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gorejo · 6 months

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▸ BOSS'S FAVORITE - gojo satoru (forbes30!gojo au)

what can you say to the boss's favorite customer when he comes five minutes before closing? Kick him out? Not an option, especially when he tips so well and has a rather cheeky motive to stay and get your attention.

content: 1.1k words. unedited. this is before the breakup! so, college forbes30!gojo. reader is his girlfriend, she/her pronouns. fluff! got this from an anon ask!! so nonnie if you see this, I hope you enjoy! also this is the shortest fic I've made in a hot minute! so be proud of me yall )) :

"you're here again," you monotonously asked, deadpanning with a raised brow, crossing your arms while you leaned to one side.

“Yes, as you can see since I’m seated here to get my order taken.” he smiled amused by your baffled expression.

“Sato—”

"your boss likes me," Satoru smugly responded while he sat back on his chair and crossed a leg over the other, his expensive shoes reflecting the cafe's dim lighting, "i came for him, so don't get mistaken," he teased with a childish smirk.

“And you know, that’s not a way to greet a valid customer. especially with my VIP status,” he huffed with the corner of his lip threatening into a smirk.

"And you know it's courtesy to not come into a store when we're just about to close," raising your wrist to look at your watch, “I don’t know like five minutes before closing.”

"well, don't blame me," he innocently batted his soft eyelashes, steadying his cheek on the palm of his hand, "I was waiting for my girlfriend outside and he so happened to kindly invite me in."

Gojo Satoru was your boss’s favorite. Not only did he effortlessly draw in customers, people curiously entering the cafe just for a closer look at him, only to end up buying a drink and some pastries to chill in the somber ambiance, but he also tipped generously — too generous to be even called a tip.

Those that walk by would do a double take when they would see the white haired man, tall in stature, dressed in a simple white shirt, and black slacks, and would reroute their steps hoping that maybe they were lucky to see him again.

Just by the frosty white of his hair, he gained attention — who wouldn’t stare at a handsome guy, covering his beautiful cerulean eyes with his notable sunglasses chilling on a seat looking through his phone, while he sipped on the most sugary drink the cafe had to offer.

The cafe was especially the busiest whenever he tagged the store on his socials. Flocks of his followers bombarded the store just to see a glimpse of their favorite college nepotism student, who happened to also be unapologetically haughty about his good looks.

And to his mercy, today, he graciously came just when the store was about to close — at least there won’t be a murderous amount of people trying to flock over.

Because fuck capitalism.

Working on the weekends, and sacrificing your leisure to make money wasn't out of the norm. It was something most college students would do. Make a couple of bucks to comfortably buy that extra cup of coffee with oat milk, or go out with friends for some food or the club.

But for you, you had bills to pay. And it didn't help that your boyfriend was well outside your tax bracket.

He was kind and offered to pay for almost if not all the dates. But with exams rolling around, and your monthly rent just about due, you didn't have enough time to fit him into your schedule.

He never complained, simply worried that you were pushing yourself too harshly. Placing a kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed, or cradled you in his arms when he found you sleeping on the couch, he hoped that you could trust him — trust him enough with your burdens but he never pushed. Because he trusted you would come to him on your own time, when you were ready to invite him more into your heart.

So, he's found a rather cheeky way to squeeze some time to let you know he cares. It's just his way is not the most conventional one you could imagine...

“He likes you because you tip well,” you laughed while rolling your eyes.

Clearing his throat, "I know you like to talk to me because I am that handsome,” he opened up the menu and placed a finger to rub his chin while he “actively” tried to decide what to get, “but like I said, I do have a girlfriend and I would like to order please." He chuckled while looking up, giving you a boyish grin — the one that made your heart flutter despite how cheesy he was.

At this point, it was disappointing how he still affected you. Flustered at his forwardness, you turned around, muttering as you felt a sudden heat radiate to your cheek. “Okay, then call someone when you’re ready.”

“No!” Immediately grabbing hold of your hand, a sharp screech on his chair scraping against the wooden floor echoing through the quiet cafe. He gave it a tight squeeze before he sat down, his puppy eyes pleading for you to wait, “I’m sorry… just, I- I’ll choose soon,” he mumbled, silently sitting back down.

"Okay, then… what can I get for you, Mr. Gojo." you sighed, shaking your head, looking at his fingers lightly playing with yours, “And didn’t you say you have a girlfriend? Not sure if she’ll like this if she saw, ” You smirked.

“eh it’s okay, she’ll understand,” He responded with a hum, “she loves me too much.” his thumb gently rubbed against your skin, the scales of the day’s stress flaking off the more his warm hands massaged yours. “but, give me a minute, gotta read through all the options.”

“You serious?... ” It was so easy to read through his actions — it was laughable, really.

“Yes, this requires a lot of thinking,” quickly peeping at his watch latched on his vacant hand before humming exaggeratingly, “hmm…”

Tapping your foot, “Any minute now, that’ll be great, Sat —”

"Give me a couple of seconds please,” he stopped you, reading through each item, slow as a sloth — at most twenty items were on the menu, it shouldn’t even take an elementary student this long to read at his pace.

“Sure, whatever for the boss’s favorite, right?” you pursed your lips, your eyes forming faux crescent moons.

“Oh, I got it!” he chirped, simultaneously closing the menu when you heard your boss off in the distance, shooing your other coworkers into the kitchen, “Let’s close up! Chop! Chop! The faster we finish, the faster we go home!”

“I need to go help —” you tried heading to the kitchen, not wanting your coworkers to bear the burden of cleaning on their own.

“I'll get —" Gojo hummed, just about to say his order before you cut him off, his firm grip on your hand keeping you from leaving.

"the mochi with zunda, with freshly whipped cream and a side of strawberries to go with it, anything else?" you quickly retorted.

"Oh yes, maybe I can top it off…” elbows leaning against the table with his arms crossed, flashing you with his cheeky smile — the one that showed his teeth and the cute dimple he had on the bottom corner of his lip.

“with a kiss, because you’re finally off the clock now, right?”

author's note: he's so annoying but I love him to death so that's alright heh

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

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hannieehaee · 3 months

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hii!! i hope ure having a great day

i just wanted to request loser!scoups hehe I RLLY LOVED CHANS VERSION AND WAS HOPING TO SEE MORE 🫶🏻 anyways take your time to answer when ure free, thanku!

18+ / mdi

content: loser!seungcheol, afab reader, smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2686

part 1, part 2

a/n: hii thank u for requesting <33 i never considered loser!cheol before but ngl i loved writing it hehe i hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungcheol was actually a bit of a loser.

okay, maybe his appearance didn't necessarily fit the bill (with his slicked back hair and bulging muscles), but everything else about choi seungcheol truly screamed loser.

even with a large group of fratboy friends, seungcheol was still the loser of the friend group, being the only one who had opted out of joining the frat and who spent every day and night studying rather than ever attending any of his friends' parties.

this was all by choice, he swears! seungcheol was just far too serious about his education to let anything become a distraction. and it had always been like this, even dating back all the way to middle school (jeonghan could vouch for this, having known him basically since diapers). due to this, seungcheol had always been kind of a black sheep in any and every social situation he ever found himself in. as a result, seungcheol ended up becoming shy, awkward, utterly embarrassing in social situations, and as jeonghan liked to put it, a 'virgin loser.'

even if seungcheol wanted to disagree with his friend, he knew he was right. here he was, twenty-one years of age and still a lonely virgin who had never even felt the touch of a woman's hand in his. he'd had opportunities before, set ups orchestrated by his friends, but he always managed to fuck them up. due to jeonghan's outgoing disposition, the girls he usually set him up with were set for a surprise upon meeting a his friend seungcheol, who could not even hold eye contact for more then twelve seconds (he counted).

except this year that would all change.

now in his senior year of college, seungcheol had an epiphany.

on the very first week of senior year, upon being assigned a new dorm-mate due to his previous one transfering, seungcheol finally saw a mirror of himself.

his new roommate was, for lack of a better term, a fucking loser (the term being courtesy of jeonghan once again). seungcheol had barely met the guy, yet he could not stand one more moment of conversation with him. not only was he a know-it-all who could only ever talk about academics, but he was maybe even more of a loser virgin than seungcheol was (at least that's what seungcheol was able to assess from the three separate occasions in which he walked in on his roommate watching porn in the common area of the dorm). his hygiene was terrible and his wide-rimmed glasses made him look like the typical nerd in every high school movie. everything about him was what seungcheol feared to one day become.

this one week of torture had been enough for seungcheol to finally take jeonghan up on his offer to join his frat and subsequently move into the frat house. granted, jeonghan had to break a few rules to allow a new pledge with zero obstacles in the way, but jeonghan was just charming enough to get away with it.

seungcheol had already spent the past 10+ years with perfect grades and pristine extra curriculars, so he figured that even if he completely flunked these last two semesters, he would still be a shoe-in for the masters program he'd been eyeing since arriving to university.

so now seungcheol was immersed in the frat lifestyle, though he still felt a bit out of place, which unfortunately for cheol, was something his good friend jeonghan noticed immediately. but this would only be a problem for a short while.

unbeknownst to seungcheol, jeonghan had orchestrated a plan for seungcheol's first frat party. it all started with giving seungcheol a bit of a new look. jeonghan insisted on throwing out most of cheol's 'nerdy clothes' (admittedly, he did dress like an old man at times), traded in his thick-rimmed glasses for some better fitting specs and lastly, gave cheol a trim to better frame his face. after all these changes, cheol felt more confident but still did not feel ready to attend one of the frat's well-known parties.

the decision was, however, taken for him, as he found himself in attendance to one just a few days later. also unknown to cheol was that jeonghan had been playing cupid once more, scouting to see which one of his closer girl-friends would be a good fit for his friend. and of course, his attention immediately fell on you.

jeonghan had only known you since the last semester of his junior year, in which the two of you had partnered up for a project that took up the entire fifteen weeks of instruction. the two of you hit it off pretty easily, but you hadn't quite caught his attention in a non-platonic way.

but you had caught someone else's.

although it had only been a fleeting moment, jeonghan caught onto every single look and action that had occurred the day in which seungcheol had accidentally interrupted a study session between the two of you.

he had easily noticed the blush in cheol's cheeks upon seeing you for the first time, along with the way he shyly checked you out when you weren't paying attention. what had surprised him the most, though, had been the way you checked out his friend as he went to leave the room. that had been enough for jeonghan to decide to play matchmaker between the two of you if the opportunity ever arose. and that was now.

getting the two of you alone was not difficult, but jeonghan knew better. he knew that sending the two of you into an empty room, completely blind to whatever he was planning was just a bad idea. so jeonghan decided that for the first time in his life, he would not scheme. he would simply set up the scene and leave the rest to you.

when jeonghan first came up to you a few days back and let you know about his friend's crush on you, you had been pleasantly surprised. what had shocked you the most, though, had been the revelation that jeonghan's cute friend was actually an inexperienced virgin. jeonghan told you to please not bring it up to cheol, but that he felt it was best you knew so you didnt feel caught off guard should you ever try to hit him up (which he knew you would). what jeonghan didnt realize was that this fact excited you more than you'd like to admit.

planting that seed was more than enough to get you looking for cheol in the empty room jeonghan had said he'd be in (okay, maybe he did scheme a little), prepared to deflower the pretty nerd you'd been thinking about every time you started to notice him sitting alone in the library every other day.

you had dressed to the nines, donning a red slip dress that gave you breathing room but still accentuated every part of your body you wished to stand out. ready and confident, you quietly opened the door to what you assumed to be jeonghan's room, knowing you'd find his pretty friend inside.

sitting alone on the bed, seemingly trying to psych himself up as he whispered affirmations to himself, the boy jumped back upon your unexpected intrusion, with his hears instantly turning red at realizing who you were.

you were jeonghan's pretty friend. the one seungcheol had had some unbecoming thoughts about immediately after seeing you in jeonghan's room last semester (and subsequently seeing you around campus as his eyes would unknowingly always search for you). and you looked .... fuck. and you were alone in han's room with him .... and you had closed the door right behind you .... and now you had walked all the way over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed, not shocked at all to see him there ....

"hi," you smiled at him.

"h– hey."

"are you okay? how come you're here all alone?", you sat next to him on the bed, damning all boundaries, apparently.

"oh, i ... just a little nervous, i guess."

"yeah? of what?", despite the unexpectedness of the situation, you seemed genuinely interested, so seungcheol responded.

"it's, uh, my first party as a member of the frat."

"oh, really? i had no idea you were a member of the frat. that's pretty cool, seungcheol."

"you know my name?"

you scoot closer, smile still on your face, "yeah, of course i know your name. do you now mine?"

"oh, i, uh, yeah ..."

"okay, so we know each other. do you maybe want a friend to go out there with? maybe that would ease your nerves," your hand had somehow made its way to his thigh, now invading his personal space a bit. except he couldnt find it in himself to complain.

"t– that's fine, i, uh, i have han and– "

"but arent i better company?"

"y– you're ..."

"can i be honest with you, seungcheol?", you didnt wait for a response, "hannie told me that maybe you needed some help. that i could maybe help you out?"

"help? what type of help do you mean?"

you leaned in even closer, "do you want me to show you?"

"i ..."

"all you have to say is 'yes', cheollie ...", you breathed out now close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips.

he nodded and made an embarrassing noise of affirmation, completely giving up on speaking.

it was embarrassing how easily he let you turn him into a puddle, not even bothering to question how or why jeonghan orchestrated this situation. but that didnt matter as he finally felt the lips of a woman against his own – your lips; the lips of the girl he'd been crushing on from afar, jealous that maybe you'd become more than jeonghan's classmate. this was a clear declaration that his assertions had been incorrect.

seungcheol wasn't sure what to do with his hands (or with his tongue) as he kissed you. he felt you smile against his lips at his whimper, making feel that maybe you were making fun of him. when you pulled away, he feared that maybe he'd been right.

"cheollie, let me show you, yeah? just let me– yeah, like that", you positioned him in a way that would allow you to straddle him as you said this, wrapping his arms around your waist, "okay now let me show you how to kiss me, okay? just open your mouth a bit for me and let me teach you. then you can try it on me."

with that, you leaned into his open mouth, sticking your tongue inside as you played with his own, sucking on it and causing his eyes to roll back, another embarrassing moan leaving his lips.

"do you wanna try it now?", you asked as you pulled away.

he feared his voice would betray him, so he just nodded before leaning in.

seungcheol mimicked your previous actions, though his were a bit sloppier and more desperate. he whined at the way you sighed and pulled at his hair due to the way in which he suckled at your tongue and squeezed his fingers on your hips.

eventually you began to also kiss him back, making it a battle between your tongues all the while seungcheol tried to keep up.

suddenly your hips began to move against his own, making him groan in pleasure. after that, you leaned over him, causing the two of you to lay on the bed as you practically rode him through your clothes.

cheol couldnt help his cries of pleasure at feeling you press against his now swollen member. he didnt want the feeling to end, so he grabbed onto your hips and helped you in your movements, even grinding his own hips upwards to match you.

"cheollie ... do you want more? hmm? wanna feel what its like?", you purred against his ear while pulling off your dress, leaving you in a tiny bralette and thin panties.

"yes! fuck, please. i'll take whatever you wanna give me, just ..."

"shhh, it's okay. i'll give it to you, pretty. you dont have to beg. want you just as bad," you kissed him again before he could reply.

without him noticing, you had thrown off your bra, something which made him completely blank when you pulled away and began talking to him. none of your words made it through his head. he was far too busy looking at the pretty nude girl in front of him. he salivated at every inch of naked skin, wanting nothing more than to lick and kiss at every curve. out of all parts of your body, his eyes were glued to your tits. the fleeting thought of suffocating in them flew through his head, making him shudder.

"cheol?", you grabbed onto his chin and pointed his gaze towards your own, finally breaking him out of his trance.

you giggled at his confused face, causing him to sheepishly apologize for dozing off.

"it's okay, pretty. i'd be distracted too if i could get all these clothes off you ... that's what i was asking actually, can i?" your hands began to teasingly pull at his top, mangling it a bit so it could expose some skin.

his nod was all you needed to rip off his shirt and pull off his pants with urgency that had seungcheol blushing. after getting him fully naked, you threw off your panties and finally sat against him completely bare. the heat of your skin against his was enough to have him burying his face against your neck and begging you once more to please give it to him.

"shhh. i'll give it to you, pretty. i– i'll give you everything," and with that, you sank down on him, throwing your head back at the intrusion.

meanwhile seungcheol was completely gone. the warmth of your body against his had been one thing, but feeling your heat wrap around him was what truly did him in.

it's not like he had stayed a virgin by choice. he had tried to hit it off with many of the girls jeonghan set him up with, but none of them showed any care for him. they'd all expected him to step up and fuck them. even when he would try to shyly explain that he had never done anything sexual before, he'd just be met with scoffs or laughter. but you had walked him through it. you had complimented him and made him feel comfortable. you had made him see pleasure for the first time in his life.

although these thoughts swam through his head as you fucked yourself on his cock, seungcheol's mind was otherwise completely empty. all he could think about was how good you felt and how pretty you sounded as you threw your head back and pulled at his hair. you were just the embodiment of pleasure.

all cares and worries were gone from his brain until the moment in which he felt all his pleasure reach a peak.

he didn't want to be a fucking loser and cum so soon, but you just felt so fucking good, he couldnt help himself. he cried a warning out to you, to which you encouraged him to let go and told him you'd follow him soon.

his orgasm was something he never couldve imagined. but your own orgasm soon trampled that experience. your tightness as you let yourself go while still wrapped around him had him delirious with pleasure. without meaning to, his nails dug into the skin of your pretty hips as he lost consciousness for a few seconds.

unable to fully process it, he felt a sweet peck against his lips before feeling you cuddle against him. he didnt have to think twice before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"remind me to thank that idiot", he spoke up after some moments.

"who, hannie?", you giggled against his chest.

"yeah. he was onto something when he made me get ready in his room."

"oh? he sent me in here looking for you."

"that fucker", he chuckled, "owe him one."

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Falling Slowly

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.

Warnings: so much fluff, brief angst, domestic violence (Tim and reader respond to a call & allusions to past dv against reader), one scene is inspired by "The Switch" (1x4)

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

A/N: This doesn't really fit in any specific season, so I put characters in the roles I wanted them to have and just made up some names to fill in the gaps. Hopefully everything makes sense. Please let me know what you think!

Picture from Pinterest

“What are you doing here?” Angela asks, surprised to see Tim.

Furrowing his brows, Tim answers, “I’m here for the TO meeting.”

Angela tilts her head back and groans, passing Nyla a 10-dollar bill.

“She thought you’d give up your position for Metro,” Nyla explains.

“I’d like to, someday, but not today,” Tim replies.

“20 bucks this is his last one,” Angela says to Nyla. “He still has the open invite to Metro and his patience can’t take many more boots.”

Nyla reaches to shake Angela’s hand as Tim rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Let me see his rookie first, then we’ll talk,” Nyla decides. “I’ve got a feeling a lot is going to change around here.”

“Like what?” Angela asks. “Nyla! Like what?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station on your first day as a rookie is both nerve-wracking and exciting. You’ve heard stories about boots making it through the academy to fail once they reach this level, but you’re determined. When you were a kid, you were in bad situations more often than any child should be, but kind police officers changed your life, and you’d like to do the same.

Waving to one of your police academy friends, you sit in the bullpen, waiting impatiently to learn which officer behind you will be your training officer. Getting the perfect training officer is up to fate, based on what you’ve heard, and your TO can make or break your career.

“Good morning, boots! I am Watch Commander Wade Grey. You have made it through the police academy, but don’t expect a pat on the back, your work is just beginning. This is the time to prove yourself, to show your TO, me, and this city why you deserve to be a police officer.” He pauses, moving around the podium to add, “If you should be a police officer.”

As you listen intently, striving to remember every word Sergeant Grey says, two detectives stand at the back of the room and evaluate the rookies.

“He’s only got one shot,” Angela mutters.

“If he gets the pretty one in the front, I’m not taking the bet,” Nyla says.

Angela looks up a row, her brows raising when she sees you. “If he ends up with her, we’re starting a station-wide pool and getting rich,” she adds.

“Now, it’s time to be assigned to your judge, jury, and executioner,” Wade says with a smile. “Or, as we call them, TOs. Our former rookie turned TO, Nolan: you’ve got Edward Henderson.

Officer Nolan nods at Henderson, and you remember his story: a late-life rookie who got a golden ticket. Part of you wants to work with him and learn why he decided on law enforcement, but you only nod at Henderson before turning back around.

“Lance Vincent, you are with our newest TO, Eliza Reagan.”

Wade says your name with a smile that seems a bit more genuine than before. “Officer Bradford, last but not least,” he says as he assigns you your new TO.

You look over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as he nods at you. He is undeniably attractive, and you hope it doesn’t cause any problems.

“Oh, he’s a goner,” Nyla whispers under her breath when you smile at Tim.

“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.

“I think we’ll have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Something about you bothers Tim. Not in the usual, grumpy-with-a-new-boot way, but he has a sense that you’re different.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, walking to Tim at the back of the bullpen.

He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.

“I’m not going to pretend this is going to be easy or fun,” he tells you. “Being a rookie is the hardest part of your career, but if you’re a good cop under the uniform, you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, you promise to do your best and express your willingness to learn everything you can from him.

“Good,” he says. “Meet me outside the war room. We’re not wasting any time, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

Tim watches you walk away, and when you stop to let someone carrying a large box cross in front of you, Tim realizes that you’re hurting, or were hurting not long ago. The underlying need to help people is something he recognizes.

“She’s pretty,” Angela muses, walking to Tim’s side.

“Though you know that,” Nyla adds, smiling on his other side.

“She’s a boot. No different than the other rookies,” Tim argues, though his gaze is still on your back as you sign for your bags and weapons.

“Sure, she is. Why don’t you go put her through a Tim test?” Angela suggests.

Tim rolls his eyes as he leaves, wondering what hurt you bad enough to make you want to be a cop. He became a cop despite his hurt, but you’re young and bright – and too good for him – so there must be something in you that makes you worthy of this. More worthy (and more beautiful) than any rookie before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Several officers wish you luck, with one or two warning you about so-called “Tim Tests” while you wait for Tim behind the shop.

“Don’t tell me you have a checklist,” Tim begins, drawing your attention away from the shop tires.

“No, sir,” you answer. “Just being vigilant, I suppose. I’d hate to start my first day with a flat tire.”

Tim nods, asking where the war bags are. You tell him how you checked the contents and loaded them into the trunk, and he appreciates your brief explanation.

“Good work. The easy part is over,” Tim says. He seems to weigh his options before deciding, “You drive. Show me what you’ve got.”

He follows you to the driver’s side door, opening it as he reminds you of standard shop procedures. As Tim closes the door, you wonder if he’s a gentleman or if he followed you because he doesn’t trust you to drive correctly. Either way, you know what you’re doing, and you won’t let the man in the passenger seat distract you… too much.

Driving toward Wilshire Boulevard for patrol, Tim looks out the window.

“Blue Camaro has an expired plate,” you alert.

“Call it in.”

You do so, hitting the sirens as you engage the traffic stop. Tim raises a hand to stop you from getting out.

“Remember your training. Don’t let the situation get away from you.”

His words linger in your mind, and you complete the stop with no problem, issuing a ticket and returning to the shop.

“I’m driving,” Tim alerts you, spreading his hand across the small of your back as he directs you to the sidewalk.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask when he starts the car.

“No,” he answers bluntly.

You lick your lips nervously, turning your attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, Tim pulls over and hits the brakes.

“I’ve been shot, boot. Where are we?” Tim demands.

Furrowing your brows in surprise at his actions, you answer, “Intersection of 12th and Meadowbrook, west of Redondo. There are several hospitals in a five-mile radius, but only one has a trauma center.”

Tim pulls out wordlessly, continuing his patrol route. Tim doesn't say much else throughout the few hours between his first test and lunch. He lets you point things out, answers your questions about the area and procedures, and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he pulls up to a small circle of food trucks where several police officers are waiting, he turns toward you.

“You’re doing well. I’m not neglecting to give you good feedback for any reason other than once you start riding alone, you won’t get it. My role here is to prepare you for your solo career, not hold your hand until you get there.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for answering my questions,” you reply as you open the door.

Tim’s hand finds your upper back as he leads you to his favorite of the food trucks, a light touch that disappears nearly as quickly as it happened. You thank him quietly for the suggestion before sitting with your fellow rookies.

“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his annoyance breaking through his growing fondness for you.

“Just came to get some food. Your boot seems to be in a good mood.”

“Strange, I thought Tim’s thing was ‘break their spirits in the first hour,’” Nyla adds as she joins Angela.

“You two not have work to do or something?” Tim inquires.

“Something like that. How’s she doing?” Angela tips her chin toward you as she asks.

“She’s got good instincts, knows protocols.”

“But?”

Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.

“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.

“Before what?”

“He can’t take it anymore.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.

Tim grabs the radio, accepting the call as he hits the sirens and turns into a residential area. You chew the inside of your bottom lip; domestic calls are your least favorite, especially when kids are involved. Unwilling to show discomfort, you put on your best brave cop face and follow Tim to the door.

A young girl with a bloody nose and teary eyes opens it, and you glance at Tim before kneeling and asking her to come outside. She listens without question, her lower lip wobbling as you smile.

“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.

Tim nods at you before tilting his head toward the shop. You direct the girl to stand at the edge of the porch and wait for you as you follow Tim inside.

“LAPD, put your hands up!” Tim yells as he steps into a bedroom.

Your eyes widen when you see the large man towering over the girl’s mother. He smiles as he reaches for something.

“Don’t move unless you want to give me a reason,” Tim says lowly. “Step away.”

The man looks toward the nightstand before taking a deep breath and giving up.

“I got it,” Tim tells you before radioing a code 4.

You wait until Tim has the handcuffs secured to walk outside. The girl runs into your arms, and you pop the shop's trunk, setting her down as you retrieve a small first aid kit. She lets you clean her bloody nose, gripping your wrist when it stings.

“Where’s my mom?” she asks.

“She’s talking to my partner right now, she’ll be out in a few minutes,” you explain.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you answer.

“Mom!” she yells, letting you set her on the ground before she runs to her mom’s side.

“Get in the shop,” Tim commands as he walks past, his hand brushing your arm as he closes the trunk.

You obey, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting as he talks to the EMTs. When he joins you, he drives to a quiet, empty street before switching off his body cam and gesturing for you to do the same.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you’ve heard.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t say what I want to hear. Domestic calls are tough but that wasn’t your first one, was it?”

You shake your head, looking out the windshield instead of at Tim.

“We all have reasons for becoming a cop, and some calls are harder than others. As long as your past doesn’t get in the way and put you in danger, it’s okay to be human,” he continues. “TOs are notoriously hard on you, but we’re also here for you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Tim shrugs, one corner of his lips upturned. “No more sappy stuff, we have work to do.”

“Oh, if you think that was sappy, I’ve got a lot to show you before I graduate to short sleeves.”

The comment catches Tim off guard and makes him feel something he didn’t expect.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the first week, you feel like you know Tim well. His hand spread across your back or shoulder when you’re in front of him, his little reminders that you’re not alone, that you can show emotion when the time allows, and every other little thing he does makes you wonder why there are so many horror stories around his teaching style.

Likewise, Tim thinks he has you down. You ask him questions, ask for his opinions, listen and apply what he says, and send him small smiles when he compliments your work.

But, it only takes a shift to realize that people are multi-faceted, and cops and rookies are no different.

“Good morning,” you greet, passing Tim a small box.

“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.

You smile as you reply, “Nope. Just something I found, and I thought you’d like.”

Tim opens the box, his eyes widening at the 2000 Super Bowl tickets, the Rams’ first win. “I can’t accept these.”

“They were under a bookshelf in my apartment, it’s not like I spent a million dollars on them, Officer Bradford.”

Tucking them into his pocket, Tim opens your door. “Thank you.”

You smile, and Tim thinks your joy is the better gift.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your first call of that day, you show Tim that you don’t just value his opinions.

“Shots fired!” you radio as you duck behind the car.

“Are you hit?” Tim asks.

Shaking your head, you move closer, trusting him to direct you and keep you safe. The men in the house you were called to have automatic weapons, and though you’re a good shot, you’re not a match for their guns alone.

“Backup is on the way, but I need you to do something for me. You trust me?” Tim adds.

“I do.”

“Reach around the back and open the trunk; just far enough to reach the latch. I’ll cover you.”

He stands above you, firing into the shattered window of the house as you slip your arm and back around the end of the shop and open the trunk.

“Good, perfect,” Tim praises as he ducks beside you. His knuckles graze yours as he leans past you. “Can you reach the shotguns?”

Glancing in the window above you, you locate them quickly. “I can.”

“Do it. I got you.”

Once the shotguns are in your hands, you pass one to Tim as you ready your own. Timing your shots, you take out two shooters just as your backup arrives.

“You’re bleeding,” Tim says, his adrenaline dropping as a tactical team takes over.

You look at your arm, just noticing your ripped sleeve and bloody skin. Tim lays his hands on your arm as he turns it toward him.

“I think it was just glass from the windshield,” you say quietly, pointing to the car behind you, riddled with bullet holes and broken glass.

“Either way, we need to get it checked out.”

“Officer Bradford?” you interject. “Thank you. For making sure I trust you.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he mutters, so soft you can barely hear it.

He taps the Super Bowl tickets in his pocket as he rises to get a paramedic to check on you, and you smile, wondering how bad it would be if you fell in love with your TO.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tim points out. “I need to know that whatever is bothering you won’t impair your ability to work with me.”

“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”

Tim considers pressing, but he trusts you. “I’m here. If you decide you want to talk about it.”

He exits the shop and opens your door before you can reach for the handle.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Did you see that?” Nyla gushes, elbowing Angela.

“Ow. See what?”

Nyla points to Tim, closing your door and laying a hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to talk to you.

“That’s not a reprimand,” Angela deduces.

When you smile, a tiny upturning of your lips, Nyla laughs.

“Oh, that boy… The door, the touches, listening to her? He’s gone.”

“Not just him,” Angela adds. “She asks him questions, smiles at him, trusts him more than anyone… and the Super Bowl tickets? They’re adorable.”

“Should we do something?”

“Not yet. I think they’re close to realizing.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After your longest, and worst, day yet, you find yourself in a hospital waiting room beside Tim. He hasn't said anything since a speeding driver ran into your side of the shop, though you've apologized countless times (even though there's nothing you could have done).

Tim’s jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried it will snap. You’re sitting close to him, a bandage around your wrist and an ice pack pressed to your cheek.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Stop- stop apologizing, it’s not your fault,” Tim sighs.

His arm is on the armrest between you, and you move your hand toward his. When he doesn’t back away, you turn your arm to allow your knuckles to brush against his.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him kindly. “He ran a red light.”

“And you could’ve been killed,” Tim replies, standing abruptly and walking away.

You slump in your seat, dejected and curious about what you could say to make him stop blaming himself for someone running into you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim and his rookie sitting in a tree,” Nyla sings under her breath.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” Tim replies.

“Right, because you’re too busy being mad that she got hurt. Cops get hurt Tim,” Angela reminds him.

“Not with me,” he begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “Despite what you think, I’m upset that she got hurt, not because I’m in love with her.”

“Whatever you got to hear, buddy,” Nyla replies. “But tell me this. If it was Nolan when he was a boot, would you have felt this bad? Even if I believed you didn’t have feelings for her, which I don’t, you’re different with her and you know it.”

Tim sighs, looking out the door at you. He knows it’s true; despite his constant denial, he does treat you differently because you are different, and you’re like a magnet, incapable of being ignored or forgotten. Finally confessing it to himself, Tim knows that his feelings for you will get one or both of you in trouble unless something changes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It is time for The Switch,” Wade says as he walks into the bullpen. “The day you ride with a new TO.”

You glance at Tim, who gives you an encouraging nod. He tells you that you’re a great rookie, but he also tells you that you’re pretty sometimes, which doesn’t seem pertinent (or always true, in your eyes). Wade says your name, and you look up.

“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.

Smiling at Nolan, you cross your fingers under the desk that it’s a good day.

“Henderson,” you call as he stands up, “what’s Nolan like?”

“He’s great. Really understanding and knowledgeable. A little talkative, but fairly easy going. Just stick to protocol and listen to his directions; you’ll be fine.”

“What about Bradford?” Vincent asks you. “Everyone says he’s the toughest. Anything I should be aware of?”

“I don’t think so. He’s quiet sometimes, but he’s great.”

You collect your war bag with the expectation of a good day. You will miss Tim, but learning how another TO teaches and his views can be invaluable. As you slide into the driver’s seat beside Nolan, you realize something: you like Tim as more than your TO. He means more to you than just being your teacher, your mentor, and a trustworthy officer. The thought hits you so suddenly you're not sure where it came from.

With each passing moment, you find yourself remembering something Tim said or wanting to tell him something, but he isn’t there. Nolan is kind and laughs at your muttered comments, but it is nothing like riding with Tim. As you think about all the little things Tim does, everything begins to make sense.

Someone yells your name when you step out of the shop to get lunch. Turning, you’re surprised to see Vincent storming up to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

“That Bradford has ‘Tim Tests’ and nothing pleases him!”

You glance over his shoulder, finding Tim and Nolan talking. Tim glances over at you, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease until Nolan says something else.

“His Tim Tests aren’t that bad; he’s just teaching you awareness and safety.”

“He wants to end my career,” Vincent exclaims before muttering something about you not understanding as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.

“That kid has no situational awareness,” Tim answers. “I stopped at a street sign, and he couldn’t figure out where we were.”

“He’s probably scared of you,” Nyla interjects. “And, no, Bradford, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“My rookie can tell me where I am, no matter what,” Tim adds.

“Your rookie is very good, I’ll give you that,” Nolan replies. “But Vincent has potential. Besides, your boot has people problems.”

Tim glances over at you, locking eyes with you while Vincent talks to you dramatically.

“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”

Nyla watches as both you and Tim sigh before abandoning the conversations you’re in. She shakes her head, calculating her winnings if the betting pool goes her way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the locker room at the end of the day, you’re surprised to be called into Sergeant Grey’s office. You sit across from him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to spend your nervous energy.

“You are being assigned to a new TO. Officer Bradford has decided to hand you off to someone better equipped to teach you,” Grey informs. “But you’re not in trouble.”

You still your hands in your lap. “Okay. Effective when?”

“Monday morning. So, rest up.”

As you stand, Grey says your name, smiling as he repeats, “You’re not in trouble. This was Bradford’s decision, nothing to do with you. Well, nothing to do with you as a rookie.”

You purse your lips at his phrasing, and he chuckles before sending you out. Walking through the parking lot, you see Tim’s truck is still there and decide to ask him what happened. Standing by the tailgate, you chew your bottom lip as you wait, nervous that you did something, though Wade assured you differently.

Tim walks up unnoticed, saying your name to get your attention.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask, jumping straight to your questions. “I can fix it; there has to be a way to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Tim promises. “I just can’t be your TO anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tim shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s not appropriate.”

Your heart drops. Tim knows you have feelings for him, and it makes him uncomfortable; that’s the only explanation. Nodding slowly, you accept your fate.

“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.

His hands slide onto your jaw, his palms against your cheeks as his fingers settle behind your ears, pulling you into a quick kiss. You only begin to respond when he pulls back.

“You’re the best boot I’ve ever had,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m not your boot anymore,” you remind him.

“That’s your fault. Those little gifts, and soft smiles, and how well you listen… You make it impossible not to fall for you.”

You laugh, leaning against his hands as you reply, “You do too. How do you think I felt when you called me pretty or touched my back? Then you kept comforting me and inviting me to talk. It was too easy.”

“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.

You nod, smiling against his hands before he moves to touch your back again, opening the passenger door as he helps you in. Tim slips his hand into yours, kissing your knuckles as he keeps you close.

✯✯✯✯✯

When the rest of the rookies leave the station, noticing that your car is still there, they ask each other if anyone has seen you.

“Bradford’s truck is gone,” Nyla notices as she walks out.

“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.

“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.

“On a date,” Nyla answers. “With his former boot.”

The rookies’ jaws drop, wondering how you managed to pull Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Don’t expect the same to happen to you,” Angela says as she passes the rookies. “We all worked for this one.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

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bunny-xoxo · 7 months

Text

Take It Slow

MINORS DNI

Yuuta Okkotsu x afab!reader

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): established relationship, friends to lovers implied, heavy petting, fingering, masturbation, oral (reader receiving), choking (reader receiving), instance of breath play as a result, slight corruption kink from Yuuta, inexperienced reader, a single instance of slightly mean Yuuta, reader’s chest anatomy is not referenced/described

a/n: first NSFW piece in a VERY long time, was picked from the poll so here you go! hope you all enjoy :)! Also jus wanna say there is NOTHING weird or wrong about being a virgin at any age just so you guys know <33 🫶 also in case it needs to be said, this is an unrealistic portrayal of participating in kink for the first time! Boundaries and safety should be discussed at length before these things, but this is fiction so just wanted to make that clear 😭🤍 anyways enjoy <3

“Yuuta, stop! I don’t wanna talk about it!” You whined and buried your face further into his chest hoping to spare yourself of the embarrassment from the conversation you’re sure the two of you are about to have.

“Sweetheart, I’m your boyfriend, you knew it was gonna come up sooner or later. Besides, you’re literally the one who started the conversation! There’s no way you’re getting out of it now.” He let out a few boyish chuckles as he tried to pry your face away from him and out of the covers, just to see you pressing your lips together and closing your eyes in protest.

Sure, did you figure at some point the fact you haven’t gone farther than holding hands and sharing a few quick pecks was gonna be brought up? Probably. Especially after 4 whole months of being in a relationship? Maybe. Did you think it’d be right now? No! But is it your fault? Unfortunately, yes.

You’d known Yuuta long before the two of you started dating, having been apart of his friend group since freshman year of high school, and you’ve always had a secret crush on your friend. He was kind, never failed to make you smile, charmingly awkward (so charming you almost thought he faked it), & all things endearing. It wasn’t until a few months ago, now in your fourth and final year at University, that the two of you had confessed your feelings for the other. You had a bottle of tequila and Maki to thank for that.

And honestly, it couldn’t have been more perfect since. He was still sweeter than ever, a complete gentleman always, and even though it’d only been a couple months he’s never failed to make you constantly feel cared for and appreciated. There was only one problem: how were you supposed to tell him you’ve lied about every instance of you hooking up ever? And you haven’t even done so much as grind on someone, let alone fuck?

Maybe you could blame it on Yuuji, he’s the one who brought it up the first time anyways, innocently teasing you about how “you probably don’t even know how to give head”. He was 16, and all 16 year old boys are stupid as shit - besides Yuuta you suppose - so you’ll forgive him for it.

“Fuck you Yuuji, you’re just saying that cause you’re embarrassed you can’t last longer than 10 seconds inside a girl.”

“That literally happened once, and it was my first time! What, you’re telling me your first time was any better?”

It was just humiliating to think of looking at your friends, who definitely weren’t virgins anymore (besides Toge, maybe Toge, you never really trusted his whole story - but that’s beside the point), and tell them yeah no, I haven’t even seen a dick in person!

“No, he was ass, too.” You did your best to not draw attention to the way your palms were sweating profusely, fighting every instinct in you to wipe them off on the denim of your jeans.

“Yep, fits the bill.” Mai rolled her eyes at the thought of her own experience with a man, must’ve been pretty bad.

It’d make more sense to blame it on your age than Yuuji really, looking back it wouldn’t have been embarrassing for more than a couple weeks at most to have admitted you were a virgin when the matter was pressed. But that’s not what past you thought, and now it’s current you’s problem.

“I know, I know, but now I change my mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Your lips are pushed out and puckered slightly from the way Yuuta has your cheeks squished together - his best effort at making you smile right now.

He lets go of your cheeks to squeeze your shoulder gently, looking at your face for a moment before speaking softly.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’d never judge you for anything, make comments, nothing. Swear on it.” His voice dipped low with sincerity as he dramatically “crossed his heart and hoped to die”, it was a little goofy but that’s okay.

It was hard to speak while he was staring down at you like that, you knew he’d be nothing but gentle and kind, but the thought of actually talking about it made your stomach twist ‘n turn.

“Uh”, your voice trembled more than you’d like to admit and it did nothing to help your nerves, “I guess I asked what you’d do if I lied about not being a virgin cause, I’m, like, a virgin. Yeah.” You might’ve stumbled through your sentence, but you got there eventually.

His hand continued to rub circles on your skin as he spoke, “Well, I kind of figured that much when you first asked that, cause why else would you. Is that all you wanted to tell me though?”

Glancing up to meet his eyes, you were confused, visibly confused. Was that it? Was he really not gonna pester about why you lied, when you lied, or why you’re grown and still a virgin?

You squinted your eyes and hummed quietly, unreasonably suspicious of him - which he could clearly see.

Rolling his eyes playfully, he groaned out your name and pulled your face close to his so you couldn’t escape him even if you wanted to.

“Ya know, I was kind of talking about the first question you asked me. The one before you cut me off and changed the subject with the whole ‘I’m a virgin thing.’ I want to talk to you about that.”

You’re sure you were listening, it’s just that his face was so close to you that his breath was intermingling with yours, and you could practically taste the gum he was chewing while studying earlier. Not only that but his eyelashes were so pretty and doll like from this angle, looking up at him with his hands still on your cheeks. And his hands were so warm and soft - or was your face warm?

“Are you really ignoring me right now?” He wondered where your mind wandered to, cause clearly with the way you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes and invisible stars circling around your head - you couldn’t have been listening to him.

“Huh?”

Yeah, you definitely weren’t listening to him.

“Baby, are you okay with talking about what you asked me earlier? It’s okay if the answer is no.” His eyes were glued to your face as your own darted around the room.

You wanted to speak up but your throat was dry and your face was hot, and honestly it felt like your jaw was wired shut; a simple nod will have to do.

It felt like the room was getting smaller at the lack of a response from Yuuta until you felt him lean just a tad closer and gently press his lips to your cheek, “would you rather me show you how I take care of myself, or tell you?”

Oh.

Goosebumps rose along the back of your neck and down your arms at the soft volume of his voice in your ear and the way his breath fanned across your cheek.

“Both, please.” The tenor of your voice matched his as your hands fiddled nervously with the hem of your shirt, unsure what to with them while he moved to give you a kiss and sit up in front you.

The embarrassment of how you asked Yuuta how to give a hand job from earlier began to fade and be replaced with curiosity and eagerness at the sight of Yuuta reaching down to palm at himself.

It was still embarrassing, staring so shamelessly at his growing bulge in obvious intrigue and desire, but it was Yuuta, and Yuuta would never make you feel bad for having human urges and wanting him in this way.

Hesitantly, once he was ready, he tugged at the fabric of his pajama pants until he was fully exposed. He was happy you were so needy and awe struck at the sight of him, because your undivided attention to the way his cock sits in his hand is making him blush.

He spreads his legs just as much as the stretch of his bottoms let him while he dips forward to drip spit in the direction of his lap, his wrist catching the fabric of his shirt and exposing a tease of his lower stomach as he spreads the spit along the length of his cock. Leaning back into a more comfortable position, you take in the way he’s exposed himself to you, his stomach visibly clenching as he rubs his thumb along the slit at the tip of his cock.

It was firm in his hand, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together from where you sat watching at the vulgarity of it all. His loud and unashamed whimpering, his leaking and twitchy cock, and the way his eyes were never closed, always watching your face, when you would flick your own up to get a peek at his reactions.

You thought maybe he’d be a little more bashful, slow and careful with what he wanted to show you, but if anything, it seems like he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“You like watching me stroke my cock, hm baby?”

Your clit began to throb at the sudden recognition and reminder that you’re involved just as much as he is, as well as the sound of him speaking, and speaking directly at you.

“Answer me angel, even a nod’s okay. Wanna make sure my baby’s feeling good.” His voice was hoarse, but soft, and the sentiment did nothing more than increase your arousal and send butterflies rampant in your stomach.

Settling further into the situation, and gaining some confidence in return, you make your way over to him slowly as you nod your head.

“Want you to tell me, Yuuta.” Your voice is small, quiet.

“Tell you what, pretty?”

He’s got an air of fake innocence around him as he speaks but you couldn’t care less when you’re so close that you can hear his soft and barely audible panting, and smell the light scent of musk and sweat begin to gather along his clothed skin from his excitement and exertion. You’d give him anything he wants at this point, and you’re certain he knows it.

“Yuuta,”, you whine and move in his direction, hovering over his lap with his cock not quite close enough to press against your covered cunt as he strokes himself, “want you to tell me how it feels.”

The pair of you groan together at the lewdness of it all, both of you reveling in the freedom to finally explore your deep attraction for another, no longer embarrassed or fearful to admit or indulge in it.

“Fuck, feels so good baby. ‘M so hard with you watching me like this. You like knowing you’ve got me and my cock this needy without even touching me?” Whining at his response, you lean into him and sloppily place your lips on his, ignoring the urge to smack him on his chest as he chuckles a, “yeah?”, into your mouth at your eagerness.

You both kiss, messy and loud, as you reach and drag your hand down his torso, lightly drawing circles onto Yuuta’s exposed lower stomach with your fingertips.

A strained groan comes from him at the sensation, sighing into your mouth as he sits up to be impossibly closer to you. It was all too much.

He could feel the heat from your body as your thighs squeeze him from each side, hear the crude noises your pussy makes each time you adjust, and he could just imagine how needy your poor cunt would smell. Feeling his stomach tighten and his head get cloudy, he knew he was close, and he wanted you to watch.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come baby.” Yuuta’s lips were soft and slick with spit as he spoke against yours, while you felt a hand slide from the back of your neck up to the top of your head, turning you to face down and stare at the way his fist was feverishly tugging at his cock.

“Want my sweetheart to watch how hard they’re gonna make me come, how good they’re taking care of me and my cock.” His voice was strained and low, out of breath, and if you weren’t desperate to watch his cock get some release, you would have protested at the sudden lack of kissing.

“Please, need you to show me baby.” You whined and wrapped your hand around Yuuta’s wrist gently, moving in time with the way he was stroking himself.

Hearing your voice was all he needed to let himself go, throwing his head back and getting his sternum sticky with cum as it stained his t-shirt. His balls and cock twitched as he slowed down his movements, whining when he rubs the tip once more, not wanting it to be over. If it wasn’t for the way you were still hovering over his lap, he would’ve let himself stay like this for a while longer, catching his breath and resting his eyes.

But he could see how bad you needed him, your chest heaving and your body hot against his.

Pulling you into his chest, he speaks against your shoulder softly between gentle kisses, “Want me to take care of you too, baby?”

Your body jolts at the prospect, nerves riddling your muscles and your stomach, making you feel almost weak. The thought made you self-conscious just as much as it made you feel exhilarated, but you couldn’t deny the way your cunt was throbbing and hot. You needed him bad, and you could trust Yuuta. You always could.

Words were too hard, like they often were with him in intimate moments like this (the thought of your first date briefly crosses your mind), so you substitute a pleading “yes” for another messy, longing kiss.

“I got you angel,”, was all he said before you were leaned back on the pillows, Yuuta hovering above you with soft wisps of his hair tickling the sides of your face.

You knew you could trust Yuuta, he always knows what his baby needs.

Delicate fingers graze across your side until they reach the waist band of your bottoms, running back and forth along the top as Yuuta chuckles softly at the way your stomach twitches, waiting for a sign of permission.

A warm hand tugging Yuuta’s in the direction of your heat is all he needs before sliding his hand between your thighs to rub heavy and slow circles onto your clit beneath your shorts.

“Oh, god.” You breathe out and close your eyes, letting him take his time in making you feel good.

Your hole ached every time he dipped a finger down to tease your entrance, gathering more of your arousal to rub into your puffy clit. He was such a tease even when he didn’t mean to be, couldn’t he tell you needed him inside? Can’t he imagine how empty your poor hole feels? Doesn’t he know how often you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers or favorite toy, imagining it’s really him inside instead?

“Yuuta.”

The desperate call of his name makes his stomach flip, eyes quickly searching across your face for a sign of discomfort, “‘M here baby, what do you need?”

Sitting up slowly, your face stops inches from his as you shimmy your way out of your bottoms. Laying back down, you open your legs wide and spread your pussy for Yuuta to see, another hand rubbing at your clit slowly.

“‘S too empty, baby.” You fight back the hot wave of embarrassment that floods your body at your crudeness and use all your will power to stay still, cunt on full display, as you watch Yuuta’s breath quicken and his hand snake down to tug at his cock again despite the slight sensitivity he’s still feeling.

He doesn’t give you much time to linger on your sheepishness before you’re tugged further down the bed by the grip he takes on both of your thighs, his tongue impatiently shoved into your mouth with a loud whimper. You both stay like this a little while longer than you would have liked, his tongue running along the inside of your mouth before he has yours between his lips, switching between sucking on it loudly and licking at the saliva that drips down onto your chin.

God, he was so dirty.

Unable to beg for more, you attempt to wrap your legs up and around his midsection, hoping he’ll catch the hint, but instead you’re stopped by a firm placement of his hand on your inner thigh.

“‘Scuse me, beautiful.” His voice is hoarser than before as he speaks softly against your neck, leaving hasty kisses on any exposed skin while scooting down the bed, landing with his face between your legs.

You could have cried when you felt his tongue poke and prod at your hole, pushing in and moaning loudly before licking long and slow up to your clit. His tongue flicks back and forth as he keeps your lips spread with one hand, deciding to then take his time licking and dragging his tongue between every fold before coming back to suck on your clit.

A strangled groan vibrates deep within your chest as you tug on his hair to bring him impossibly closer to your cunt, as if he needed to devour you whole, while you no longer fought the way your hips were grinding down and writhing beneath Yuuta’s grip. It’s not until you finally feel a finger push inside, slender and slow, that you begin to incoherently beg and whine for more.

It doesn’t take many half-spoken pleas for him to get the idea you need more.

“Ah, Yuuta!” You whimper and internally battle between trying to squirm away and press yourself even further into his mouth, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his two fingers inside pumping in and out of you with his mouth nipping and sucking at your clit.

He sits up, kneeling between you to watch the way you take what he’s giving you.

“Yeah?”, his voice is uncharacteristically cocky and out of breath, “Feels good, baby?”

He was going to be the death of you.

If it wasn’t for the way Yuuta was placed between your thighs, your efforts to clamp them shut would be working. It was all too much, but so fucking good.

“Ah- fuck, oh, oh my god - Yuuta please make me come. Wanna come so bad!” You arch your back and attempt to sit up to reach him, needing him closer, but a hand on your chest pushes you back down and slides up until it rests wrapped around your throat.

“Mmm, I’ll give it to you baby, just want you stay right there. Wanna see what you look like when I make you finish for the first time.” His hand wasn’t holding tight, it was merely keeping you in your spot beneath him, but you wanted him to grab you tighter.

With a shaky hand, you reached to hold onto his wrist like your life depended on it,

“Please choke me.”

His fingers stopped curling into you for maybe a second before he continued, his mouth parting slightly as a gentle moan fell from his lips.

Did you really just ask him that?

You closed your eyes in bliss when he squeezed gently, instinctually doing your best to grind down onto his hand, but it wasn’t enough.

“T-tighter, please.”

It took everything in you to open your eyes and see his reaction, a slight amount of shame building up in your stomach for requesting something that felt so dirty - but all embarrassment fizzled out where it sat when you saw the way he was staring down at you.

Nothing was said as he squeezed you tighter and tighter until you let out a choked moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Tap me twice if it’s too much.” You’re not sure when he leaned down to speak lowly to you, but his breath fanning across the side of your neck and face sends chills down your body.

You’re so lost in the pleasure of it all you can only nod when he takes your hand to show you exactly how he wants you to tap against his wrist if you can’t take it anymore.

He sits back up and smiles to himself as he takes you in. You look so.. so.. so pathetic like this. And what, all because he’s got two of his fingers fucking your pussy? Cause he’s the first person to ever make you feel this way?

The latter thought makes his dick twitch and pick up the pace of his fingers until even you can register the crude squelching coming from between your thighs. Thankfully for you, you’re too full of bliss to care - fuck you were so close, and he knows it, too.

Your eyes shoot open when his grip is tightened even more, making it so you can only take in shallow and shaky breaths.

“Gonna have to come around my fingers if you want me to loosen up.” It wasn’t a question of how much you could take, it was a matter of how far you wanted him to go to make you see stars. And apparently this was it with the way he could feel you clench around him at his words, your thighs starting to thrash and shake.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty. My dirty little cunt, huh?” His voice was so misleadingly soft. His register was still high, slightly whiny, but you knew it was all to mock you and your fucked out state. If anything, Yuuta was the one being so dirty, and you were thankful for it.

It was hot, so hot, and you could hear your heart pounding in your head, and you could feel how tight you were clenching around his fingers.

Unable to fight off the feeling and attempt to last a second longer, your body shook as you came hard around Yuuta’s fingers, your nails digging into the forearm of the hand still wrapped around your throat. He kept it there for a brief few moments into your orgasm before letting go to immediately bring his fingers down to your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm for as long as you could handle.

The first full breath you took was loud and followed by an even louder mantra of thank you’s and please’s. It took a soft and slow kiss from Yuuta to quiet your whimpers, and warm, and undeniably semi-sticky hands, rubbing tenderly into your thighs and arms.

You both stayed like that for a while, Yuuta above you with his hands rubbing your muscles carefully, kissing slow and catching your breath while sharing gentle sentiments of love and reassurance. Much to your surprise, you were the first to speak a full sentence as you both relaxed into a more comfortable position.

“Ya know”, your voice had a slight hoarseness to it now, most likely from your earlier activities, “I don’t think I like knowing someone else has gotten to see you like this.”

He brings his head up to rest on his palm with a crooked smile, leaning forward until his lips ghosted over yours as he spoke,

“Yeah? You the jealous type baby?”

This time, you did smack him. And hard.

“Ow?” Yuuta pouts, pretending to be appalled, and rubs circles into his chest as if you had actually smacked him hard enough to feel like anything more than a friendly pat.

His request for an apology is brushed off and amended with a kiss, from which you receive no protest, as you sink further into the comfort of his embrace and, now dirty but once very clean, sheets.

“How about we clean up n get some rest, okay baby?” He sounds distant and quiet when he speaks, his heartbeat louder in your ears than his voice with your head pressed into his chest.

Sighing and shaking his head, he leans down to kiss the top of your head with a small smile. Laundry and a shower can wait a few more minutes if it means he gets to have you like this for even a little bit longer.

——————

taglist: @plutowrites @alert-arlert (I think you asked to be tagged in this??? If not I’m sorry !! This was like a literal year ago I started this so 😭🫶) @touyaz (only cause you liked the snippet 🤭) if you’d like to be added just lemme know!!

#tw choking #tw breath play #jjk smut #yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta okkotsu smut

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years

Text

The Heat is On

Summary: When the AC goes out in your apartment, your roommate Peter reveals he knows more about you than you think. 18+

For @blooming-violets, who asked for "AC is out" trope with blonde asshole roommate Peter Parker for my 3K celebration

Moving to New York, you hoped you would finally get to experience more mild summers.

What a joke.

"When did Frank say it would be fixed?" You asked your roommate after removing your head from the fridge.

Without looking up from his phone, Peter remarked, "Hopefully tomorrow."

"Hopefully?!" You gawked. There was no way you could live like this for more than twenty- four hours.

"What? You're not enjoying the view?" Peter motioned to his bare chest. Lying on the couch, he was clad only in boxers.

You rolled your eyes, "You're right, I forgot what a show all six of your chest hairs are."

He put a hand over his heart, throwing his head back as if he had just been struck by an arrow shot by you, "Ouch. You know, people usually have to jump through a lot of hoops to see this."

"Oh, like go to frat parties and pretend your jokes are funny?" You opened the freezer to find several ice cubes. You grabbed them, the coolness feeling delightful in your hand.

"You should be a comedian," Peter remarked, rolling his eyes before he returned to his phone.

You made your way over to the chair that was across from your roommate. You pressed an ice cube against your neck, relishing in the small relief from the heat.

"It's inhumane to let people go more than three hours with no AC," you muttered.

"I'm not complaining about the view I'm getting," His brown eyes motioned to your figure that was clad in only a sports bra and athletic shorts.

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his comment.

Living with a frat guy was not on your bingo college card. But your original housing plan had fallen through, the place was well within your budget and you were desperate.

Despite looking like a walking stereotype, Peter was actually a decent roommate. He paid all his bills on time, did his dishes, and kept the parties at his brothers' places.

The only thing Peter would not shake, despite the countless people you both had brought home, was his comments about how attracted he found you. Sometimes you just shut it down, sometimes you ignored it, sometimes you came back with a snarky remark that silenced him.

Peter was attractive, there was no denying that. All your friends wondered how you two hadn't fucked yet.

"Easy. I don't fuck frat bros nor do I fuck my roommates," you would tell them.

But sometimes, it was hard. Especially when he looked at you with a gleam in those honeyed eyes. Or when he just woke up in the morning and his dyed hair was sticking up in every direction and his voice was even deeper.

Thankfully, an alert from your phone saved you from having to make any kind of comment.

"Who's texting you?" Peter asked without even looking up from his phone.

"Chris, telling him about our lack of AC." The name briefly brought a scowl to Peter's face. One that he quickly hid as soon as he felt it.

"The Econ major who can't find a shirt that fits to save his life?"

You looked up from your phone, a smirk forming, "I'm not complaining about his too tight shirts. They show off his pecs quite well."

Peter muttered something about increased gym time when you had an easy major.

You chose to ignore his comment, instead reading the text you've received.

Peter noticed how a small smile appeared on your face as your eyes scanned the message. He also noticed how quickly you got up to head back to your room.

And he definitely noticed the sundress you were wearing when you came out of your room twenty minutes later. Along with the fact you had combed your hair and put on some makeup.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, knowing the answer. Jealousy twisted through his stomach, bubbling up to his throat.

"Chris invited me over to hang out, said I could use his AC," you remarked as you slipped on your shoes.

Peter scoffed, "You do realize he's not wanting to hang out, right? Or that he's not offering you AC out of the goodness of his heart?"

You looked up, trying to read his face. The most annoying thing about Peter Parker was that he was impossible to read. Was he jealous? Or simply judging you?

"Peter, I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't know what he wanted," You leaned forward, "I also wouldn't have gone without a bra."

His amber eyes darted to your chest, the tops of your breasts now exposed thanks to the sundress you had on, combined with you leaning forward.

He chewed his bottom lip, "So you're aware he's just trying to fuck you?"

"Maybe I want to fuck him," You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster.

The truth was that you weren't crazy about the dude. He wasn't bad. Chris was just fine.

But the heat was awful and you needed an out. And maybe this time, you could enjoy it.

Peter turned his attention back to his phone, shaking his head. It wasn't the heat that was making the air thick.

Normally he didn't comment on who you brought home. It was an unspoken rule you two had. You wouldn't judge him for who he brought home and vice versa. So long as they weren't a dick, didn't overstay their welcome, and you weren't super loud.

So why was this time any different?

"Let me know if the AC gets fixed," You said as you grabbed your purse. His eyes remained on his phone. Whatever had put him in a foul mood, you wanted no part of it and were glad to be leaving.

It wasn't until you headed towards the door that you heard his voice.

"Have fun faking another orgasm."

You stopped dead in your tracks, a flash of heat coursing through your body.

"Excuse me?" Was all you could get out as you turned around.

Peter was now standing, his arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk now on his face.

"I said, have fun faking another orgasm," he repeated.

"I don't know what-"

Peter scoffed, "What, you're still trying to hide it? I thought it was one of those unspoken roommate things where we both knew what was going on. Like that spider bite I got back in high school."

Your fingers curled into a fist, "Parker, I don't know where the fuck you get the audacity but-"

"The walls here are thin. I know what you sound like when you touch yourself versus when you're with someone. There's a huge difference," He walked towards you.

"Though, I will say that you have gotten a lot better since we moved in. Last week, when you brought Chris over?" He brought his long fingers up to his lips, kissing them, "Probably your best performance to date."

"What I do in bed is none of your concern. Also are you listening to me?" You deflected. If you could pin it back to him, you could get out of this.

Sure, you could just leave. But then that would make it seem like he was right.

Peter was right. But you couldn't let him know that.

He was now inches away from you, his arms still crossed as he looked down. Every mark, mole, and scar were visible.

"Again, the walls are thin. Should probably keep your voice down when you use your vibrator," He bent his knees, now at your eye level, "Or don't. You sound really pretty when you moan."

The grip you had on your keys was so tight, the metal was digging into your skin. You didn't care. All you cared about was trying to put on a brave face in front of Peter.

"Has anyone actually made you come while they fucked you?" He asked.

"Why the fuck do you care?" You gritted between your teeth.

Peter leaned in, which made you realize you had never been this close to him before. He didn’t smell like cheap body wash and bleach. Instead, the scent of spicy cinnamon flooded your nostrils.

It was the only pleasant thing about this whole ordeal.

“Well, based on what I’ve heard when you touch yourself, I think you’d sound even prettier coming apart with an actual cock inside you, rather than that dildo you use.”

The way he said it so casually with that smirk and a gleam in those amber eyes was infuriating. At least, it should have been.

You felt heat all over your body and it wasn't from the lack of cool air.

"What do you want Peter? You want me to admit it? Fine," you spat, "No, I've never come while actually getting fucked. You happy?"

He shook his head, "Actually I think it's a shame."

You rolled your eyes, "and what? You want to fix it?"

His lips were now inches away from yours, "If you want me to."

Peter's fingers ghosted over your bare arm, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin. They trailed upwards to your shoulder, moving to your neck.

"And what if you can't make me?"

"Then I'll cover utilities for the next three months." His eyes were on your body, his fingers now brushing over the pulse on your neck.

"With what money?" You stammered. The longer you could draw it out, the more time you had to avoid thinking about what your bleached blonde roommate was offering.

"New York's favorite friendly neighborhood Spider has some new pictures out." He explained, the smirk remaining on his face, his hand now firmly on the back of your neck.

Your eyes trailed down his bare chest to his hips. A smattering of dark hair trailed down his stomach, going below the waistband of his grey boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight of a now prominent bulge that was creating a clear outline in his boxers.

He was getting turned on by this. That fucker.

Before you could say anything, pressure was applied to your throat, forcing you to look up into Peter's eyes.

"So you do like being choked," He muttered.

"Don't lie. I can smell you," Peter said in response to your attempt to shake your head.

"So what do you say? Want to see if I can make you come with my cock?"

You heard the men and women he brought home. The walls were thin. You didn't hate how loud they would get because it kept you awake.

You hated it because they were enjoying it immensely. They always came. You wanted that, wanted to know what it felt like.

Plus, your lease would be up in a few months anyways.

"Fine, let's see if all the folks you brought home are better actors than me," You spat.

Peter chuckled, "You're so cute when you act tough."

He brought his other hand up to cup your face before sealing his lips onto yours.

It was gentle at first, which surprised you. His lips were soft, probably from the chapstick of yours that he keeps stealing.

The kiss was sweet. Something you knew was possible for Peter, but didn't expect to see it in the way his lips moved against yours.

Peter used his hands to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss. His tongue darted out, your lips parting without even thinking.

He was a good kisser, you could admit that to yourself.

Not to his face though. Peter Parker didn't deserve that satisfaction. He didn't deserve to know that he wasn't the only one who listened through that thin wall, picking up on how the other sounded when they moaned.

Be it due to pride or fear, he couldn't know.

"Thought you were going to fuck me," You said, taking a step back to lean against the wall.

"Do none of the guys you fuck do foreplay?" He's walking towards you with such focus, it makes your thighs clench.

"Foreplay would be like you going down on me, I thought you knew that."

"If you want me to go down on you, just say it." He's leaning forward, his lips brushing over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

"I already told you that you could fuck me," You mumbled. He looks up, his eyes on you. They're soft now, gone is the mischievous glint.

"I only want to do what you're comfortable with. But I'm not a fucking mind reader, you need to actually say it."

"You just want to hear it." You looked down, avoiding Peter's gaze.

"I want to make you feel good. Just say the word." You looked back up at him. His whole expression had softened, which you hated.

You were familiar with the smirks, the quippy one liners. Those were easy to deflect with an eye roll or snarky comment.

"Why are you doing this Parker?" Your voice was now barely a whisper.

"Have I not made it obvious that I like you?"

He looked genuinely confused, as if it was as clear as the sun rising and setting every day.

"Y-you're just flirting, like you do with everyone-"

"That's a fucking lie and you know it. You're the only person I've introduced to my Aunt and I tell you shit I haven't told anyone else. You're the one who keeps brushing it off like it's nothing." Peter sunk down until he was on his knees, both his hands gripping your thighs.

"So why don't you be a big girl and tell me whether or not you want me to eat you out? It's the least you could do." His admission was so casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Because it was. Peter hadn't brought anyone back to the apartment in over a month. He would find ways to spend time with you, whether it was while you were folding laundry or cooking dinner.

You saw the look in his eyes when you helped him patch up after a rough night. It was so intense that you found ways to avoid eye contact.

He kept those overly flirty comments because he knew that was what you were comfortable with.

You stared down at Peter, whose fingers were gripping the hem of your sundress.

He wasn't going to budge. You had to make the choice.

"You can eat me, but you can't make me come with your mouth. Defeats the whole purpose of seeing if you can make me come with your cock," you finally said after what felt like an eternity, the heat making you almost dizzy.

The hem of your dress was pushed up to your waist, a low groan escaping Peter's mouth from upon seeing that you had opted to forgo underwear.

A snarky remark formed on your tongue, but it died as soon as Peter buried his head between your thighs.

His tongue lapped greedily at your folds, your arousal mixing with his saliva. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt Peter's nose brush against your clit.

Your hands found themselves in his bleached hair, tugging on the surprisingly soft locks.

His mouth was good, which your body loved but your brain hated. You had bitten your bottom lip so hard in an attempt to hold back any pleasurable sounds that the taste of copper filled your mouth.

"Just let go. Probably why you haven't ever come," He muttered into your thigh before latching his mouth to your clit.

The grip you had on his fake blonde locks tightened as a strangled cry fell from your lips.

You could feel Peter moan against your cunt, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

"J-just get on with it Parker."

He took his mouth off of you, it taking everything in you not to whine from the loss.

Peter stood up, which was when you saw that his chin was glistening. His fingers gripped your chin, his other hand on the back of your neck. With his broad chest, he guided your body until it was fully against the wall, one of his thighs in-between your legs.

"Why don't you ask nicely, princess?" You could feel your slick against your skin as his lips ghosted over your cheek.

"T-thought you liked me," you stammered as his thigh pushed against your core.

"Doesn't mean you get to be a brat. That's no way to treat the one guy who actually wants to make you come on his cock."

He was right. He was the only one to realize you had been faking it, that you weren't satisfied. The only one to offer to try, to express not just interest but want in making you feel good.

"P-please, Peter," you whimpered.

"Good girl," he praised before gripping onto your thighs and picking you up. His words caused you to clench around nothing, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

When exactly you ended up in Peter's room, you were unsure. But as the back of your head made contact with his pillow, his fingers gripped your sundress, pulling the fabric up and over your head.

Peter muttered a curse at the sight of your bare body. Of course you didn't wear a bra either.

His lips found themselves on your chest, his teeth grazing your skin. Your nails dug into Peter's back as his fingers slipped through your folds, into your entrance.

"T-Thought- you said you would f-fuck me," you whined, your pitch increasing as you felt Peter's teeth against one of your nipples. The air was hot from the lack of AC, his cracked window doing very little to cool you down.

You could hear him laugh against your chest, "Put up such a fight only to beg for me to fuck you."

Peter flicked his wrist, his fingers hitting a spot that left you breathless. He saw how your eyes widened, your lips parted yet no sound came out.

That all too familiar smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off his face, the one that made him look almost boyish despite his stubble, the one you adored, returned.

He pulls his fingers out of you, pushing down his boxers to free his cock. His fingers are glistening with your slick.

You're staring, unable to look away as he uses those same fingers to pump his cock.

"Like what you see?" Peter grins.

You roll your eyes, "I thought you were supposed to stop being an asshole after you admit you like me."

Peter shakes his head, leaning down so his body is hovering over your's, "Don't you know it's bad to change yourself for the person you like?"

You lift your head up to capture his lips, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip. You clench at the deep groan that comes from Peter.

His free hand wraps itself around your throat, pushing your upper body back down to the bed.

A choked scream escapes your lips as you feel him enter you. You feel full, the sensation of Peter inside of you almost overwhelming.

"Just tell me when you're ready for me to move," He whispered softly before pressing his lips against your cheek.

"Move, please," you whimper.

"You wanna come so bad, don't you?" You nod your head at Peter's question, whining as you feel his cock pull almost all the way out of you, leaving on the tip.

"Don't worry princess," his accent shown through as he thrusted back into you, your back arching off the mattress.

It actually feels good, the way his cock fills you up and brushes against your walls with every thrust. Peter's lips are all over your neck, alternating between giving you bruising marks and soothing kisses.

You can feel sweat rolling down your chest, but for once you don't care. A coil is tightening in your stomach, a sensation that until now, you had only experienced when touching yourself.

"Feels good?" Peter asks, his face not even inches away from yours. You can feel the ends of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead.

You nod, but that isn't good enough for Peter, "Use ya words. Wanna hear ya."

A scowl forms on your face because of course he'd still be an asshole when he's getting you close to coming.

As if he could sense it, a large hand grips your chin, his fingers squeezing the sides of your lips.

"What did I fucking say about being a brat? I know you're close, can feel your cunt squeezing my cock."

His words only push you further and he can tell by how the near vice grip your cunt has on him somehow gets even tighter.

Peter grins, his eyes lightening up as realization sweeps over him, "You put up this tough girl act but you want someone to put you in your place, don't ya?"

It's all too much. His words, his cock, the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

How he figured you out in record timing. How despite the fact you both tried your best at the beginning of this lease to keep each other out, you were more comfortable around one another than anyone else.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya." Peter shifts so he's on his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs and pinning them to his hips.

The new position allows him to not only thrust deeper, but also gives him access to your clit.

Inhibitions now gone, you throw your head back as you feel his calloused fingers draw circles on your bundle of nerves.

Your hands find themselves practically clawing at Peter's thighs, desperate for him to keep going. You loved how good it felt. That he was actually fucking you, rather than treating you like a life-size fleshlight.

"Please don't stop," You manage to get out in-between the whimpers and moans.

"Not a chance. Wanna hear how loud you get when you fall apart on my cock."

You opened your mouth to call him an asshole, but then his fingers brushed against your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

Your nails dug deep into his back as you fell apart around him. Your whole body tightened and unwind over and over again. The neighbors next door were sure to draft up a noise complaint, given the way you were practically screaming.

Peter continued to fuck you through it, prolonging your orgasm. You never wanted it to end. Your eyes couldn't help but close, all you could focus on, all you could feel, was how your walls tightened around his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you come," Peter grunted, his eyes never leaving your withering body.

You opened your eyes again, unsure of how long you had them closed for. Holy shit, he was still fucking you. You could still feel your body spasming in pleasure.

"D-don't….don't stop," you begged, jolts of pleasure still running through your body.

"I won't baby. I'll make ya feel this good every night if ya let me." Peter's words combined with his fingers still drawing circles on your sensitive clit, pushed you back towards the edge of pleasure, further away from coherent thoughts.

"F-fuck, you feel incredible," Peter stammered as he watched you fall apart again.

His hips snapped against yours, the feeling of your tight cunt practically milking his cock becoming too much. The sounds of your wetness were loud and lewd, spurring him further.

Peter collapsed onto you, a deep groan falling from his lips as he slammed his hips against yours one last time before coming inside of you.

The two of you laid there, the only sounds in the room were of the small fan Peter had on and you two trying to catch your breath.

"So what do you get?"

Peter lifted his head up from your chest, his brows knitted in confusion at your question.

"You said if you couldn't make me come, you'd pay utilities for the next three months. You never said what would happen if you did make me come," You explained as you run a hand through his dyed hair.

A soft smile appeared on Peter's face, the corners of his eyes creasing.

"I get to take you out to dinner," He revealed.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Y'know, most people take folks they like to dinner first, then fuck them."

Peter shrugged, "Figured you needed to relax first."

You playfully swatted his shoulder, "Asshole."

"This asshole just made you come so hard, you blacked out for several minutes," he reminded you before pressing a kiss to your jawline.

"Yes and I'm sure this won't be the last time you remind me," You shook your head, though a small smile remained on your face.

"I'll stop once I get you to squirt. Then I'll make sure you never forget about that," Peter whispered, sending heat all over your body.

Perhaps you could renew your lease with him.

#my writing #abby's 3k celebration #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter smut #spiderman x you

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poge-life · 1 year

Note

can you do a who's most likely to interview between drew and reader alone not being with the other where they are in a secret relationship but after the interview it’s so clear that’s they’re lover

I did change this a little bit to fit what I had in mind but I’m hoping this is what you had in mind!

Since Season 3 came out, you guys had been in back-to-back interviews. You will say, these ones had been a lot more interesting than the ones you guys had done before. You and Drew both had one today for Vanity Fair on ‘Who’s most likely’ and you would be doing them together. You two had decided to show up together, considering it would have been a waste of time driving separately when you were going to the same place.

You guys had been together for a while now and had done a pretty good job at hiding it. Obviously, your friends knew. There was no point in hiding it from the people you were with every day and they were your biggest supporters.

Giving Drew a peck on the lips, you both got out of the car and made your way into the building. After checking in, they showed you to where the interview would be. The setup was like usual; a couch in front of the table, with a both filled with, what you assumed where the questions.

The makeup team came by to do any touch ups you both would need before they started.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n)” You smiled at the camera once they signaled they started rolling and it took Drew a second to realize what was going on, as he was looking at you. You nudged his knee with yours and he seemed to realize what was going on, “And I’m Drew Starkey.”

“And we’re going to be doing ‘who’s most likely’ on the OBX cast with Vanity Fair.” You finished, reaching for the bowl. Pulling out the first question, you couldn’t help but laugh as your answer immediately popped into your head, “Who’s most likely to have their own reality show?”

“You know, I wanna see what Rudy does when we’re not together.” Drew answered, turning to look at you, “He’s just so laidback and care free about everything. And he’s from Alaska so I wanna see how he lives.”

You nodded in agreement before throwing the slip of paper onto the table, “I wanna see Maddy in a reality show. Not just about her. I wanna see her on Big Brother. I feel like she would be great on there.”

Drew snapped his fingers at you as a new thought popped into his head, “I wanna see you on Survivor. You have zero survival skills.”

You gave him an ‘are you serious’ look, “Do I need to bring up the camping trip we went on with Nick a couple years ago?”

Drew straightened up at the mention of the trip as he reached for a slip, turning to face the camera, “Moving on! Who is most likely to ditch their phone and go back to a flip phone?”

You brought your hand above the two of you and pointed down at Drew, “He barely knows where his phone is 90% of the time. Saves him a couple of bucks on a bill.”

Drew held no argument as he agreed with you, “I respond to messages in my head a lot and just kind of forget to actually reply. I’m more of a ‘in the moment’ kind of guy, so I don’t use my phone a lot.”

“Because you’re a grandpa and barely know how to use your phone.” You teased, patting his cheek. Drew rolled his eyes at you, bringing your hand down to his lap. Quickly remembering you were on camera, you brought your hand back to the bowl and pulled out the next slip, “who is most likely to get drunk at a bottomless mimosa brunch?”

You pointed to yourself as did Drew, causing you to crumple up the slip and throw it at him, “Not just me! Maddy too!”

Drew looked over at the camera with a grin on his face, “her and Maddy aren’t allowed to be alone whenever there’s a bar. Especially with any kind of wine.”

“Okay, mr ‘drunk of a glass of wine’” You teased, holding out to the bowl to him. Drew just mocked you as he read the next question, “Most likely to get married in Vegas?”

You both looked at each other in thought. Honestly, you could see any one of your friends doing this but you didn’t know just who to pick.

“This could go any way, really,” you said, tapping your chin, “we’re all impulsive but I don’t think we’re that impulsive.”

“If I had to pick any of them, I would say Chase,” Drew answered, “he definitely does a lot of spur of the moment decisions and I feel like if he was really up for it, he’d go get married in Vegas.”

You had a small smile on your face as you watched Drew run his hand through his hair. At this point, you didn’t care if anyone found out about you guys. You loved Drew and hated that you both had to hide it. You saw how the fans tore into Rudy and Elaine and how much shit Maddy and Chase got when they were together. You also saw what happened when the rumors about him and Odessa started. They just tore her to pieces.

You both were content with just your family and friends knowing about you two. But, sometimes, you just wanted to show him off for everyone to see how much you cared about him and how good he was to you. Drew noticed you weren’t paying attention and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb just under the hem of your skirt, “You okay?”

You just nodded your head, giving him a smile as you reached for a new question.

Yeah, you were great.

OBXFAN20: Okay, no one can tell me they’re not dating after watching the vanity fair interview

Fan90: Did you see how he grabbed her thigh? I would have died 😭

(Y/c/n)lover: The way she just sat and smiled at him has me 100% convinced her and Drew are dating

#outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks imagines #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe obx #outer banks imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #obx rafe cameron #obx rafe #obx3 #outer banks season three

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nc-vb · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬, oo. 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐫

Time is not prejudiced. It gives and takes as the ordinance of life sees fit. Time begets loss and fear, but it also spawns warmth. After centuries worth of time having passed for you, you learn that time also sires impatience, and does not wait for a lost soul to find their way. Time carries on, and flows likes the current of a river. Ironically, so, too, does blood.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • jing yuan x reader, blade x reader, dan heng & reader (no pronouns used this chapter)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • 18+ (mdni), no explicit smut but suggestive & insinuative; partially beta'ed.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 • can be read as a gn!stand-alone fic! • extended lifespan reader; reader is the records’ master for the Seat of Divine Foresight; allusions to ptsd. • this chapter is introductory and is meant to be vague toward the true plot... the real story begins in the official first chapter. • this originally had a different title, "it ain't the heat, it's the humility" before being reformatted for the series.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 • seat of divine foresight npcs, yanqing

𝐰𝐜 3.1k

zephyr -> a soft, gentle breeze.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬' 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

It didn’t matter where you’d tried taking refuge. Your apartment, or your friends’; the streets of the Luofu, or the various fountains littering them; the Exalting Sanctum’s new little dessert parlour with the delicious ice treats, or the sparse number of trees along the way to it. Shelter is far and few, you’d been quick to learn, and none of them with enough of the protection you’d been hoping to find since two days ago when the heatwave began.

It’s hot. Too hot. Too hot for your thoughts to thread themselves into proper sentences whilst on auto-pilot. No, it takes your entire conscious focus for you to even complain about the heat, and even that works up a sweat. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting, you remind yourself as another thick bead of sweat rolls down your neck and into your shirt. So gross. No matter how many cool showers you’d taken that only had your water bill racking up in dues, no matter how popsicles you’d indulged in, or how many times you’d stared at one of the public fountains in longing and wished it could be a public pool, instead, there’d still been no means to an end when it’d came to such brutal weather.

In your many decades of life, you don’t recall it ever being this hot aboard the Xianzhou Luofu. Perhaps the Sky-Faring Commission might have a little historical insight on record temperatures, but putting your curiosity aside, looking into something like that to try and distract yourself from the current temperature? The thought exhausts you.

This only leaves you with one other option, one you’ve left as your absolute last resort, one you know will free you from the pain and suffering plaguing the Luofu and instead, tethering you to another kind of pain— returning to your post within the walls of the Seat of Divine Foresight, where the cooling system had shut down due to overheating. When it did, you conveniently disappeared without a word. Now that it’s fixed, really, you have no excuse to not return to your post.

It’s just unfortunate that it’d dawned on you two days later, the fact that you never told anyone there, including the Arbiter-General you worked directly alongside. You didn’t tell him, either, that you’d abruptly chosen to go absent without any official leave taken on account of the weather.

How does he do it? Those thick, tight clothes, that heavy armour, his thick, heavy hair— in this heat? He must have been suffering, too, you realize much too late. And I left my post and all of my work for him to… Crap.

Your pace quickens, your agility proving surprisingly capable today as you weave in and out and around the crowds littering the Exalting Sanctum until you’re finally able to break into a run. Why is it so busy today?! Why are they all out in the sun?! Are they insane?! Have they all collectively been struck by mara?! Go find shade or shelter! Maniacs! Get out of my way!!

“Chiyan!” you shout from the other end of the dock, not only startling the messenger of the Divine Foresight, but the patrons passing behind you.

Chiyan huffs, shaking his helmeted head at you as you approach.

“And here I thought you’d quit,” he dares to muse during your heat-inspired bad mood.

Nearly gasping now, you tug at the neck of your shirt to puff air down it. “I do not have the energy to tell you off right now, so move it.”

“Yeah, I bet I can guess why. You look…” He just shakes his head again. “Anyway. You’ve got great timing.”

“T-The cooling system is working again, right? That was true?”

“Should’ve placed money on that bet,” he grumbles. “That’s right. The Seat of Divine Foresight is back to its former, air-conditioned glory.” He steps aside. “Please, after you. Go on— go enjoy working in comfort, and out of this heat.”

You nod once, extremely curt with the gesture, and without guilt when you speak your farewell.

“Yeah. I will. See ya.”

For decades, you’ve said this, sworn this, but after the hell you’d gone through over the past fourty-eight hours, you now promise to never complain about the colder seasons, nor take for granted the refreshing chill they brought aboard the Luofu. You can simply throw more layers on then, but in the summer? Not like I can peel off my skin to cool down.

The noise of relief you make upon the doors of the Seat of Divine Foresight shutting behind you is loud, borderline obnoxious, and, if your coworkers were any kind of honest about it, downright pornographic. They quickly avert their eyes and return to their work and their conversations before you can catch their stares.

The difference between the temperature of this room versus even the hallway leading to it is painfully staggering. It seems like they’ve chosen to completely divert the path of the cooling system to the main chamber, you note, glancing up and around you. It’s probably only until they can fix the entire system, but it looks like even the employees of the smaller offices are working here today.

To your disappointment, so is the General. And it’s your bad fortune that it isn’t his usual hologram self.

Despite being on the complete other end of the room, he notices you right away, and the two of you lock gazes. His conversation with Qingzu ends with an abrupt raise of his hand and a brief apology— she bows away, descending the staircase to join Yong Hai and Yong Nian.

I suppose it’s time to play it on thick, you think, before clearing your throat with a harsh cough.

“General,” you call out in exasperation, voice echoing across the hall as you exaggeratedly stagger past the guards with a wave of greeting. “Generaaaaal.” They bow in return, a little too low to be considered a normal sign of respect for someone in your modest position, until you hear a snicker slip out from under one of their helmets and realize they’d been trying to hold in and hide their laughter. You pause, lips parting as if to speak, but you keep in character.

“General Jing Yuaaaaaan.”

From his spot atop the helm, Jing Yuan smiles small and sweet at your dramatic, child-like display put on just for him— the fact that the rest of the chamber gets to experience it for themselves today makes them lucky, as there are only two instances where you, the Divine Foresight’s - normally - dutiful records’ master would display yourself like this. The first instance is just this— you’ve done something wrong and at the very least, you know what it is and are now hoping that sucking up to the boss will help you work it out. The second instance? The circumstances aren’t so different. But it takes place in the privacy of your shared abode, instead of his office.

Your trudging across the floor of the massive strategy-slash-starchess board is squeaky, the soles of your shoes catching on the smooth tiling until you reach the General.

“General Jing Yuan,” you whine, still bothering to salute to him. “It’s hot.”

He chuckles, tucking his arms behind his back as he moves to descend the staircase closest to you to reach you.

“I figured that could be the only explanation behind your sudden disappearing act,” he says, still smiling. “Two whole days you were gone! Imagine my surprise when it’d been Qingzu to tell me of your absence and not you.”

You, you easily infer of him, My partner. Not just my subordinate.

You’ve heard from other outworlders and their testimonies that relationships between mortals in comparison to relationships between those with extended lifespans greatly differ. The flow of time is easily the heaviest hitter— average mortal lifespans range between eighty to one-hundred years old. As life expectancy goes for most those aboard the Xianzhou Luofu, each calendar days’ time differs, too— mortals, Foxians, and those native Xianzhou all have different clocks that tick within them.

Being on the "older" side of the spectrum of age immortality, you tend to fall into dissimilar habits, as opposed to the ones your aging friends do, such as forgetting to send a message back to someone, or informing them of an absence?

Unfortunately, this is why the Arbiter-General still smiles at you, why his response had been just barely teetering on passive aggressive. You know you haven’t heard anything bad from him yet, that the only reason you’ve yet to be chastised as a repeat offender is because the room remains full of other Divine Foresight employees. To the General, you aren’t just one of his most trusted allies. You’re also his lover. And to not know where and not hear from his lover even once within fourty-eight hours after existing together for so many years, you realize that you’d be agonizing over it, too.

Immediately, the act drops, your eyes widening down at your feet.

Oh, god. That’s definitely so much worse than me not saying anything as his subordinate.

“Jing Yuan.” Lip pinched between your teeth, you look to him and muster as much of an apologetic look as you can. “I’m sorry.”

A dark eyebrow raises at you inquisitively. “For?”

You bite back a huff—you already know what for. So, you decide to list everything but what he wants to hear.

“For disappearing without a word to anyone. For not requesting time off first. For not finishing my duties before leaving. For abandoning my post for two days.” To hide the smirk that’d begun to twitch onto your face at the sight of his expression growing more and more stolid, you bow your head, similar to the guards at the entrance to the chamber. “I’m sorry, General.”

He hums, and not thoughtfully. Strangely, you no longer feel his eyes on the back of your head, and by the time you raise it to find out why, you see him stalking back up to the helm.

His timing couldn’t be more perfect when a loud, mechanical groan suddenly sounds throughout the room.

“Ah!” Jing Yuan exclaims, seemingly agreeing with your wordless sentiment— he peers down at you where you stand steeping in your petulance. “The second stage of the cooling system must have kicked in. Friends,” he calls across the hall. “I do believe you should be able to return to your original chambers now; no need to linger and loiter around here any longer. In fact, how about you all take an extra break today? Starting now. A gift, on account of this weather, of course.”

Thanks and bows of appreciation are quick to be thrown to the helm where the Arbiter-General stands; unfortunately for you, your coworkers have never been ones to stare a gift horse in the mouth, and flee out the doors as quickly as they’d earlier arrived. Maybe you had no trouble playing with the General, but they’d wanted no part whatsoever in it— the look Qingzu throws over her should at you as the last person to leave confirms this.

Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so petty, after all.

The sound finally settles into a dull hum, barely noticeable over the doors to the chamber slamming shut.

“Those were a lot of apologies,” Jing Yuan points out. Looking to the helm, you find him wearing a perfect poker face. “Are you sure you didn’t miss a couple?”

You sigh at him, hands on your hips now.

“You already know that I did, and you know that I did it on purpose, too.”

He matches your attitude with the crossing of his arms.

“And?”

“… and I’m sorry if I made you worry by not telling you where I’d gone,” you mumble.

“What was that, dear?”

Your cheeks burn. “I’m sorry if I made you worry. I didn’t mean to not tell you. I know that with this whole… Stellaron thing, you might’ve been busy. I didn’t want to distract you by telling you I wasn’t feeling well.”

“______. I’d want to know if you got even a paper cut.”

You can’t help yourself when a laugh bubbles up and out of your throat.

“We both agreed that we wouldn’t let things like this affect how we perform our duties, right? This is a perfect instance of that agreement; I asked you to set these boundaries with me for a reason.”

“Reporting on our well-being is much different than perhaps sending the other a picture of what we ate for lunch.” He scratches at his chin. “Although, I did want to send you what I had for mine today. I would have liked to have shared it with you.”

“Jing Yuan…” Quickly, you clamber up the steps to stand before him. “I love you with every fibre of my being. I promise not to do something so thoughtless like this again, but please… I need you to properly honour our agreement. I don’t want to have to afford anymore missteps in this lifetime. Not after… no… I-I can’t. Never again.”

To either side of your face, the General’s hands rise, claiming them in his cool palms. You sigh, your own coming up to hold them to you.

“You were on the front lines for a long time, ______,” Jing Yuan reminds you. “Even before the incident. And when we live as long as we do, the memories won’t simply fade away with time.

“I understand how you feel, exactly how you feel. And when I say to you what I am about to say, please know that I don’t wish to diminish or dismiss those feelings, either.” He thumbs your cheeks, pulling you closer into him, lips ghosting the crease between your brows and smoothing it down with his affection. “Even when I don’t hear from you, you are always on my mind. And for as long as we’ve been together, that has never changed. If you ever find yourself burdened by those feelings, I wish to share the load with you. Paper cuts and all.”

“Even over something as silly as my impromptu two day vacation…?”

“Fu Xuan did mention there’d been a nice breeze over at the Divination Commission, last I spoke to her. If only my love didn’t forget about me in their search for some shade… Surely, I could have invented some reason to send you over there…”

“Ah, so a guilt trip and not a work trip, then, huh?”

“No, not at all.” You shoot a playfully disapproving glance to the man. For a moment, he simply stares back, his one unshielded eye sparkling with obvious mischief. Little warning is given when he steps toward you again, hands reclaiming their rightful place at your waist. Fingers curl into the loops securing your belt and tug your hips to meet his.

Your cheeks instantly heat at the contact, at the knowing glance he dares to send you at such close range.

“You know,” he says, breath fanning your face. “We could always try building up a different kind of sweat— you know. To take your mind off the heat.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead sliding his one hand from your side to curl beneath your right ass cheek and hoist you up into the air. Instinctively, you’d raised your legs to curl around his middle as he’d turned to carry you toward his seat. If this is my punishment, I accept it gratefully and gracefully, you think, almost dizzyingly.

“That break you sent the others on was more for you than it was for them, wasn’t it?” you ask him, hand curled around his neck as he lowers you onto the cushion. Without missing a beat and with a single hand, Jing Yuan’s fingers are deft to remove your belt and unbutton your trousers.

“Naturally, they assume their “dozing general” merely wants to take another nap…” He taps your thigh, encouraging the lift of your bottom. You shift your weight into your palms and rise, and he removes your pants to rest around your ankles. “… or that I’ll be reprimanding you.”

“I suppose it’s a relief that they’re aware you don’t pick favourites around here. Well, the exception being Yanqing. He’s everyone’s favourite, after all.”

“Not yours, I’d hope?”

“Definitely mine.”

“And why not me?” Still hovering above you, he bends over to nose at your throat— you shudder, unable to stop yourself. “Considering how I have you… and how I’m about to have you. Tell me that I’m not your favourite?”

You scoff lightly at him, even when he presses kisses deep into your throat, strong against your jawline, and gently against your lips.

“W-With how long you insist on teasing me like this…? W-Who likes a hot dinner served cold—” you’re cut off by his tongue prodding against your lips; you part them, eagerly, hungrily, the joke about eating somehow making the craving to have him have you even stronger, more obnoxious the more he makes you wait.

He is barely gentle now, showing little restraint in how his tongue plunders the inside of your mouth. Jing Yuan is a giver and a taker, of pleasure and of oxygen— your gasps are sharp, not being given a chance to breathe, a chance to win whatever battle he’d entered with you. “Jing Yu—” the butterflies that swim in the pit of your stomach are traitorous in his repetition; they know how good he makes you feel, strictly in the way he takes your breath away with each kiss, each suckle and swirl of his tongue around yours, each stroke of his calloused hands sliding to grip the fat of your thighs, and they make you weaker and weaker with each ministration.

With a final swipe of his wet muscle across your spit-soaked and kiss-numbed lips, he draws away, eyes lidded and panting.

“G-General Jing Yuan,” you rasp almost chidingly. Your hand is quick to brace him away from you; he chuckles at your weak attempt, instead returning it to where it once kept you entirely upright. You huff, every inch of your skin flaming and dewy with a thin layer of sweat. I just finally cooled down, too…

“You’re going to need that there,” he tells you, rising to his full height. He tugs on his own trousers to give them a generous amount of slack before kneeling down before you, nestled between your already shaking thighs. “We still have twenty minutes, after all. You’d better get comfortable.”

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x yn #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan #honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan smut #jing yuan fluff #blade x reader #blade x yn #blade x y/n #✦ nc-vb.#✦ the zenith unto animus.

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mrworldwideshoulders · 10 months

Text

all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?��

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #reader x myg #mrworldwideshoulders #i hate tags lol

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sensei-venus · 8 months

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S1 Robby Keene Liking A Good Girl

(Unedied) (Honestly kinda tame for S1 Robby, Drugs mentioned, Weed Smoking, Drug Dealing, Reader had mentioned anxiety??) ( @gemini-sensei )

😈💕He’s kind shy at first when he realizes he may have a crush on the new girl at school. He sees her in the hallways, in class, at lunch, in the parking lot. He sees her everywhere. It doesn’t help that she is a “good girl” in his book. She’s not rich or stuck up, she’s just too nice in his opinion and doesn’t do anything that he would consider bad. To him he had no chance with her, he definitely didn’t fit in her kind of world.

😈💕It wasn’t until he found out that she had anxiety super bad that his views on her started to change. It was weird how all of it started.

“I uh heard you might have some weed?” She was a little nervous as she corned him in the parking lot outside the school. The bell rang over a hour ago and his friends ditched him not long after. She had come out of no where, clenching the arm of her backpack. He raised a brow at her appearance.

“I have my card if that makes this better, I just don’t have enough money this month to go the dispensary. My insurance won’t cover the amount I need- I kinda wasted half of mine if accident. You don’t want to know.” She nervously giggled. It wasn’t like Robby was going to question her on it. Honestly he didn’t really care either. He looked for the nicest bag he had on him, and secretly he may have given her more then he said. She dished out a good few bucks before wondering off. Robby was quick to count it and noticed that she had given him WAY more then was needed. Before he could even say something she was already gone. He pocketed the extra and tried to not think about it.

😈💕It started to get harder for him to pretend his little daydream crush wasn’t starting to get bigger as the days went on. He started to see her more and more in and out of school. She would give him small waves and smiles, which he gave back in smirks and grins. He hoped he didn’t look like to much of a asshole. But with his friends watching be and to keep his guard up. The boys where already getting supsious of his feelings.

😈💕He really didn’t think she would come back to him for more weed after that month. But she did, asking for the same amount every time. She simply told him that it was cheaper to get it from him then the dispensary. He didn’t know if that was true but he didn’t care. As long as he got to spend a few minutes with her every now and then. She quickly started to warm up to him, no longer acting as nervous or scared around him. Smiling more and even cracking a few jokes which he admitted made him smile. She was just so cute that he couldn’t help it.

😈💕One day he just couldn’t take it anymore and asked her if she wanted to go smoke with him. At first she was little embarrassed but happily accepted his offer. He had no intention of taking her to the little hideout where the other guys liked to smoke. So he decided to take her to his place. His mom had been gone for weeks and even if she did find them in the apartment smoking, she couldn’t say much. Her drinking and pills where enough to throw back her way to get out of a little weed smoking. It was a Saturday when she came over. He tried his best to get the place cleaned up, made sure the light bill was actually paid that month. Showing up at his door with a bag full of junk food and a small giggle on her lips.

😈💕They spent the rest of the day on the couch smoking and watching tv. It was nice, it was nothing like when he smoked with the guys. They where always high and taking shit about anything they could think of. There was no peace and quiet which is what he liked. Just getting high and chilling out for a few hours. Reader seemed to like the same thing as she just sat quietly next to him. Only occasionally laughing and giggling at what they where watching. They both seemed to like watching cartoons while high. The pretty colors and high pitch voices making them laugh.

😈💕It started to grow late but Reader didn’t seem to care. She offered to order a pizza which Robby had no issue with. They ended up eating and smoking more while watching a late night show together. That was when things started to change in the vibe that was going on between them that night.

😈💕 “You ever shotgun before?” It was a smile question. She asked while looking over at him on the couch. Robby didn’t know what to say, he knew what it was but had never actually tried it. She slowly shook his head. Reader giggled saying “Well do you want to try it? You can say no if your don’t want to.” He raised a brow before thinking it over in his head. He could at least give to a try, and he would be doing it with Reader of all people. The girl he had a huge ass crush on. With a small nod Reader smiles and takes a nice drag of the blunt she was smoking. Soon enough her soft hands are cradling his cheeks as she leans over to him. Their lips meet in a soft kiss, her tongue prodding at his bottom lip trying to get him to open up. With just a small amount of energy he finally does. She gently blows a long stream of smoke into his mouth. He can’t help but moan a little as he takes it into his lungs.

😈💕A few seconds later the kiss gets hotter and hotter. He’s grabbing at her soft thighs and belly though her shirt. Her hands move, one cradling his neck and the other on his back. Her fingers dig into the flesh of his shirt covers back. He rolls his shoulders as his tongue works along side hers. Smoke escaping though their lips. He can’t tell who is being louder with their moans. As the minutes pass by he can tell this isn’t the high that’s making them like this so much. Reader is fully invested in this kiss. Robby smirks into the kiss as he starts to realize this must have been her little plan. Offering to help teach him how to shotgun. God she was so smart.

😈💕The rest of the night is spent kissing and cuddling on the couch together. Robby doesn’t even care anymore about school or his friends. If messing with the chubby good girl was so wrong, so be it.

331 notes · View notes

captainlunaxmen · 4 months

Text

Eyes

Bill Weasley x Fem!reader

This was a request, not for me, but I got permission to write it so... here it is.

The request: Hi! Can I request some Bill Weasley

x reader with prompts:

'If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's

you."

"The closest thing to love at first sight l've

ever experienced happened when I first laid

eyes on you.

Where reader is best friends with

the twins so they invite her to

spend the summer at the Burrow.

Bill is also there and when they met

he's instantly attracted to her, they

spend time together and he starts

to fall for her but he doesn't think

reader would like him because of

the scars, but obviously with fluffy

ending, please? Thanks!

I changed it just a little to fit. Hope the anon who asked this will read it and will like it.❤️❤️

I always loved it when the twins invited me over, whether it was for Christmas or summer.

It always feels like home.

When I was not at Hogwarts, I lived in an orphanage, so experiencing the Wealseys, experiencing a family, definitely felt good.

Maybe this is why they invite me so often, and I'm grateful for that. I usually spend time with Arthur, explaining the muggle world to him, or with the twins and their siblings playing Quidditch, or helping Molly cooking. Which is exactly what I'm doing now.

"Yes, exactly dear. Then you fold it towards you carefully." She instructs me as I knead the dough for the pie.

"Are you done stealing our friend, mom?" One of the twins asks as they both enter the kitchen, and I notice Molly playfully rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, mom, she is our friend." George agrees with his brother.

"She didn't steal me!" I defend, "I asked if I could help her."

"You don't need to do that." Fred tells me.

"Yeah, she already loves you." George adds, "probably more than she loves us."

"Oh shut up, you two." Molly laughs, waving them off.

"See? She is not denying it!" George feigns offence.

"I'm just spending time with my favourite assistant." Molly explains.

I smile at her as I finally finish my own pie.

"You're done." Fred notices, "C'mon, let's go."

"Why?" I ask, wiping my hands on a towel.

"You're our partner."

"And we have business to discuss."

I roll my eyes and look at Molly with an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry, dear. Humour them." She laughs again with that sweet motherly smile that always warms my heart.

"I'll come back later." I tell her.

I have no idea how I, mostly quiet and reserved, got friends with the loudest people at Hogwarts. But it happened, and now I basically help them run their shop in Diagon Alley.

Now, more than ever, I want to help them keep the shop open I this hard and dark time... that, after Dumbledore's death, will probably get worse.

I follow the twins to their room.

I take my seat next to Fred on his bed, and George sits on his.

"So... what was so urgent?" I ask.

"Oh nothing," Fred smiles proudly.

"I hate you." I say.

"You love us." George chimes in, "but we wanted to discuss the new products."

"Alright, alright. " I chuckle.

So we start to discuss what kind of things to start selling, at what price, how to organise the shelf and stands.

A good hour and a half, or a bit more, passes because Molly calls everyone down for dinner.

Finally, I'd say, I'm starving... especially for Molly's cooking.

"About time!" Fred exclaims.

"I'm starving!" George voices loudly, too.

"Same." I groan, following them down.

As we get down, I see the other Weasleys gathering around the table.

There's a new face, though, someone I've never seen before.

"Oh, look who finally decided to join us!" Fred says in his usual teasing tone.

"He's the missing one." George tells me, "you can finally say you've met the whole family."

"Uh?"

"Bill!" George calls the tall man.

"Hi, George." The guy names Bill turns to George with a playfully annoyed face, and I notice an earring with a fang dangling from his ear.

"Meet our friend." Fred chimes in, "she met everyone except you... and we've been friends for years and years and years and years -"

"I get it, Freddie, thanks." Bill laughs.

"Come, Y/n." George calls.

As soon as his brown eyes meet mine, he freezes, I see him opening and closing his mouth without letting out a sound.

I'm quite confused.

"Hi." I gently wave at him, "I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you."

I extend my hand towards him, and he watches it for a moment before taking it and shaking it.

"Likewise, I'm William... but, of course, you can call me Bill." He says, a little flustered.

"I like the earring." I tell him to maybe make him feel more at ease.

"Oh," he laughs, "Thank you. See, mom? It's appreciated."

"I give up." I hear Molly saying.

I stop for a second, noticing just now the scars on his face, and I wonder how he got them.

He notices me looking at them and quickly turns his head.

"Well, it was really nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope to see you around." He says before taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah, me too." I say quietly, sitting next to George.

I hope I didn't offend him...

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

I sit outside, enjoying the early breeze, and I read a book. These moments are my favourite. After all these years, the Wealsey silently adopted me basically, which means I do have a family. But the first times I was invited, I would just sit here in the quiet of the mornings and pretend I belong here.

"I thought I was the only early riser." A chuckle snaps me out of my thoughts, Bill closes the door and wraps a small blanket around himself against the early cold.

"You thought wrong." I smile at him and move a little aside to let him sit.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, sitting down.

"I'm fine, thank you." I say, I see him giving me a sceptical look and putting half of the blanket around me too.

"Sure." He says, and I laugh.

We stay in a comfortable silence for a while before he speaks up.

"Egypt?" He asks.

"Uh?" I turn to him, and he motion to my book, "Oh. Yeah, I always find it so fascinating, for some reason."

"It really is." He agrees, "I got the chance to explore it because of my job, and I have to say it deserves the appeal."

"Really? What kind of job?" I ask, genuinely curious. The twins never talk a lot about their siblings.

"Curse-breaker." He says with a shy smile.

"Oh wow..." I sigh, "that's really cool."

"Is it?" He laughs.

"Yes!" I reply, surprised he doesn't agree, "you don't like it?"

"No, no, it's not that." He says, "most thinks it's pretentious."

"Nah, don't listen to them. They must be idiots." I tell him.

"Fred and George mostly." He adds.

"Doesn't make my statement false." I kid, and he laughs.

"I can see why they like you so much." He chuckles.

"I wasn't like this when I first met them..." I start, "so I really don't understand why they wanted to be my friends in the first place."

"Like what? Funny?" He asks, "or cute?" He adds so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Uhm... I... I don't know..." I stutter out.

"Sorry... sorry, I didn't mean to... it just came out... I'm sorry." He shakes his head, "Uhm... but tell me... uh, how did you meet the two idiots?"

"Well..." I clear my throat, smiling shyly at him, "they kind of bumped into me... while running from Filch."

"Yeah... I can definitely see that." He laughs again, I'm glad he doesn't feel so awkward anymore.

"Then... I kind of helped them hide." I say.

"Well, now I'm surprised." He teases sweetly, making me feel warm inside... it's a new sensation and... weird, but in a good way.

"Yep." I chuckle, "later that week they found me in the library and just... wanted to thank me, so they just stuck around, and now we're here."

"Thankfully." He says, and I look up at him, "Uhm..." he quickly averts his eyes, "I mean, everyone seems to love you so much... and I'm sure mom's happy she gained another daughter."

"Well," I let out a small laugh, "I gained a mother so... it's a win-win situation."

He looks back at me, a confused smile on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I live... well, lived in an orphanage... so no parents." I tell him with a shrug.

"Oh..." he softly sighs.

"Oh, please, no. I'm sorry... don't feel bad." I softly laugh to let him know it's not a big deal, "yeah, it was harder when I was younger, but now... now I'm fine. Really. Your family welcomed me with open arms. Wide open arms, actually."

I see him smiling, thankfully. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable... again.

"I'm glad they managed to make you feel at home, then." He says, "among the caos, I mean."

"Oh, trust me, the caos is part of the charm." I gently nudges his shoulder.

"Yeah, I have to agree." He nods, "when I spend so much time away, I do miss this caothic environment."

"I bet."

I look up at him, finding him already looking to me. His eyes are even more beautiful up close. As we start to naturally lean in towards each other, Molly's voice breaks the silence.

"Stop testing your products in my kitchen!" She yells to Fred and George... for sure.

Bill and I move away from each other. I clear my throat with an awkward chuckle and stand up.

"I should... I should probably help the twins with their things... so they won't burn the whole house down." I say.

"Yeah... of course." He avoids my eyes as he nods.

"I'll see you." I gently say and he nods once again so I just get back inside.

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

Later in the day more members of the Order arrive, with the intention of discussing the plan of moving Harry from his muggle house to the Wealsey's.

"That's the plan." Lupin says, once Moody stopped explaining the plan of having people drinking polyjuice potion to turn into Harry and confuse any deatheater in case there would be an attack.

"Sounds like fun." George comments.

"We're not asking you to participate, so if any of you isn't sure about it, can back down." Lupin explains with a heavy heart, "only whoever volunteers will drink the potion. And only if you're of age."

Everyone looks at each other, I catch eyes with the twins, I nod at them and they stand up.

"We're in." They say in unison.

"Me too." I stand, too.

"Of course we are too." Hermione says gesturing towards herself and Ron who nods.

I unconsciously search Bill's eyes across the room. He meets my gaze and I notice something in his look, he's worried. Of course he is... three of his brothers just volunteer for a very risky mission, but the way he looks at me with those brown eyes...

I mouth 'it's gonna be okay' and he nods, subtly, but his worried look remains.

"Mundungus too." Moody says, interrupting our silent conversation, and Fletcher just nods defeated.

"Let's pair up." Lupin claps his hands. "Each 'Potter' will be assigned to a protector."

"How would we do that?" I ask, curiosity taking the best of me.

"Using same old pieces of papers with names on." He smiles shrugging, "Everyone, write your name down."

"I want to be the one to bring Harry here. The real one." Hagrid chimes in, "it fair."

Lupin nods, he then takes two bowls, gently offered by Mrs Weasley.

"Here the Harrys," he brings up the bowl in his left hand, "and here the protectors." He lifts the one in the right one.

We all do as he instructed.

He then sits down and starts taking out names.

Each one is assigned and only four people are left.

"Hermione, you'll be assigned to... Kingslay." Remus announces.

I see Kingslay sending Hermione a reassuring nod and she gives one back.

"So that leaves Y/n and... oh, Bill." Lupin says.

"Okay, everyone knows their places, right? We're leaving in an hour." Moody announces, sternly.

Everyone scatter around to get ready, so I take the opportunity to just step outside and take a big breath.

I'm not sure how I got tangled in this whole magic war, but I'm glad I did... even though it's scary.

"Are you okay?" I hear Bill's voice getting closer.

"Yeah, of course." I nod.

"You don't have to do it, you know?" He tells me.

"I know." I smile at him, "I'm not gonna lie, I'm scared, so scared I'm surprised I can still move."

He softly laughs.

"You're really brave." He then tells me.

"I'm no braver then the others," I reply, shrugging.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, I think." He nudges my shoulder.

"Thank you." I say softly, "I'm glad I got paired up with you."

"Me too. I promise to bring you home safe and sound."

"I promise too."

His soft smile makes me almost melt, if it wasn't for the cold breeze, it makes me feel safe, feels like home.

"Did the Twins warn you about the wedding?" He then asks.

"Charlie's? Yes, they did." I nod, "I think... is there something I should know?"

"No, well... if you can, try to avoid aunt Muriel." He whispers, as if he's afraid she might be here to hear it.

"I'll just stick to your side, then, you're my protector after all." I kid and I see his face getting a bit red.

"Well.. uh... of course." He stutters, "I'd rather fight deatheaters than deal with her anyway."

I genuinely laugh, unconsciously I lean my head on his shoulder and I feel him tense.

"Sorry." I say and straighten up.

I just look up at him and he does the same.

"No worries," he swallows.

He seems nervous, but not uncomfortable.

I don't know why I feel this pull towards him everytime we talk, but it's a nice feeling. I just hope I'm not making him uneasy or anything.

I catch his eyes looking down at my lips and mine falls to his.

Suddenly, he moves back, bringing a hand up to cover his scars, I can't help but look at him confused.

"Sorry," he lets out a nervous chuckle and stands, "I..."

He doesn't say anything more and just gets back inside, leaving me dumbfounded.

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

The clouds don't help spotting the bunch of deatheaters chasing us, I try to keep as many eyes out as I can, so I can help Bill who also has to guide the thestral.

Suddenly, I spot three hooded figures flying towards us.

"There are three coming!" I warn Bill.

I cast spells like never before, trying to stop them from coming any closer.

Some deatheater manages to hit me, luckily it's nothing major, but I let out a scream nonetheless.

"Are you okay?" Bill asks, blindly reaching behind him to check on me.

"Yes, don't worry."

I look around, and I can vaguely see Madeye and Mundungus far from us.

I stare at them, ready to interfere in case they need it, when I see a dark figure appearing...

"Shit!" I exclaim.

"What?"

"He's here." I say.

"Fuck! Hold onto me." He says before turning the thestral around abruptly, but something catches my eyes.

"Wait!" I tell him.

"What's wrong?" He asks, breathless.

"Madeye he-" I start, but get interrupted by one more deatheater flying to us.

I got to cast one last spell to take down the last enemy I can see, before Bill starts to bring us down... ready to reach the portkey.

"What did you say?" Bill asks again, reaching behind again to be sure I'm still here.

"Madeye, I saw him falling from his broom." I tell him, tears already forming in my eyes.

"What? How?"

"I think, Mundungus tried to get away as soon as he saw him appearing... Madeye tried to keep him from going anywhere, but... you-know-who killed him." I say, trying to keep my breath as steady as I can, "I say a green light..."

"Ssh, sshh, it's okay." He tries to calm me down as we arrive to the portkey.

"I'm sorry.." I mutter.

"About what?" He asks, sadly turning to face me, "it wasn't your fault, you know?"

"What if I warned you earlier? What if I..." I lower my eyes to my hands.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he says, and I do, "it was no one's fault. We couldn't know."

"Yeah..."

He gently takes one of my hands and caress it gently.

"He wouldn't want you to cry for him, right?" He says, smiling in hope to make me smile too.

"He would probably scold me for it." I let out a weak laugh.

"Exactly." He kisses the back of my hand and then rides towards the portkey, that teleports us in front of the Burrow.

We see almost everyone else already here.

I can see Remus and Tonks close to each other, Harry, Ron and Hermione too. I spot Kingslay, I think I can see Hagrid inside, but there's something wrong.

I can't see Mr Weasley or Fred, maybe they're just not here yet... but Remus is here, so... where's George?

I get down from the magical horse and run into the house, as I do I lock eyes with Remus' guilty expression and I just run faster.

I rush into the house and spot Molly caressing George's hair, as I get close I notice the blood on him.

"George..?" I weakly call and Molly turns to me, she sends a sad smile towards me and I kneel in front of the sofa to take a better look at George.

"George." I call again.

"He's alive, dear... just a dark spell..." she reassures me.

"How?" I shakily ask, more to George than Molly.

I hear fast footsteps rushing in too and Fred is just beside me. This makes me feel so much better.

They're both still alive.

"How are feeling, Georgie?" Fred asks his twin.

George slowly open and closes his mouth before speaking.

"Saintlike..." he says, and I let out a relieved laugh, "I'm holey, I'm holey, Fred. You get it?"

"With the whole wide world of ear-related humour, you go for 'I'm holey'. Pathetic." Fred teases back, I notice he says this finally letting his shoulder relax.

"Well, Y/n still finds me the most handsome of the pair, I reckon." He subtly winks in my direction.

"I'm letting this one slide because you're hurt. And clearly brain damaged, if you make that joke of all you could choose from." I chuckle moving my hand out to caress his.

I notice now that everyone has gotten inside, i spot Bill's tense, yet relieved expression.

"Madeye is dead." He says and everybody looks at him.

"You-know-who killed him." I say. "Mundungus disappeared and he was caught off guard... I think."

I sense George's and Fred's hands on mine, for comfort and solidarity.

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

A wedding sounds absurd considering the times we're living, yet it seems exactly what we need.

A knock on the door catches my attention.

"Yes?"

"Are you decent?" Fred's teasing voice calls from the other side.

"Sure." I laugh and he comes in.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yap." I say, turning to look at him, "oh, look at you, never seen you so cleaned up."

"I take offence in that." He feigns hurt, "take it back."

"Oh, you know you're always so stylish." I stick my tongue out to him.

"That's what I thought." He winks, "I'm the most handsome of the pair."

"Sure." I laugh and sit on the bed to put on my shoes. "Is everything ready downstairs?"

"Yap, all guests are here. The party is ready to begin." He declares.

"Nice." I nod.

"Are you okay?" He asks, I can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah."

"C'mon," he says sitting next to me, "tell Freddie what's bothering you."

"It's nothing, Fred, really." I try to divert the subject.

"You don't fool me, young lady." He slightly glare at me.

I sigh.

"Plotting without me?" I look up to see George standing by the door, the bandages on his head as a reminder of the night before...

"We could never." I say.

"Our Y/n here has something on her mind." Fred is quick to say.

"I don't..." I say... not very convincing.

"Uh uh. Tell us." George sit on the other side of me.

"Do you think... uh... did I do something wrong to Bill?" I ask, quietly.

I can sense them sharing a look.

"Whatever do you mean, love?" George asks.

"It's just... sometimes it's like he wants to be anywhere else but near me... and maybe I did something to him... but I don't know what." I explain.

"Do you have a crush on our brother, L/n?" Fred asks teasingly.

"What? No, no... I just ... ugh!" I say laying back down on the bad covering my face with my arms. I hear them softly laughing.

"I'm sure you did nothing wrong." George says, "Bill's just... Bill."

"Yeah, whatever it is, I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Stop worrying your pretty little head." Fred nudges me.

I nod, understanding, not entirely convinced, but I appreciate their effort.

"And..." George's teasing tone makes me glare at him, already knowing what he wants to say, "if you have a crush on him, we could help you..."

"I'm sure we really should be going, you know, plus I'll see if Molly need any help." I say standing up and quickly make my way downstairs.

As I rush down the stairs I bump into someone.

"Oh, I'm so so sorry." I say.

"No worries." Bill says and I instantly look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed since I've been talking about him with the twins a few minutes ago.

"Uh... sorry" I repeat, looking away.

"It's no problem. Really." He smiles at me.

"I... I was looking for... for you mother..." I stutter out, "to see if she needed any help."

"Oh she was just outside, still congratulating Charlie and... crying too." He lets out a soft chuckle and I do too.

"Then I'll go congratulate him too, didn't get the chance yet." I smile at him and start walking out, looking for Charlie and Mrs Weasley and I find them right outside the big tent.

"Hey," I say as I near them, "congratulations, Charlie."

"Aahh, Y/n! Thank you!" He says cheerfully, once I'm close enough he brings me in for a big hug, which I reciprocate.

"I'm so happy for you." I tell him, "she seems like a sweet person... or... better a patient one." I tease.

"Alright, that's it." He says letting me go, "you're spending too much time with the twins. I'm adopting you."

"That's my duty," Molly chimes in, linking arms with me.

"Exactly, Charlie, stop stealing your mother's job." I jokingly glare at him, he smiles at me and then his eyes move to something behind me. I turn around seeing Bill walking to us.

"Congratulations, mate." Bill hugs Charlie and pat his back.

"Aah thank you! I'm so happy." Charlie has the biggest smile on his face right now, and it fills me with joy.

"You deserve it. I've never seen you so in love." Bill says.

"Well, I just hope you will experience it too, mate." Charlie sighs, "it's really the best feeling."

I smile at his words, he really loves his family... everyone in this family loves each other so much, it makes me feel at peace.

"Yeah... I can tell." I hear Bill say, I notice Charlie looking at me with a weird look.

"I'm sure you do," he then adds.

"Oh! Charles!" A voice calls from behind us, an old lady is walking towards us.

Molly is gone immediately, and Bill gently takes my arm to lead me away.

"That's... aunt Muriel." He whispers to me.

"Oh..." I chuckle, "thanks."

"No problem, I am your protector." He tells me and we enter the tent.

"Oh wow.." I say, "it looks really good."

"Yeah, I think despite the situation, Charlie got a great wedding anyway. Which makes me very happy." He tells me, and I notice just now he's sort of caressing my arm with his fingers.

"Yeah... I... I think he deserves it. You know, this is how I always wanted my wedding to look like, if I'm being honest." I say, "that... if I ever got married, that is."

"What do you mean 'if'?"

"Well, to get married you would need to find someone you love and someone who loves you" I explain with a shrug and a heavy heart.

"I'm sure.... I'm sure, you will have no problem in that." He tells me.

"I'm not so sure." I say, shrugging.

We reach a table and we both sit down, and I go back at looking around.

"It really is beautiful." I breath, "you all did a great job."

I turn to look at Bill, once again, already finding him looking at me.

"I think anyone would be lucky to marry you." He softly says, and it takes me a little off guard that my cheeks suddenly feel warm and I look away from him.

The music suddenly starts and we both turn to look at Charlie and his wife dancing for the first time as husband and wife. It's such a happy moment I don't want to miss one bit of it.

Soon enough more people join the happy couple and I too start to slightly move my feet to the rhythm. A hand is suddenly on top of mine, gaining my attention.

"Do you...do you want to d-dance?" Bill asks, stuttering a bit.

"Yes." I simply say.

We stand and walk towards the other people dancing, he carefully put his hands on my waist and I shyly put mine on his shoulders and we start moving with the music.

"This is my favourite parts of weddings." I casually say, to break the awkward silence.

"The dancing?"

"Yeah, everyone looks so happy, and it's the most peaceful part of it." I explain, "you know, everything coming before the 'yes' is like tense and uncertain. 'What if they change their mind?' Or 'what if something happens?', it's all about 'what ifs'. But the dancing... is when everything is settled and everyone is happy and can let out a sigh of relief. Does it make sense?" I chuckle.

"Makes complete sense. I kind of agree with you." He smiles, "I'll tell you a secret... Charlie was so nervous since he asked her."

"What? Really?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah!" He laughs, "he was so afraid she would change her mind any moment. There was one day I was visiting him, he told me he was actually waiting an owl to deliver him a letter saying she wouldn't marry him anymore. That's how tense he was."

"Oh, poor thing." I laugh, looking to Charlie dancing with his mother now, how happy he looks now.

"Yeah, took me several hours to convince him that was not the case." He tells me.

We laugh together for a moment before our eyes lock for the millionth time.

"Can..." I start, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He nods.

"Have I... have I made you uncomfortable in some ways?" I ask.

"What? No... of course not." He answers quickly.

"Are you sure?" I check, "I mean, you can tell me. Really it's no problem."

"I'm sure. You didn't do anything to make me feel uncomfortable." He replies, "I promise."

"Okay..." I nod, with small smile. "If I did something, though, I'm sorry."

"I promise, you have nothing to be sorry for." He reassuringly smiles at me, I smile back.

We stay in silence, looking at each other and, again, I feel the same pull towards I felt before, but this time, before anything could remotely happen, Kingslay's patronus appears.

It says the minister is dead and that the deatheaters are coming here...

The caos emerges as soon as the enemy arrives.

I look up at Bill.

"Stay close to me." He tells me and I nod.

We start fighting along the others, most guests disappear, most remains and fight.

I cast as many protection spells as I can while Bill and the other defends.

I can see Harry, Ron and Hermione disappear. Thankfully. But my attention is caught by another red-haired fighting far from me.

I rush to Ginny without even thinking and stand beside her, Lupin joins us soon.

A caos of "stupeficium" "expelliarmus" and "protego" surrounds us.

I spot someone aiming at a distracted Ginny, instinctively I step in between them, I try to yell, but too late.

I feel myself falling to the ground.

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

It's dark, I can hardly open my eyes, but I hear voices around me.

"She's gonna be fine." I hear someone says.

"Are you sure?" A pair of voices, this time, asks.

"Yes, I am."

I weakly open my eyes and move to sit up.

"Hey, hey, careful there." I recognise Bill's voice.

"What... what happened?" I ask, finally being able to look around. Noticing Fred and George too, I notice this is not a room I recognise.

"What happened?!" George asks shocked, "what happened she asks!"

"Unbelievable!" Fred agrees.

"So..?" I urge.

"You took a stunner for Ginny. A dark one." Bill explains.

"What were you thinking?!" Fred asks.

"I just saw him aiming at your sister and went on autopilot, I think." I say.

"What if it was a killing curse?" George basically yells.

"Could you not shout please?" I ask weakly.

They both sigh heavily and look at each other.

"You're okay." Bill chimes in from his place by the door, "that's important." He says this last bit more to the twins than to me.

"You scared the hell out of us." George says.

"Yeah, we thought we lost you." Fred nods.

"I'm sorry..." I mutter.

"No, we're sorry for yelling." Fred sighs, "we're thankful you're okay... and thank you for protecting Ginny."

I open my arms, asking them for a hug and they do, careful not to hurt me too much they wrap their arms around me.

"Where are we?" I ask, once they pulled away.

"Shell cottage." They both answer.

"In Cornwall." George keeps going, "it's by the sea."

"Oh... Nice."

"Yeah, we'll be using it as a refuge for a while." Freds explain.

"Especially until you feel better." Bill adds.

"We know you like the sea, so maybe it would help your recovery." George says, hopeful.

"I hope so." I smile at them.

"Let's leave her, boys, she need her rest not you two pestering her." Bill teases his brothers.

"We're not!" They both say, standing up and heading to the door.

"A little." I joke.

"You better rest well, young lady." Fred scolds me before following his brother out.

"I'll bring up some tea. Now rest." With this Bill exits and closes the door.

I lay back down, take a deep breath and close my eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

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

The sweet smell of the tea gently wakes me up.

I slowly open my eyes, noticing some rays of sun peaking through the windows.

I sit up, determined to stand up and walk downstairs. I put some clothes on and weakly walk out the room, holding onto the wall just in case.

I make my way downstairs, happy to hear voices coming from what I can imagine is the kitchen.

"Why don't you just tell her, mate?" Fred, I think, says.

"What do you mean why?" Bill asks back.

"What do you mean, what do we mean why?" George replies, "do you like her?"

"I..."

"Of course, he does!" Fred intervenes.

"Then why don't you freaking tell her?" George repeats the question.

Now, I can't help but eavesdrop. Curiosity taking the best of me.

"Have you seen me recently?" Bill snaps.

"Bill..." George starts, but he's interrupted.

"No, George." Bill's serious tone, makes my heart ache, "how could she like me back when I look like this? Uh?"

"Bill, do you think she cares?" Fred's tone got more gentle.

"We know her, mate." George tries to reassure him.

"No." Bill firmly states, "she deserves better. You should know it, she deserves someone who doesn't look like a freak, and most definitely she doesn't deserve a werewolf in her life. What if I hurt her? What if..." he chokes. I can't see him, but I can tell he's crying.

"You love her, don't you?" Fred asks... or rather, states.

"Of course, he does." George confirms, "look how scared he is!"

"Of course, I'm scared!" Bill snaps again, "The closest thing to love at first sight l've ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on her... and it pains me how much I want to be with her, but knowing she doesn't deserve to end up with someone like me..."

That's enough, I walk up to them and their head turn up to look at me, Bill's eyes widening at my sight.

"I think that's up to me to decide." I tell him, looking him dead in the eyes.

"I..." He's at loss words.

"We'll leave you to it." The twins says and walk out.

I sit down, so I can face Bill, I slightly wince as I do.

"Careful..." he whispers, "you... you should be resting."

"You'll soon realise I don't usually do what I'm supposed to do." I smile at him.

We stay silent, none of us knowing what to say.

"Sorry." He then says.

"What for?" I ask.

"I..." he lets out a nervous chuckle, "I don't even know..."

"Was that true?" I finally ask.

"I'm afraid so..." he sighs.

"Then, I'm afraid you're stuck with me." I say, feeling bold enough to take his hand.

"I..." he look at our hands, "you mean...?"

"Yes..."

"But... you don't have to... I know you deserve something better than this." He tries to make me... reason I think, I softly laugh at this.

"Better than a hot, long-haired, curse-breaker with the kindest smile eyes I've ever seen? I'm not so sure about it." I grin at him, "what you felt the first time we met... I'm pretty sure I felt it too."

"Really?"

"Of course, I think if there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you."

He looks at me with the biggest smile, lets out a relieved laugh and comes closer to kiss me.

I'm a little taken aback, but I quickly kiss him back, my hand moves up to his cheek softly caressing his scars while his is in my hair gently playing with it.

Once we pull away we hear cheering from the other room, and we laugh watching Fred and George coming into view clapping their hands.

"Finally!"

"Good job!"

"Go away you two!" Bill scolds them.

"Hey!" They call, "no naughtinesses while we're here, alright!"

They go away and leave us officially alone.

I look at Bill and he does the same.

"I love you." He whispers, coming closer once again.

"I love you too" I say before kissing him again.

And again.

And... again.

#wizarding world #harry potter #weasley x reader #bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley x y/n

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f1nalboys · 1 year

Text

Come Inside - Chad Meeks-Martin

Chad Meeks-Martin x Fem!AFAB!Reader

hi guys. this is the fic that was giving me a massive amount of brain rot today!!! i dreamt this (yeah im lucky i know thank you) and havent been able to stop thinking about it since <3 shout out to tatianna (@castieltrash1) for reading it and doing some editing for me, she is the loml and u all need to follow her NEOW! (in fact, she has a charlie from scream 4 fic in the works and its DELICIOUS.) anyways hope u all enjoy this :3

WORD COUNT: 5384 (I KNOW TRUST ME)

WARNINGS: nsfw, first time sex, dub-con except not really?, chad begs to fuck the reader, male manipulator core, 'just the tip' turns into the full thing, unprotected sex, oral (afab and amab recieving,) dirty talk, praise, slight body worship, slight corruption, slight convincing so again, dub con to be safe, high/drunk sex, reader is more high than chad but neither are drunk but they drank if that makes sense, friends to lovers, im just in love with him you guys! reader wears a dress, chad calls reader good girl and pretty girl. actually proofread bc tati is a saving grace angel lady. <3

You feel him before you hear him. You’re at the bar, nursing your first drink of the night, trying to ignore the dull thud the music was giving you when suddenly there’s a large hand placed on the small of your back. “Can I get another beer?” Chad asks the bartender and you feel yourself relax at the sound of his voice, goosebumps rising on the exposed flesh of your arms as his thumb absentmindedly runs up and down. “Hey.” He tilts his head at you a bit. “Nice earrings.”

“Hi. I could say the same to you.” You look up at him and grin, matching his own wide and easy smile. Chad’s standing right beside you, toned body pressed against yours and you don’t know if it’s on purpose or just due to the crowd. “You having fun?” you ask as the bartender hands him the beer bottle. Chad takes a sip from it, looking down at you, grinning against the glass when he notices you watching the way his lips curve against the opening.

It was no secret in the group that you had a crush on Chad. It was hard not to have one on him; he was kind, funny, handsome as hell, and he always seemed to know just the right thing to say. “Now I am,” he teases and you roll your eyes, turning away from him to hide your grin. Just like that. “I’m getting fuckin’ bored though. Too many people. How about you? You find any lucky guys, Y/N?”

“Lucky guys?”

“You know, to take home?” He wiggles his eyebrows for added effect when you look back up at him. “I’m trying to ask if you’re gonna fuck someone tonight.” You nearly choke on your drink and he laughs, deep in his chest, and his hand which was still on your back begins to rub soothing circles. His hands are rough and calloused from his time playing football and they’re so big, with long thick fingers, and suddenly you’re shaking your head in an attempt to get the image of him using them on you, wherever he sees fit, out of your mind. “I take that as a no, then?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, no, not fucking anyone tonight,” you say, taking another sip of your drink and sighing. “And now my drink’s empty, the music here is too god damn loud, and you’re right, there’s too many fucking people here!” Shaking your head, you dig into the small clutch you had with you, fishing out a few dollar bills and placing them on the bar counter. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Can I walk you home?” Chad asks, finally removing his hand from your back as you slide out of the bar stool. Your eyebrows narrow in confusion. You had one drink, were the furthest from being drunk you had been in your entire college career, in fact, and you only lived five minutes down the road. “C’mon,” he says, shrugging his broad shoulders and flashing you that fucking smile that always made your knees weak. “It’s late, I just wanna make sure you get home alright.”

You pretend to think on it, letting out a small ‘hmm’ noise as you tap a finger to your chin. “Fine, but you have to come inside and sober up a bit before you leave.” Chad’s smile doesn’t go away at your request. In fact, it seems to grow. He takes out his wallet and places a few bills beside yours, grabbing the bartender's attention and letting them know you both had paid off your tabs before holding his arm out for you to grab. You do so with a shy smile, trying to ignore the feeling of him under your fingertips, or how close you were to him, or how he kept looking down at you with a smile, or even how his eyes kept darting to your lips. Everything he did seemed to be a deliberate attempt to get you worked up and it always fucking worked.

He leads you out of the club with ease and before you know it you’re out on the New York street. “Which way?” he asks and you nod to the right, following beside him at a slow pace. It was a nice night, a cool breeze helping to offset the hot air that had permeated the city during the day, and the lights and noises of the city still awake helped set you at ease. “You really weren’t having fun in there, were you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because we got out here and you relaxed like you had just gotten out of a fight or flight situation.” He laughs and you smile at the sound. Chad was always grinning, always smiling, but he had been through some tough shit. You used to wonder how he was able to keep this positive attitude but then decided to let it go and try not to dwell on it too much.

“It was just… too much, you know? Lots of people, lights, that music-”

“I just think you’re old.” You elbow him in the side and he grins. “You are! You sound like my mom.” Chad sniffles and places his free hand on his back, slowing down to an almost complete stop, speaking with a crotchety old-lady voice. “Back in my day, we went to the sock hop! We were pulled by a horse and buggy, not these cars! Your music is too loud, Chady-kins, turn it down!”

You both fall into a fit of laughter, picking back up the original pace you had set. “Chady-kins? Oh, I’m so stealing that.” He shakes his head at you and you giggle, leaning further into his grip. “I mean it! And I’m telling your mom you called her old.”

You stop walking, finally outside of your apartment building. “Too far,” he says, his smile dropping ever so slightly when you let go of his arm in favor of typing in your door code. “Am I still invited in?” he asks and you look over at him. He’s leaning against the old brick building, the lights of the restaurant across the street bouncing off of his skin and his smile and his eyes and you’re nodding, face burning hot. “Yeah?” His voice is deeper than it was just a moment before and it makes you swallow heavily.

All you can do is nod.

“Good. M’glad. You know I’m not drunk though, right?” he says as you two walk into your apartment building. He lets you go first, leading the way, but you can feel his eyes on your ass each time you move. You not-so-subtly sway your hips as you walk and you swear you hear him suck in a breath. “Only had a beer and a half before we left, so, no real need to sober up.”

“I’m not drunk either. You can still hang out for a bit, though, if you want?” He hums in agreement and then you’re at your apartment, digging through your purse for your keys. “It’s a little messy in here,” you say sheepishly as you open the door, revealing the mess you had left behind in your attempt at getting ready to go out. Chad just laughs, kicking his shoes off at the door and locking it behind him. “I couldn’t figure out what to wear.”

Your heels are finally off and you hurry around, picking up the pile of clothes you had left on your bed and floor, shoving them in your closet and hamper. “Well I’d say you landed on something good,” Chad says from the kitchen, his voice muffled as he bends down and peers into your fridge. “Because you look fucking hot.” You squeak out a thank you and busy yourself at your desk, fixing up the few items you had left out and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“What are you doing?” you ask, poking your head over and seeing Chad in the living room. He turns around and holds up the ashtray you had left on your coffee table, an unsmoked blunt still on it. “You wanna smoke?” you ask and he nods. “Go ahead. You want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine. You’re not gonna smoke with me?”

“I don’t know,” you say, passing by him as you head into the kitchen to grab two water bottles for the both of you. “I get sorta… weird when I smoke.”

“Weird? Weird how?” Chad asks and you hear the sound of your lighter sparking as he sits back on your small couch with a groan. “Do you, like, talk about conspiracies or some shit? Because I’ve smoked with Mindy before and it’s either that or her talking about whatever girl she’s in love with that day.” You chuckle, face heating up as you turn around and see him on the couch. He’s sitting with his legs spread and you realize instantly how well-fitted his jeans are, tight around his thighs. His head is back on the couch looking up, eyes closed as he takes another hit. Smoke plumes around him in a lazy rolling fog.

You nudge him with the bottle and he takes it with a thank you. Sitting down beside him, you tuck your legs up, knees pressed against his thigh. God, his thigh. You look away from them, opening up your own bottle of water and taking a few slow sips, the image of you riding his thigh, his hands on your hips, building in your mind.

“So? How weird is weird?” Chad questions, holding the blunt out to you. You consider it for a second, eyes flicking between it and his face which was turned towards you. You couldn’t tell Chad that the ‘weird’ you got was different from what he was imagining. You didn’t spout off conspiracies about the government, or get paranoid. You got horny, and being around him would only make that ‘weirdness’ worse. The days alone when you would smoke, you’d find yourself in bed, hand between your legs, moaning his name. “C’mon.”

It’s all the encouragement you need and you pluck it from his fingers and settle back into the faux leather of your couch. “There you go,” he says, taking the time to let his eyes drag down your body while you’re taking a hit.

The dress you wore fit you great, tight against your body, the color complimenting your skin tone. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you since he saw you tonight from across the bar, nursing his drink for ten minutes before Mindy had shoved him towards you, telling him that if he didn’t make a move on you she would on his behalf. And now here he was, smoking with you, so close on the couch that he could practically feel your pulse under his skin. He wanted you so badly and everything that came with it, the good and the bad.

The two of you pass the blunt back and forth a few times, talking about nothing in between, but you were being affected far more than Chad was. “Are you even inhaling?” you ask with a giggle, passing it back to Chad. He rolls his eyes, taking a large hit in order to prove that he was. “Alright, alright. Show off,” you mutter, blinking heavily. “How come it’s hitting me harder than you?” you whine, shaking your head when he offers the blunt back to you. “I can barely even think straight. M’all… fuzzy.”

“I’m cooler than you, duh,” Chad says with ease, taking a hit and waiting for your laughter to die down before blowing the smoke into your face. You let him, blinking, pupils wide. He thinks you look pretty normally, but he thinks you look beautiful like this. He leans over and places the roach onto the ashtray, sighing as he leans back, his left hand resting on your thigh. You swallow heavily, your vision fuzzy. Your dress had ridden up quite a bit now and his hand was so warm against your flesh. He’s looking at you with such an intense look it has you squirming, face hot when he laughs at you. “I wanna kiss you.”

You blink, sure you misheard him. “What?”

“I wanna kiss you. Like,” he laughs, shaking his head slightly. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the lamplight, the whites of his eyes red, pupils blown out. “So fucking bad.” His other hand, the one that had been resting on his thigh, comes up and he places it on your cheek. His thumb runs along your cheek, catching the corner of your mouth. His touch is gentle but everything is so intense still, your skin feeling like it’s on fire, burning against his own. “Can I? Please?”

You nod, closing your eyes when he grins and leans in. The kiss is slow, each movement of his lips done with a purpose. His hand drags from your cheek to the base of your neck, pushing you into his kiss, his touch, just a bit more. You follow his lead with ease, mind too hazy to try and take over.

He pulls away for a moment to catch his breath, staring into your eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters and he’s kissing you again, harder this time, sloppy. His tongue is slipping inside your mouth and you let out a soft moan, his hand on your thigh dragging upwards, pushing past the fabric. “So fucking hot,” He mutters against your lips, and then you can feel the top of his fingers brush against your underwear, right over your hips, and you’re pushing his hand away gently. “What? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m okay.” He’s still looking at you, hands dropping to his sides, and he looks worried. You can tell he’s wracking his brain for what he did, if he had gone too far somehow. “I’m a virgin.” You blurt it out and squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed. When you had felt his fingers up your skirt it had hit you that if it continued he’d be touching you, that you want him to touch you, but that you weren’t sure if he’d want to.

“So?” Your eyes pop open. Chad is staring at you with a kind smile, dimple evident on his cheek, and you feel your face heat up. “I mean, I’m okay with it if you are, you know?” His hand’s on your leg again, fingers dragging up and down your thigh slowly. “Are you nervous about it?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be alright with it.”

“Well, I am. Besides, wouldn’t it be good to lose it to me?”

“What do you mean?”

Chad’s smile grows and he leans in, lips close to yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. “You know me, right?” You hum. You want him to kiss you again. “You trust me too, right?” Another hum and this time you're leaning in a little bit, a whine stuck in your throat when he pulls away. “Then you should know that I’d make you feel good. I’d take my time when I touch you,” His hand is up your dress again and your body jerks involuntarily into his touch. “That I’d take good care of you and your virgin pussy.”

He brushes his fingers up your inner thigh and your legs spread instantly, giving him room. He grins at the sight of you, eyes closed, disheveled, breathing hard, legs spread and hand gripping his forearm. “Please?” you ask and then he’s kissing you, finally, and his fingers are brushing against your clothed clit. You keen into his touch, whining into his lips, but he doesn’t stop.

His fingers begin to rub slow circles against you, a good amount of pressure, and it feels so different from when you touch yourself thinking of him. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the fact that this is happening, but everything is almost too much. You’re surrounded by him in every way possible, his very being filling your own body, replacing your own needs. All you want is for him to feel good, for him to moan, for him to gasp at each press of your hand against him, for him to be begging for more without even realizing he’s doing it.

You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel.

“More?” Chad asks, parroting your own words back to you with a smile, taking his lips away from your own, his fingers speeding up. His nose is brushing against your neck before he’s kissing it, biting down against your pulse gently, soothing it with his tongue. “Bet you’re close aren’t you, Y/N?” His voice is right there in your ear, breath hot against your skin, but you can barely focus on that. “C’mon, be good for me and cum, okay? Please? Fuck, need you to cum so bad, baby.”

“Gonna-” Is all you get out before he’s biting down onto your neck again and pressing down hard onto your clit and then you’re cumming, nails digging into his arm, a moan stuck in your throat. “F-fuck, Chad, shit!” His fingers don’t slow down for a second but he’s moving off of you, pushing your dress up your body and pulling your underwear down in one fell swoop.

He shoves your legs apart and you take a second to catch your breath, looking down at him as he slides down the length of the couch. His eyes are glued to your pussy, fingers swiping through your folds and popping them into his mouth with a groan. “Taste so fucking good, so sweet,” he says, prodding at your hole with his middle finger, looking up at you. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, heart hammering out of your chest, and watch as he leans in, breathing in deep, eyes fluttering closed. As his tongue flicks over your clit he pushes his finger inside you slowly, just to the first knuckle, and your hip bucks at the intrusion, forcing his thick finger deeper inside you.

“Relax, it’s okay,” he soothes, watching your eyes squeeze at the feeling. His fingers were thick, stretching you out with just one, and his tongue kept moving, swirling around your clit and sending shockwaves up your body. You try to focus on relaxing your body and when he feels you do so he pushes his finger in all the way. “There you go, good girl,” he coos, spitting onto his finger as he begins to pump it inside you.

Chad is moving slowly, finger pumping in and out at a snail's pace, tongue moving even slower somehow. It almost hurts how slow he’s going and you know it’s to prepare you, to make you want him more than you already did. He wanted you drunk on his touch. “Faster,” you gasp and you can feel him laugh against you. “More, please, Chad?” You feel another finger press at your hole and you could cry, your body begging for more.

The stretch is only a little painful, his tongue helping to soothe the ache. You can feel the knot in your stomach growing with each quickening pump of his finger, each swirl of his tongue, and you swear you see stars when he scissors his fingers inside you. One of your hands grabs onto his head, pulling his head in closer to your cunt, hips rocking up to meet his fingers and tongue, grinding against him.

You cum without warning, your cry caught in your throat when he pushes in a third finger. It was too much. Your brain was still fuzzy from smoking and everything he was doing to you was heightened. You could feel every taste bud on his tongue as he flicked it against your clit, every groove in his fingers as they pumped inside you.

“Ok, ok, too much,” you get out and he stops, finally pulling away from you. His fingers are coated in your cum and you watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he sucks on one of his fingers, groaning at the taste of you, before holding his other two fingers out for you. They press against your lips and your mouth parts, tongue sticking out, and you wrap your lips around them as he pushes them inside.

“Don’t you taste good?” he asks with a grin, leaning over you, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch beside your head. You hum, swirling your tongue around his digits. Your hands begin to fiddle with his belt, tugging at it, and he grins. “Wanna suck my cock, that it?” You nod, his fingers still inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Yeah, I bet you do. Bet you’ve thought all about my cock inside your pretty mouth haven’t you? Fuck, you’re so pretty, you know that?”

You grin, running your hand down his face, mimicking what he had done to you earlier, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips.“You’re pretty,” you say, compliment muffled by his fingers in your mouth, and he gives you a soft laugh, his head falling to hide his grin. He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to your lips. “Wanna touch you,” you whine, going back to working on his belt.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, leaning back and shoving his jeans down. He leans backward on the couch, jeans tossed onto the floor, his cock straining against his underwear. You’re practically salivating by the time you are leaning over him, placing soft kisses over the fabric of his underwear, looking up at him through your lashes. “Hey, I didn’t tease you,” he says with a sigh, eyelids heavy with lust at the feeling. He had been hard since he kissed you and the taste of you was still lingering on his tongue and he swears it‘s fucking him up more than the weed did.

You finally tug at his underwear, pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out. He grabs your wrist, turning your hand palm up and spitting in it, giving you a wink before leaning back, arms behind his head as he enjoys the show. “I’ve never…” you say, suddenly nervous. It was clear to you that Chad had experience in this regard with how easily he had made you cum and you were beginning to worry that you were in over your head, too nervous and inexperienced and high to make sure you did alright.

“That’s alright,” he says, giving you a soft smile, one that instantly quells your anxiety. “Just take your time with it, okay? There’s plenty of time for me to teach you, okay, pretty girl?” You nod, wrapping your spit-slick hand around his cock and he hisses, head tilting back as you begin to stroke him. You start off slow, tightening your grip at the base of his cock and loosening it when you get to the top, swiping your thumb over the tip. “Fu-uck,” he says, tripping over his words with a laugh and a thick swallow. “You sure you’ve never done this before? Feels fucking amazing, Y/N.”

Leaning down, you keep your eyes on him as you lick over the tip of his cock, collecting the bead of precum there and swallowing it. He groans and you can feel him throb under your hand. You flatten your tongue and lick from the base of his cock up to the tip, following the prominent vein he had, and his hips buck at the feeling. This is exactly how you wanted him; his eyebrows scrunched together, eyes struggling to stay open at the feeling of you, him fucking into your fist with an eagerness he couldn’t control. You were making him feel good and fuck, it went straight to your cunt.

You don’t try to take all of him in your mouth. It was like he said; there would be plenty of time for him to train your throat, just like he had always dreamt of. You keep your hand on him, moving at the same pace, and you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, swallowing around it. He was big, bigger than any toy you had used before at the very least, and when you take him a bit further down he bucks his hips, plunging his cock down your throat. You gag and pull off of him and he’s apologizing.

“Sh-shit, sorry! Sorry, Y/N, just, fuck, your throat felt so good, couldn’t help it. C’mere.” He pulls you in for a kiss and you know he’s sorry but even if he wasn’t you wouldn’t care. It hits you then, while his tongue is down your throat and his hand is cupping your cheek, that you’d let him do anything to you and that you’d thank him for it. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, pulling away from your lips and resting his forehead on yours.

“I don’t know…” you start, chewing on your bottom lip. “You’re big… it’s gonna hurt.”

“How about just the tip, then? If you want more we’ll keep going, if not, that’s fine.” You ponder the offer for a second. He told you he’d take care of you, that he’d take his time, make sure it felt good for you. “Don’t you trust me, baby?” You do trust him. You know him, just like he said. You nod and he smiles. “Good girl. Okay, let's go to the bed, yeah? I’ll get you out of this sexy fucking dress and I’ll make sure you feel good, alright baby?”

He helps you stand and keeps kissing you, unzipping your dress as he moves you through the apartment, pulling your straps down. The dress is pulled off of you a second before your knees hit the back of the bed and you’re both falling onto it, giggling. “Hi,” you say, hands on his shoulders. He grins.

“Hi.” Chad stands, pulling his shirt off and tugging his underwear off, tossing both somewhere behind him. You both take a moment to stare at the other, nervous giggles leaving your lips. You had dreamt of this moment dozens of times before, had cum to it just as often, and now it was happening and it was somehow better than what you had ever thought up. “Look at you,” he says, hands dragging up your legs to your chest and back down again. He’s slotted in between your legs and you whine, wrapping one leg around him and pulling him in closer. “Use your words.”

It’s the first time he was really telling you to do something and you swallow heavily. “Please, Chad, can you?”

“Can I what?”

“Can you fuck me? Please? I want you to take my virginity so badly, I need it, please? I’ve thought about it so much, wanted it for so long.” You’re whining now, begging, and you swear you can feel the tears begin to fill your eyes. He’s smiling down at you and his eyes are so dark you’re not sure how much of his iris is left. Your legs spread for him when he nods and you watch with bated breath as he grabs ahold of his cock, spitting on it, before swiping up your slit.

He groans at the feeling. “So wet, baby. Bet your pussy will let me just slide right in.” He pushes the head of his cock in slowly and you gasp, tears filling your eyes at the stretch. It felt good but it hurt and you can feel him rocking his hips ever so slightly, pulling out and pushing back in, never going too far inside you. His hands are on your thighs, digging into your flesh, and you’re overwhelmed again.

The two of you stay like this a moment, the head of his cock pushed inside, your cunt clenching around him desperately. When he leans down over you, resting his forearms beside your head, he pushes in just a bit more and you whimper at the feeling. Chad wipes a stray tear off of your cheek and kisses you, short soft kisses in an effort to distract you from the pain and him from the overwhelming urge to push all the way in.

“Can I move more?” he whispers against your lips and you shake your head a little, too fuzzy to really think about it. “Please?” he whines, nuzzling into your neck. “Don’t I feel good, baby? Doesn’t my cock feel good inside you?”

“It does-”

“It’ll feel even better all the way inside.” His voice sounds so desperate and now he’s rocking his hips further, plunging another inch inside you and you moan because he’s right, it does feel good. The burn and pain of the stretch have gone away, giving way to pleasure. You want more, you want him, you just don’t know how to say it. “Please, baby, fuck. Your cunt feels so good, so fucking tight and wet and fuckin’ perfect for me. Let me fuck you, god, I need it so bad. Don’t you trust me? You know I’ll take care of you, right?”

You nod, babble out some response close to ‘yes, please, more,’ and then he’s pushing all the way inside, hips snapping forwards. You yelp at the intrusion, caught off guard by how full you feel, and then he’s thanking you over and over and over again as he sets a brutal pace. Chad’s weight is fully on you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. He can’t get enough of your skin against his, of the noises you make, of the way your pussy clenches around him and pulls him in closer, milking his cock.

“Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, Y/N. Christ, so tight.” His voice is cracking, raising an octave as he begins to lose himself in the feeling of you around him. The pain of his thrusts is quickly overtaken by the pleasure and you’re moaning, wrapping your legs around his hips, driving him deeper inside you. You both could die happy like this. “So close, fuck, how am I so close already?” He’s talking more to himself than you at this point and that’s okay because you’re too focused on the building pleasure in your gut to care.

The position you’re in has his pelvis grinding against your clit with each thrust and you swear your mind melts just a little bit more each time he fucks into you. “Please, please, please,” you say and you’re not sure what you’re pleading for but all you know is you don’t want him to fucking stop. You’re right there on the edge, can feel it through your entire body, and then Chad is moaning your name loudly and you feel him cum inside you, hips flush against yours.

You cum at the feeling of him filling you and he whines, hips rocking as you pulse around him. He’s sensitive, his head swimming, and the two of you stay like that for a moment, his head in your neck and your arms and legs wrapped around him. “So good,” he finally says, pulling his head back to look at you, his eyebrows stitching together. “You okay? M’sorry, I got carried away, I didn’t even ask-”

“It’s alright,” you say, running your hands up and down his back. You can feel him shiver underneath your touch. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” he teases, kissing you on the lips a few times, biting down on your bottom lip as he pulls back. “Wanna do it again?”

You gasp as his hips begin to move again, the squelch of your cunt and his cum being fucked back into you filling the room. “Y-you wanna go again? Already?” He nods, hand snaking down in between you two, pressing against your sensitive clit and grinning when you whine. “If you can handle it.” You nod despite not knowing if you could; he grins. “My good girl, right? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you cum till you’re stupid. You’ll look so pretty when you’re dumb on my cock, won’t you?”

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #scream #scream 5 #scream 6 #chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin x you #chad meeks martin x y/n #slashers #slasher fic #scream fic

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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

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Halcyon - Ch. 8: We’re Completely Undateable, Aren’t We?

You and Joel go on a double date. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 7, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of a nude selfie. Description of masturbation. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“What’s your friend’s name again?”

Natalie wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as you walked toward the restaurant. It was a nice one - trendy, with an extensive cocktail menu, something you were planning to take full advantage of as you watched Joel put the moves on someone else. Natalie, of course, looked beautiful. Perfect, really. At least, perfect for Joel.

He’d always had a type. He denied it but he did. Joel had always gone for the effortlessly beautiful type, the kinds of girls in high school you’d have described as a step beyond the girl next door.

Natalie fit the bill, with soft features and natural makeup that perfectly accented them in a way that made you wonder if she was wearing makeup at all. She was unquestionably beautiful, the kind that made you do a double take and wonder what the hell someone like her was doing teaching and not modeling or being an influencer or something that was more lucrative because surely someone who looked like that had easier ways to make a living.

But she was a professor and she was a good one, too. Several of your students had her for other classes and you always enjoyed when you had a chance to chat with her in passing. Joel was going to like her. How could he not?

“His name is Joel,” you said.

“Joel,” she repeated, taking a deep breath and giving a nod that made her curls bounce. “OK. Sorry, I haven’t been on a date in like… six months. I swear I won’t be a total spaz the whole time we’re in there.”

“Well, we’re going to be in the same boat,” you smiled, your stomach in knots. “This is my first date since my split with my ex but you have to rip the bandaid off at some point, right?”

“Right,” she smiled back. “We’ve got this.”

If you didn’t throw up, she was probably right.

You weren’t going to say that.

“Yes we do.”

Joel and the man he said he was bringing for you were already inside, seated on opposite sides of the table, diagonally from each other and looking like the most awkward pair. Joel spotted you first, his eyes going a little wide before he stood up almost comically fast, his chair nearly toppling over behind him. You gave him a tight smile and a small wave as your stomach got tight.

This was going to be fucking torture.

The other man got up, too, and turned to face you and Natalie. He was tall - but not as tall as Joel - and handsome, if a few years younger than you. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. Of course, it might not matter how you felt about it, given how his eyes fell on Natalie.

“He’s cute!” Natalie whispered in your ear as you approached the table.

Before you had a chance to respond, she walked up to the other man and smiled, her hand out.

“Joel?” She asked. “I’m Natalie.”

“Oh,” he said, looking flustered. “Um… I’m sorry, I’m not…”

“I’m Joel,” he smiled tightly, his hand out to her across the table. “Sorry…”

“Oh, God,” she laughed. “No, I’m sorry! I’m Natalie, it’s so nice to meet you Joel.”

She took the seat next to the other man, anyway, settling in across from Joel as you went around the table to sit beside him. He raised his eyebrows at you but you just shrugged before introducing yourself to the other man.

“Good to meet you,” he said, shaking your hand lightly. “I’m Blake.”

“Hi,” you said again, hoping your smile wasn’t too forced.

You sat next to Joel and picked up the menu, looking it over and trying to force yourself to relax. Except you relaxed so much that your knee brushed Joel’s under the table and it made you jump. He looked at you when you did and you both smiled tightly, almost apologetically at each other. You tried not to frown as you went back to your menu.

Joel didn’t look particularly thrilled about the current situation. Had you done a bad job of picking his date? You’d thought Natalie would have been a foolproof choice but maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he really wanted you to be across from him so his knee could accidentally brush hers under the table. You gnawed on your lower lip.

“Everything OK?” Natalie asked, making you look up from the menu. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you.

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, no, it’s… it’s fine, I… um…”

“Goldie has a hard time picking something to order at new places,” Joel cut off your stammering.

You looked at him, a little aghast.

“I do not!”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. “You’ve always been that way. You’re worse now but you can never just get whatever you want, you always have to wait to see what I’m getting so you can steal some and even then you’ll hedge your bets.”

“As if you don’t steal my food,” you put the menu down. “I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten something that I ordered all on my own if I’m out with you…”

“You don’t finish it, anyway!”

“Joel, I have to get a bigger Blizzard than I really want because if I don’t, you steal all of it…”

“So you two have known each other a long time, huh?” Natalie said and you suddenly remembered that it wasn’t just you and Joel there. You were on a date. With other people.

You cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” Joel said, looking at Natalie, one of his signature, charming smiles on his face. “Goldie and I go way back, almost 20 years now…”

“God, we’re getting old,” you laughed a little and tried to find someplace to look that wasn’t at Joel while he put the moves on your coworker.

“Goldie?” Blake asked.

“Oh,” you laughed again, clenching an unclenching your hand under the table. “Yeah, that’s what Joel calls me…”

“She carried this notebook with this sparkly gold cover with her everywhere,” he said. You could feel his eyes on you and your face got hot. “Seriously, it was practically surgically attached. Still kind of is. But that makes sense since she’s a writer. She was a writer then, too. Always been a writer…”

“What do you write?” Blake asked, looking intrigued.

“Not much lately,” you said. “But I have one book that’s published. It’s kind of a coming of age story?”

“Oh,” he deflated a bit.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure why you were saying it.

“No, don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “Just… not really my thing. Sorry. I’m sure it’s great…”

“What kind of books do you like?” You asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Well, I’m reading Ulysses right now…”

“Ulysses?” Natalie cut him off before covering her mouth and clearing her throat. “Sorry. That’s just… it’s one of my favorites. I’m teaching it next semester…”

“Really?” He asked, turning to face her, his face lighting up. “What do you like about it?”

“Oh, I love the stream of consciousness structure…”

They seemed to tune out everything then, totally absorbed in each other. You gave Joel a look and he gave you the same one back.

You weren’t entirely unused to being with Joel on a date, it had just been a while. In hindsight, you realized you probably hadn’t been the best friend you could have been when that happened. You just continued on with Joel like you did when it was just the two of you, the fact that his flavor of the week was there hadn’t made much difference. You’d never felt like a third wheel. You never had much chance to feel like a third wheel.

You were pretty sure you and Joel were the collective third wheel now.

“This isn’t going well,” Joel said, keeping his voice low and turning his head like he was looking back over the shoulder that was closest to you.

“It is for them,” you said, disguising it with a sip of water.

“Good evening!” The server mercifully came to the table and introduced himself. “Can I get you folks started with a bottle of wine or perhaps some of our speciality cocktails?”

“Oh thank God,” Joel muttered.

“Anybody else want wine?” You asked before anyone had a chance to react to what he said. You snatched up the wine list and skimmed to a mid-priced cab. “This winery is excellent, everyone good with red?”

“Sounds great,” Natalie smiled.

“Sure,” Blake smiled.

You didn’t bother to wait for Joel’s response and ordered the bottle and a martini because dear lord if you were going to make it through this night you needed to be a lot drunker than this.

The server left and you exchanged a tight smile with Natalie before Blake cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So,” Natalie said after a moment. “You said you like this winery?”

“Oh,” you glanced quickly at Joel. “Yeah, I did a tasting there a few years ago, they’re in Sonoma, really excellent reds…”

“So, you like to travel?” Blake asked.

“Yeah, it’s always fun going somewhere new,” you smiled. “How about you? Anywhere really fun you’ve been?”

“Oh, I uh… Don’t really like to travel,” Blake said. “Much more of a homebody type.”

“Me too,” Natalie said, sounding a little too excited before clearing her throat. “I just really like having my quiet time, you know?”

“Yeah,” Blake nodded. “You know, me and Joel work in contracting and I’ve really tried to make my home a place I really want to be, it’s my favorite place in the world.”

“See, that’s so wonderful,” Natalie said. “I’ve always wanted something like that but I’ve been bouncing from apartment to apartment for years so it’s hard to really customize things…”

The two of them were off again and you and Joel were left awkwardly sipping the wine the server came back to pour.

It stayed like that all through dinner. All four of you tried to make conversation with the person you were there to see. You really, truly did. But it always led to Blake and Natalie being totally absorbed in each other while you and Joel were left sipping wine and pretending that you weren’t being effectively ditched by your dates.

“Can you excuse me for just one minute,” Natalie said as you were waiting for the check, giving you a look across the table. “I just need to pop to the ladies’ room…”

“I’ll come with you,” you said quickly, grabbing your purse and following her.

The second you were behind closed doors, she grabbed your hand, an apologetic look on her face.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “Your friend seems great, really, and I know that Blake was your date tonight but would you mind if I got his number? If you’re really into him or you think it would hurt Joel’s feelings I absolutely won’t, it’s really not a big deal…”

“Natalie,” you smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “I doubt Blake even remembers my name right now. Absolutely, get his number, no hard feelings at all.”

“You’re sure?” She winced.

“Definitely,” you said. “Please, don’t miss out because you’re worried about being polite or something with me. You two seem like you have a real connection, you should go for it.”

“Thank you so much!” She gave a little squeal. “OK now that it’s OK for me to say it? I’m really excited, I really, really like Blake.”

“Good,” you smiled. “I’m happy for you.”

Joel and Blake had picked up the tab by the time you got back to the table and the four of you headed for the door, Natalie and Blake sticking close together while you and Joel hung back.

“Hey, Joel,” you said as you made it to the door. “One sec, let me show you something…”

He frowned as you put your hand in his and tugged him to the side in the parking lot.

“What?” He asked, glancing back at Natalie and Blake before looking at you.

“Just going to give them some space…” You trailed off, leaning around him to watch where Blake and Natalie were talking, Blake pulling out his phone and smiling as they did. “And there it is.”

“What?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder but you grabbed him by the chin and made him look at you, his eyes going wide.

“Don’t look!” You hissed. “God, you have no tact…”

“Shut up.”

“They’re swapping numbers,” you said. “Two love birds over there…”

“Jesus,” he groaned.

“Sorry,” you said, stopping watching them and focusing on Joel again. “Didn’t think you’d mind too much…”

“Yeah, didn’t exactly feel a love connection with Natalie,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You OK with Blake not being the one?”

“Think I’ll survive,” you smiled tightly. You glanced around him one more time. Phones were back in pockets. “OK I think we’re good.”

“C’mon Cupid,” he said. “Let’s go get shot down.”

You snorted but followed behind him to the edge of the parking lot where Blake and Natalie were waiting.

“So, if you don’t mind,” Natalie said, still wincing a little. “I was going to have Blake take me home? Catch up with you next week?”

“Sounds good,” you smiled before turning to Blake. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he said, at least being polite enough to look sheepish about it.

“Good to meet you, too, Joel,” Natalie said. “Really, you seem… nice.”

“Same to you,” he said, hands still in his pockets.

The two of you stood there, side by side, as your dates went home together.

You sighed and looked over at Joel once Blake and Natalie were safely in his car. Joel looked back at you.

“We’re completely undateable, aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yep,” you nodded once.

He sighed.

“Well, at least we have each other.”

“Could be worse,” you agreed.

“Want to come over?” He asked.

“Yes but…” you bit your lip. “Can we go to Sonic first? I kind of really need a shake now.”

Joel laughed.

“Absofuckinlutely we can.”

***

“You really think this is a good idea?”

Your head was dangling off the seat of the couch, your legs draped over the back as you looked at your phone screen.

“Better idea than all your blood rushin’ to your head for however long you’ve been sitting like that,” Joel replied, sitting on the floor with his back to the love seat next to you. He tried to ignore the way your body curved in that position. The shape of your legs, your ass pressing into the cushions, your breasts swelling over the cups of your bra and giving him a glimpse of your cleavage in the v-neck of your dress.

You set your phone on your stomach and looked longingly at the styrofoam cup on his coffee table.

“What?” He asked.

“I want my shake.”

“So drink the shake!”

“I don’t wanna sit up,” you whined a little. Joel laughed. You’d added a generous amount of vodka to the shake and it was starting to show. You reached for the cup, arm outstretched, fingers groping but it was out of reach. You whimpered and he sighed, bringing the cup alongside your head. You tried to take it but he pulled the cup away for a moment.

“Just wait, I’m holdin’ it,” he said. “Take a sip if you actually can from that position, you weirdo.”

You rolled your eyes with more dramatic force than Sarah on her best day.

“You’re being controlling,” you said, putting the hand that had been reaching for the shake on your stomach by your phone.

“Tryin’ to keep you from wrecking my carpet,” he replied, putting the shake by your head again and putting the straw in your open mouth. “Don’t choke.”

“Don’t choke,” you mumbled mockingly around the straw - or he thought you did, anyway. It was hard to tell. You managed to actually get some milkshake into your mouth but almost immediately grimaced. Joel took the straw away.

“You OK?” He laughed.

“Brain freeze,” you winced, eyes scrunched closed. “Ugh, why would vodka and chocolate betray me in this way?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Goldie.”

“You think this is why my date ditched me?” You asked, eyes still closed in a wince.

“What?” Joel laughed. “Because chocolate and vodka decided to attack you personally?”

“No,” you frowned, the upside down angle of your head making it look like a sad smile for a moment. “Because I like doing shit like this. I probably should have out grown this years ago.”

“Hon, if some asshole is telling you to grow up, he doesn’t deserve you,” he said. “Now let me see that damn profile.”

You sighed and surrendered your phone. While sitting in Joel’s truck at Sonic after your respective dates had crumbled, Joel redownloaded Tinder and you decided to set up a profile of your own. But you’d never had a dating app profile before. You sat on the couch, gnawing on your thumbnail and ignoring the milkshake you’d wanted to stop for until Joel went and got the liquor. After a few shots - and a generous amount added to your shake - you loosened up enough to fill out the profile.

But you hadn’t loosened up enough to finalize it yourself.

“OK well we’re changing out these pictures,” Joel said, scrolling down the page.

“What’s wrong with the pictures!”

“Did you scroll through your album to find the most boring photos of you ever taken?” He asked, lowering the phone enough to look at you. “Because these are not doing you justice…”

“Fuck off,” you tried to shove him but almost fell off the couch instead, gasping then giggling as Joel caught you.

“Jesus, please try to not break your neck,” he said, heart in his throat as he helped arrange you on the couch. “Just got you back, rather you not die in my living room…”

“Give it a few months,” you settled into the couch again. “You’ll change your tune.”

He scoffed, scrolling down your profile.

“See, you didn’t pick the best prompts,” he said, frowning.

“What do you mean?” You asked, adjusting your head to try to see him better and then giving up.

“You’ve basically just said what your job is four different times,” he said. “Can I fuck with your profile?”

“You’re the expert,” you shrugged. “Shake please.”

Joel sighed and held the cup up so you could reach the straw again before going into your prompts.

“Alright, if you had 20 minutes left to live, what would you do?” Joel asked, lowering the phone to look at you again.

“I don’t wanna say,” you pouted a little.

“Well now you have to,” he teased. “I gotta know. Is it masturbate? Eat your weight in chocolate ice cream? Tell Brad to go fuck himself? What?”

“Not telling.”

“I’ll tell you mine,” Joel said. “C’mon…”

“No.”

“Goldie.”

“Joel.”

“Don’t make me beg, he said. “I will withhold your alcoholic shake.”

You quirked your jaw for a moment before you sighed.

“I’d come see you,” you said. “There. Happy?”

Joel’s heart beat a little faster.

“Goldie…”

“Don’t make fun!”

“I’m not!” He said quickly. “Really, I’m not, I promise I’m not.”

“Feels like you are,” you muttered.

“I’m not,” he said gently, moving so he was leaning on the couch next to you. “Promise.”

“Yeah, alright…”

“Hey,” he said. You lifted your head slightly, enough that he could see your face better. “I’d come see you, too. Assuming I had Sarah with me, of course.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Fuck ‘em,” he smiled a little and you laughed. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Probably shouldn’t put that I would go see some other guy on my dating profile,” you said, letting your head dangle again. “Pick another prompt.”

“How about this one,” he said. “I want someone who… will travel and explore new places with me. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I like that one.”

“Here’s a good one,” Joel said, letting a teasing edge slip into his voice. “Your biggest red flag is… fucking old dudes…”

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “The prompts suck.”

“We’ll figure ‘em out later,” Joel said. “I’m going to find a picture of you that doesn’t look like it was taken at some fuckin’ work conference…”

“Hey!”

“You’re a fun person,” Joel said, going to your photo albums. “You’ve lived a little. Try showing that.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I promise, there aren’t many pictures that are worth your time.”

“We’ll see about that,” Joel said absently as he went to the map of photos. He pulled up the cluster that appeared near San Francisco. “See, this one’s good.”

He held your phone in front of your face, a picture of you smiling in a vineyard.

“Says you like to travel and like wine,” he said. “And you look good in it.”

“Alright,” you said, a smile in your voice. “Put it in there.”

“Not a first picture though,” he said. “We’ll find a better one for that…”

“Knew you’d have this down to a science…”

“Shut up,” he laughed, going back to the map. “You’ve been to Europe, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “For the book tour.”

“Let’s see,” he said, heading across the ocean on the map and finding pictures in London. “Oh see, these are good, you’re all done up for work and shit but it’s in a cool place. So much better than that one shot you picked…”

“Whatever you say,” you said, smile still evident in your voice.

Joel toggled through pictures. You at the Tower of London, you by that big damn ferris wheel, you by Big Ben, a selfie with a woman who was pretty but not nearly as pretty as you. You holding your book and smiling with a room full of people in the background as they watched you intently. He smiled to himself, looking at the photo for a moment. He was so fucking proud of you, that you’d actually done the thing you’d always dreamed of and people loved you for it. He reached over and took a drink of your shake as he swiped to the next image but he immediately choked on it.

It was a picture of you, a selfie. You were flat on your back on a fluffy white comforter, your eyes hazy with want, breasts bared for the camera.

He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this. He knew. This wasn’t for him, this was for… well, presumably that fucking asshole you spent a decade married to. But before he could consciously stop himself, he memorized you. The swell of your breasts, the pebbling of your nipples, the curve at your waist just as the photo cut off. And that look on your face. How many times had he remembered - pretended? - that you looked at him like that when he’d been inside you?

His conscious mind took over again. He coughed on the shake, dropping the phone and the drink.

“Shit,” you said, adjusting quickly to help clean up. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” he said, trying to scramble for the phone as he hacked and coughed. Where the fuck had it fallen? “Just… wrong tube…”

“Yeah, try not to do that,” you teased and Joel’s stomach dropped. Your phone was in your hand.

“No, wait!”

“What?” You laughed. “It’s my phone…” You looked down at the screen of it for the first time, your eyes going wide before you clutched it to your chest. “Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t see that!”

He was quiet beyond his subsiding coughing for a moment.

“It’s not that big of a deal…” he began but you groaned.

“I can’t believe…”

“I’m really sorry,” he said quickly. “I swear, I wasn’t looking for -”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut him off. Joel suddenly realized exactly how close the two of you were and he sat back from you. You winced, the expression passing quickly. “I’m sorry. I forgot that was even there, I thought I’d deleted it…”

“It’s not a big deal…”

“I just…” you looked at him, those eyes wide with a desperate need for understanding instead of just desperate want. “Look, things were already in a shitty place with Gale and I was trying to keep him interested when I was half a planet away and I was… well, I was obviously willing to try anything and - “

“Goldie,” he cut you off. “It’s OK. Really.”

“No, it was stupid,” you looked down at your phone, barely pulling the screen away from your chest as you - presumably - deleted the picture. “It didn’t get me anywhere. I don’t think he even directly replied to that photo and it clearly didn’t do much to save my marriage and now… So yeah, it was pretty stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” he said gently. You scoffed. “It wasn’t. You were trying to take care of something that mattered to you. He was a fucking dumbass. You weren’t stupid.”

He was suddenly close to you again - or it seemed sudden, anyway. But he was close enough that he could smell your shampoo and see the different shades in the iris of your eye. You were close enough that kissing you would be easy. Or it would be if there wasn’t so much between you.

But maybe, just this once, it’d be easy. Actually easy.

“We’re home!” Tommy’s voice boomed as the front door smacked into the wall.

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah shrieked, tearing into the living room as you smiled at her. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!”

She damn near hurdled Joel and launched herself at you, almost toppling you over as you caught her.

“I didn’t either, kiddo,” you laughed and gave her a squeeze. “But your dad’s and my plans changed. I was just about to head home, though.”

“Aw man,” she sat back from you, pouting a little. “You’re not sleeping over?”

“Remember those cats we got earlier this week?” You asked, brows raised. “Not very nice for me to leave poor Puck home alone when he’s still new in the house, is it?”

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically. “You should bring him next time. Him and Swiftie can be friends.”

You smiled.

“I’ll think about it.” You turned to Joel, looking down at the melting shake on the floor. “Can I help? Where are the paper towels, I can…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “You should probably head home.”

“Right,” you smiled tightly, leaning around Joel to see his brother and gave him a wave. “Hi Tommy. Long time no see.”

“You’re lookin’ good, Goldie,” he smiled. “Still out there being smarter than everyone?”

“Mostly,” you replied. “You still pretending rolled up pieces of paper are cigarettes?”

“Sometimes,” he smirked. “When I’m bored and I need excitement.”

You laughed at that and gave Sarah a final hug before leaving. Joel watched you go before sending Sarah to the kitchen for the paper towels before telling her to get ready for bed.

“She behave?” Joel asked as he mopped up the spilled shake and tried to get the image of you, half naked and desperate, out of his mind.

“An angel, as always,” Tommy said. “You two sure made a mess…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel snapped, looking up at him.

“Nothing,” he put his hands up. “Just an observation.”

“Well,” Joel went back to cleaning up the mess. “Observe something else.”

“Date went that well, huh?” Tommy asked. Joel could hear his cocky smile.

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“You two will figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “Helped her get a Tinder profile set up tonight…”

“Not the kind of figure it out I meant, brother,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder and groaned a little as he got up.

“What kind did you mean?” Joel asked.

“Well, figure it out and then you’ll know,” Tommy said. Joel rolled his eyes. “I’m out, been a long day.”

“Thanks for taking Sarah,” Joel said. “I appreciate it.

“Thank me by getting your shit together,” Tommy replied.

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I’m workin’ on it.”

Tommy left and Joel managed to get the shake out of the carpet before heading to Sarah’s room to put her to bed. He read some of the book they were working on aloud and tucked her in before going to take a shower himself.

Not that he needed one. He’d taken a shower just before getting ready for the date, it had only been a few hours.

But he needed privacy. He needed to know that his daughter wasn’t going to overhear anything or come wandering in at an inopportune moment.

The shower helped.

He couldn’t wait for Sarah to fall asleep. It was like that picture was burned into his fucking retinas, he needed to get it out of his system now. He needed to get you out of his system.

For now, he’d settle for the picture.

It didn’t take much for his cock to be so hard it ached and he palmed it under the flow of hot water, working himself from root to tip. He tried not to think too much about the picture at first. He’d never been supposed to see it, it wasn’t right that he saw you that way.

But he gave in quickly. He told himself it’d be just this once. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just this once, just to move past it.

He let himself pretend. Pretend that you’d sent him that picture, pretend that you looked at him all desperate and needy, pretend that he got to take off your clothes every night so he could touch every inch of you. He’d been so caught up in what was happening the one time he was with you, the overwhelming intensity of his first time all tied up with just how badly he’d wanted you for so long, he wasn’t sure how much of you he’d actually touched. Not really. But he wanted it to be all of you. He hoped it was all of you. He pretended that he knew all of you in that way as he worked his cock, hard and fast until he came so hard that it spilled over his hand and onto his shower wall.

“Fuck,” he panted, leaning against the wall for support as his cock went soft in his hand.

He needed to fucking get past this. It wasn’t worth blowing up his friendship with you, hadn’t he learned that by now? He had to get his shit together.

He repeated it like a mantra as he cleaned himself up and toweled off before heading to bed. But he couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you were OK. If there was a chance you were thinking of him like this somehow, too.

Joel picked up his phone and went to text you for a moment before he decided against it. Maybe space was better. You probably needed some time after he saw that picture.

Right?

Instead, he opened Tinder. Maybe he could at lest find a decent option for a one night stand, see if fucking someone else helped get you out of his head. He’d never just fucked someone else when you were anywhere near him, though. Could he even do that now? Did he even want to?

He swiped right on the first few women on the app, not spending much time on their profiles and going off their pictures alone. He swiped left on the next one and was preparing to do a quick swipe when your face was in front of him again.

It wasn’t the picture that was lodged in his brain. Instead, it was the picture of you at the Tower of London. Your hair was done but a little messy from the wind, a gentle but happy smile on your face.

He just looked at you for a moment. You’d activated your profile in the short time since you’d left his house.

You had Tinder now and he should have anticipated this. Of course if you added the app and lived this close you’d appear on his. But that didn’t make him any more prepared for it.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Did he swipe right on the off chance you did, too? But if you didn’t, he’d have to live with the fact that he knew you didn’t.

If he swiped left, it could all go away. Be like it never happened, not you looking for someone else, not him stumbling upon that damn photo, none of it. If he swiped left, he could actually try to find someone else.

His finger hovered over the screen for a moment as he tried to remember exactly what your skin felt like in his hands.

He swiped left.

Next Chapter

A/N: I know, these TWO. I love them. They need to figure it out but I love them.

I hope you do, too!

Stuff is going to ramp up a bit soon. Thank you so much for being alone for the ride! I know I haven't been replying to comments reliably lately (I keep posting chapters super late and just going to bed as soon as I post them instead of responding) but please know that every time I get a comment email to my inbox, it makes me smile. So thank you thank you thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me and thank you for caring about this fic. It truly means the world.

Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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techs-goggles9902 · 2 months

Note

Hi. I read that you're in your Captain Rex phase, so for a request, how about he x F! Kix's assistant doctor where is her birthday and Hardcase, Fives and Jesse convince her to celebrate on 79s. She doesn't drink, so when she does this for the first time she ends up confessing her feelings for Rex to his brothers and at that moment he listens. Rex takes her home and takes care of her. And maybe when she's sober they can talk about it, and she finds out that Rex feels the same way about her. ♥️

I Like You - Rex/f!medic reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS. I WRITE FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS BTW

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of syringes (but not used, just thrown away)

Word count: 1544 (dialogue heavy)

A/N: sorry I took a few days! It took me a while to figure out how to write this since I’ve never drank or anything, so a lot of googling! I hope this is what you meant! I’d be happy to rewrite it if you’re not happy!!! ❤️

“Stitches!”

You turn at the call of your name. Well, nickname. Ever since the Republic needed more medics and you came into the 501st family, that’s been your name. The men gave each other names, and they saw fit to give you your own.

“Fives, hey. Did you need somethin’?” You ask as you pick up another discarded syringe from underneath a gurney. The last battle was brutal, with so many fatalities. So many men. Troopers. Friends. Brothers.

“What, I can’t just come and say hi to my favorite medic for no apparent reason?” He smirks. You give him a look.

He folds, “Fine. Well… ‘Case and Jesse told me it was your birthday. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to make a fu-”

“Don’t lie. I know how you and the other nat-borns avoid birthdays around us. It’s not like we’ll get offended, Stitch. It’s your birthday!” Fives grins and shakes your shoulders enough to make you smile back.

You give him that little shy smile of yours and his gaze softens from excited to empathetic.

“Can we take you out tonight? Not as a date, of course. You have someone in mind for that, don’t you, Stitch?” He waggles his eyebrows at you.

“Shhh! Shut up, we don’t talk about that…”

“Okay, fine. But, please, Stitch? Hardcase and Jesse would be devastated. You don’t want to crush their hearts, do you? Do you?”

“Oh, Fives, you… Fine! I can’t take your begging and pleading. You’re buying,” you say with a grin, walking away to discard the syringe. Fives follows you.

“We have a couple hours until we get home, so… Uh… Do what girls do,” he says.

“Okay, okay! Get out of here already, Maker…” You laugh as Fives hugs you from behind and runs out of the medbay before you can throw anything at him.

Why did I even say yes? I’ve never even touched alcohol and now I’m surrounded by it. I swear, if I’m dragged back to the barracks, I’m killing all three of those idiots.

“Stitch! Over here!” You’re called from a small booth in the back of 79’s. You’ve been to this bar a multitude of times over your two year career in the 501st, but you’ve ever had a drink here. You were, as Hardcase calls it, the designated driver.

You approach the booth, weaving between drunk troopers, their civilian dance partners, and server droids. Fives, Hardcase, and Jesse already had drinks in their hands as you slid in the booth next to Jesse.

“Finally made it. Ordered you a drink,” Hardcase says with his little grin.

“Too kind, good sir,” you retort, shoving Jesse to give you more room in the booth. He shoves back with a smirk.

The server droid quickly delivers your drink, a colorful cocktail with various sugary fruits on skewers balancing on the rim of the glass.

“How can you guys even afford this?” Your jaw goes slack at the sight of the drink.

“Bill it to the Republic!” Fives yells, raising his own glass in the air. Hardcase and Jesse reciprocate, thrusting their glasses in the air, spilling a bit of its contents on the table top.

“Sure, sure, yeah,” you giggle, slightly raising your glass so you don’t knock off the fruits.

It started with the cocktail. Then a few shots of Spotchka. Then some Corellian ale you’ve seen in holo-commercials. The four of you couldn’t even walk straight, but did it matter? It was your birthday and your first time experiencing the feeling of alcohol flowing through your veins.

The buzz kept you upright, kept you awake, kept you partying.

What if he was here… heh, we’d have fun… A lot of fun.

“So, who’s this mystery man we’ve had to hear so much about, Stitch?” Hardcase slurs.

“Oh my Maker… He’s. So. Fine. No, seriously, you don’t understand, ‘Case. And, he’s so nice…” you sigh dreamily.

“Oh, it’s me?” Jesse laughs.

“No… c’mere,” you beckon, the three clones leaning in with wide eyes. “It’s Rex.”

“Ha! I knew it! Stitch likes Rex!” Fives cackles, raising his empty glass in the air. Hardcase’s eyes go wide and he nudges Fives’ ribs with his elbow and points to something, or someone, behind you, in front of them.

“Wha… Oh. Hey, Captain… Didn’t know you were gonna be here…” Fives says, quickly lowering his arm, his face turning a deep scarlet.

Your breath stops halfway to your lungs, your blood running cold. Did he just say captain-

“Different Rex, of course. You know, that one dude… He’s uh… Over there somewhere…” Hardcase quickly says, pointing somewhere across the dimly lit bar. Fives and Jesse turn their attention there as well, all murmuring under their breath about the nonexistent other Rex.

“Okay, I think Stitch has had a bit too much to drink tonight. You’re obviously not getting home by yourselves anytime soon,” Rex says, curling his fingers around your upper arm and easing you to your feet.

“Rex, I, uh…”

“Stitch, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home, yeah? Let you sober up for the night,” Rex gently pulls you away from the booth, the drunk trio of clones still trying to point out the different Rex. None of them notice as Rex takes you out the backdoor.

“What’s your passcode?” Rex asks as he comes to a stop at the door of your apartment, ready to type in your code.

“7-5-6-7,” you recite, your cheeks burning a bright pink. Rex raises his brows with a little chuckle and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Let’s get something non-alcohol related into your system. You have water in the conservator?” He asks, gently pushing you onto a kitchen chair.

“Mmhmm.”

He finds a bottle of water and a ration pack, opens both, and places them in front of you.

“I want them both gone,” he firmly says as he slides in the seat across from you. He watches, making sure you eat and drink everything. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said-

“Thanks.”

Once the ration pack is eaten and the glass is empty, Rex cleans up, ordering you to the bedroom. You sit on the bed, not wanting to go and find your pajamas, not wanting to clean off your makeup.

“C’mere,” his soft voice coos. It’s music to your ears, the way his accent makes him pronounce the sounds just a tad differently.

He grabs a wipe from your adjacent bathroom and gently wipes away the cosmetic gunk you painted on your face. You just barely hear him whisper, “Don’t see why you need it. You’re beautiful without it.”

The words bring warmth to your chest, butterflies to your stomach, happy thoughts to the mushy thing between your ears. He called me beautiful…

He turns away as you change into just your undershirt, hiding the rest of your body beneath the covers of your bed.

“Ah ah! Not on the stomach or back. Your side, Stitch,” he says, turning around and pushing you onto your side, piling pillows to keep you in position.

“But what if I like sleeping on my tummy?” You ask, trying to roll over to face him. He sighs.

“And you think I’m a difficult patient?”

“But… What if I get uncomfy?”

“Hon, lie still, please.”

“Bu-”

“No.”

You pout, jutting out your bottom lip. Rex smiles. “You’re cute like this. Get some sleep, Stitch.”

He called me cute…

Waking up with a skull crushing headache made you rethink going out in the first place. The nausea hits you as you sit up, your head spinning. The Coruscant sun spills through your translucent curtains, illuminating your bedroom.

The sounds of passing speeders whirling past your windows are muted by the durasteel walls. Someone, a man, sits in the chair beside your window, his face is slowly revealed as the sun rises higher.

Rex… he stayed with me… Aw, he’s sleeping…

“Mmm… Finally ‘wake…” he says, his husky voice laced with sleep. His eyes crack open and his drowsy hazel irises look upon yours. “Feeling okay?”

“Did… Did you sleep there?”

“Mmhmm… I didn’t wanna intrude. It’s your bed,” he says, rubbing his eyes with his calloused hands. “But how do you feel?”

“Hungover, I guess.”

“First time?”

You nod. “About what I said last night…”

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize, okay? I… like you, as well, Stitch,” Rex says, coming over and sitting beside you on your bed, the mattress dipping beside you.

“I- What? You do?” Your eyes widen, everything that happened, every little thing he cooed in your ear the previous night, all of it comes back. He called you cute. Beautiful.

He nods, wringing his hands in his lap, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He turns slightly to face you, the two of you subconsciously leaning in. Your lips part as your eyes drift down to his own lips, his tongue quickly wetting them.

“I really like you, Stitch…” He murmurs as he leans in closer.

“I really like you, to-” You’re shut up by his lips pressing against yours.

Maybe I won’t kill the idiot trio, afterall…

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please lmk if you want to be added or taken off the taglist!

Dividers by @ saradika

#Sha speaks #the clone wars #star wars #clone troopers #tcw #captain rex #captain Rex x reader #captain Rex x you #star wars fan fiction #fan fiction

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, mentions of drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I have no idea what being a personal assistant entails, or what London Film Festival is actually like, but we can all pretend that this is accurate shit, right? Enjoy!

Wordcount: 3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Have you got any–”

You were already holding a hand out to him. Joe saw, grinned, opened his hand to receive a piece of gum from you and looked out the car window, hand on the door handle but not quite stepping out just yet.

Then he turned in his seat, back towards you a bit, but stared into the space in front of him.

“I’m not sure how I...” Joe trailed off, then looked at you, not finishing his sentence, but hoping that his eyes would do the talking for him.

“Could thank me? Have ever managed to function without me? Will go on living your life without me?” they were all jokes, and you were smiling, but Joe just nodded and went, “Yea,” with a crazed sort of look in his eyes. “Exactly all of those things.”

Joe stalled, looked at you, until you nudged him with a knee.

“Go on, the people are waiting,” Not just the people you could see from the car, but you imagined also all the important people, actors and actresses alike, in the cars queueing up behind you.

“Come with me,” Joe suddenly said.

“I will, I’ll see you right after the–”

“No, come with. Let’s do the whole thing together,”

You hesitated. This wasn’t in the job description. Lots of things hadn’t been, sure, but those things had been, you know, not quite so out in the open. Not like red carpets were, anyway.

“I think we’ve been spotted together enough as it is, I don’t want you to-”

“I kind of don’t want to get out without you.”

And you frowned, but only slightly, because there was that smile again. Fuck, that smile had gotten you into enough trouble as it was, and Joe fucking knew it too.

You checked the time. There was over twelve hours left still, technically speaking. That was over ten per cent of the entire job – quite a few too many hours to screw everything up and risk not getting paid. You had said you were reliable. Professional. You couldn’t, really...

“Please?” Joe opened a hand, presenting you with his palm.

But, ugh.

Fuck it. Why not?

You grabbed Joe’s hand and silently wondered if this was breaching the NDA you’d signed. Maybe not. You knew exactly who it was going to piss off though...

Stepping out of the car with Joe, you were met with girlish screams of adoration. Well, Joe was met with girlish screams of adoration. Then cameras flashed brightly, blinding you almost instantly, and you thought back to how precisely one hundred and six and half hours earlier, you would’ve never envisioned that this is where you’d end up.

Doing a red carpet with Joe.

In a slutty dress. With slutty high heels on. Without the engagement ring on.

Not even a full five days had passed...

Not even a full six days had passed, since you’d phoned your friend and she had told you about the vacancy. The whole thing felt like a vague fever dream now, like it had happened years ago.

“Please tell me you have nothing going at the moment,”

It was a weird way for your friend to answer her phone when you called to ask her if she had time to go for drinks that week. Because, consequently, you had all the time for all the drinks, you see, because you had absolutely nothing going at the moment.

No professional things. No personal things. Zero job. Zero fiancé – you really had to remove that ring, but you couldn’t yet. It used to belong to your grandmother before, after all, so it kind of felt like if you just wore it on another finger, it’d be fine.

Still adjusting to life as a single woman - with big bills that belonged to single women - working as a temp and having a best friend work at a temp agency, the two of you seemed a match made in platonic heaven. She always kept all the good stuff back for you, called you on her breaks to slip you information she definitely wasn’t meant to be giving you, so you could officially apply for the right jobs at the right times and use the right words to actually be invited to the interviews. It was perfect.

Sometimes, the good stuff would be going through PowerPoint presentations in stuffy conference rooms in deeply exotic places, like Belgium. Or you’d manage an entire office for two weeks, a holiday-cover that would start Christmas eve and left you in charge of a lot of empty desks because, didn’t everyone take time off around Christmas and New Year’s?

But then, other times, the good stuff was actual good stuff and had you help run huge music festivals, unexpectedly brushing shoulders with the likes of The Wombats and Liam fucking Gallagher backstage wearing knee high wellies, covered in mud.

“Oh my God, what have you got?”

No dillydallying. As a temp, there was never time. All jobs came fast, and all jobs went fast.

“It just came in, this phone call is unbelievable timing because I’m allowed to recruit for fucking once, finally, and you’d be so perfect for it!”

She had said that too when you’d been hauled off to dog-sit a poodle for some CEO of a company you had never heard of for two months, so you held off on the jumpy excitement your friend seemed to be exuding down the phone.

“It’s very short term and the money is amazing – I need a personal assistant for a high-profile client.”

“How short term, how much money, how high-profile?”

Like you said, no dillydallying.

“We’re talking not even a full week, just five days, all expenses covered and the salary’s generous. Very generous. And the money isn’t even the best part.”

Temping meant everything was short term, but this was the shortest a possible job had ever lasted you.

“Okay,” you said, knowing things were always too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

“If this is for a tory politician, or like, actual royalty, I’m out,” you warned, earning a huffed laugh from your friend.

“Don’t let this put you off, but there’s nothing else I’m allowed to tell you. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can even send the job description over, and I’ll need you down in London for the interview as soon as possible, like, today? Could you do today?”

Oh, she was serious serious.

Okay, so... what was five days, really? If it was shit, it’d be over quick enough. You could really use the money too if it really was as good as your friend was making it out to be. And maybe you’d meet Meghan Markle, you know, if it was actually going to be royalty.

“Are we... are we talking like, Hugh Grant or whatever? Adele, maybe?”

Your friend laughed heartily.

“I can’t tell you anything else until you sign the NDA, but, I’m being so honest with you right now, you’re not going to want to pass this one up.”

And so, you’d given her the go ahead. Sure. Try get me in for an interview, why the fuck not? She said she’d make a call, get your CV into the right hands, and would call you back in a minute. When she did, not all but 11 minutes later, she’d already e-mailed you the NDA to sign. The interview wasn’t that day, but the day after – still too soon, but ok – and if successful, you’d start immediately too.

“Don’t worry, I think the interview’s just a formality – they love your CV, and from the sounds of it, they’re desperate. You’re a shoo-in. Get that NDA back to me and I’ll send you everything you need to know.”

She ended the call letting you know to reach out to her if you had any problems, and you said you would, knowing very well that you wouldn’t. You didn’t have problems. It was part of your charm. You carried solutions. You were dependable, reliable, one hundred percent guaranteed to make everyone’s life easier.

The only person you ever made things difficult for, was yourself. The proof of it was around your ring finger – on the wrong hand now, but still there.

From the names mentioned in the e-mail, which you’d immediately googled, you became none the wiser. They really kept you in the dark about who you were going to be working for, and the job requirements list was a lot. But you were good at job interviews. You knew the right things to say, the right energy to exude, the times to smile, the times to frown in serious thought – you could sell yourself better than you could sell anything else.

And you were competitive to a fault. No matter how arrogant of a celebrity was going to need someone handling their business for five days; you were going to get that job, and you were going to excel at it. Watch me, you thought, as you packed a carry-on with enough underwear to last you five days in case you were right. And if you were wrong, you could just spend money you didn’t have and maybe stay in London for a few days anyway. Visit old friends and old familiar places, because you kind of missed the place if you were being honest.

The next day your train had been late, and the tube had been packed, and you’d almost been run over three times, but you didn’t care. London was gritty and grimy and perfect. The London-shaped hole in your heart could really only be filled with the smell of searing, hot dust that lingered underground and became thicker and more prominent the deeper down escalators would take you.

You aced the interview. Of course you did.

Every question you were asked felt like they were trying to find reasons to not give you the job. They were all questions about what you thought about certain things, what your opinions would be about certain situations, what you really wanted, and you’d rudely interrupted. You’d said that none of it mattered, did it? It didn’t matter what you thought about anything, what your opinions were or what you really wanted in any situation – what mattered was that you would do your job. What mattered is whatever the client wanted.

They’d congratulated you. Said you got the job. And then, right on cue, the door had opened behind you.

“Joe, come in, meet your new PA who’s going to be with you for the rest of the London Film Festival.”

Joe mother fucking Quinn walked in, smiling, looking at you, like you were an actual person that people could actually perceive.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

It was only a brief introduction before Joe was off again, called out of the room by someone else, and he said he'd see you later. Smiled again, and God, it was the kind of smile that could defrost the coldest of hearts. Joe's expression was objectively neutral, this was just his face, but his eyes exuded kindness in its purest form. Almost dreamily so.

You cleared your throat as the door shut behind him. All right. Back to business.

You were talked through the things you had already read the day before; the things you'd received in your e-mail. Things that didn't really need further explaining, but you listened politely anyway. You got a long explanation of how NDAs worked and it was almost laughable. Yes, they'd sue you if you broke it. You got it. But they were very adamant, needed to make sure that you really did in fact get it. Having to drag you to court wouldn't just be an awful thing for you personally, they also didn't want to do it because it was a lot of work on their end which they didn't have the time for.

Noted.

"All right. Get your things and meet us downstairs, your car is waiting."

"Car? Where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere. You are. The itinerary, his full schedule, you'll find it all in your e-mail."

And when you looked at your phone screen, you saw you'd just received it, mere seconds earlier. Man, these people ran a tight ship.

Opening your e-mail in the car, you were greeted by a digital calendar that had all of Joe's days planned out, down to the literal minute. You could see past the five days that you would be working for Joe too, and although less busy, Joe had things happening nearly every day for at least the upcoming three months it seemed.

"Wow,"

This was... a lot.

It had everything on there. Wake-up calls, car pick-ups, lunch time, phone calls, coffee breaks, fittings...

There were several film screenings scheduled every day, obviously, that was how film festivals worked, and you wouldn't get to go to any of them. You weren't hired to sit and watch films with Joe, unfortunately. You were hired to haul Joe from one place to the next. Accompany him. Get him coffees. Check for schedule changes, because, “Everything is always up for change, so you better keep an eye out!”. Things could be delayed, or be postponed, or switched around – times, or locations – and it'd be up to you to sort things out. Make it all run smoothly. It was your job to make sure Joe would get to the places he needed to be on time.

"And he needs close eyes on him, because he tends to wander. Keep him company. He's used to having someone with him. A family member, a friend, but none were available for this. So, now he'll have you."

So... you were a luxurious babysitter, if you really thought about it.

"What other things are important? Anything that’s not been mentioned yet that needs special attention?" you had asked, and were met with a fast answer.

"Networking."

This whole week was all about Joe being seen and being spoken to by industry giants. Joe was invited to see many films, just about all of them, but it wasn't necessary for him to actually watch all of them. As long as he went to meet the directors, he'd be solid.

There were other obligations too. Besides the screenings there were screen talks, in depth-interviews, panels, debates, workshops, partner events (Joe wouldn't be going to those, no worries) and networking events (Joe had to absolutely be going to those, worry a lot). The industry happy hours were where it all happened, you'd been told several times.

Then, on Monday, day four, there was Joe's film screening - not his film, but the one he starred in. That showcased him. It'd be followed up by a Q&A, and then of course, happy hour after.

To make things even easier, more simple, not at all hectic or stressful: Joe also had studio photoshoots, two of them, and phone interviews to accompany the shoots. They were scheduled, slotted tightly in between all the in-person events and to be honest, it all seemed a bit much. Too much. No wonder they hired a PA for the week. This was overwhelming to say the least.

Your duties would end after the most important day. The awards ceremony. Film Festivals were a competition, and there were awards up for grabs. You'd need to make sure that after five extremely busy days, Joe would make it to the ceremony in one piece, in the right outfit, and at the right time, because people had already been talking, and Joe was meant to give a little speech up on stage if his film was to win.

"Remind him of that. Maybe help him with the writing, too?"

Sure. Why not?

"And there'll be two boxes delivered, not huge ones, it'll only be about 5000 copies, but they all need signing,"

Delivered where? Copies of what?

"Copies?" you asked, deadly afraid of sounding stupid.

"Photographs."

Oh. Alright. Of course. Yes. Fine.

In the backseat of a car, on your way to wherever they were taking you - they hadn't been clear at all - you saw that the signing of the photographs hadn't been added into Joe's schedule yet. You put down a few options and would check with Joe later until what time he minded working before you'd set it in stone. First task done. Your job had officially started.

Five days. One hundred and twenty hours of this. You checked the time. One hundred and eighteen still to go, technically, but, who was counting?

The car stopped and you heard the ratcheting of the handbrake being pulled by the driver. You'd arrived.

"Um, where are we?" you asked, undoing your seatbelt and gathering your things, but before the driver could answer, your door was opened from the outside.

"Hey, welcome," it was Joe, and he held out a hand to help you out of the vehicle. What a gentleman. That warm smile, there it was again.

"Are you ready?" Joe asked, taking your suitcase from you with an excited glint flickering in his eyes, and you weren't sure exactly what you were meant to be ready for. The whole week, was the correct answer.

Joe walked ahead of you, up the steps of a beautiful South London terraced house. Quite the mansion, by London standards. Joe stopped and turned as he reached the door. "I've only just moved in, so please, don't mind the boxes and, um, the lack of furniture. It's a mess. The only room properly done up is yours, so don't worry about that! They've made sure that at least one of us has a nice bed to sleep in,"

Oh.

"They made it look like a proper hotel room, I'm kind of jealous of it,"

This was Joe's home. His actual place, where he... you know, lived, and stuff. And where apparently, you were going to be staying too.

"This is your house?"

Joe stood in the door opening, and beckoned you in.

"It's just easier to have you close, come on in,"

Oh, this was going to be an interesting couple of days.

"Wonderful, thanks."

---

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#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #in 120 hours

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