#to miss an important holiday just so i could get high and drunk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cocochannel00 · 3 years

Text

Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case”

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

- He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife”

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

512 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13 who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13 and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork’s Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed. So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

517 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

❪ 💜 LAST UPDATED : ❫ 15 october, 2020

i don’t have set schedules for posting. i tend to get really into my own head so i’ll post three chapters in a day and then disappear for a week or two. sometimes, it’s an inadequacy thing and other times, it’s just writer’s block. if you really want to see something continued/pushed out, let me know. i live to please other people. not even joking!

all of my work can be found under this tag. but also, sometimes my tags work, sometimes they don’t.

ps. please note my works tend to involve named!readers but i’ll always indicate in the preface. sorry if this doesn’t appeal to you! 💖

pps. in the cases where the reader is named but it isn’t referenced (for instance, multi-part works), i’ll indicate with (named) versus named.

❪ ✔ ❫ complete ; ❪ ✘ ❫ wip ; ❪ ☽ ❫ oneshot ; ❪ ✰ ❫ series ; ❪ ⊗ ❫ drabble ❪ ☼ ❫ fluff ; ❪ ♡ ❫ smut ; ❪ ➳ ❫ angst ; ❪ ❁ ❫ crack ; ❪ ✱ ❫ social media

up all night ❪ i, ii ❫ - bodegas stock snacks & joon ❪ ✘ ; ⊗ ; ☼ ; ❁ ❫

↪ choke me, daddy - you ask joon for something new ❪ ⊗ ; ♡ ❫ ↪ f-f-fun-sized - joon reaches where you can’t ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

should be sad - you miss him when he’s on tour ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

↪ the one for me - you don’t mean to eavesdrop but... ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

piece by piece - falling in love happens like this ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

called a thousand times - late night phone calls ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫

↪ no song without you - you just can’t quit him ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫

not your fairytale - childhood friends to lovers ❪ ✔ ; ☽ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

What do you do when you’ve called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother’s grouchy best friend, of course.

↪ my favourite clothes - yoongi comes to bed ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

sweet magnolias - s2l with bad first impressions ❪ ☽ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ➳ ❫

He was your unlikely muse; you were the weird girl in the park. Could you make it any more obvious?

reading rainbow - meet cute ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

written in the stars - yoongi is a man of few words ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

secret life of cats - meet cute ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

↪ best of me - a few of his favourite things ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫ ↪ wrapped up in you - he doesn’t like your new shampoo ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

see nothing but you - unrequited love ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫

didn’t know me ❪ i, ii ❫ - you ask for his number ❪ ✘ ; ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

love her, leave her - "i still love you” type of exes ❪ ☽ ; ➳ ❫

You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. He loved you once, too. But no one ever told you that sometimes that’s not enough. That sometimes, loving is the hardest part.

together, we’re screwed - idol!jimin falling in lust ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

tell me i’m good - silk and gags and bondage, oh my! ❪ ⊗ ; ♡ ❫

loved you better - tae learns to love again ❪ ☽ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.

to the moon and back - strangers to lovers ❪ ✘ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ➳ ❫

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well. ft. jjk.

one of those nights - kim taehyung is shameless ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ❁ ❫

dear no one - marriage doesn’t equal happiness ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫

sugar high - best friends to lovers ❪ ✔ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

↪ sweet lullabies - best friends in love ❪ ✘ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ➳ ❫

You’re crazy in love and for once, so is he.

↪ a whole new world - touring with bts ❪ ✘ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ➳ ; ❁ ; ✱ ❫

This is what happens when you go on tour with the Bangtan Boys.

to the moon and back - strangers to lovers ❪ ✘ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ➳ ❫

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well. ft. kth.

ghost in my bed - rockstar!kook ❪ ✘ ; ✰ ; ➳ ; ♡ ❫

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

angels & airwaves - gamer!kook ❪ ✔ ; ✰ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ❁ ❫

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

↪ someone’s someone ❪ i, ii ❫ - how-to: dating an idol ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫ ↪ best of me - being in love feels like... ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫ ↪ something comforting - celebrating the best holiday ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ♡ ❫

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

↪ sweet nothings - the things he says in the dark ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

roseraie - hanahaki!au ❪ ☽ ; ➳ ❫

What you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you two apart. It was your love that would be your demise.

velveteen rabbit - bunny!jungkook ❪ ☽ ; ☼ ; ➳ ; ♡ ❫

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi? Answer: Jeon Jungkook.

devil in a new suit - jeon jungkook is a sucker ❪ ☽ ; ☼ ; ➳ ; ♡ ❫

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

↪ barbie world - barbie comes looking for ken ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ➳ ; ♡ ❫ ↪ stuck on you - green-eyed jungkookie ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ♡ ❫ ↪ home sweet home - you reach an important milestone ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ♡ ❫

finders keep hers ❪ i, ii, iii ❫ - idiots in luv denial ❪ ⊗ ; ♡ ; ➳ ❫

love you like i love you ❪ i, ii, iii ❫ - messy exes ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

↪ the good place - jeon jungkook is the devil ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫ ↪ be my baby - six years and counting ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

blame it on me ❪ i, ii, iii ❫ - car rides w your crush ❪ ✘ ; ⊗ ; ☼ ; ❁ ❫

"i love you” read: 6:45 - hella misunderstandings ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ❁ ❫

↪ shark week - you hate shark week but love jungkook ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

dancing queen - jeon jungkook is a drunk idiot ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ❁ ❫

can you see my heart? - soulmate!au ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

take me down - don’t fall for your fwb ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ➳ ❫

wrong direction - falling for the fuccboi ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ; ♡ ; ❁ ❫

in the night ❪ i, ii ❫ - assassin!kook aka jeon wick ❪ ✘ ; ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

the gatorade incident - kook handles hangovers poorly ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

if it isn’t you - pacrim!au prologue ❪ ⊗ ; ➳ ❫

nothing but a number - he just won’t leave you alone ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

take a break - jeon jungkook is a sucker for you ❪ ⊗ ; ☼ ❫

#is my bias showing lmao #masterlist.zip

669 notes · View notes

gravelyhumerus · 3 years

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

“That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop.

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance.

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus.

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.”

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped.

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair.

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus.

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation.

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice.

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season.

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it.

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone.

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city.

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine.

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it.

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm.

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper.

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.”

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word.

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way.

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing.

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal.

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie.

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag.

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering.

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year.

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk.

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice.

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed.

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went.

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression.

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead.

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room.

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting.

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself.

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening.

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time.

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor.

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.”

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this.

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response.

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort?

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door.

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed.

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked.

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that.

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing.

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table.

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise.

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack.

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand.

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks.

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined.

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed.

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow.

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath.

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile.

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve.

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape.

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure.

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort.

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up.

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks.

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference.

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud.

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her.

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her.

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light.

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside.

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.”

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book.

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk.

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that.

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place.

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons.

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught.

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down.

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open.

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck.

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple.

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes.

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action.

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out.

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague.

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms.

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed.

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered.

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment.

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered.

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh.

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box.

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself.

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions.

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand.

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime.

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left.

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused.

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand.

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance.

She loved this game.

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book.

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion.

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet.

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion.

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move.

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat.

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest.

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds.

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world?

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it.

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself.

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back.

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined.

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime.

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes.

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down.

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated.

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper.

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board.

“No dice?” Emily asked.

He shook his head.

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused.

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions.

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round.

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope.

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice.

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong.

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident.

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.”

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen.

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win.

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation.

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note.

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn.

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded.

He smirked.

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.”

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble.

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much.

Emily looked at her letters: O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.

She played the word with a cheeky grin.

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny.

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest.

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points.

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes.

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way.

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn.

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered.

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?”

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting.

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought.

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion.

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.”

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag.

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played.

‘Love.’

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it?

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird?

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her.

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game.

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary.

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her.

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort.

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

83 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Cowboy Blues - pt. 01 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: You swipe right on Tinder with some interesting results.

One Thing Right Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

△ ▽ △ ▽

You weren’t traditional by any sense of the word. You’d given up all those crazy ideals that had been ingrained in your personality when you realized that you weren’t going to find a high school sweetheart to settled down with. Or a college one for that matter. You settled for nice dates with average guys and tried to remind yourself daily that you needed no one to complete your life. It was fine on its own.

“I think the literal class of guy has gone down,” your best friend Nina mentioned as she scrolled through your phone. You loved Nina but she was tone-deaf to most of your single life complaints. She was already married, to the same guy she had been dating since middle school. After HSM came out she had been madly in love with Zac Efron and had managed to find the one guy in your school that looked almost just like him and they’d stayed together.

“You’re on tinder right now, just to put that commentary into perspective for you.” You pointed out, annoyed mostly. Nina had invited herself to come have lunch with you while you worked on finalizing your classroom for the coming school year. While you tried to get actual work done, Nina just scrolled through the guys on your tinder and bitched about their profiles, as if she expected to find some great life partner for you.

It was probably cynical of you to say but, if you never dated again, never settled down with anyone, it probably wouldn’t matter. Wedding fever sprung up whenever someone else was tying the knot or having a kid but when that passed you weren’t particularly eager to look for someone. People had been, for the majority, disappointing since you had turned 18 and, for the past eight years you hadn’t been proven right.

Someone to cohabitate with might be nice. You certainly thought about it on nights when you were feeling particularly isolated from the rest of the world, but all that disappeared when you considered how used to being alone you actually were and what cohabitating would actually mean. Someone who would leave dirty dishes in the sink, leave water on the bathroom floor and track it through the house, who would chew too loud or hate the food you liked or snore too obscenely or drink too much. There were a million flaws with your imaginary future suitor and you listed them all anytime you got the bug to start dating again. But twenty-six was old, according to Nina, and you needed to get married.

“What about him, he’s cute?” She held the phone out to you, the guy in the picture was smiling, sitting in front of a table with food. You looked up briefly from the lesson plan you were writing out, nearly losing your mouthful of coffee.

You swallowed and took the phone, staring at the picture, maybe a little too long.

“He’s cute babe, but he’s not like People Magazine’s hottest man alive.” Nina said in response to your out burst.

“No, no, I know him.” You explained, eyes still on the picture. God, you couldn’t help thinking that he looked good. Did you look that good? He was the spitting image of what he’d been in the stairwell at Duke. Attractive, self-assured, a little cocky. “We went to the same college. I hooked up with him one time at a party before spring break…I uh, he told me to call him and I lost his number.”

“On purpose?” She asked, plucking the phone out of your hands. She lingered on his picture, waiting for your either glowing recommendation or scathing review before she swiped. He was cute, she’d give you that. He was tan, tall, even in the picture it was obvious, and just nice to look at.

“No,” You admitted. “I was gonna call him and then I got back together with Ian.” Your ex-boyfriend be damned, you left out the part where you thought about your random hook way more often than a sane person should. After spring break it hadn’t been hard to dodge him, Duke had a massive campus and you didn’t have any of the same classes but every time you and Ian had it out you couldn’t help wondering what it would’ve been like if you’d called him back. Even after you graduated and moved back home to Boston, you still couldn’t quite shake the memory of him.

“Well Ian’s getting married and you’re not...so,” she swiped and then closed the app, sliding off your desk to take a slow appraisal of your classroom while she dug the knife in deeper, “are you going to Ian’s wedding?”

Nina kept asking, as if you had much say in the matter, and you kept answering, deflating your ego every time you had to say yes. “I have to…it’s my grade partner. She even made me a bridesmaid.” Admittedly, you and Anya had been much closer before your boyfriend of three years dumped you and immediately started dating her. Now it felt hard to be around her for too long, like going home for the holidays and trying to keep quiet when your drunk uncle brought up the political climate in the country. Anya told you she had held off the wedding because she wanted to ‘wait until the dust settled’. As if it hurt less now. For different reasons, sure, but not less.

In a month’s time you’d be sitting through a bridal shower that her sister kept texting you to help coordinate and plan. She’d tried to be nice, giving you a plus one to the wedding because you didn’t know any of her friends or family. The only other person you knew was Ian, ex-boyfriend and groom, not exactly who you wanted to be hanging out with. Of course, you knew his family and that just made the whole ordeal so much more awkward.

The plus-one was an empty gesture though. Just a reminder that there was no one for you to invite. But you kept hoping, maybe you’d meet someone. Maybe you could transport yourself into a Hallmark movie and rent a date or something. Fall madly in love in a week and move to their small town and never look back. Then, at least, you could miss the wedding altogether.

“She’s a fucking back stabbing bitch.” Nina commented, as if this was some new piece of information that she was finding out about now.

“Anya is super sweet.” You defended, only because it was true. Anya might’ve been marrying your douche of an ex-boyfriend but she was categorically the nicest person that you had ever met. “It wasn’t like he cheated on me, we broke up.” You didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. Not two weeks before the beginning of school. Two weeks before you had to look at her face every day until the honeymoon.

“They got together pretty quick.” Nina pointed out, not that she ever needed to. “Well, whatever, so what was this guy like, what was his name?”

“Did you swipe right on him and not even look at his name?” You asked, reaching for your phone to check.

“Yeah, so? She asked, “You said you knew him.”

“I said I slept with him.” You corrected.

“Same thing.” She shrugged, “name?”

“Rafe. Cameron.”

She ‘ohhhh-ed’ appreciatively, “What was he like?” She asked. “He sounds rich.”

“Hot,” you shrugged, “I don’t know he was probably a total fuck boy. He asked me to call him the next morning after breakfast and I said sure and then when I got back to my dorm Ian was there.” You provided the short story of events, omitting any major details about that night. You told Nina everything but you had never told her about Rafe, always a little wistful about the encounter. As if it was some personal memory that would lose its importance should anyone else know about it.

“He made you breakfast?”

“Yeah, so?”

“That’s like jackpot. God you could be like, married right now, popping babies out for some Swedish Au pair to run around after.” Nina replied raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m glad you’ve created this weird ‘rich kid’ narrative but I have no idea. It’s not like I was checking the guy’s financials while I was sucking his dick.” You lowered your voice at the end of the sentence, just in case the pushing 80 secretary walked past and heard you.

“Please, have you seen him? That is a baby-faced, rich boy living on his daddy’s money. And you could be too.”

“Okay, look, I was 20, I wasn’t trying to settle down and get married. At least not to some random guy I only hooked up with because my boyfriend was a douche.” You replied. Not to mention that breakfast had essentially consisted of one bite of toast before he was eating you out on the counter of his off-campus apartment. Not exactly the romantic beginning to a relationship. “Wait, did you swipe right?” You asked, almost immediately horrified at the thought.

“Maybe.”

“No,” you groaned, “fuck, he’s gonna think I’m so weird!”

“He will not. Besides, if he’s as much of a fuck boy as you say then guarantee he doesn’t even remember you.” She replied. “Besides, if he answers, it’ll be kinda nice ya know? Go out, have a nice dinner, get fucked, all your problems melt away.”

“He better not remember me.” You grumbled. You were not prepared for the absolute humiliation that would come from him seeing you on Tinder and remembering you.

“Did you really sleep with so few guys in college that you remember him?”

“You’ve slept with one person in the last decade…” you pointed out.

“And?” She slipped her sweatshirt back on and grabbed her bag, “whatever, I’m heading out. I have work in 30.”

With Nina gone, you slumped back in your chair and grabbed your phone. You had a tendency to never get rid of anything; it was the great downfall of your life. Someday you would accumulate so much stuff you would become a hoarder and then no one would love you but the cats that used your belongings as a litter box. It was a terrible habit but it lent to usefulness sometimes, especially in moments like this, as you scrolled through your phone, finding Rafe’s contact. You had told Nina that you’d lost Rafe’s number but in actuality you had kept it stored in your phone even though you’d never used it.

Now, this wedding fever was doing nothing but confirm your fear that you were one step closer to an unfulfilling life alone. Even Lorelai Gilmore didn’t stay single forever.

You stared at his name in your contact list, a little fire emoji next to it and you could remember laughing at him when he typed it in. It was more a playful jab at the way your Boston accent had pronounced the word fire than anything to do with him though you thought it was an accurate description.

You wondered if he had the same number. If you’d called him that night, would it have been another failed relationship to catalog away for when you were feeling especially shitty. Or would he have left you for the bubbly grade partner that you wanted to hate so much but couldn’t. Nina had swiped right on him but you didn’t even know where he lived these days. You were living in Boston again. You’d moved home for your masters and stayed when the teaching internship turned into an actual job.

North Carolina had been fun for school, being 12 hours away from home had given you the most incredible sense of freedom but nowhere was New England and you’d been itching to go home again just as soon as you’d arrived down there. Though coming back to Boston, you had found it different than you’d left it. Even with Nina here, she was married, she had her own life away from you. As much as you tried to settle in and pretend that everything was fine, you couldn’t help but admit that Nina was right, you did need someone.

Single life felt a lot more routine than you imagined it would. A call from your mother, complaining that your sister was acting out and being generally awful, a call from your sister, accusing your mother of being overbearing, and hours of alone time filled mostly by reading, walking your dog, and binging TV shows. “At least you got a dog and not a cat.” Nina had said when you brought Fivel home. He was pre-named and you were always partial to An American Tail.

“Only so I would exercise.” You had replied, knowing you had to walk the dog, a black lab mix that was a puppy when you got him. “You hear that Five, I’m using you for my own gain.” He had gotten big since then, fully grown now with a personality that included forgetting his size and spreading out on top of you when you laid on the couch.

Your apartment was small, an old converted brownstone with three apartments, yours on the top floor above a middle-aged couple with a very spoiled seven-year-old. They were nice when they weren’t blaring Disney movies and you resented that even in your house you couldn’t escape children but you couldn’t be too upset. The place was nicer than you could’ve hoped, truthfully. Especially living alone.

Even with a nice place to live though, it was always the same. Walking Fivel, making whatever dinner that came in the Sunbasket boxes at the beginning of the week, and watching Top Chef.

You closed out of your contacts, going back to Tinder as if Rafe would’ve already messaged you. All Nina had written was ‘hey’, as if that was supposed to entice someone into replying. You doubted the stupid picture of you from last year at the beach really did anything special. You weren’t surprised to find that there was no reply yet. You read his profile over again, unsure what else to say. The night the two of you hooked up you had both been at a party though these days your partying had been replaced with drinking alone.

Whoever said don’t waste your twenties would’ve recoiled in horror at the way you were living.

“Leaving so soon?”

You turned away from the double doors leading out onto campus, the click of the bar as it released echoing in your ear for a second, drowned out mostly by the music that was coming from the various dorms that had their doors open. It was a floor party; one you’d come to with some friends in high hopes of forgetting your current ex-boyfriend Ian once and for all. Three months of condescending comments and gaslighting finally pushing you over the edge.

“I was just...getting some fresh air.” You replied, shrugging. Trying to look calm, unaffected by this stranger’s sudden entrance into your life. He was cute, far more so than Ian. Taller too. You thought you recognized him from the lacrosse team your roommate was so obsessed with. “Lacrosse players are never unattractive.” She had argued once when she dragged you to a game.

He definitely fit the bill for her ideal of the lacrosse playing frat boy. Hot, tall, tan, his cap was on backwards and he looked so relaxed but also so sure of himself. Like whatever was going to happen in this hallway was going to go exactly how he wanted.

“Want some company?” He asked, taking a sip from the cup in his hand but not taking his eyes off you.

You felt like your heart was hammering in your chest, head swimming and you’d not even had anything to drink that night. “I uh…” worse case scenarios increased by tenfold in your head given the context of the situation. You were alone in a hallway, potentially about to go outside, while everyone else was partying, where they couldn’t hear you, with some guy you didn’t know at all. A guy who gave off some pretty strong ‘get-whatever-I-want’ vibes and he’d said no more than two sentences to you. “I uh, kinda wanted to be alone.”

“Cool, cool.” He shrugged, “no problem.”

For whatever reason that possessed you to think it was a genuinely okay idea, so you walked out, the door clicking open as you stepped onto the pavement. You kicked the stopper so it wouldn’t shut all the way because you’d rather be able to get back in than somehow have both of you trapped out here if he did decide to follow you. No alcohol, your brain was just malfunctioning or maybe your roommate was right and your usual suspicion of everyone had turned a nice moment into an awful one.

It was significantly colder outside than it had been in the dorms, even in the hallway, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You wanted to scream at Ian for not even letting you have a good time when you were out with friends because you kept thinking of him. He was off somewhere, already on spring break, no doubt hooking up with girls you’d never know about because you had told him it was over. And it was, you were just so completely unsure-

You’re silent berating ended mid-sentence when you turned around to see your lacrosse playing stranger sitting on the steps just inside the door. He smiled at you and waved and you almost laughed at the oddity of the moment as you came back inside.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding the door open and letting some of the cold air deep in.

“You said you wanted to be alone. Figured I’d wait.”

“For?”

He shrugged, standing up and leaning against the bottom of the railing, “you, to not want to be alone.”

“Well,” you were momentarily caught off guard, a nervous laugh escaping. Truthfully, you had never had someone flirt with you like this before, so directly obvious about liking you. Not necessarily one with quick-witted comebacks, you were still fairly good at deflecting when you needed too but somehow, he had rendered you speechless.

He nodded his head toward the steps, “we can just sit? Door’s right there,” he offered, referring to the dorm room less than six feet away. The door was open and you could hear a mix of chatter and music.

“Okay.” You agreed, letting the door close on the stopper, the slightest wave of cool air seeping in while you walked over and took a seat beside him. You introduced yourself, unsure what else to do, and probably sounded like every middle-aged family member he had when you asked him what his major was.

“Rafe Cameron,” he replied, “economics.”

“Oh god,” you said before you could stop yourself. He was the full package clearly, though of what you weren’t sure. He sounded rich, by the name alone, econ major, lacrosse player, potentially, and absolutely fuckable. There was no other coherent way to describe it. “I took an econ course as an elective freshman year, it really fucked me up.”

“Not a math person?” He asked, another sip of his drink and you really wished you had one. Anything to occupy a little corner of your brain so everything wasn’t so solely focused on him.

“No, no, not at all.” You shook your head. “So…do you live in this dorm?”

“Nah, my roommate’s dating some girl in one of these,” he replied, the same head nodded toward the rooms as before, “I’m just here for the booze, and the company.”

That wasn’t even that smooth of a line and you were melting at it. You weren’t sure if you were just dying for some positive attention or going through the motions of a breakup but either way you were seriously considering your roommate’s earlier encouragement of ‘letting yourself go’. Have fun, she had said, be bold.

“You play lacrosse, right?” You asked, because you were 95% sure you’d seen him and it was eating at you a little bit. You felt like you were grasping at straws trying to think of what to say. You were fairly positive that he was only talking to you because he wanted to have sex with you but honestly, you really wanted to have sex with him too.

“I do,” he grinned and you knew you’d basically given him the upper hand. “You’ve been to a game?”

“I’ve been to all of them.” You said before you could stop yourself. “I mean, my roommate’s a big fan of lacrosse or lacrosse players, not sure, so we always go.”

“Not a fan yourself?”

“No, I mean, I like it, you guys have a good team.” You shrugged. This was going terribly, or you would think it was if he wasn’t looking at you like that.

“Yeah?” He grinned, sliding a little closer to you on the stairs.

“I should close that door, it’s getting cold in here.” You mentioned, standing up suddenly.

Rafe couldn’t help his smile as you walked down the steps to the door. He had come out into the hallway because the party was boring, the music was subpar, and Topper was starting to annoy him. He had considered going back to the apartment altogether but he’d just sat on the stairs instead, as if he was waiting for something. And then you’d come along. “We could head back to my place? It’s warm.” He offered. A stupid line, sure, but the last one had played well for him so he tried this one.

You almost laughed at the cheesiness of his comment. The way he said it, even with how you’d felt when you first realized he was there, was easy, letting you know that the decision was yours entirely. Maybe it was a decision you shouldn’t have been making right this moment but he was gorgeous and anything that had you not thinking about your ex was good enough for you. “Yeah, but I’ll be cold on the way there.”

His lower lip jutted out, pouting at you playfully, “We’ll drive, you can stay warm in the car, promise.”

Sans Nina stopping by, the next day played out the same as the day before. You managed to hold off checking your Tinder until halfway through lunch. It wasn’t like you’d stopped thinking about it or forgot the whole exchange with Nina the day before. You’d locked the whole thing away to reminisce about at some later date when you were no doubt alone once again. Alone and-

And he had sent you a message. It just said hey back, and a subtle compliment about your profile picture, telling you that he would kill for beach weather right now and that ‘blue is his favorite color’, you clicking back a second later and realizing that the bathing suit you had on in your profile picture was, in fact, blue. You half wondered if he remembered you and that’s why it was so casual. But he was arguably that casual the night you met too. If you’d been in a less hyper aware state of mind you would’ve never realized he was flirting with you.

You stared at the message for half of your lunch hour wondering what to say in return. Something witty maybe, though you were feeling as tongue tied as you had that night six years ago. Not at all the confident person you always envisioned yourself being at this point in your life but the nervous one who said dumb stuff that you didn’t mean to.

-I went last weekend with a friend and it was literally too cold to take my sweatshirt off...fall’s a bitch-

You replied, attaching a frowning emoji to the end of your sentence. You hated your inability to be cool online. What else could you say though? You couldn’t ask if he remembered you. Say that if he did remember you than you were sorry for never calling and you know how much of an ass matching with him on Tinder probably seems. Or that pathetically enough for you that night and following morning are arguably the best sex you’ve ever had. Or even that his profile picture made him look better than you remembered, god why did you get back together with Ian.

Rafe had seen the match almost immediately. Working from home that afternoon, he’d only been half paying attention to the zoom meeting that he was on, scrolling through his phone when the notification popped up. He had clicked into Tinder, staring at your name and profile picture off and on for a good hour while he tried to think of something to say to you.

Something clever.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental person anyone had ever met and he’d slept with plenty of people in college but he knew you the minute he saw your picture. You looked exactly the same as you had that night, though the picture you used for your profile didn’t quite do justice to the way your eyes lit up when you smiled or how ridiculously easy it had been for him to be completely infatuated with you that night.

You had never called him and he couldn’t fault you for that, it wasn’t exactly like he was screaming boyfriend material back then. He barely was now. Whenever he thought about you, and he was sure it was more frequently than it should be for a one night stand from college, he assumed you’d probably met someone, settled down...all that ridiculous stuff his sister was into.

He said he liked the blue of your bathing suit in the picture of you and that he wished it was beach weather because seeing you honestly had him missing the Outer Banks more than he expected to. He sent the text and spent the rest of the night feeling like a dumbass. There he was, blowing his chances all over again. But then, halfway through the next day, you texted back.

-You Bostonians need to work on your weather. -

He responded, as soon as he got the message, and then,

-I’ll get right on it...any specific requests?-

Your reply came back a few minutes later, after he checked his phone three more times.

-Warm enough to take you to the beach.-

Rafe responded a little faster than he probably should have. Maybe a little more desperate than he should have too but he couldn’t be bothered about that.

-Sans the sweatshirt? -

-Exactly.-

He followed the text up immediately with a,

-but since I can’t take you to the beach, are you free for dinner this Friday?-

-I am, yeah. Where did you have in mind?-

-Have you been to Menton? -

It was warm in the apartment, even for mid-March with the windows opened. The kind of weather that made you want to stretch out in bed and do nothing all day. Except this wasn’t your bed or your room and the noise coming from the kitchen was definitely not going to help lull you back to sleep. Opening your eyes to the sun streaming through the window, you climbed out of bed, grabbing the t-shirt from the carpeted floor and pulling it over your head.

You hadn’t intended to stay the night at Rafe’s but really, once you were there you hadn’t wanted to leave. Even now, all you really wanted was to find him and take him back to bed. Maybe not to sleep but definitely to sleep with.

“Oh my god, you’re so loud,” you teased, walking into the small kitchen to find Rafe standing over the stove, back to you. He turned at the sound of your voice and you had to appreciate the lack of clothing he had decided to wear to attempt breakfast, just a pair of navy-blue briefs.

“Watch it, you won’t get any of these world class scrambled eggs.” He replied, pointing his spatula back to the frying pan on the stove.

You walked closer to him, letting him wrap his arm around you and pull you into his side. “Those do look like some quality eggs,” you observed, putting your arm around his waist.

This felt so easy you were dreading going back to your dorm eventually. Ian hadn’t even made a guest appearance in your brain and he’d been pretty much the star since the two of you broke up. But right now, all you wanted to focus on was Rafe and getting to spend as much time with him as possible.

Rafe moved the skillet off the stove and laid the spatula down, using his free hand to grab your waist as he maneuvered you around in front of him. You yelped in surprise when his hands fell to your thighs and he hoisted you up onto the counter.

“Careful! You almost burned me!” You laughed, swatting his hands away.

“You’re not even near the burner.” he laughed, pushing your legs apart so he could stand in between them.

“I thought we were having breakfast?”

“We are.” He reasoned, the innuendo evident as he leaned down and kissed just above your bare knees. “When do you have to be back?”

“Whenever.” You shrugged, more than happy to have this moment play out, uninterrupted.

Menton was the kind of place that other people went to. Not first grade teachers on first grade teacher salaries. Even when you were younger, growing up in the more affluent part of western Massachusetts, you had never really been part of a ‘fancy restaurants’ family. Menton was just some place Nina mentioned when she talked about restaurants too expensive for normal people.

“What if he remembers me?” You had asked, a few hours earlier, when Nina showed up at your apartment with shoes for your outfit.

“Did he say he did?” Honestly curious about this guy you had never mentioned to her before.

“No. But what if he does?” You couldn’t help being paranoid about the whole date. You could still remember the feeling of being around him, of being with him. Rafe hadn’t mentioned to you that he remembered you, and thank god too because how awkward would that conversation had been? Just a ‘hey, aren’t you that girl I hooked up with six years ago in college?’. Why did Nina have to swipe right. Why couldn’t she have minded her own business and believed you when you said that you were over Ian and not at all concerned about the wedding.

You were freaking yourself out for nothing. Or because you were dressed nicer than you had been in two years and standing outside Menton.

“Hey.”

You turned toward the sound of someone calling your name, seeing Rafe walking across the street. You felt very much like you were twenty again, finding him watching you from the stairwell, butterflies in your stomach. You teetered for a moment on the sidewalk, unsure if you should wait for him to make it all the way to you or just walk up and hug him. That seemed a little extreme, honestly,

You could still remember the feeling of his arms around you but if he didn’t remember you, and you were banking on him not remembering, it would be odd to just grab him in the street. He eased the tension for you though, reaching an arm out for a side hug once he was close enough. Casual but still not too personal.

“Hey,” he repeated, stepping away from you for a brief appraisal. “You look beautiful.”

“Ah, thank you...this place looked so fancy online, I wasn’t sure what to wear.” You admitted.

“You googled it?” He sounded amused, even as he stepped in front of you to hold the door open and you could just imagine the smirk on his face. The same one he’d worn when you told him that you had seen all of his lacrosse games. (You had seen all the ones after that night too but you always made sure to sit high up in the bleachers and you never stuck around after a game.)

“Well, yeah...I wanted to read the menu.” You replied, pausing briefly as Rafe gave his name to the hostess and she grabbed two menus, walking you through the restaurant to a nice table in the back. Quiet but not too quiet.

“Hopefully it’s lived up to its reputation so far?” He asked, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying that he remembered how bizarrely neurotic you could be, even in the few hours that he had spent with you.

“I mean I haven’t eaten the food.” You stressed, looking at him over your shoulder as he pulled your chair out for you. “Thank you.”

He grimaced, as if the possibility of you rating this place, or the date, badly, was still an option then. “The oysters are really good...or the cappotelli.” He suggested, moving around to his side of the table, “do you have a wine preference?”

“Red, otherwise...not really.” You replied, letting him order a bottle for the table. This was somehow exactly the person you’d hooked-up with in college and not that person at all. As if you could see little cracks in the facade of his put-together appearance. “So, are you from Boston?”

“No,” he shook his head. He looked up at you for a moment, breaking his concentration with the menu before he laid the paper off to the side, “I’m from North Carolina, the Outer Banks, I actually ended up moving up here for work.”

“I know this sounds crazy-”

He hummed and you scrunched your nose at him.

“-I’m always like, surprised when people are like, from the beach.” You explained, “like I only think of the beach as vacation place not like a, live there all the time place.”

“That’s cause it gets ridiculously cold up here.” He replied, “No one wants to live on a beach where it snows.”

“The beach is nice off season!” You insisted. “It’s not crowded and you can just like, walk around-”

“If I have to wear a coat to go to the beach, it is not nice.”

“Okay,” you sassed, sticking your tongue out and making him laugh. “So what do you do then? Why’d you move to Boston?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Rafe noted, “I work for an economics firm here. Mostly I moved for the job opportunity but the distance from my family was an added benefit.”

“Well, I say this from a place of extreme bias, Boston is the best city.”

“It has it’s perks.” He could’ve been talking about a good parking deal but the way he smiled at you when he said it made you feel like he was talking specifically about you.

The date ended with Rafe walking you to the train, his coat over your shoulders because the light jacket that you’d worn had proven not warm enough for the early autumn chill that settled in. You talked about your first-grade class and being nervous for the impending year and he listened, saying that sometimes he felt like he was working with six year olds.

“At least I can curse in front of my co-workers though.” He lamented.

You laughed, “I’ve definitely let my fair share of curse words go...and heard quite a few from kids in my classes.”

“Oh man, I’d fucking lose it if some kid started cursing at me.” Rafe replied.

At the train station you argued for a few minutes over his coat, him insisting that you just hold on to it (“trust me, if I go 24 hours without seeing you again, I’ll be shocked.”), but you told him you had a severe inability to remember to give anything back and likely he’d never see it again, something he doubted, the implication that this would progress far enough that he would be in your apartment eventually there beneath the surface of his words.

When the train pulled in, the coat left in your possession, Rafe pulling it tighter around your shoulders and promising that he would get it back eventually. “I’ll text you.” He said, as the doors closed. And, by the time you got home, there was a text from Rafe waiting for you.

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @wldflwrskyee @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @louisolos @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione

202 notes · View notes

infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

A Little Attention Please [Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

Summary: Jim grows tired of Michael working on the holidays and in attempt to get his attention says some pretty truthful, but hurtful words, to which the both of you will now have to suffer.

Warnings: pre-smut, angst, swearing, mentions of drug use, a little bit o-violence, arguing

WC: 2.5k

A/N: I’m really getting into the Michael x Jim x Y/N universe and I like it. The next thing I put out will be for Hands On, which can be found here. In the light of the upcoming New Year, here ya go! Thank you for reading! 2 part series. -Juno

They were going at it again. You could hear them. Michael and Jim, arguing. And while this wasn't the first of the many arguments between just the two, this one was serious. This one intensified as the constant shouting and the occasional shuffle of noises, which you knew were things either flying around or breaking, only continued to get louder. Jim was beyond fed up with Michael working all the time, but today hit home for the boy. It was New Years Eve. They were suppose to be getting drunk and high together, like Michael promised. They were suppose to be cooking together, all of them, like Michael promised. And if anything pissed Jim off the most, it was just the fact that they were suppose to be spending time together, but they aren't.

Once again, Michael got wrapped up in his cooperative work. He sits at his desk for most of the day, coming out office every now and then to make sure Jim and Y/N were still okay or to grab another Monster and a snack. He reads and replied to a slew of emails and texts from his Mac. He'd have a couple phone calls and a couple FaceTimes with what he called "the esteemed members of the cooperative". This one phone call in particular set Jim off and for a moment you blocked out the intensifying argument coming from Michael's office to replay the events leading up to this in your head.

***

You and Jim sat around the island counter, your hand lovingly rubbing over his thigh as the two of you stared up at the kitchen TV, watching whatever was on, sharing a bowl of popcorn. In the other room you could hear Michael, yet again, taking another phone call, when he was suppose to be out here with you and Jim.

"I mean what else is there to do before midnight?" you heard Michael ask whoever he was speaking to on the phone. "Just work, work, work, and work, you know that."

You could tell that Jim was getting aggravated as his leg now began to bounce against your hand as he tried to remain focused on the show playing in front of him. In an effort to help, you slowly glided your hand across the bulge that formed between his legs a few minutes ago, around the time you started rubbing his thigh. That was a huge turn on Jim had that you recently discovered. Anything dealing with his thighs, Jim was hard as a rock. Rubbing, biting, scratching, kissing, licking, you name it.

"Oh. Jim and Y/N are in the kitchen. I hear them in there watching Big Bang Theory." Michael said as he continued his conversation. "Ahhhh. They'll be fine for a few more hours. They know how important my work is. Doesn't matter as long as I'm in there before midnight, right?" Upon hearing those words, Jim slammed his hands down on the table, getting up, eyes red from his own intoxication with marijuana.

"Jim please don't." you whispered, grabbing his hand.

"Please don't?" he whispered back, raising his eyebrows at you. "Please don't?! I'm so sick of this Y/N."

"I know, baby." you said, standing up to face him, holding onto his hand. "But you also know Michael's role and what he has to do."

"I don't give a fuck about Michael's role right now. We gave him Christmas. We gave him Thanksgiving. We gave him his favorite, fucking Halloween and the one time we ask him to please be fully present on a holiday, what is he doing?" You fell silent, knowing that Jim was right. "Answer me, Y/N. What is he doing?"

"Talking it up with his cooperative 'bitches'." you replied. That's what Jim liked to call them and Michael often found it amusing, not knowing Jim's angry connotation behind it.

"Exactly." Jim said. "So let me go."

Michael walked in the kitchen, still on the phone, and glanced between the two of you, giving both of you a wink before grabbing a water from the fridge and making his way back to his office, causing Jim to snatch his hand from you, trailing shortly behind.

"No holidays off. Ever. Not even birthdays." Michael said. "I know I can't even rem-,"

Michael's conversation was cut short by Jim, who grabbed his phone from his ear and chucked it against the wall with all his strength, watching as it shattered to pieces. Michael quickly turned around, eyes black as the night sky before quickly realizing it was Jim who appeared in front of him.

"Jim..." he spoke, his voice soft, but also laced with a little bit of anger. You decided that you wouldn't follow Jim into Michael's office because when things got bad between the both of them, it got real bad. "Do you want to explain to me why you just did that? I was in the middle of an important call."

"Why does it matter Mr. Big Shot Anti-Christ?" Jim spat. "You work so fucking much that you have all the money in the world to by a new one right? People at your disposal 24/7 and on call for you, right, Mr. Langdon?"

"Jim what are you getting at?"

"And what do Y/N and I get again on another holiday, nothing." Michael sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk and folding his arms across his chest. He assumed that this was just another one of Jim's little outbursts, so he was going to let him finish. "A couple of kisses and a quick fuck, isn't doing it for me anymore Michael." Jim paused, turning around to look at Michael's giant flat screen that occupied the wall directly in front of his desk. What appeared on it, made Jim's blood boil even more. More often than not, on days that he was especially busy and especially missing his babies, he kept a slide show on of pictures and random videos of the 3. This slide show just happened to be his private album of the 3. Pictures ranged from his nudes, Jim's nudes, your nudes, to the pictures he took during the many sexual adventures the three of you would go on.

"Oh so this is how you get your rocks off instead of spending time with us, huh?" Jim asked, glaring at Michael. "Because why have the real thing when I can just stare at the pictures all day?" Michael chuckled, running his hands through his long blonde hair, his eyes never leaving Jim's. "I'm glad you think this is fucking funny." And without warning, Jim grabbed Michael's PlayStation controller and threw it at the TV.

"Jim what the fuck is the issue?!" Michael asked, starting to get angry. "Breaking things isn't going to solve anything!"

"You Michael. You are the fucking issue! The cooperative is the fucking issue!"

"Jim Jam you know I have to work! I'm not just some regular fucking CEO. Im the-,"

"Fucking anti-Christ. Yeah, tell me something I don't fucking know. So far that's all you've been rather than a lover to me and Y/N. One holiday. That's all we both asked of you and where are you Michael? In here. Again! It's fucking 8PM and we haven't even started cooking because we've been waiting on your ass all day!"

"I don't know how many times I have to explain to you how important it is that I have all these files together and quickly."

"And that's what you have a second in command for. Tell them to fucking handle it! You don't have to over see everything 24/7, Michael! We exist too. We want your attention too. We worship the ground you walk on too, but you know what they don't do?!"

"Jim, don't start-,"

"They don't love you like we do Michael. They follow your fucking DEAD BEAT father, Michael. Not you! Last time I heard, it was Hail Satan not Hail Satan's son."

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Jim Mason."

"Or what?" Jim asked, stepping closer to Michael. "You do all this work to impress your daddy, but where is he? I'm gonna recreate the world in my father's image, but where has father been throughout all of this?"

"He's doing his best!"

"His best? Oh fuck me, Michael. His best?! He left you in the middle of the woods to DIE at one point Michael! He ignores you on days ends, only giving you maybe an answer when he sees fit. And your cooperative bitches? Satan probably doesn't answer them either so of course they're following in your fucking foot steps. Who's the next best person when we can't reach the devil himself? His son."

"Stop." Michael said, sternly, jaw clenched.

"Yet here Y/N and I are, loving you for more than the fact that you're just the anti-Christ and we find ourselves constantly at the bottom because everything is sooooooo important. Fuck you, Michael. I love you, but fuck you. And if it came down to it, since no one really wants to put it in your head, your father would have no problem watching you die."

"I'll snap your neck." Michael said, grabbing Jim by his throat and giving it a squeeze.

"Did you ever really stop to think about it?" Jim questioned. "He's selfish, Michael. There can only be one Satan and if it means watching you suffer and struggle to find answers, then of course he's going to turn a blind eye to his precious boy. And his precious boy, so eager for every one in the world, not just his significant others, to suck him off, is willing to work himself to death for an answer he'll never be able to find." Jim was pushing all the right buttons and he knew it. If he couldn't pull Michael out of his work nicely, dark Jim was going to do it.

***

"Cooperative this! Cooperative that!" Jim yelled, storming out of Michael's office with Michael's MacBook in his hand, causing you to get immediately snap your head up.

"Jim, I swear, if you fucking-," Michael said, trailing behind him.

"You'll what, Michael?!" Jim questioned, abruptly stopping to turn around and face him. "You'll snap my neck? Set me ablaze? Do it then. At least that's some form of attention." And again without warning, Jim smashed Michael's computer, screen open, face down, on the coffee table, right in front of you, causing you to flinch and yelp.

"Jim!" you shouted, but Michael stood perfectly still. And you remembered, vividly, what happened the last time Michael stood perfectly still. You quickly hopped up to your feet, grabbing Jim by his arm and yanking him towards the back door. "Come on, Jim."

"I'm not running from him." Jim said, stiffening his body so you couldn't pull him away any further.

"No, Jim, seriously. We need to step outside. I know he's not saying it, but I've seen this before and we need to give him some space. Now."

"I think he's had enough space from us."

"Jim can you put your anger to the side for one minute and just listen. I know you're upset and you have every right to be, but please, let's just go outside and give Mike some space."

"Whatever." Jim sighed, softening up and letting you pull him away, but before you could even get the door open, Michael used his powers to lock all of them, cocking his head to the side.

"Shit..." you mumbled to yourself. Why did Jim have to be so angry? Why did Jim have to get himself riled up and then go get Michael riled up? How did you always end up in the middle of it?

"Attention." Michael spoke, shifting his stance. "That's what you wanted right? Some attention?" He looked at the both of you, annoyed that he wasn't answered right away. He glared at Jim. "Answer me!"

Both you and Jim still remained silent, knowing that if you gave Michael the wrong answer, he'd snap. But what you both failed to remember is that Michael above all, hates not being answered at all. With the snap of his fingers, both you and Jim were tied up to a dining chair, stripped of most of your clothing.

"Okay my little brats. Since no one wants to give me answer." Jim went to move his lips to say something, but Michael, with the use of his powers, kept him silent. Michael squatted down, taking his blade from his back pocket, gently rubbing it along Jim's skin causing Jim to shiver. Michael could see the fear in both of your eyes. He could smell it more than anything and boy did that give him a rush.

"What's wrong, Jim?" he asked, chuckling. "Satan's son got your tongue? Baby boy, if you wanted me to fuck you so bad, all you had to do was ask. I mean the answer would of been no, considering how terribly you've been behaving, but damn Jim, breaking my shit? Oof. That's an all new low for you. And now look, hmmm? I'm gonna have to break you, starting with that precious little mouth of yours. I could smell your horniness the moment I walked into the kitchen and hear the frustration as I listened to your thoughts."

"Oh and my lovely little Y/N." Michael continued, his sexy, sadistic gaze now falling onto you. "You thought you would get off free, didn't you? Mmmm, no baby, I could hear your thoughts too and feel your frustration. And I guess daddy is so sorry that he's been neglectful of his pups, but what daddy is not sorry for, is working to ensure that the correct people make it to this new world."

"Nonetheless, daddy is done working now, I suppose, since you know, his stuff was broken, so now he has no other choice, but to dish out some attention, yes?" Michael looked at his watch that now read 9:30PM. No, that's not the longest argument him and Jim ever had. In fact the longest argument was between the 3 of you, lasting 4 hours in total. "Wow and only 9:30? This is going to be so much fun." You and Jim shuffled around nervously, but aroused in your seats.

"You see. I'm going to spend the next 2 and a half hours and so on and so forth, ruining the both of you. And if you cum once, if you make a noise louder than the volume I set the TV, I'll be sure that the both of you regret it going into the New Year." Michael stood back up, his hard on, on full display for both you and Jim, turning on the dining room TV to whatever station they would be broadcasting the dropping of the ball tonight.

"We'll start with Y/N, since she's been somewhat decent tonight." Michael beamed.

And all for a little attention.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #jim mason #jim mason imagine #jim mason smut #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x reader #ahs apocalypse #tribes of palos verdes #new years

52 notes · View notes

blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of June. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Until You’re Home | Explicit | 1039 words

Louis lives in London, Harry lives in Tokyo. They make it work.

2) He Holds My Paradise | Mature | 1332 words

“What is it that you want, baby?”

“Your dick” Louis breaths out, choking on his own words, neck still covered by his boyfriend’s hand.

“And where do you want it, baby?” the Devil asks him, a satisfied smirk painting his lips. “in my pussy, please.”

3) Morning | Explicit | 1428 words

Harry and Louis wake up and have a 'productive' morning in the shower ;)

4) Let's Go To The Beach | General Audiences | 1489 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it. This is a sequel. Part one of this fic is #6 on this list.

"Louis," Harry repeated.

"Right," Louis sighed. "He tried to scent me."

or the one where Louis has a meeting with an aggressive alpha and Harry calms Louis down.

5) Sweet Relief, Pretty Please | Not Rated | 1840 words

Louis is drunk, sad and alone, and Harry is a wanker.

6) Hey Moon, Don't You Fall Down | Mature | 2574 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #4 on this list.

"Make me yours," Louis opened his eyes and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I'm ready, alpha, always been ready for you. Since the first day we met, I was yours. Please," Louis gasped as Harry slid his fingers out of him.

or the one where Harry and Louis finally bond.

7) Nothing Like Anything | Explicit | 2614 words

Harry is bored of his frat parties. No one interesting comes anyway.It's always drunk people, grinding in the living room, strangers trying to catch his eye. He's about to leave, just to ease his pounding head when he sees him, sinful on the dance floor and suddenly the party isn't so bad.

8) Over Exposed - Part Two| Explicit | 2840 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Harry and Louis take a quick break from Harry's tour to attend the VMAs, then have a night out at a club.

9) Sweet Vanilla Cream | Explicit | 2896 words

Harry fights to resist his roommate's new omega boyfriend, Louis. Louis maybe doesn't want him to resist.

10) Take Off Your Glasses | Mature | 3742 words

Louis was enjoying his time, as he decided to spend his weekend clubbing, Louis knows no one in there, yet someone wanted to mess with him to know who's Louis the attractive boy in the black skirt.

"It’s Louie.. Sir."

11) Rose’s Fortune | Mature | 5055 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut but since it’s a/b/o we’ve decided to include it in this monthly roundup.

Omega Louis takes one of his siblings to the doctors (check up, possible broken bone or possibly injections?) and the new Dr is Alpha Harry. Harry is great with kids and Louis is smitten. Harry is smitten too but attempts to act professionally and keep his distance whenever Louis visits the Drs with his siblings or to pick up his prescriptions. But Harry realises there is no reason for him not to make a move as Louis isn't under his care.

12) Dare You To Move | Not Rated | 6060 words

The one where Harry falls in love with the omega who is the brain behind the omega march he joined.

13) Savage Garden’s Song Rules Sometimes (While Yours Always Reign Supreme) | Explicit | 6261 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

The morning after one too many nights of isolation for Louis Tomlinson and his hot & dangerous boy.

Aka how insanely adorkable Harry Styles could be after a sulking episode. [wordplay edition]

14) I Can Feel Your Blood Pressure Rise | Explicit | 9292 words

"Hello, your Highness," Harry heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. Chills ran down his body as he felt the coldness of something sharp poke the back of his neck, "Turn around slowly or I'll hurt you,” the voice said in a teasing tone.

Where Louis is some sort of Robin Hood and sneaks into the King's castle, only to be fucked hard.

15) You Know What They Say | Explicit | 10323 words

Nice guys always finish last.

16) Teenage Dream | Explicit | 10333 words

Harry and Louis get reintroduced to each other by their friends. It’s an instant connection. Now they’ve just gotta get to know each other.

17) Move So Petty (You're All I See) | Explicit | 10548 words

Harry’s pretty content with his life. He loves his job- a veterinarian at a local clinic who’s already built up a name for himself despite his young age. He loves his gorgeous flat with its wide, open space and minimalistic, yet still homey feel. He loves his family who he talks to and visits as much as possible, not bothered by the long hours of driving to Holmes Chapel from London he endures multiple times a month. He loves his friends and his coworkers and his neighbors- especially Allison, the little old lady next door who brings him and Louis cookies on holidays and who always comments on how “strong and handsome you are, Mr. Styles,” everytime he sees her.

And most importantly, he loves Louis, just- maybe in a slightly different way.

18) When Tomorrow Comes | Explicit | 11111 words

The one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

19) Smells Like Omega Spirit | Not Rated | 11769 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it.

Louis is an omega doing a test run on neutralizers for a class project. Every time he talks to Harry he smells completely different.

Harry is an alpha who can't figure out if he's going crazy or his sense of smell is broken, but all he wants to figure out what Louis' real scent is.

Somehow they figure it out.

20) You Kill My Mind | Explicit | 13181 words

Harry has always been ashamed to reveal his kinks to friends and partners alike. One day he meets a man who seems perfectly designed for him and they embark on a wonderful, sex-filled exploration journey.

21) In The Heat Of The Moment | Mature | 15743 words

When Louis unexpectedly goes into heat in maths class it takes him way too long to figure out why (it might have something to do with a certain curly haired boy sitting next to him).

22) Was In No Hurry, Had No Worries | Explicit | 21485 words

The year is 1999 and Harry can’t stop dedicating songs to Louis on the radio. Or the one where Harry hits Louis with his car.

23) You're The Smell Before Rain, You're The Blood In My Veins | Explicit | 21945 words

“It was him you talked about, when you used to call me late at night, saying you were missing your ex? Was it him, your important five-year long story? Was it him the person you had thought about proposing, one day?” Nick asks with a low voice, almost inaudible, almost like he’s talking to himself “He’s my boyfriend…” he whispers again, without looking up.

“I know! And you shouldn’t worry, because you don’t have a single reason to do so. He’s yours now, he’s with you. I really don’t understand why you came here, honestly” Harry says defending himself out of instinct, even if he has no reason to react like that. He just- just wishes for Nick to leave his room and go back home to Louis. Because at this point Nick has Louis and fuck, why can’t he just go fuck off for once? Doesn’t he have enough shit do deal with already? Does he really need to get into this as well? Right now?

24) Like The Earth Around The Sun | Explicit | 23600 words

The one where Harry bursts in on Louis in heat and things only get more complicated from there.

25) The Blood of Love | Explicit | 25273 words

Harry is a nurse and Louis is a painting worth more than a thousand words. As desire and darkness encompasses him, Harry has to learn the secrets of Thorne Hills manor before he succumbs to the mystery that surrounds him.

26) Habit | Teen & Up | 27095 words

In which Louis is a Donna who has a soft spot for alpha Harry.

27) Let Me Carry Your Weight | Explicit | 28633 words

Louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

28) Robbers And Cowards | Explicit | 33237 words

A modern day Robin Hood AU where Louis and Harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more.

29) Caves End | Explicit | 39711 words

The one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

30) Soaked In The Blood Of Angels | Explicit | 40867 words

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

31) With Stars Of Brightest Gold | Explicit | 41109 words

Louis Tomlinson is the premier courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. In his dreams, he has always wanted to be a famous stage actor. Locked into his contract, he has little means of escape until a handsome duke promises him freedom with a romantic alliance. Due to a case of mistaken identity playwright Harry Styles is thrown into the mix, compelling Louis to choose between his head or his heart.

32) We Both Got Nothing To Hide | Explicit | 43811 words

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

33) In A World Alone | Explicit | 50787 words

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.

Because the swan is gone.

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.

A Swan Lake AU.

34) Hunting Ground | Not Rated | 583658 words

Note: This fic is the third part of a series. Part two is #38 in this list.

Louis Tomlinson didn’t know how complicated life could be until he became a werewolf. And until he was mated to Harry Styles, the son — and enforcer — of Liam, the leader of the North American werewolves, he didn’t know how dangerous it could be either...

Louis and Harry have just been enlisted to attend a summit to present Liam's controversial proposition: that the wolves should finally reveal themselves to humans. But the most feared Alpha in Europe is dead set against the plan — and it seems like someone else might be too. When Louis is attacked by vampires using pack magic, the kind of power only werewolves should be able to draw on, Harry and Louis must combine their talents to hunt down whoever is behind it all — or risk losing everything.

35) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes | Mature | 85205 words

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

Pirate AU.

36) Cry Wolf | Not Rated | 85205 words

Note: This fic is the second part of a series. Part three is #36 in this list.

Louis never knew werewolves existed, until the night he survived a violent attack... and became one himself. After three years at the bottom of the pack, he'd learned to keep his head down and never, ever trust dominant wolves. Then Harry Styles, the enforcer—and son—of the leader of the North American werewolves, came into his life.

Harry insists that not only is Louis his mate, but he is also a rare and valued Omega wolf. And it is Louis' inner strength and calming presence that will prove invaluable as he and Harry go on the hunt in search of a rogue werewolf—a creature bound in magic so dark that it could threaten all of the pack.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

231 notes · View notes

akaashisupremacy · 3 years

Text

Just a Holidate

Summary: You and Kuroo agree to be holidates. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes: The Usher karaoke scene is inspired by @sugardaddykenma ‘s hq x usher confession album post which you desperately need to check out. In general, I love to write for Kuroo. Check out another fic here and my Masterlist.

Kuroo x reader

genre: Christmas fluff, angst, a sprinkling of crack, ficlet (wc: 1.2 k)

“What are you doing on the godforsaken app?!” Kuroo Tetsuro peers over your shoulder, bending down to look at your phone.

“I’m aggressively swiping for a holidate,” you scowl. Dating apps are self-explanatory enough, “And there are not enough available people with cars.”

“That’s rather materialistic of you.” he comments, straightening up his back.

Both of you have just finished a coffee get-together with some friends from your middle school, the first of many holiday engagements to come. Many of you went off to separate high schools but still kept in touch.

“Tetsuro, I’m here for holiday fun,” you roll your eyes, “I’m not looking for a life partner with outstanding moral character.”

A snicker escapes him. Sounds fair.

“What’s your radius?” He asks curiously.

“5 miles I think.” You shrug.

“If you make it 7, I have a car.” He smirks.

——————————————

“I can’t believe I took you up on your offer,” you say incredulously, “And that you’re requiring me to go to your parties too.”

The first of your holiday parties is actually not yours, but Kuroo’s instead. In the interest of fairness, he insisted you have to go to his engagements as well.

“It’s called a two-way street.” He tuts, locking up his car.

Kuroo picked you up earlier this evening to go to a karaoke reunion with his old team mates from Nekoma. As you walk to karaoke place, you bring up an old memory.

“Every time I think about you and karaoke, I remember the time where you and Yaku serenaded a girl with an unsolicited Usher song with the rest of the volleyball team as your backup singers.” you chuckle.

“Wait—who told you about that?” His face glows bright red. It’s unusual to see Kuroo caught off guard. “I was black out drunk and it was on a dare, okay?!”

You wiggle your fingers, “It’s a secret.”

The receptionist leads you to the reserved room. The room is dark, lit only by brightly colored blue and green lights. The wall paper looks like it was designed by someone on hallucinogens. You turn to him with a questioning gaze.

“Don’t look at me. This was Yaku’s idea.” he raises his brow.

He quickly introduces you to his friends before they hand you the list of available songs and the remote control.

“If you want to sing, we can queue something for you.” he mindlessly browses.

An idea goes off your head. When he stands up to order for some drinks, you quickly queue a surprise in a few minutes.

“Who queued Simple Things by Usher?” calls out Tora. You see Kuroo’s ears perk up from across the room and his eyes widen in a mix of alarm and amusement as the opening notes play.

“It’s Kuroo’s song!” you call out in reply, “Can you hand him the mic?”

Tora shoves him the mic. The Nekoma team start to cheer in anticipation. He glare at you mischievously grin and give him a thumbs up from your seat.

He slowly grabs the mic and mouths, “I’m getting you back for this...”

————————————————

Despite not having gotten over the trauma from his Usher karaoke, Kuroo still insists on having you come as his date. You admire him for his persistency.

He’s not terrible by any standard. He’s even kind of fun, so even though you’d rather stay home some night, you never really regret having gone out with him.

“Kenma’s place, 8 pm, drinks and Cards Against Humanity.” he calls one evening, “It’s kind of last minute, but can you make it?”

Kuroo calls out of the blue. It’s 9 am on a Saturday morning.

“Probably not, I’m going to decorate my apartment.” you reply, untangling some lights with one hand. He hears the shuffling over the phone.

“But it’s so close to the holidays?” he asks, somewhat confused as to why you’d choose to decorate so late into the season.

“It’s mostly just lights,” you sigh, “I didn’t have the money to buy them earlier this month so I only got them now. This is important to me, Tetsuro. My parents used to never allow me to decorate their house. Now that I have my own place and time, I wanna do this.”

When you are met with silence, you become defensive, “I knew you wouldn’t under—“

“If I come help, can you go?” he interjects.

In less than half an hour, he quietly gets to work untangling and hanging your lights. He even goes back into his car to get his toolbox and some supplies.

Kuroo is so silent when he’s concentrating you’re a little freaked out.

“You’ve changed, Kuroo.” you murmur, “High school you would've been making hot takes and calling me chibi-chan, but you’re actually doing something nice for me.”

“I like to think I’ve matured since then.” he raises a brow at you.

He twists some hooks onto the surface and you hammer some nails on the other end of the same wall.

“You’re really into this holidate thing,” you comment, “Didn’t think you’d be so extra, but thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem,” he utters, eyes glued to his work, “I’m just tired of showing up alone. Most of the guys are in long-term relationships and I’m still extremely single.”

“But why are you being so extra? Is it really the single-ness?”

He glances at you and rolls his shoulders back.

“‘I've always thought you were kinda cute…and spunky…and really nice. Even if sometimes I’d annoy you, you’d still help me out when we were in junior high. Do you remember that?” he tilts his head, “Which I guess peaks to as you put it, your great moral character…I guess I just wanted to see if you still live up to that image of you I’ve built up in my head.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Do I?”

Without skipping a beat, he clears his throat and replies “Yeah, you’re even better than I thought you’d be.” You’re surprised by the lack of his usual bravado. He almost seems…shy.

“So you’re to debunk your middle school crush on me basically.”

“Among other things,” he smirks, “I like spending time with you though. I like who I am when I’m with you.” A small smile wipes the smirk off his face. A certain vulnerability permeates his tone.

“Okay, I think this is it.” He steps back from his handiwork and hands you the plug.

“Go ahead. See if it works.”

You plug the lights in and your apartment is aglow of fairy lights. A hush falls between the two of you, both at a loss words. Your apartment even looks better than it was in your head.

“Not bad,” he nods in approval.

You slowly turn to him.

“Thanks, Tetsuro, this is the best present ever.” you beam at him, before turning back to your handiwork.

He feels unexpectedly moved by your reaction. He mumbles a “no problem” and stands a little closer to you.

“You’re not so bad a holidate yourself. I might actually miss this when the holidays are over.” you chuckle.

Kuroo wants to reach out behind your shoulders but stops himself. He is harshly reminded that he’s a temporary companion. As he watches your face by warm yellowish lights, he takes in each detail of your features.

In case things could somehow miraculously work out, he wants to remember this night as the night he fell for you. But until that happens, he readies his heart to be broken because he’s just a holidate after all.

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

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D

#flightlessworks #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fanfic #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x y/n

48 notes · View notes

candychronicles · 4 years

Text

unrequited love, or not? // k. bakugou

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, and thank you for being so patient!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,668

WARNINGS: mentions of being drunk, blood, mutual pining, dumb best friends

SYNOPSIS: you’ve been best friends since you could remember, but what if you wanted more?

the first day you met Bakugou Katsuki was on the first day of school, ever. you were bubbly, upbeat, someone who introduced yourself to everyone and made as many friends as possible. nothing could get you down, well, besides Bakugou. despite your best attempts, he was mean, sassy and definitely didn’t want to be your friend. for awhile, you resigned yourself to all your other friends, but the grumpy gremlin never left your brain.

over the following years, you slowly broke down the anger and superiority of his childhood, peeling back the layers to find a kid who wanted to save lives and be a hero, a kid who used his confidence to keep himself going against all odds. it wasn’t until your years at UA high that you really figured out who he was to you, but by then, things were too late, him being too focused on climbing to the top to even spare anything other than a friendly glance your way.

it wasn’t as if he ignored you. in some ways, that may have even been better, for you would’ve been able to push aside your feelings, but no, Bakugou was anything if not an attentive friend. he was one of the few people you trusted with your life, and vice versa. he came to you for everything, with everything, about everything, because you were his partner, his best friend. this closeness only complicated things, but you persevered, determined to be the greatest sidekick you could be to him.

your friendship wasn’t one that many people understood. while you were bright, extroverted, smiling brighter than the sun, moon and stars, he was grumpy, reserved, focused, but it worked. he called you annoying every day, and yet you two were inseparable, eating together, doing homework together, shopping, spending holidays together and taking selfies that, when you posted, he threatened to blow you up.

you watched as he blew every challenge out of the water, both literally and figuratively. from every challenge that came in high school, all of the death and destruction that you two fought together, coming out on top despite the pain, and continuing to help save people as he became a sensationalized pro hero practically overnight.

despite his constant successes, he wasn’t the number one pro hero, and until he achieved, and consistently maintained, his biggest goal of his life, there would be no other priorities in his life. you slowly watched, year after year, as he worked tirelessly, throwing away other opportunities in order to continue to pursue his goal. it wasn’t until you confronted him casually one day that your worst suspicions were confirmed.

“Katsuki, why haven’t you ever dated someone?” you questioned not so innocently one day, waiting with baited breath to hear his answer.

“Becoming the number one pro-hero has and always will be my number one priority,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders and continuing on with eating like he didn’t just shatter your heart into a million shards.

little did you know, his heart was also breaking, threatening to rip his chest open from the inside, suffocating and strong. he liked you, loved you, for longer than he could remember, but he was sure you didn’t feel the same way. he thought that every lingering touch, every suffocating hug, every time you called him when you were sad and drowning in tears, begging him to make you feel better, was just you being a best friend, nothing less and nothing more.

you became a bit more distant after that, nursing your hemorrhaging heart, attempting to fix it back up, using any stitch or glue that you could find so that you wouldn’t bleed out. this need to not hurt led you to a very drunk night with Mina and Jirou. it started off innocent enough, but as the night drug on and the alcohol tickled your veins, your blood began to thin and pour out of your mangled heart, and the tears followed soon after.

“why did i have to fall for him? he doesn’t love me, he never will. i’ll have to sit back and watch him continue on with his life, blissfully u-unaware that there is someone here who loves him so much that it hurts. i’m so dumb, so so dumb,” you rambled on, liquid pain streaming down your face as you cuddled a bottle of wine.

the girls tried to console you as best as they could, snuggling deeply into you and rubbing your hair, wiping the tears off your face and assuring you that you were loved, before you promptly passed out, the bottle of booze replaced with a pillow that you clutched tightly to your chest, attempting, even in your sleep, to fix the ache in your heart.

you awoke with a pounding headache and a steely resolve to distance yourself from your best friend even more than you already were. while you knew it would hurt, nothing could compare to the emptiness you felt standing next to him knowing he didn’t feel the same way. texts were replied to hours later, calls missed, and you once even pretended you weren’t home when he stopped by randomly to check up on you.

Bakugou didn’t know what he did wrong, and it was eating him alive. he texted, he called, he even tried to break down your door, knowing you were home, but you still barely responded, claiming you were busy. never in your combined friendship had you went this long without talking, even when you were truly mad at each other.

the lack of communication took a toll on Bakugou and he finally decided to confront Mina about it one day, despite not wanting to look desperate.

“why has she been avoiding me?” he asked the second she picked up the phone, not bothering to even say hi.

he heard a soft sigh on her end of the phone before she replied, “i’m not supposed to tell you.”

“bullshit. if she’s hurt, mentally or physically, she should be coming to me. i’m her fucking best friend.”

“and that’s the problem,” she replied cryptically.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? does she not want to be my friend anymore?”

“well, yes and no.”

he swore, at those four words, his heart stopped.

“if she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore, then she needs to man up and tell me. i don’t have time to waste on cryptic shit. i’ve got more important things to do.”

“and that’s the problem!” she suddenly exploded, before replying more evenly, “all you care about is being the number one pro hero to even see what’s going on in front of your very eyes. someone cares about you very, very much, probably more than your shitty ass deserves, and you can’t even return those feelings because you can’t and won’t prioritize more than one thing in your life.”

Bakugou hung up on her after those words, immediately calling you, to no avail. he grabbed a jacket and some shoes and raced out of the door, heading towards your house with nerves of steel.

how stupid could i be? does she really feel the same way?

once he reached your house, he barged in, not even bothering to announce his presence as he headed towards the kitchen.

you appeared out of nowhere, alert and ready for anything, before relaxing your body, though there was still tension squaring your shoulders back.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, confusion and a little bit of anger tinging your voice.

“do you love me?”

you quirked your head at him, face heating up in embarrassment, not sure how to respond.

“are you ignoring me because you love me and you don’t think that i love you back? are you so dumb to think that if you confessed to me right now, that i would reject you?”

your mouth gaped open and closed, unsure of how to take his questions, so you nodded meekly back, before responding, “you told me that being the number one pro hero was your number one priority-”

“my number one priority right now, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re also not one of my priorities in my life. sometimes you’re even my number one. i don’t spend all my time with you, tell you everything, help you with everything, just because you’re just one of my ‘friends’. you’re my other half, you idiot. will you go out with me?”

your head cocked side to side, mouth still open, attempting to process his words, all the information that he had just thrown at you like it was nothing. he liked you? he wanted to go out with you?

“the question isn’t that hard. you also look like a fish. close your mouth and just tell me how you feel, how i know you feel now, so i can kiss your dumb face.”

at those teasing words, your face broke out in a smile before you rushed forward to capture his lips in your own, pouring all of that pent up pain and sadness into the kiss, allowing your heart to finally stitch together.

“you’re such an idiot. of course i like you, and of course i’ll date you. i’ve loved you for a long time, maybe even since you were a snotty nosed little brat, but not much has changed since then,” you teased, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“hey, just because you’re dating me doesn’t mean i still won’t kick your ass for being rude.”

“catch me if you can lover boy,” you called out, leaping away from him and into the kitchen laughing.

he shook his head, finally allowing himself a moment to breathe, feeling the heat rise into his cheeks and his blood pumping throughout his body, before he called out threateningly and began chasing after you around.

i’m in love with my best friend.

maybe being number one pro hero wasn’t the number one priority in his life anymore.

TAGS: @jojosmilktea @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

307 notes · View notes

fedtothenight · 3 years

Text

this competition asked to write a short story in the dystopian genre and my entry's below - don't rb!

the sweetest fruit

The boy gasped, straining against the padded frame of the jeep just as the vehicle slowly came to a halt. ‘Look!’ he shouted, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet from the group. ‘Look, Mum! That’s so cool!’

Half-instinctively, his mother had already grabbed a fistful of his tank-top, ready to yank him back. She had spent the entirety of the trip sitting as still as possible, facing forward, eyes stubbornly fixed on the self-cooling top of the car in a pointless effort to fight her motion sickness: her patience was already wearing very thin without her eight-year-old personal safety hazard trying to get himself killed.

‘Ethan, for the love of God,’ she snapped. ‘I already told you to stop leaning over the frame! Do you realise how dangerous that is?’

‘No, Mum, you’ve got to look!’

‘Emma, darling,’ her husband whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You should really look at this. It’s magnificent.’

Whatever it was, even her fifteen-year-old daughter - who had spent the last thirty minutes texting her friends back home without so much as a glance at the scenery - was jaw-slacked, so she slowly got up on her wobbly knees and peered over her shoulders.

In the shadow of a tree, protected from the sweltering heat, two lions were feasting on a zebra. Perhaps belatedly, as it’d taken her a second to drink the sight in, she realised that the poor thing was still alive: writhing as blood, red and hot and pulsing, gushed out from where the bigger lion - the male - had bitten into its back.

The smaller one, the female, soundlessly sank its teeth into the dying animal’s neck, and the latter gave one last weak kick, finally falling limp. When the lioness stood again, it was almost impossible, from this distance, to see her eyes amidst the bloodied mess on her face.

‘Oh, my God, Matt,’ Emma said. ‘This is beautiful. Nature truly is beautiful.’

‘You don’t really get to see this kind of show anywhere else today,’ their guide said from the driver’s seat. He sounded proud, as if he’d hunted and fed the zebra to the lions himself.

Alberto wasn’t wrong, Emma reasoned. Given that they were parked in the middle of the privately-owned biggest North American savanna, he - or rather, his employer - was the one effectively feeding the lions. Like feeding mice to cats. She glanced at her children, glad they could have a window on a reality that was long gone. To think it would have taken a trip around the world to watch this spectacle - imagine the motion sickness then! If only, she considered wistfully, there could be a way of replicating glaciers just as accurately.

‘Honestly, it seems a bit unfair that they get to eat real meat,’ Ethan said at the dinner table a few hours later. He was picking at his plate, moving the fried grasshoppers they’d been served for dinner around, but not really eating any. ‘While we are stuck with insects and microprotein or whatever.’

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired and sunburnt, her sensitive pale skin suffering under the blistering sun of the region, so different from the temperate weather back home North. She had a splitting headache, too. She was, yet again, at the so-called end of her tether. ‘Ethan…’

‘You should be glad you get to eat at all,’ her daughter said at the same time. ‘There’s a reason it’s illegal to eat meat. These animals are here for show, anyway. They were originally from Africa.’

‘Shut up, Becca,’ Ethan mumbled. ‘Everybody knows there are no animals in Africa. There’s nothing there.’

Becca’s cheeks were tinted pink, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Of course there were animals. There were animals everywhere before the Climate Crunch.’

‘Both of you, stop it,’ Matt interjected. ‘Ethan, your sister is right. You should be grateful that we are here in the first place. That said…’ He leant forward, voice down to a whisper: ‘I have a surprise for you. Or, well, Richard has a surprise for us. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll bring us real meat. Bovine meat.’

‘But it’s illegal,’ said Becca.

‘It’s technically illegal,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘It’s not if you know how to get some and no one from Animal Conservation finds out. Do you think our president only eats insects? Please, Becca. Use that big brain of yours.’

‘Yes,’ Ethan snickered. ‘Use your brain, Becca.’

‘That is too generous,’ Emma said. ‘Inviting us here in the first place was, when even he hasn’t gotten here yet. Now this. I wouldn’t know how to repay him.’

Truly, all she felt was jealousy. Her guts twisted with the sheer force of it. Yes, she had known that Richard was comfortable. The gated, heavily guarded estate spanned for thousands of acres, comprised the 5000sqt villa they were staying at (five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a cinema, marble floors and solar panels on the rooftop), an indoor swimming pool inspired by vintage photos of Amalfi, two indoor tennis courts, and the savanna they’d explored earlier in the day. ‘The biggest conservation area in North America since they repurposed the Midwest,’ he’d bragged in a video call, two weeks before. ‘You will love it. The holiday you deserve. Make yourselves at home.’

But meat? He could get meat?

Matt’s family had designed DeNuketify, which was basically the only effective way of purifying ocean water from whatever nuclear waste Japan kept spewing so that it could be used and, most importantly, drunk. They had managed to flee the continent with the last handful of greencards about the time her family did, too, taking their precious Queen’s accent with them to found Nova London. She was the governor of Nova London now, for God’s sake. The bloody queen herself was long dead but she was alive, and yet, yet - they had never had meat.

‘We don’t have to, Emma,’ Matt said. ‘We just need to remember how lucky we are to enjoy this meal, this house, this holiday. Look at that,’ and he nodded towards the TV screen again. ‘Actually, Alexa!, volume up!, I think the Italians have finally surrendered.’

The war correspondent’s voice grew louder. She - they, Emma reminded herself: Becca always told her not to assume anyone’s gender - was wearing a dust mask and reading from a bundle of documents. ‘The last military hospital in the island of Palermo was destroyed four days ago by a Canadian airstrike,’ they were saying. ‘The rebels surrendered soon after, followed by the group of extremists in the Nebrodi island. Etna had already surrendered last year.’

‘It’s important to remember that these actions were necessary to finally put a rest on the instability of the region,’ they added. ‘Canada will fund a complete restoration of the Southern archipelago. The remaining civilians will be provided with a shelter and then, when the time comes, a suitable job. Nova Italia will be the sixteenth Canadian state, the fourth offshore. There are also hopes to extract petroleum from the seabed of the sunken city of Gela.’

‘Watch them make it into a holiday hotspot,’ Matt commented. ‘The weather is still nice there.’

‘Ooh, I heard about this.’ Becca picked her phone back up and started furiously typing away. ‘There’s this journal entry soldiers found over there, under the rubble, that’s gone viral. It was translated into English. Wait, I’ll pull it up. Alexa, volume down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it,’ Emma said, uneasy. ‘We’re on holiday. Should we not watch a movie? Something funny?’

Becca waved her away, as if she was an annoying fly. ‘It’ll be good practice for my drama class.’

Matt didn’t help—he simply shrugged, half-apologetic, as if to say: Let her do her thing.

Becca made a show of clearing her throat, too, before she started reading from her phone—her high voice now grave, studied, as if she were speaking to a larger audience: ‘I wonder what peas taste like.’

Right then, the scene on screen changed to footage of what looked like a destroyed village, something out of an apocalyptic movie. Emma found herself unable to look away.

‘Nonna used to say that her own great-grandmother grew them in her garden. Figs, too,’ Becca read. ‘They say they were the sweetest fruit.’

Emma wondered if this journal was actually written by a child or a teenager. It didn’t sound like an adult at all. She couldn’t help but picture a girl, a brunette, not much older than Becca, perhaps a rebel, or a trainee nurse on the sweet cusp of adulthood, holding this journal of hers, or perhaps a gun. It violently reminded her that her own daughter, too, would have to serve her time in the Forces in three years.

On screen, the Canadian soldiers walked among the ruins, zigzagging between torn up clothes and discarded weapons, surely looking for surviving rebels under the rubbles.

‘Isn’t it silly that we can hear the fighters overhead and that all I can do is think about food?’ said Becca. ‘I wish we could also eat figs and be happy.’

On screen, the camera zoomed in on a long-forgotten man's shoe, some crumpled photographs, on a pile of bodies in black bin bags.

‘Grandma - I miss her - left me a poetry book, too, from T.S. Eliot. I hope the book is with me when I die, so I can give it back to her when we meet again, afterwards. So I can tell her that T.S. Eliot was wrong.’

On screen, one of the soldiers approached and showed a little trinket to the camera: a bloody, heart-shaped locket that must’ve once been golden, hiding the miniature pictures of two brunette children that would never have a name.

‘That’s enough,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ‘Stop reading.’

‘The world may have not ended with a bang, but it didn’t end with a whimper, either: the world didn’t end at all. Sometimes,’ Becca finished reading, ‘I wish it had.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Matt scoffed. ‘Everyone should feel lucky to be alive. I bet this journal is a fake. Alexa, turn the TV off.’

As the screen faded to black, Ethan finally popped a grasshopper in his mouth. ‘I can’t wait to have meat tomorrow.’

#my writing #honestly dystopia is not a genre i'm interested in #lol #this was lazy and i wrote it in one morning while i was hungover on negroni

7 notes · View notes

natsukitakama · 4 years

Note

Could I request some fluffy manbun!Eren headcanons please ? I was thinking of him having a long-distance relationship with his s/o while in high school and now that his and s/o are going to the same college, they can finally be together physically. Thank you

Author note : Damn Man bun! Eren is successful (we all know why), I love every version of Eren but Man Bun! Eren has something more haha. This request is absolutely adorable ♡ I hope I did justice to your request Anon please let me know if you enjoy this ! It’s kinda short I'm sorry about it ♡

i do not own the gif credit to the owner

Warning : slight mention of Nsfw (if you’re uncomfortable with it you could skip it) / gender neutral / College AU

Masterlist

People tends to think long-distance relationship are the hardest one.

Could be true since partner couldn’t met physically as much as they wanted this but there still plenty of way to talk to your beloved.

That’s how you and Eren managed your relationship

You two have met during a festival : you were visited your friends Jean’s school and you went on a food stand, Eren was cooking some cheeseburgers

He was quite taken apart by you : he never met someone like you before, he couldn’t explain it

You two have talked together while waiting for your food, you two get along quite well

He joins you later on the afternoon for going into the haunted house : He didn’t know why he went into it in the first place cause he was super scared but for unknown reason he wanted to impress you. He will know from Armin that he was having a crush on you

You never laugh that loud during your entire life, hearing Eren screaming was the most funny thing you never saw before. The fact he tried so hard to stay still make your heart flutter, you took his hand on yours and smile at him

At the end of the day you share your phone number and some social link

After some dates you two start a relationship : like I said long-distance relationship are the hardest

In fact you couldn’t go an date as much as possible, it took you 3h to get together so you could see each other during holidays

To counterbalance the lack of physical meeting, you two got the habit of FaceTime each other during week end

Most of the time, your date consist on walking on outside for some shopping or having a nice cup of coffee. But there is moment when you want to just stay here cuddle with him while watching some movies and you’re okay with that.

You always make sure to call him during every evening after being done with your homework

Eren always make sure to surprise you for Valentine’s day and your birthday by sending you gift and even going into your High school to take you home

When you felt down, he always make sure to call you as long as you need it : you’ll find a letter from him couple days letter to remind you how much he loves you

When it came to him, he worked hard on himself to not letting you know how much he miss you. Sometimes he was so angry at himself for not being able to see you when he wants too.

When you two finally got to see each other, it’s nothing but sweet he hugs you so hard always make sure to kiss you a lot of time, holds your hand constantly no matter if you are in your house or outside he’ll stay by your side

But still you miss Eren and he miss you too : Everytime when one of you was about to go home, you two try very hard to not cry cause you know it was about to be difficult and everytime time you’ve made the same promise one day you would be finally together

However it was about to change , indeed you decided to go on the same college as Eren : it took you a lot of argument to convince your parent that in fact you didn’t go because of Eren but because you wanted to

Not that you were lying : You were in fact going to this college because Eren intended to go into it but also because you could have the university curriculum you wanted to.

After being in relationship since two years, you thought you would share a house with Eren but then you realized none of you have enough money and weren’t mature enough to have a job while being in school.

So both of you have your own student room which weren’t this far away (at least not as far as you two used to be)

You took this opportunity as a chance to test your relationship, just to see if you two could go further together

So you start a routine : You were in charge of waking up Eren cause the little boi loves his bed a little bit too much, he was in charge of checking on you to see If you took time to eat something before going to school

If you got any class together, Eren always make sure to book two place so you could be together and close during the class. Plus it give you time to share so hold drink before going into class

You definetly have lunch together : just the two of you or with your friends

You got a lot of study date into library or into your student room

Your study date on your room was better cause everytime Eren tease you by winking at you or stretching his arm while flexing them you could hit him with your book for disturbing you (he knows better than believe you)

Since you two went into College you decided to keep your FaceTime week but upgrade it : Now you could share a room together, you decided to share your week end together meaning you would sleep into one of your room.

I already say this before but Eren loves his pizza’s day just picture this : Pizza, (your favorite drink), blanket, fluffy cushion, you in his lap while he was stroking your hair during a movie. Isn’t that perfect ?

When you’re not study dating you go on a date outside, Eren loves night date just driving through the night then park and enjoying the quietness of the night with you on his lip holding him. The sight of you illuminated by the moon is something Eren will etch on his brain for ever

Sometimes you two go out into town eating on a restaurant, going into the beach or just go shopping (he loves shopping with you more than he would like to admit)

As much as you enjoy your week day, there is time when you couldn’t do because of your exam : Both of you know better than disturbing your lover while he was working hard. Study was very important for both of you

Eren wasn’t a party person but since you two got into the same college he decided that sometimes he would drive you into one of your friends’ party

No matter if he drives or not he won’t drink alcohol during party : the atmosphere was loud enough without him getting sensitive because of alcohol (even if he never gets drunk). If you have a nice chill evening with your friends he will definitely share a beer with them but not much

Speaking of friends, since you start your relationship you got very well with most of Eren’s friends including Mikasa (it took her more time to accept you but now your family to her) and he got quite along with your friends

Now let’s get a little bit dirty, of course when you two used to be far from each other you didn’t have sex as much as you wanted to. But it’s was okay, it forces you to appreciate it even more, you learn about taking your time when it came to foreplay or even the act itself.

You were afraid Eren might be down because you couldn’t satisfy him, you even started to feel self-conscious about yourself since Eren was surrounded by so many gorgeous people. Again he went directly to you and shows during the whole night how much he loves and how much he craves for you and only you

And now that you were only a building away from him, it didn’t help. It was like your sex-drive increased but it’s probably because you two started to tease each other by sending sexy picture : all I could say that Eren is a master when it came to send suggestive picture

You never stop calling each other though, like I said earlier sometimes you couldn’t afford to see him cause you were stuck with a huge exam or a file or he was him stuck by a homework : so when you couldn’t see each other you FaceTime him like you used to do it

Your long-distance relationship was something you won’t regret or forget it shows you how much love could be strong when two people are fated to be together and now that you are finally close to your beloved you couldn’t wait but start another day with him

#eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x reader #Eren Yeager x reader #Eren jaeger headcanon #Eren Yeager headcanon #Attack on titan #Shingeki no kyojin #Attack on titan headcanon #Attack on titan fandom #Attack on titan x reader #Shingeki no kyojin headcanon #Shingeki no kyojin x reader #Shingeki no kyojin fandom #reader insert #headcanon #College AU #Eren yeager #attack on titans

180 notes · View notes

idyllicstarker · 4 years

Note

If you do prompts can you write a jealous tony bc he sees peter kiss mj’s cheek at a avengers party and gets all possessive bc peter is his.

Not my best work but I hope you still enjoy!! There may be a few errors because my google docs was playing with me. Since it’s anon, I’m not sure who to contact to apolgise for not giving the prompt justice, so I’ll just do it here. I’m sorry, but as always, thank you for the request <3

Warnings: Implied Stucky, mention of the term exhibitionism, mention of harrasment but no details, just use of the term

If there was one thing Tony had learnt about his boy, it was that Christmas was an important time for him. It held no real significance other than it being a holiday (he wasn’t exactly religious) but Peter was adamant that Christmas was “the best time of the year” and he just wanted to share that with the others.

The Christmas Party was proposed totally on a whim. Tony was at an age where that sort of stuff just didn’t appeal to him. But to his much younger boyfriend, parties were fun, and exciting - of course they were, Peter wouldn’t be the one waking up with a raging headache and feeling like death.

When Tony expressed his doubts on the whole thing, Peter pouted and gave him the eyes and suddenly Tony was funding a party he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to himself. He reached a point of certainty when he realised he much preferred his domestic life with Peter as they decorated the compound with trees and fairy lights and cute little reindeer statues. But of course he’d still go, he didn’t want to disappoint Peter, and he also didn’t want to be seen as the old man avenger, especially when everyone else already said they’d already be there. So despite much rather wanting to be in bed with Peter, he got dressed and put on a smile. He didn’t have much of a choice anyway, it was in his home.

Aside from the avengers, Peter had invited both Ned and Mj, and of course May. But after an hour or so, Tony noticed she had disappeared - come to think of it, so had Happy.

Tony shook his head, choosing not to worry about it too much, as his eyes scanned over the room. They’d turned from cheesy Christmas top hits, to some more chill music, as Vance Joy played in the background. His gaze settled on Peter. He was sitting on the couch, one arm strung across the back, where Mj was sitting, and Ned to his other side. Two chairs in front of them were occupied, one by Sam and the other by Steve and Bucky who Tony remembered struggled to both sit on the chair, but pride meant neither was letting up, so Bucky just ended up on Steve’s lap. Peter had a plastic cup in his hand (he was trying to make this as authentic to high school parties as possible because in his words: “you guys are old and I want to remind you of what it’s like to be young again”) but he didn’t seem too drunk, so Tony knew it was probably just soda. Adorable!

He watched as Peter’s lips parted probably to let out his angelic laugh. It all lined up with the slight crinkle of his nose, and that lopsided expression as one flushed cheek raised slightly higher than the other. His head tipped back just slightly and after a second, it bowed forward. He presumed Sam was telling the trio a story, because all three laughed, but of course the only one he wished to witness was the masterpiece in his line of vision.

Peter seemed to perk up, and Tony’s own lips twitched into a smile, pushing himself off the bar so he could approach and join in on the conversation. But his face dropped after a second, and his movements faltered.

Peter had seemed to captivate the conversation, his hand gesturing wildly in such a way that Tony feared for the drink in his cup. It wasn’t hard to get lost in the angelic sound of the boy’s voice, he knew that all too well. He watched as his conversation partners leant closer in an attempt to hear him better. Some more laughs. And then Peter gestured towards Mj, a cheeky grin on his lips before he leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Tony imagined the soft lips pressing against her skin, he thought so hard about it, he very almost tasted it on his own lips.

He didn’t want to know what the conversation was about, he didn’t want to know why the kiss was given, playful or not, all he knew was that he didn’t like it. If he was more aware of himself he may have been able to stop the throaty growl he produced. Tony didn’t like to think he was a jealous man, but everybody knew he was.

In a moment he was beside the couch, looking down on Peter with what can only be described as a possessive growl. “Any room for me there baby?”, he asked, his tone low. It wasn’t necessarily aggressive, but if someone didn’t know Tony they may say it seemed angry. But Peter recognised it well. His sweet gaze flickered over the slight tenseness in Tony’s jaw, and the darkened look in his eyes, and with a soft sigh, he allowed a gentle smile to form on his lips. “There’s always room for you”, he responded.

Slowly Peter rose, wiggling his jean-clad hips lightly to the music as he waited for Tony to sit down. He was desperately clutching at some kind of sweet innocence to avoid Tony from getting too jealous. And the only way to do that was through the art of seduction. Of course, everybody here knew of their relationship, it would have been much too hard to keep it from them, but that wasn’t Peter’s problem. It was the fact that he was sure they were going to see much more than they wanted to if he didn’t calm him down.

Tony called it asserting dominance, Peter called it exhibitionism.

Tony gave Mj a snide look as he walked around to sit in the place Peter had just vacated. “I just thought I’d make an appearance, I missed this little one too much”, he hummed, gesturing to Peter who sighed softly in response.

Catching Steve's eyes Peter pouted slightly at the playful look in his own. They were both thankful for the fact that Steve, or any of the other avengers for that matter, had never found themselves at the end of Tony’s jealousy and possessiveness over Peter. But they had witnessed it when some people on trips got too close and touchy with Peter.

With the gracefulness of a doe, Peter plopped down on Tony’s lap, sitting across his knees and draping his arms around his neck. “I missed you too”, he whispered softly, nuzzling their noses together in an overly cute display of affection. Across from them, Sam began to gag, and once again, the masterpiece of a laugh was on display.

“Why don't you finish your story Peter?”, Steve asked and Peter’s head whipped around to look at him with a heated glare. Of course Steve knew what he was doing, and that’s why he was doing it. But Tony raised an eyebrow, gently patting Peter’s thigh. “Oh yes sweetheart, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure I’ll love to hear it.”

Peter bit down on his tongue. Clearing his throat he shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s cheek. “You know, I don’t think I quite remember what I was talking about… but hey, Bucky, why don’t you-”

He was cut off by Ned shifting in his seat, “Oh sure you do, you were telling us about that time with Mj, when you pretended to be her boyfriend so the guy at the library would stop harassing her.”

Tony felt Peter let out a shaky breath as he relaxed his body against the man’s chest. A small hand came to grip his shirt, as he nuzzled his head into his shoulder. “Oh really?”, Tony questioned, the grip on Peter’s waist he had tightening possessively, “And what exactly did pretending entail?”, he asked. Above Peter’s ear, the grinding of his teeth echoed and Peter frowned slightly.

“Nothing. I just held her hand and kissed her cheek. The guy got all worked up and started swearing and Mj shouted at him to ‘watch his profanity’”, at the last part Peter put on a high-pitched voice to mimic hers’s and the group began to laugh. Well, everyone but Tony did.

“Yeah, I actually, I don’t feel so good. Tony can you come to the bathroom with me”, he asked, blinking up at him innocently. His cheeks were flushed red and they both knew it was a lie, but still Tony huffed and nodded. Of course, not before he grabbed Peter’s face and bought him into a deep kiss - when they were done Peter’s lips were swollen and he was left breathless as he stood and grabbed Tony’s hand to lead him from the room.

“Tony~”, he whined, as he led them to the elevator with a small pout on his lips. As the door closed he got onto his tip toes and smushed their faces together with wide eyes. “Don’t be a meanie”, he begged.

“Oh I’m the meanie?”, Tony questioned. “I’m the meanie when you’re the one going around kissing people’s cheeks and flaunting it in my face that you can get someone your own age.”

With a heavy sigh, Peter bounced back off his feet, and frowned. “It was a friendly kiss, it meant nothing. You seriously can’t be jealous of me kissing my best friend?”, he asked quietly.

At Tony’s silence, Peter got all the answers he needed. “I love you Tony, and only you. Do I have to remind you of this anytime I get too close with one of my friends?”, he asked, smiling up at him. He wasn’t mad. He knew Tony was insecure, especially about the age difference. So although it may get annoying at times, he always just wanted to try his hardest to reassure Tony that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“No…”, Tony pouted, stepping dangerously close into childish territory and Peter giggled sweetly.

“If you want, we can ditch the party, and we can go upstairs, and you can get all the kisses and all the cuddles, because i’m your actual boyfriend and I love you more than anyone else. Forever and always”, he offered, tugging on Tony’s shirt gently in an attempt to try and get him out of his mood.

Tony sighed, and moved to press a kiss to Peter’s head. “If we can take a bath too, and you wash my hair, I think I might even apologize to Mj”, he muttered. Peter smiled and again the masterpiece of a laugh display surfaced before he nodded.

“Deal”, he hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as the elevator opened up on the penthouse, before he dragged Tony over to the bathroom.

Tag list: @itsmexavie @icandoakickflip

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes

98 notes · View notes

iamakiller · 4 years

Text

the apt pupil

Wordcount: 2000

Warnings: Murder, obviously. Mention of drug use.

Notes: Interacting with the charming Mr. Massey the other day reminded me of another insufferable (un)creative type I once knew. Or did I? This is fictional, of course!

His name was Chad. Of course it was.

Chad came from a fine theater pedigree. His father, a renowned director. His mother, an eminent producer. The mantel in their Upper East Side home was brimming with awards, and there was no doubt in Chad’s mind that someday soon, he would be adding to the collection.

However, as he entered the final year of his bachelor’s in theater production, it was starting to become clear that perhaps his lineage, charm and considerable good looks were not quite enough to allow him to continue to coast.

For the first time in his life, Chad was failing.

And that’s where his classmate came in.

***

Charlie Barber ...

Quiet. Unassuming. His nose always stuck in a book. Nothing special to look at, in his thrifted clothes and unflattering glasses. Nothing remarkable at all.

But this unobtrusive exterior belied a considerable amount of talent, which even self-obsessed Chad couldn’t fail to observe. It shone out of him with the radiance of a thousand suns. Every piece of work he produced was undeniably brilliant.

What a pity for Charlie that in the theater world, it isn’t what you know, but who you know that makes or breaks a career.

But what good fortune for Chad.

He made his approach after class one Friday afternoon. “I’ve got a proposal for you,” he said, without preamble. “You need my help.”

Charlie clutched his books closer to his chest, and looked at him without saying anything.

Chad felt very uncomfortable for a moment, before his usual overconfidence settled back into place, and he blustered on. “Talent can only get you so far, my friend. You need connections. Influence. Social skills. I can help you with all of that.”

His classmate cleared his throat, and shifted from foot to foot. He chewed on the inside of his lip. He was definitely considering the offer. “Why?” he ventured, finally.

A wolfish smile spread across Chad’s handsome face. “Let’s just say I’m an altruist. Genius like yours deserves to be nurtured. Let me be your friend, Charlie. I only ask one small thing in return …”

A pleased flush had spread across Charlie’s pale, freckled cheeks at the word genius. He was eating out of Chad’s palm already. “What do you need?” he breathed.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me with my studies, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble? Given all the networking I do, I may have found myself falling slightly behind. What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.

Of course he did.

This was going to be so easy.

***

Chad “networked” at least five nights a week, if not more. After he achieved a C on his latest assignment, he kindly allowed Charlie to tag along one night.

Charlie watched with big eyes as Chad snorted a line of cocaine from the bathroom counter. Chad straightened up, rubbing at his stinging nose, and offered Charlie the little white bag of powder. “You should try some,” he said. “It’s the best. Makes you feel like a god.”

“Sounds awful,” said Charlie, with a wry little smile. “No thank you.”

“Oh go on, Charlie, don’t be a bore.” Chad’s voice was louder now. Everything he had to say was even more important than usual. “You need the confidence boost, don’t you? It might even finally help you to lose your virginity.”

Charlie blushed, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m not a virgin, you know,” he said. “I’ve had sex before.”

Chad raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Oh really? And how was it?”

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. “She just lay there,” he admitted, eventually. “And it was a bit awkward afterwards. But … I really liked it.”

“Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as I’d feared, buddy,” Chad said, slapping him on the back.

After a couple of drinks and another of Chad’s coke-fueled pep-talks in the bathroom, Charlie disappeared into the night with a brunette friend of a friend who was wasted enough to not seem to mind his inept attempts at following Chad’s instructions on how to be smooth.

With a smile like a proud father, Chad watched him go.

***

Another assignment, and a B this time. Chad celebrated by taking Charlie to see an optician, and then on a shopping spree.

In his new contact lenses, and wearing clothes that actually fit him for once, Charlie looked like a completely different person. He stammered his thanks all the way back to the subway, and Chad basked in the spotlight of his gratitude.

As they waited for the Sixth Avenue Line, Chad’s attention was drawn to one of the many missing person’s posters that had been pasted to the pillar next to them. It was a brunette female, about their age. Very pretty. She looked vaguely familiar.

Charlie followed his gaze. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he said, softly. “All these girls going missing. I heard them say on the news that they think there might be a serial killer on the loose.

“If you ask me, they deserve it,” Chad scoffed. “Those dumb bitches shouldn’t be so trusting.”

Charlie nodded earnestly. “You’re so right, Chad,” he said. “They shouldn’t.”

***

After an A on an assessment right before Christmas, Chad invited Charlie over for the holidays. He knew he was an orphan – some tragic tale that he hadn’t bothered listening to properly because quite frankly he didn’t give a shit – so he really was being quite selfless, saving him from yet another day spent eating ten cent ramen noodles on his own and doing god knows what he did in his free time.

Chad’s parents took to Charlie immediately, especially his father. They spent almost the whole of Charlie’s visit talking enthusiastically about plays and novels that Chad had never even heard of, let alone bothered to read. Chad had never seen his friend so talkative, so alive as when he talked about the productions he’d seen, and the ones he one day hoped he’d have the opportunity to make.

“What about you, Chad?” asked his father, trying to bring him into the conversation. But Chad just shrugged, and went back to his cellphone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the theater. Probably the last time he’d been forced to attend one of his dad’s boring opening nights …

He felt relieved when Charlie was gone, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why that was. But he definitely didn’t like the way his parents kept mentioning his friend fondly over the weeks and months that ensued ...

***

There was only so much that Charlie could do to help Chad with his final piece. The old adage was true: you can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. And you can give a budding young director all the help and advice in the world, but you can’t make up for a lack of imagination or creativity when it comes staging a performance …

Charlie’s piece – which happened to directly precede it - was lauded by their tutor, and their classmates. Years from now, everyone would still be talking about it.

Chad’s was ripped to shreds. He was humbled, humiliated, in front of everyone he knew.

When he walked into the party that night, Charlie was already there. He had one girl sitting on his lap, and another clinging to his arm. A large group of people had gathered around him, and they all seemed to be hanging on to his every word.

Chad hung back, watching. Something twisted in his gut. His blood felt like it was rising to a boil. In the entire duration of his short, charmed life, he’d never felt anything resembling this sensation before. Had he been more self-aware, he might have realized that it was jealousy.

As the night wore on, he made trip after trip to the bathroom, until the little plastic bag was empty and he had given himself a nosebleed. He drank so much cheap Scotch that his limbs went numb. But the burning, boiling, itching sensation in his veins only grew worse.

Finally, he found Charlie out on the roof, having a cigarette. It was the first time he’d managed to catch him alone the entire evening. And since when did he smoke?

“Congratulation on your success,” Chad choked out. The words tasted like ash in his mouth. He took a couple of staggering steps forward. God, his head was spinning.

“Thank you,” said Charlie, evenly. “I’m so sorry things didn’t go to plan for you. I know how hard you tried.”

“You were supposed to help me,” Chad whined, sounding exactly like a petulant toddler. “Like I helped you.”

Charlie smiled lopsidedly. “I did my best,” he said. “But there’s only so much you can do with such a hopeless case.”

It took a while for the words to sink in, and for Chad to realize that he was being insulted. “Fuck you! Don’t start getting above yourself! You’re still a nobody,” he spat out.

Charlie was still smiling. “I was a nobody,” he corrected. “But now I’m somebody. Thanks to you, friend. I’ll always be grateful. I’ll always remember you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chad slurred. “Why are you talking about me like that? Are you going somewhere?”

He watched as Charlie dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, and stubbed it out. As the other man advanced toward him, he wondered why he’d never noticed how tall he was. How broad. How strong. “You shouldn’t stand so close to the edge,” Charlie told him. “You’re drunk, and high as a kite. Something bad could happen.”

Nothing bad had ever happened to Chad in his entire life, until today. He couldn’t relate. “Like what?”

Charlie’s smile was a wolf’s grin, sharp and dangerous. His eyes were razor-bright. “Even now, you don’t get it,” he said gently. Softly. Like he was talking to a particularly naive child. “You’re so dumb, Chad. So trusting. Like those bitches on the missing person’s posters.”

Chad was so wasted he couldn’t even process what he was hearing. He just didn’t get it at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Charlie sighed, and rolled his eyes. “This isn’t my usual style,” he said. “But needs must, I suppose. Oh, Chad. I told you not to stand so close to the edge.”

And with one hand on the middle of Chad’s chest, he gave him a little shove.

By the time Chad registered what was happening, it was too late.

***

It was such a lovely memorial service.

Everybody had such kind things to say about Chad that it was obvious most of them hadn’t known him well at all.

Chad’s father came and found Charlie at the wake, and pulled him into a hug so unexpected that it took Charlie a few moments to reciprocate. “Thank you for trying to save him,” he said. “His mother and I are still reeling. We had no idea how depressed he was. Failing that last assignment must have been the final straw.”

Charlie nodded, sadly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. He wanted me to tell you both how much he loved you. It was the last thing he said before …” He tailed off, averting his eyes and swallowing thickly. He let his lower lip tremble, like he’d seen people do in movies when they were upset.

“You were such a good friend to him. I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“Thank you. I just wish I could have saved him, you know?”

They stood in silence for a long while, and then the older man cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Charlie. His mother and I have decided to set up a foundation, to honor our son’s memory. Something that will help young people with talent to build their career in theater. And we can’t think of anyone we’d rather have as the first recipient than you. What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.

Of course he did.

This had all been so easy.

#charlie writes #tw: mention of drug use #tw: murder #insufferable protagonist #heroic secondary character #happy ending

53 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“… I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

---

Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx, @melodylangdon, @avocodys, @ahsbitch, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @accio-rogers

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan Shepherd Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader #Duncan Shepherd Fic #Duncan Shepherd One Shot #Duncan Shepherd Smut #Duncan Shepherd Moodboard #Duncan Shepherd Writing #Duncan Shepherd Imagine #House Of Cards #House of Cards Imagine #HOC #HOC Imagine

72 notes · View notes