Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”
It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”
“Yes, babe.”
“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”
Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”
“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”
“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”
He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”
The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”
He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.
“Are you now?”
The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.
…has sent an image.
With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.
“Jesus..”
She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”
“I-fuck, yes…”
Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.
“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”
She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”
Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him.
His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.
“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Mmhm..” he murmured.
Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.
“Oh fuck…”
Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”
He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.
She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”
“-ffuck-me too, baby-”
His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.
“are you on the sofa?...”
He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”
“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.
He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.
She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.
He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.
“Do you remember, baby?”
“Yes…”
“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.
"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"
"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.
"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."
"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"
She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."
Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.
"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."
His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.
"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."
She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.
"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."
Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.
"Oh fuck-"
On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.
His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.
And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"
She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.
Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.
Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.
When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.
"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.
"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."
She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.
But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.
And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.
"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"
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#billy washington x oc#billy washington x y/n#billy washington x reader#billy washington#billy washington fanfic#billy washington smut#billy washington fic#billy washington fanfiction#billy washington x you#billy washington x fem!reader#trigger point series#trigger point fanfic#trigger point billy washington#billy washington trigger point#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell characters#12daysofsmuff
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In Your Corner
Natasha Romanoff x F!R
Request | WC: 3,885
It had been supposed to be another great year that had come to a close for you. Every year, without fail Tony would throw you a party, but this year he was preoccupied with his family. He hadn't even had the time to send you a text.
That hurt, but you new infants were a lot of work so you gave him and Pepper that pass, but as you entered the communal kitchen you found yourself disappointed again. You'd been used to waking up to the smell of a homemade breakfast made by your best friend, but this year Wanda was off to Cannes with Vis for an impromptu trip, she too had forgotten to text.
The remainder of the team had seemingly also forgotten, each one just hanging around the compound and your lover was off on a mission so you couldn't fault her for the lack of text.
——
So, there you sat, on your shared floor with a pint of whatever frostbitten ice cream was left in your freezer as you watched Friends reruns and cried into your couch cushions as Rachel and Ross fought over the terms of a "break".
The show continued on, laugh tracks sounding off, even when it wasn't really that funny but your focus had since shifted to your dry phone. When you realized no one would remember now as it'd already reached noon you settled into the loneliness and slipped off into a nap.
—
Natasha was stressed to the max on a quinjet, pacing back and forth as Clint flew them home. She'd been gone for two weeks now, and she told Fury that there was no way she'd miss your birthday. It was too important to her that the two of you at least have time to celebrate.
Your life was the most important thing to her, so of course the day of your birth was as well.
So he sent in some agents to replace them as the bulk of the work had been completed and all that was really left was the clean up. There was no reason to extend what had already been extended from a weekend away to two weeks.
When they landed she rushed off the jet and went straight to the common area. She was softly panting from the exertion, but her breathing slowed to nothing as she surveyed the room. Steve and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couches reading, while Sam and Peter were on the ground, the former one cursing as they played a round of Mario Kart.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Clint's eyes widened as he walked in as Natasha growled. The men in the room looked to her confused, the youngest of them all was the first to speak. "We're having a chill day Mrs. Romanoff."
"Wrong answer," Clint tossed out before rushing out of the room to debrief with Hill as he promised Natasha he'd do for her sake.
"Now why would you be doing that Parker?"
"Natasha, we don't have the energy for your riddles, so speak your peace," Bruce boldly piped up from the corner he'd been sat in.
"Banner, I suggest you leave now," she gritted, her fists bunched up, and the scientist lost all of his bite when he remembered the Hulk wasn't going to be on his side. He soon left with his head down and metaphorical tail tucked.
Which was the best gift your wife could honestly offer: his disappearance. He'd been nothing but bitter since you two got together.
"What's wrong Nat?" Bucky asked, much softer and genuine. Of all people here he'd be granted a pass as he'd not been here in the years prior.
"I'm just wondering where the decorations are, and why my wife isn't here surrounded by the people who she celebrates joyously every year."
Expressions of guilt, and trepidation overtook the entirety of the limited team members faces.
"Friday, where's Y/N?" Natasha asked, only adding salt to the wounded men as she replied: "Asleep upstairs on your couch, it appears she had cried herself to sleep about a half hour ago. Shall I wake her for you Agent Romanoff?"
"No, please do let me know if she wakes up." Friday agreed, and she shifted her attention back to the men who'd all stood to their feet.
Natasha's heart had sank at the notion of you feeling the way you did, as if you were easily overlooked, and not valued, so she knew she needed to fix the mess everyone had made.
"Peter, swing to the bakery at once and return with a tray of those cupcakes." The young boy looked defeated, your wife didn’t hold this against him, on account that he was a kid, but she didn’t waver with her glare and that got him to scramble to activate his suit and leave.
“Wilson, Rogers, and Barnes, go decorate the garden, leave behind your generous gifts, then stay out of sight for the rest of the day."
The redhead then shot off texts to everyone else to scold them just in case they too forgot. Then she took off to the gym lockers so she could freshen up without having to enter your shared floor and risk waking you up just yet.
After she changed from her suit into a pair of shorts and a muscle tee she set off to collect you for a day of last minute, but proper plans. The guys had just finished their part, and left to Wilson's apartment so she could fix the day.
As she entered your shared space she was greeted by an obnoxious laugh track, your melted ice cream and your sleeping form.
Natasha took a minute to survey the scene, and after a moment of admiring you her heart effectively broke as she eventually saw the dampened fabric of your couch. If not for her desire to celebrate your birth she'd be stealthily bringing an end to all that made you this sad.
With a quiet, determined step she moved about your shared floor, cleaning up the mess you'd been accumulating ever since she left. Then she settled a kiss to your cheek as she shut off the TV before venturing off down the hallway to run you a warm tub full of water. After she set the place up with a sprinkling of gifts, and a whole lot of love she’d set off to collect you.
To her luck you'd just groggily sat up, she found it funny that the silence is what woke you up as you'd just been snoring through Friends only a half an hour prior. "Natty?"
"Good morning sleepy head," she teased as she moved out of the hallway and into your sight. There was a dullness to your gaze as you tiredly surveyed her, not subtle at all as you looked her over for wounds, then again to check her out.
Natasha smirked, and began to approach you, she settled down beside you and cupped your cheek. There was a glimmer of hope in your gaze, and she spoke fast, making sure not to crush it. "Happy Birthday moya lyubov'."
"You remembered?" You sobbed, a bit dramatic you'd realize later, because of course she did, but in the moment you felt relieved. "Oh detka, how could I ever forget such an important day, hm? It's my most treasured."
Her lips pressed to your cheeks, catching the tears that slipped through your lashes, then they traversed the expanse of your face until they finally landed on your own as she pulled your body into her lap in one swift motion.
"Why's my pretty girl up here alone on her most special of days, hm?" Natasha knew, but she wanted to try and get your perspective and see the best possible way to change it. "Because everybody forgot Natty," you hiccuped as you burrowed into her neck. "Except for Friday."
Natasha hummed, her body slowly rocked yours in an attempt to hopefully soothe you as her own blood boiled with pure contempt.
"My sources say there was a cosmic fluke on Wanda's behalf, because she adores you so."
Natasha prayed for her sake this was true, because though she'd lose in a fight with the unfair advantage of powers, she wouldn't refrain from smacking her around anyways.
"The rest were simply forgetful idiots, but they felt terrible and have started the apology train," she decided to be honest, forgoing her initial plan to lie to protect your feelings. The men didn't deserve such shielding, they instead deserved to stew in their guilt for eternity.
"I-I don't mean to be dramatic Natty," you sniffled, "But I never forget anyone, why would they forget me? I just want the same in return."
"I understand detka, it's fair to expect," she agreed with a soft tone, "I just want you to know I would never forget, I only didn't text because I was racing home to surprise you."
"I know you would never forget honey, some years it's you who has to remind me," you giggled, and it instantly brought a smile to your lovers face to see you already perking up.
"Well, in the spirit of such a monumental occasion I have ran a tub for you, and set out a new outfit for you to slip into for our plans."
Your head whipped back from its place on her shoulder, face instantly lighting up, "Plans?"
Natasha shook her head with a fond smile, her fingers then raised up to her lips to imitate a zipper and so you whined: "Natty please?"
"Detka, I want it to be exciting, so go get ready and meet me in the garden when you're done."
The two of you stood to your feet, reluctantly moving apart, but before you fully separated your wife pulled you in for a passionate kiss.
"Take your time, and relax your mind Y/N." She pecked your lips a final time, then left.
As you entered your room your heart swelled at the sight of the outfit she'd bought, you'd been eyeing the fit for awhile, and of course she had been watching you just the same. Nothing was ever going to get by your super spy of a wife.
Once you finished your soak, with a new set of body products, you slid out and into the new royal green cropped sweater vest, and skirt. Then after handling your skincare routine you skipped all the way to the garden where you found your wife stood there patiently waiting.
Natasha subtly gulped at the sight of you, and for a moment the both of you remained silent as you looked the other over. She had changed from her casual locker attire into a loose fit black button up polo, with a pair of grey slacks. It was a simple choice, but still deeply alluring as her arms managed to bulge out the stretchy fabric, and her pants were form fitting enough that you could admire her toned behind.
Once you reeled in your devious gaze you were reduced to a woman on the verge of another breakdown. There stood your wife with a bouquet of black roses, and honeysuckles. It had become her goal to pick you meaningful flowers, and the contrast in bright colors meant to symbolize eternal love, intermixed between the more dark, morbid version of the classic rose was for an that leads to a beginning.
In the moment your curiosity was peaked, but you settled on letting the day play out before you sought out clarity. Your wife was cunning, and never moved without a plan, and you were never one to doubt her so you'd easily wait.
Natasha's free hand hung in the air, beckoning you to approach her, and as you accepted she swiftly pulled you into her body. She lowered the bouquet, allowing you the chance to smell the unique combination before she set them in a vase on the center of the decorated table.
“You look gorgeous love.” Natasha blushed, and softly huffed, “That was my line detka.”
As you giggled mischievously into her chest she gave the nervous spider-teen who was lingering on the side of the compound a thumbs up from behind your back. Peter lowered the pink box, and white bags onto the table with his webs, then as previously instructed he vanished.
“He’s just a kid Natty,” you called your wife out as you tried to pull away from her, but she kept your bodies connected with a hand on your lower back, as her lips sought your warmth.
Once satisfied she let you go, eyes admiring the way that yours stayed shut an extra beat, you always took a moment to recover, even when it was just a peck on the lips. You swore you’d never get used to the feeling of hers against yours. It was electrifying, and no matter how brief there was never a lack of love to be found.
Once you shakily breathed out through your nose, and your eyes fluttered open you were met with your wife who was patiently waiting. Natasha pursed her lips, then doubled down. “That’s true Y/N, that’s why I still let him see you, but he also has a phone with a calendar.”
You knew not to push it, because in the end she wasn’t wrong. Instead you thanked the boy via text, and put your phone in dnd, no longer caring about the sudden influx of well wishes, as your greatest one to be was sat before you.
Natasha handed you a sandwich, and then after listening to you animatedly tell her stories of the guy’s stupidity, she reflected back and told you all about Clint’s on their mission. Then as if having the power to summon him, the man was beside you with a candle and a lighter.
“Happy Birthday Y/N/N,” he greeted with a grin and a stubbly kiss to your temple. “The kids made you this,” he passed you a paper with the whole Barton family on it, and right to the side of them was you in Nat’s arms with Liho on your shoulder. Then he passed you an envelope, “And Laura purchased you this.”
While Natasha pulled out a gorgeous cupcake decorated to look like a peony you tore it open.
“Oh my gosh, no way!” You shrieked, “We’re going with them to Disneyland Natty!” She met your enthusiasm with a nervous chuckle, then seamlessly blew passed her anxieties as she lit the solo candle and began to sing. Clint joined her in the celebratory tune, but fortunately for you your wife’s melodic voice carried the tune.
Clint slipped off a moment later, with a to go container of various flower inspired cupcakes, then Natasha guided you to her sports car. It never ceased to make your heart flutter when she naturally moved to buckle you in. There was never a time in your whole entire time knowing her that she didn’t do this. It was actually how you realized she liked you in the way you did her. Because once you actually saw how she unbuckled Tony’s for him in contrast.
“Where are we going?” Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly, “Stop asking baby girl, you know I’m a steel fortress with this stuff.”
You grumbled all the way, until you saw the arcade, with Yelena and Kate grinning outside. Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter as you raced from the car and into her sisters arms. The blonde spun you around, then after you were back on the ground Kate pulled you in.
“Come on Y/N,” Yelena shrieked, “We must play as many games as possible. The final winner gets the crown in Kate Bishop’s hand.
You raced off with a shout of: “Game on!”
“Thanks for coming so last minute, I know you just got home from an undercover mission,” Natasha genuinely said, and the archer turned to her with a tired smile. “It was the least we could do, plus, look at how happy they are.”
Natasha did look, her eyes hardly ever left you to begin with, but in moments like these, where you were in the middle of unbridled joy, she especially wanted to be a spectator. Seeing you and Yelena playing like little kids always made her heart soar, and her mind run with dreams.
Of a future similar to this moment, but with house parties and summer barbecues. It was all she wanted, and she reckoned it was time you two got started on the rest of your journey. So, after about an hour of free fun, where you beat Lena in the final game, reigning you champ she called out to you both to say it was time to go.
“You’re welcome for letting you win,” Yelena angrily said, making you giggle as you realized she most certainly did no such thing. Her eyes narrowed, but a grin soon overtook her face as you yanked her into a goodbye hug. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate my birthday.”
“I will never miss a chance to beat you at air hockey Y/N Romanoff.” Her arms tightened, and she softly whispered: “Happy Birthday.”
“Okay, let’s wife swap now.” Natasha’s tone was playful, but a spark of jealousy was easily detected. “Hold your panties Natalia. Y/N is all yours. Also Kate Bishop is my fiancé, not wife.”
“She’ll be your was with that attitude,” you teased as you shifted to say goodbye to the archer. Who, as was her job, coronated you the ‘Arcade Supreme’ just before slipping you a gift bag then taking off with her grumbling fiancé.
“We’ve got a few more stops detka.” Natasha escorted you back to the car, then the rest of the adventure unfolded as she took you to all of your favorite places. Including the cat cafe where she surprised you with an adoption.
You’d been begging for months to get Liho a girlfriend, but then you ended up getting a male orange tabby, with a missing eye. “He looks kinda like Fury, let’s take him to shield!”
“Detka, I want to live a long life with you,” she teased as you held the cat up. “Stop tempting your fate with the doppelgänger of our boss.”
“At least you agree with me,” you huffed, then set the cat back down before letting your wife take you out of the cafe with the promise of returning in the morning for the little fella.
“You think Liho will mind that his girlfriend is a boy?” You shrugged, smirking around the straw of your frappe. “Love is love Natty.”
It was encroaching evening now, so you’d figured that the night was coming to a close, but when your wife passed the exit for the compound you realized her plan was ongoing.
With the windows rolled down, and your hand interlocked with your wife’s as she drove you across city lined you began to realize the burden of your depressing start had dissipated. The tension in your body melted away, and in a show of direct appreciation you brought her knuckles up to your lips and kissed them.
“What was that for?” You were looking out the window at the vast greenery of New York, but you could hear her smirking and had to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I need a reason to show you, my dear wife, affection?”
Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose not, but if you were saying thanks, I’d also like the same gesture deposited upon my lips please.”
Just as much as you were left a total mess after each kiss, she was left with an insatiable need for more. If she had it her way you’d never part. Her lips would be against yours all day, and if not there, at least somewhere on you.
Before you could even consider her proposal the redhead had pulled over abruptly, the blur of greenery was now more clear to you, and a feeling of serenity washed over you at the view.
“Where are we love?”
Your wife was nervous, something she rarely ever felt, and never let anyone see. Today is going to change the trajectory of your life for good, and she just hopes you’re happy with it.
“Home.” You furrowed your brows as you whipped your head around to meet her gaze after processing the word she’d just blurted. Seeing her nervous smile upon doing so made you lose the frown of confusion. A much softer crease overtook your face as you matched her smile as best you could. “What do you mean?”
“Here.” Natasha unbuckled herself, then she hopped out and gently pulled you from the car. “I, well actually, Tony and I have been working together on this for awhile now.” You cut her off with a gasp of genuine surprise, “You and Stark have been working together and he gets to live to tell others about it?” Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could clarify you gasped again, this time with a horrified look.
“Oh my gosh Natty, did you kill him?” Her face fell into one of pure mortification. “What? No!”
You cast her an unbelieving glance, but then you lost your edge, tone obviously teasing, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t text me today…”
Natasha glared at the notion, and vowed to trip the wires in his suit for such a slight. Then she remembered his hologram that was waiting for you with birthday wishes beyond the hedges.
“Detka, please focus,” she chided, then pulled on your hand until you were just beyond the greenery, and stood before a gorgeous home. The walls were painted a blue tinted grey, with black trimmings, and it was two stories tall.
“This is,” she began, but you cut her off with a squeal, “Our home? Are we finally…” Natasha cut you off next, “Yes, we only have one final mission detka. To settle down for good now.”
“I love you so much Natasha!” She gladly took you into her arms for a hug, then before you could protest she scooped you up like she did on your wedding day, and ran the both of you beyond the threshold of the home. Her lips slammed to yours in the heat of the moment, but the kiss was weak as neither of you could refrain from smiling like idiots. “I love you too Y/N, more than I ever dreamed possible.”
When the night came to a close a few hours later, you heard your phone ding just as your eyes had shut. You begrudgingly peeked an eye back open. "Happy Birthday Y/N/N, I had no service, but I promise you a stack of chocolate chip pancake's when I return on Monday. ❤️"
You smiled, grateful for Wanda's gesture, albeit late it was much better than never at all. All you ever wanted was to have a group of people to love you the same way you'd loved them.
With Natasha pressed into you from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around you as she snored softly you knew without a doubt that you were at the very least loved with reciprocity by her.
—
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff oneshot#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x wife!reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff x you#natasha x reader#natasha x y/n#natasha x fem!reader#natasha x you#gxg
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DD pt 3 part 2 of 2
Fem reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber driver
This art was commissioned to accompany this chapter by the incredibly talented @/ejpuki on Instagram. Please go support the original artist!
Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 1 , Part 4 , Part 5
Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...
TW: MINORS DNI, some blood, little.violence, suggestive content ,age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34), this one is a sad one, inspired by the original comic
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Over the next few days you two text back and forth and talk on the phone. You feel so happy and excited about this budding romance between you two. It's been so long since you felt safe enough to let yourself catch feelings for a guy. You flood his phone while he's at work. Miguel isn't used to someone texting him so often but it's kind of cute how you update him on every little thing that's happening in your day and he has to try not to burst out laughing in the break room at some of the Instagram reels you send him.
Your text convo:
Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️) : Why tf would you send me a video of a banana cat with that sad music 😂😐🤨 and who is that white guy that's always randomly showing up at the end of videos with that whistle tune playing?
You(amor ❤️): it's a meme babe you don't get it😂😂😂 it's supposed to be random, that's what makes it funny af. And that's Josh Hutcherson. You've never seen or read Hunger Games?!
Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): no, I haven't. Your sense of humor is a little broken I'm afraid. 🤨 You kids and your memes.
You(amor ❤️): my sense of humor is just fine 😂LMAO you're only like 8 years older than me. 😂 we're watching it immediately! And we're going to Barnes and Noble to get you a copy. 😇
Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): hmmm fine.😌 When would you like to, cutie? ❤️
You(amor ❤️): This weekend please? ❤️❤️❤️
Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): I'm so sorry, I'll have Gabi with me. But she'll be at her mom's next weekend. Can we do it then? ❤️
You(amor ❤️): that's okay I totally understand! ❤️ Yes please! I'm so excited ❤️ I miss you...
Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): perfect. I miss you more. ❤️
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Next Friday
Miguel drives to work, his heart like a dead weight in his chest and his mind racing with different scenarios on how he's going to tell his boss he's had enough. This isn't what he signed up for. The project he was overseeing at work was trying to create these "special abilities"in humans. One of the test subjects passed away this week and he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't messing with his head. He had nightmares about her. She couldn't have been older than 19. Her blue eyes frantic as she realized she might not make it off the lab table alive. Her horrified screams ringing in his eardrums. Miguel's fist clamped tighter around the steering wheel as he choked back a sob. He felt this was his burden to shoulder alone. He knew he was falling for you steadily now, and he didn't want you to go crazy worrying about him. He knows you love to try and fix people, a lot of times to your detriment and couldn't stand to see you in that position or live with the fact that he put you there.
He really didn't care for his boss, Tyler Stone either. Tyler Stone was the 6'3, blonde haired, blue eyed, egotistical vice president over Research and Development at Alchemax. He and the other higher ups just spent all day figuratively (and possibly literally) sucking each other off in boardroom meetings for the hard work everyone underneath them was doing. He was a businessman, not a scientist, and it became clear to Miguel that profit came first for him over scientific discovery and advancement, and his cronies shared the same philosophy.
Miguel faced the man now, sitting in his office. Tyler sighed and walked over to his decanter set that sat in the corner of his office on top of a polished mahogany drink cabinet.
"Care for some bourbon?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves.
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.
"It pains me to hear that you're wanting to leave, it really does." Tyler says as he pours the bourbon in two short, square glasses.
"I chose you because I believed you could handle it. Your track record doesn't lie, Miguel. You were top of your class at Columbia University. I've seen your research and read your thesis that you did with them. You know Dain was actually the one that submitted your nomination to me when I was looking for someone to promote?" Tyler hands the glass of bourbon to Miguel who murmurs a low thank you.
"My point is, if you leave, I got no one to replace you, and that makes my job even more tough." Tyler takes a sip of his bourbon and makes a small face. "I'm going to bat for your little science project every time I meet with the board of directors. I'll be honest with you, they're ready to trim the fat." Tyler's blue eyes bore into Miguel's over the rim of his glass. "But I tell them that this process, is worth the wait. We won't have these superhuman abilities lined up for purchase on shelves tomorrow. But give or take a few years we will be the first to break 100 bil in quarterly revenue when we roll this out to the public. My point is, I'm willing to do whatever I gotta do to keep this project afloat because I've ran the numbers, I've seen what guys like you and Dain can do. It's a worthwhile investment."
Miguel takes a sip of his bourbon and winces. Fuck it, he downs the rest of the whiskey, his throat on fire. He holds out his empty glass to Tyler who takes it and goes to refill it, his back turned to Miguel.
"I'm sorry...." Miguel finally says. "I've made up my mind. I'm flattered that you think I'm the right person for this job, but I'm telling you, I don't want to be the guy who all of this is riding on anymore. I'm not gonna gamble if people's lives are the chips."
Tyler's face went dark and he started tapping the side of his glass, his back still turned to Miguel.
Since when did this fucker grow a conscience? He knows he wouldn't be doing this job if he wasn't getting paid for it either right? He'd given Miguel and his team resources that any group of scientists would give their left kidney for. It was thanks to him in those board meetings that those ungrateful bastards even still had a job. And now their hang up is human test subjects?
Tyler handed Miguel back another glass and said nothing as he watched Miguel down it. Miguel winced again as he finished his liquor, throat still on fire and cheeks starting to flush.
Tyler turned back around, looking at the now setting sun on the horizon. "I'm afraid I can't let you go." He said calmly.
Miguel raised an eyebrow, then suddenly his face turned white when Tyler held up an empty vial of Rapture, his back still turned to him. Tyler spoke again, his back still facing Miguel. "Alchemax is the only distributor of Rapture. Leave if you want, but I'm going to have to be forced to let the board know and involve law enforcement when they realize one of their silly little scientists couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar and became a needy little addict." He took a long sip.
"You're not gonna make me look like a weak little bitch in front of the whole board. I don't lose, Miguel. You're not gonna fuck this up for me."
Enraged, Miguel shot up, shattering the shot glass in his hand, blood gushing out of his fingers. "You fucking piece of shit!"
Tyler remained calm. "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead. I used your sign in to get this vial from the lab. The access history and empty vial next to my dead body will just deepen the hole you dug yourself. Either do as I say, or throw away your freedom right now and kill me before you even had a chance to see your little girl go to Prom."
Miguel paused. This fucker was playing chess with him. Tyler took another sip. "It'd be a damn shame if you did. Especially about that new slutty girlfriend of yours. Did you even get to find out what her pussy feels like?"
That was it. Miguel threw his chair against the wall, the wooden legs splintering into the cabinet Tyler was leaning up against, a neutral expression on his prick face as he sipped more bourbon.
Miguel turned and left the office, and slammed the door so hard the receptionist let out a small squeak of terror as Miguel tore down the hallway, rage seething out of his ears.
"Aaron?" Tyler asked in his cold expressionless voice.
A short, balding man in his mid-thirties with green eyes and thick black rimmed glasses stepped out from behind a two way mirror in the corner of Tyler's office.
"You rewrote the code in Machine A-2099 in sector 8, right?"
"Yes boss."
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You hummed happily as you lit a few of your favorite vanilla almond scented candles on your coffee table. You went all out with a smorgasbord of treats for your movie date night with Miguel including popcorn, gummy worms, Milk Duds, Pretzels, M&Ms, beef jerky, and root beer floats. As soon as you got off work, you cleaned the whole apartment top to bottom and put fresh sheets on the bed. You checked your phone anxiously.
Text convo:
Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): Good morning beautiful ❤️ how'd you sleep? Have a great day, I'll be at your apartment at 8 pm.
You(amor ❤️): you just made my whole morning!🥰🥰 Good morning handsome! I slept great! I'm so looking forward to movie night tonight. I have a bunch of treats and goodies for us to snack on too. 😇
Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): that sounds wonderful, baby. ❤️ Driving to work now, I'll text you when I get there but I'm not going to be able to talk much today. I have a meeting with the boss and a bunch of other stuff related to the project I'm overseeing. Just wanted to let you know not to worry ❤️ I'll call you at 6!
6 pm came and went and you felt sick to your stomach.
You(amor ❤️): Babe? Everything okay, I tried you twice.
Nothing.
You (amor ❤️): Miguel? It's 9 pm. Are you okay? Please just call or text me to let me know everything's okay...
It was now 10 pm. He wasn't coming. Your stomach lay in knots. You had called him 28 times with no answer.
What's happening? Is he cheating on me? Did he get into an accident? Is he dead on the side of the road while I'm hundreds of miles away and can't do anything?
He gets busy at work but he always, always checks in with you. You can't help but fight back tears at his untouched root beer float sitting next to yours. You knew going into this that you had to jump, knowing you were gonna fall and he might not be there to catch you. Well, here you were with a small dagger in your heart on what was supposed to be your second date. You couldn't help but let yourself get in your head. His rejection of you this time confirmed everything you feared about yourself. You laid down on the couch and sobbed quietly to sleep.
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That same night at Alchemax
Miguel's painful screams reverberated off the tiled floor of the genetics lab at Alchemax. The tall powerful man he was, was writhing on the floor in agony. It was as though his blood had turned to acid. His whole body felt on fire. Please God, if I'm supposed to die right now just take me already. He hadn't felt pain this intense ever before in his life. His eyes turned bloodshot, foaming at the mouth as his saliva bubbled and splurted out in incoherent gasps.
Aside from his screams, the machine responsible for his pain let out a low beep. Miguel knew that a copy of his original DNA sample was logged into one of the gene altering machines that he set up when he was first put in charge of Tyler's superhuman project. He knew that as long as he had a drop of Rapture in him, he'd remain an addict defenseless against his new dependency Tyler forced on him. He had tried in vain to rewrite his current biology back to the original, but Tyler was one step ahead. Tyler knew nothing about science or how DNA worked, but it didn't take much to convince Miguel's bitter, jealous subordinate, Aaron Delgado to sabotage the machine. Very little was known about what type of effect that might have on a human, so there was a good chance he'd just die. Just what they wanted. Aaron and Tyler's smug faces entered the lab, watching Miguel suffer and taunting him, even pouring up another round of bourbon while they waited for the show to end. Yep, he'd be dead in just a few more minutes. They had an alibi and a cover up ready to go. They'd post his job opening by Monday and then they could pretend like this never happened. Miguel suddenly became still, his chest seeming to freeze in place, no longer rising and falling with his normal breathes.
Gabriella, my little girl...I'm so sorry....I love you more than anything
His eyes became glassy with tears. He was on his way to finding happiness with you too, only to have the rug pulled out from under him, now he was going to die here, alone. And those who killed him would never know justice behind their corporate wall of privilege and greed that would surely protect them. He uttered your name, his lips barely moving before his eyes fell closed and saw only black..
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Pt 4 coming soon! Thanks for the support 🖤
@mysteris-things
#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel atsv#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#across the spiderverse#fanfic#Spotify
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THE VERY FIRST NIGHT JASON TODD (college! au)
↳ the first night you spend at his place
You don’t mean to stay over, the first time that you do. Truly you don’t. But it’s late, and you’ve spent the entirety of the afternoon dozing in and out of consciousness on the–quite frankly, illegally comfortable–couch in Jason’s living room. The both of you lie, pressed into each other, against the couch cushions and watch the reruns of old tv shows that are showing.
A cool wind breezes in through an open window, and at your back, Jason is warm. The sun has long since set, but neither of you have mustered up the will to shut the blinds beyond the comments made every so often when a car will beep loudly, or a truck drones down the road, so loud the both of you flinch awake where you’d lingered on the precipice of true sleep.
It’s this such disruption that pulls you so meanly from sleep, startling you where you’d been so very comfortable in the arms of your boyfriend, and your movement in turn wakes him. He grumbles, and the both of you blink blearily in the dark at each other.
“What’s wrong?” he yawns, making to tug you closer. You stay upright, and he frowns at you, greatly inconvenienced. You would laugh if you were more awake, but sleep clouds your senses still and you reach for your phone. The time blinks at you, a mocking 12:19 and you let out a breath that is heavier than Jason feels it ought to be.
You show him the time and he stares blankly at you. “I’ve missed the last bus,” you say, and he screws his face up as another yawn tears out of him. His arms come around you once more, this time successfully pulling you closer.
“So what, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tucking his nose into your neck.
“Be serious,” you murmur, brushing a hand over his hair. “I should get home.”
He lifts his head to look at you. “‘M being serious. Just stay.”
You pause.
“Stay the night?” you murmur, unsure. He nods, earnest and sleepy. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll drive you home, if you want,” he says gently, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your mouth. Your heart snags on how he grows a little shy as he pulls away, eyes flicking away to where your necklace has slipped out of your shirt collar. “Just thought it’d be more convenient….y’know…you could borrow my clothes if you want.”
“Jason Todd, you romantic, you,” you breathe out, a surprised laugh colouring your voice. He grumbles as you giggle, heat crowding in your face. You cover up your shyness with a false bravado, peering down at him to tease, “Will you make me breakfast in the morning, too?”
He glares up at you, teeth nipping at the tip of your finger. “I would. ‘Cos I’m a gentleman. And a good host. And your boyfriend.”
Everything in you seems to turn topsy turvy at his words, heart melting into a syrupy sweet, treacle-like mass in your chest. You can’t help but kiss him again.
“Okay,” you whisper, and his eyes brighten in the dark. “I’ll stay, if you’ll have me. If you promise I’m not being a bother.”
“Could never bother me,” he says plainly, happy. “C’mon, sweetheart. Get you something to wear, think I’ve got a spare toothbrush, somewhere.”
You think that your first night together is going to be nerve-wracking. That you’ll stiffen up in bed and never fall asleep for fear of–fear of what? Getting too comfortable, you think. You think you’ll do something ridiculous and be laughed at for it. You don’t know if you could bear it from Jason.
But as it happens, you are guided down the dim-lit hall, hand in his, feeling very much as though you have already fallen asleep. A soft shirt is pressed into your hands, and shorts you forego–sleep plies you soft and uncaring, you’re here anyway, aren’t you? Jason says nothing, only pressing a kiss to your shoulder and leaving. He returns some moments later, takes your day clothes from your hands in exchange for a red, unopened toothbrush.
You slip under the sheets and sleep claims you with a kiss.
me when i lie and say i'm saving writing jersey boy for friday and the weekend. september and october are my peak jason months i think. the weather turns gentle and everything starts to bloom again, and i feel so much love for this silly little fictional man. he makes my heart ache. i love domestic jason. i think mid afternoon in september is always so pretty and the evenings are even lovelier. it makes me think of love so much even though i think i'd run away if it came within six feet of me.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jersey boy au#jason todd college!au#jasonsmirrorball#jay my heart
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ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴘɪᴘᴇᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ (J.M)
*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*
Pairing: football-player!Joel Miller x golden-girl!Fem!Reader
POV: This story is told through the POV of high school senior Joel Miller
Summary: Joel's girl lives in his dreams and in the house next door. He's always known her, and he's always wanted her, but in ApplePine, whose dream does she not haunt? Now He has a chance that He's been looking forward to all his life. This can't fail. He won't let someone like her slip away.
Warnings/tags: Kind of toxic undertones, mentions of a bad home life (reader), church, idolization, nerves, kissing and making out, small Texas town with very traditional values, climbing and watching people through windows, Joel is a Lil bit of a stalker, BAD American football talk. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME
WC: 4.5k
On most Saturdays and after church on Sundays, she could be found working at the local ice cream shop. Occasionally, if there wasn't a football game, she would also work on Fridays. She was a well-known figure in our small town - being the girl next door, head cheerleader, and leading member of the student council. Her many accomplishments included winning the title of Little Miss Apple Pine, which only added to her popularity. Many of us admired her from afar, watching her ride her bike with friends, interact with the little kids in the neighborhood, or simply be in her element with a book in hand and a Walkman playing some music.
It was difficult to tell what music she listened to, but I'd like to think it was hard rock, maybe Guns N' Roses. However, her sweet nature suggested it was more likely to be Bon Jovi or AC/DC. Despite her bright persona, we all knew that she had a tough time at home, our houses were right next to each other too It was sad but there's only so much a loud TV can cover.
We attend the same school and ride the same bus together. We have chemistry class as well as lunch B together. Additionally, we share gym and math classes. I have noticed that she is quieter in math class and doesn't answer questions as quickly. In math class, she sits three seats ahead of me, and during lunch, she sits six seats away from me. Her round lunch table is located ten tables away from mine, and it's always occupied by a few cheerleaders and jocks who are considered acceptable, unlike me who often gets thrown off the field for hitting refs because of not knowing if I'm coming or going. Compared to them, she seems to be in another world, like a cool autumn day in the middle of a hot Texas summer.
As the chemistry class began, Mr. McMory walked into the classroom with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. He had only undone the top button of his shirt, showing some long curly grey chest hairs — utterly gross if you ask me. We all watched as he walked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stopped before turning to face the class.
"Now, as most of you probably know, we will need to form a new set of lab partners for this semester. However, to keep things fair so everyone gets a chance of getting matched with whom You would prefer, I've decided to have you all write your names on a small piece of paper and put them in this box. Once I've finished passing them out, I will draw two student names from the box at random, and those two will be your partners for this semester."
Without having to pause, Mr. McMory spoke clearly. This routine was something he did every marking period, four times a year, for 30 years. The memories of the previous marking period memories flooded my mind, where Jason Duly and Billy Holiday tried to bribe Gaby Michelle to give up her seat so that they could sit next to our classmate, the charming "I trust that you all understand the process now?" Mr. McMory continued. Once no one raised their hands to question what he said, he walked back to the front and handed out the small pieces of paper to everyone. "Now you have two minutes to write your names on the paper, then place it into the box. Once you are all finished, I will begin the randomized selection."
Chaos began to take place across the room with various bets being placed and trades being arranged like a market in the middle of a jungle, I wrote my name on the slip of paper without a thought. It was a meaningless task to me, as I would have been fine with getting anyone as my lab partner. In the middle sat our Pipe Dream, seemingly clueless to it all, while these students scrambled like mad to gain the favor of their desired partners, and the professor seemed unaware of all the action taking place in the classroom.
The chaos of the class was suddenly drowned out by Mr. McMory yelling out to have students start putting their slips into the box. As the box was quickly getting more and more full, the class started to become more and more silent and calm as no one wanted to be one of the ones not getting the partner they wanted even if they all wanted the same one our darling Miss pipedream isn't only perfect in every way but she's also incredibly smart.
Mr. McMory walked to the front of the classroom and stood in front of the whiteboard. He held the box and a red whiteboard marker. "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement," he said as he paused and placed the box on a stool in front of him. He then pulled out the first two names. "Gaby and Hannah," he announced, causing a small gasp from some students. Mr. McMory placed the paper down and wrote the names on the board. There was a moment of silence before a low murmur began to spread throughout the classroom Mr. McMory then pulled out another two slips from the box and announced the next pairs of names: "Billy and Jillian, Jason and Cory." As each pair was announced, the two people were immediately surrounded by cheers of excitement or groans of disappointment. Some students could be overheard saying things like "no way!" and "I can't believe this!" and "Are we sure it's fair?" There were a few complaints here and there that their partner was not who they wanted, but Mr. McMory quickly cut them off, saying, "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement, understood?"
As I stood watching the chaos break loose behind me, I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly everything was unfolding. However, my laughter came to a sudden halt when Mr. McMory announced me and a stranger as partners.No, not a stranger, It was the girl who seemed to have it all, the girl who had effortlessly made her way through every aspect of the school and had become something of a legend. She was the girl next door, the one every boy wanted, and the only one I was enamored with at the slightest glance in her direction. My heart skipped a beat as I looked over the crowd and saw her smiling brightly at me. Time seemed to slow down as the rest of the world faded away. It was as if the universe was just waiting for us to get to know each other. My nervousness quickly turned into an adrenaline rush as I became more and more excited. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, a chance to turn my dreams into reality and finally figure her out.
On the bus, I noticed her again. We made eye contact but didn't speak. She sat with her friend Sally Handson until she got off at her stop. However, I didn't expect her to move over and sit in the same seat as me.
"You're Joel, right?" she asked me before kindly offering her hand to shake.
"That's me," I smiled as I gently took her hand in mine and shook it. Our skin connected, and I felt a slight tremor in my hand before letting go, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward. I looked back up to see her, and she seemed to be just as nervous as I felt. The silence seemed to linger on for a moment before she spoke again.
"I just wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look at the assignment yet?"
I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "No, actually, I'm not very good at chemistry. I was probably going to copy off of you, to tell you the truth," I said, trying to make a joke, but struggling to hide the fact that it was true.
She smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Like all football players. It's okay though, I can help you study sometime if you'd like?"
As she spoke, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. The offer of her help flooded my mind with different scenarios, from spending time with her after school to studying together at the library or even hosting study groups at our houses. I chuckled nervously and nodded my head.
The sudden stop of the bus snapped me back to reality, and a thought raced through my mind. Should I ask to walk her home? The offer seemed so appealing, and I was filled with possibilities of getting to know her even better. It was time to take the chance, but I had to fight the nervousness building inside me.
"Hey, are you walking to your house? Because I was just going to ask if...if I could walk you home?" I spoke the words carefully, fearing that I might mess up and ruin the moment. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I waited for her response.
She smiled kindly at me. "Yes, and I would love that. Do you know which house?"
"I do," I said with a slightly more confident tone than before. I felt myself calming down as the idea of walking home together became more real. She began to take in the neighborhood around us, and I thought it was a perfect time to start a conversation.
"So, this is where you live?"
She giggled, and her laughter was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. "Joel, you and I have lived in the same neighborhood since we were newborns. We're neighbors for goodness sake, no need to be so formal with me."
She was right; I was overthinking our interactions. We had been neighbors for as long as I could remember. "Oh yeah...I suppose you have a point. I guess my nervousness made me go blank like that. I'm just not used to seeing you when you're not out on the field with your cheer squad." I chuckled, feeling my nerves die down even more as I looked over at her and relaxed a bit more.
"I understand it's hard not to picture me like that, and you as well, Joel. You're violent on the field. I'm pretty sure that referee from Tentown had a broken nose," she tries to make conversation.
The mention of the game in Tentown makes me chuckle a bit. That was the first game in the league where I was allowed to play, and I suppose my desire to prove myself ended with me getting a bit carried away. The thought of the ref's nose makes me chuckle a bit more as I couldn't help but feel bad for the ref.
"Yeah, I think you're right about that. But that's just how it is, right? The game is pretty brutal. I can't play without getting a little carried away."
She thinks for a second and then says, "Maybe that's why you're always benched, along with Tommy? Speaking of your brother, where is he? Oh, and how are poor freshmen? I heard the older football players are being a little mean."
The question about my benching for games suddenly brings back my nervous energy, and I immediately feel uncomfortable talking about it. "That's probably one of the reasons for it, yeah..." I sigh as the mention of my brother and some of the team's hazing of the freshman brings a frown to my face.
"It pisses me off how they treat some of the freshmen like that. I don't see why they can't just treat them like the rest of the team..." I pause mid-sentence as the thought comes to my mind.
"I feel so bad for the poor freshman. They do the same thing on the cheer team," she said. We stopped at the crossing signal, and I was surprised by how well she could relate to what I was describing. It dawned on me that she may have experienced it more than I had considering how involved she is in cheer. We waited for the light to turn green, and I smiled at her.
"We should set up a study date sometime soon. After all, you said you're not that good at chemistry?" she said as we got closer to her house. I was thrilled at the possibility of spending more time with her.
"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'll certainly need the help," I chuckled. She walked ahead of me with a sweet little glide in her step, making me have to catch up to her as we continued walking.
"Which days work for you?" she asked, opening her backpack and taking out a pen and paper. "Oh, and write down your landline number." I replied, "I'm pretty much free all week, so just let me know what works for you." Her request for my landline number made my heart skip a beat as it reminded me of when she offered to help me at her place.
"How about Friday after school since there's no game? We can meet at my place," she suggested as we stood outside her front gate. "That works great for me! We can discuss our study plans and maybe even study together if you're up for it," I replied excitedly. "Your place sounds perfect, and I just want to say thank you," I added, feeling grateful for her help. She smiled and said, "Of course, Joel." Then she walked into her yard and house, waving goodbye.
Friday couldn't come any quicker in my mind. I couldn't get Miss Applepine, Cheery Pie, Pipe Dream out of my head at all. The more we talked in class, the more I fell under her spell and the more I wanted to know... She was a mystery, and I wanted to be the first to hear everything she was willing to tell.
now stand at her front door. I rang the doorbell eagerly waiting for her to answer. She opened the door; she looked so pretty. "Come on in, Joel," she opened the door to let me in. In all my years of being neighbors, I always wondered what her house looked like, and to be honest, her house is less organized than I thought.
"Sorry about the mess. You know, it's just me and my dad, and I'm a little behind on chores... um... studying," she began to ramble but stopped herself. It was rather cute; it made me smile even more.
"Come on upstairs to my room. I have all my books and everything up there," she led me up to her bedroom. It was so normal - band posters, photos of her family, school items, her numerous awards, and her window looked directly into my room.
As we entered her room, I couldn't resist glancing over to her window again. It felt like this was the closest I could get to seeing inside her home for A Long time and now I'm inside the looking glass. I took a seat right next to her bed as she went to her bookshelf to collect her textbooks. As we started reviewing the material, a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I occasionally stole a glance at her while she flipped through different articles, but I couldn't hold my stare for long.
"Are these all the books we're going to be using?" I asked as she placed her biology and chemistry books on her desk. I watched her lean over, her eyes almost glued to the books as she read through them. "Yeah, these are the ones. I just want to make sure that we're both prepared for this project. It's about how we think the universe began, so lots to cover" she replied with a soft smile that brought me back to reality for a moment as I gazed into her eyes.
"I'm ready to start studying. So, what do you want to start with?" she asked as I sat down. She looked at me with a sweet smile and thought for a moment before responding, "Do you think we should start with chemistry? I know it's the one you struggle with the most."
"Sure, that works," I replied excitedly she remembered that from the walk my cheeks got a little pink as I opened the book and looked over her shoulder to find the section she had mentioned. I was determined to pay close attention this time, feeling more relaxed thanks to her calm and collected presence.
Every little gesture or movement she made caught my full attention like a spark in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she played with her hair made it difficult to resist complimenting her. When she asked if she could ask me something, it snapped me out of my trance for a moment. I replied with a simple "Yeah, sure."
As she playfully hit my shoulder, her touch felt light as a feather. I couldn't help but smile, sitting up and crossing my legs like she was doing. Moving my book from my lap, I placed it on the end of her bed. "Why can't you focus?" she asked, and my heart started racing. I didn't want to tell her the truth, so I lied, "No reason..." Trying to act casual, I could feel myself blushing as she hit my shoulder and called me out. It was because of her - her sweet smile, small gestures, and the way she sat cross-legged on her bed - that I couldn't focus. But I couldn't just outright admit that I had a massive crush on her.
"We can take a break?" she offered, and I felt even more nervous. The idea of taking a break meant a chance to talk about things other than studying and a chance to just hang out with her. I was hoping that she felt the same way and that she also couldn't help but notice the tension that was building between us. I sat back up and joked, "You're saying that as if I would deny the offer." My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel the same tension I did.
As we continued to talk, I made sure to continue moving closer to her every chance that I could get. The heat coming from her body filled me with a new sense of boldness as I tried to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean who can blame me, when I'm sitting across from someone so charming..." I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.
"Have you been studying for long?" she asked me as she laid back on her bed, making it clear that she had no plans to get up anytime soon. As the conversation shifted towards more flirtatious topics, I started to blush slightly. "Do you mean studying?..." I replied to her, but even I could hear that my voice had taken on a flirty tone.
"Yes, studying, or are you just as brain-dead as the other football players?" she joked. "Hey now, what are you implying?" I responded teasingly as I moved closer to her. As we talked more, the tone of the conversation became increasingly flirtatious, and I struggled to hold back my blush. "You're the one who keeps saying we should take a break. Sounds like you don't want to study..." I said, trying to pretend to focus on a book.
But even as we continued discussing the material or pretending to, I noticed her eyes drifting toward me as she glanced up and down my body. It made me feel a little uneasy, but also excited as I wondered what she was thinking. Could she feel the same tension between us that I felt?
"Hmmm, maybe I don't. But you're the one who said yes to the break." she grinned mischievously as I scooted slightly closer to her, looking up and staring into her eyes. "You make it kind of hard to pay attention..."
As we continued to talk The heat coming from her body filled me with a sense of boldness as I attempted to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean, who can blame me when I'm sitting across from someone so charming?" I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.
"I'm flattered. I'll take that as a compliment since you're also very kind with your words," she said as I moved even closer to her. We were almost too close for comfort, but I couldn't resist getting even closer. "I thought I was charming, but you are even more charming than I imagined," I told her, leaning in even closer until I was practically touching her. I felt like I was crossing a line, but I couldn't help myself. Her eyes seemed to be blushing, and I felt a sudden burst of confidence. I brought my hand up to her side, almost touching her waist. "You are an interesting girl," I whispered.
"You find me interesting?" she asked, smiling shyly and looking down. I could tell she was blushing and feeling a little embarrassed, but I decided to take a risk and leaned in even closer. Our faces were almost touching, and I could feel her breath on my face. I looked up at her and felt a rush of emotions.
"I didn't know you were so easy to read," I said as I leaned even closer to her, this time the tiny distance between us was nothing but air. I couldn't help but feel that feeling building inside me again as I watched her face grow redder and redder as it appeared to be a little closer every time. "I'm sure most guys would be more than happy to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”
“Are you most guys? Should I be worried? I'm not a one-and-done girl, Joel…” she said, showing insecurity for what seems to be the first time. As she asked me if I was 'most guys', I couldn't help but feel my heart sink for a brief second as I heard her insecurity, but I quickly recovered and smiled as I looked down at her. My hands slowly wrapped around her waist as I leaned even closer. "Oh please, you think I'm going to leave someone as beautiful and kind as you just like that. You aren't a one-and-done girl, you're... you're an angel." I slowly leaned forward so our faces were just a hair's width apart. I gazed into her eyes, lost in the moment, when she suddenly exclaimed, "An Angel?" Her voice was soft, yet full of wonder, as if she had just seen something magical. She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face, and I couldn't help but notice the way her face immediately flushed up with red. Her eyes quickly looked down, as if to distract herself from her sudden burst of emotion.
I kept looking at her, waiting for her to look back up at me. I leaned down just a bit more, my heart racing with anticipation, as my lips were barely an inch from hers when she finally decided to look back up. I couldn't help but feel the surge of joy rushing through my body as I saw the way her eyes slowly opened and she looked back up to face me.
The way her cheeks were still flushed and the shy, but happy look on her face was exactly what I needed. It was the perfect moment as I leaned in for the kiss. Our lips met in a sweet and simple embrace, and I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was like time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in the world except for that moment. I held her close as we kissed, and I knew deep down inside that this was the start of something special.
The kiss started gentle but with each second that passed it started to become more intense. The heat of her body and the way her hands ran through my hair was making my heart skip a few beats as I started to wish I could pull her into an even deeper kiss. I didn't want to overwhelm her though so I tried to keep it simple, although it was hard to keep my hands from finding every part of her body that I could. She's not someone who wants a one-time thing and I'll do everything I can to make sure she doesn't think all I want is sex.
We disengaged when we heard her front door slam shut. "That's my dad!" she exclaimed, her urgency evident. "He can't know you're here." She swiftly rose, pulling me up with her, both of us breaking away from the kiss as she hurried us along. Her pace was so brisk that it took a moment for me to catch on before I scrambled up. "Why can't he know I'm here?" I whispered, trying to avoid any noise as her dad ascended the stairs.
"Because he'll flip if he finds a guy in my room. Though, it's not like it's the first time I've had a guy over," she rushed, steering us towards her bedroom window. "Seriously? You've done this before?" I questioned? but that conversation could wait as we reached her bedroom window, which she promptly opened, urging me outside.
"Well, there was this one time Dad caught me, and he nearly lost it. I promised I wouldn't do it again, and he dropped it," she explained hurriedly, her insistence on getting me out the window starting to concern me. I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.
"Are you seriously making me climb out your window?" I protested.
"Don't be a wimp. You'll be fine. You're not the first guy I've had over," she reassured, though her words didn't ease my nerves. The distance from her window to the ground seemed to grow as she tugged me closer to the edge.
As I began to climb out, my foot slipped, and I fell with a hard thud and a loud squeak.
Despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, the walk home afforded me ample time to ponder, and my thoughts continuously circled back to her. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, as if she was keeping something from me. If she's had numerous guys over before, why the sudden worry about her dad catching her? Was I just another casual fling to her? My mind brimmed with inquiries for my elusive "little miss pipedream."
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Unexpected Visitor
Our Story Masterlist
Summary: YN has an unexpected visitor.
It had been a few months since Harry had began filming for Don't Worry Darling. YN had always been supportive of Harry and any opportunity he was given. She has supported him through his time in One Direction, when he decided to go solo when the band went on a break. Even when they weren't on talking terms for a while, YN still supported him silently behind the scenes, she was his biggest fan.
It was evening time, Harry had been on set all day and decided he needed to go for a run just to get some sunlight. YN was at their house in LA, enjoying the sunshine in the garden with Teddy as they waited for Harry to return. It was a Friday evening, which usually mean't it was pizza and wine night in the Styles/Tomlinson household.
So YN was surprised when she heard the buzzer at the front gate. She wasn't expecting any guests, due to the pandemic and also Harry knew the code to enter. Looking at the camera that showed the front gate, she noticed an older woman with wavy dark hair. As the woman turned to face the gate, YN recognised her as the Director of the film. Pressing the open button on the screen, YN headed to the front door ready to greet the guest.
As Olivia noticed YN stood at the front door, her eyes widened slightly. "Oh hi, I'm looking for Harry".
"He's just popped out, can I help you?" YN politely smiled at the older woman. She had never felt small but standing in front of a powerful woman, YN felt insecure.
“Oh Harry invited me over, sorry but who are you?” Olivia asked as a frown appeared on her face as she eyed YN up. YN thought she may have been joking, but when she raised her eyebrows at her, she realised that she was being serious.
“Sorry, how rude of me, I’m YN..Harry’s girlfriend” YN continued to be polite, even though she felt something didn’t feel right.
The older woman looked confused as she questioned “Girlfriend?”.
“Uh yeh…sorry am I missing something here?” YN wasn’t one to hold back, if something needed to be said then she would have to say it.
Olivia was quick to explain “I am so sorry, Harry never mentioned he had a girlfriend…I would never have accepted his invitation to come over if I knew”.
YN’s heart was telling her that Harry would never do something like this. She wasn’t sure what Olivia’s motive was but something just didn’t sit right.
“Well you’re welcome to come in and wait if you’d like too”. She was more determined than ever to keep up the kind persona, not wanting to jeopardise Harry’s career.
Panic appeared on the older woman’s face. “Oh no…no..no that’s okay, I’ll be on my way..sorry again for disturbing you”. YN watched as the director hurried down the gravel drive, not giving her a chance to say anything else.
---
“Repeat that again….she just turned up and said Harry’s never mentioned you” Louis voice spoke through the speaker of YN’s phone as it sat on the kitchen island.
“Yeh pretty much” YN agreed. Despite knowing it couldn’t be true, YN still had insecurities and doubt crossed her mind. “Lou…do you think she was telling the truth?”.
“Tiny c’mon, you can’t think it’s true…that boy loves the fookin’ bones off yeh” Louis tried to reassure his sister, no doubt in his voice.
YN nibbled on her lip as she thought. “I know he does, I just don’t want to lose him again Lou”.
“None of that shit…you and Harry had a blip but you’re strong yeh”.
“Yeh…you’re right…I miss you” YN admitted. She hated not being able to see her family, especially her older brother, who always played the role of her best friend, her go to person for advice.
“I miss you too Kiddo…but we’ll see each other soon yeh”.
—-
YN was in the kitchen with Teddy following her every move when Harry arrived back. His black T-shirt sticking to him from the sweat that covered his body.
Entering the kitchen, Harry noticed YN standing there deep in thought as she was mindlessly stirring her cup of tea.
“Hey baby” Harry’s voice startled her, making her jump and leave out breath.
“You’ve got to stop doing that” YN pleaded, Harry chuckling knowing it’s a regular thing.
Harry sensed something was wrong because before he’d left for his run, YN was her chirpy and bubbly self, but now she was withdrawn and her thoughts seemed elsewhere. “Everything alright?”.
YN paused deciding if she should tell him. “Uh…Olivia came here looking for you”.
Harry frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. “What…why?”.
YN shrugged her shoulders, wondering the same thing. “She said you had invited her over”.
Harry let out a chuckle at YN’s words. “No I didn’t…why would I do that?”.
“She also said that she didn’t know you had a girlfriend”.
Harry scoffed at this. “Yeh o’course she didn’t”.
YN had a feeling there was more to this than what she originally thought. “Harry, what’s going on?”.
Harry began to play with his bottom lip, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation to YN. “I don’t know…I thought she was just being friendly but...the last few weeks she been acting strange towards me..but turning up here is crossing the line…she knows about you…fucking hell the whole set knows about you…Florence wants to meet you because I talk about you so much” Harry rambled on.
“Bubs…calm down” YN walked around the island to wrap her arms around his torso. “I trust you…you know that”.
Harry placed a peck on her forehead as he squeezed her slightly when his arms landed on her shoulders. “Sorry...I just hate how many times you've had to deal with this sort of thing".
"It's your fault...nobody can resist your charm" YN tried to make light of the situation, despite feeling a bubble of anger in her lower stomach at how another woman was trying to come between her and Harry.
---
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