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wandagcre · 7 months

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drive you mad (part 1) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You’re reunited with your old friend, Samantha Loomis, and she couldn't be any more of a puzzle to you. It doesn't take long to become entangled with her once again – replacing the previously wholesome hangouts; this time you find yourself being in her sheets way more often.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, public sex, voyeurism, mirror sex, praise, degradation, fingering, poor communication, mentions of violence, hints of stalking, sam referring to you in spanish endearments (bc why not), not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 10k+

[ PART ONE of TWO | Next ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

You liked the universe and its ways of diverting you into paths you never thought to cross paths once again.

Weeks ago, attending another lousy gala was against your whole will. It didn’t seem necessary to you, finding no difference whether your presence was something that would be amiss to the buffoons dressed in suits of your multimillion dollar company. Sure, you completely detested the idea, yet you gave it a chance, as your good colleague turned into a friend – was nagging you for days before the event. She insisted it was an opportunity (a scenario eerily familiar to your college days as if it was a mere frat party) you thought that might as well maximize these so-called connections, right? So, you caved in and went dressed to kill, anyway.

Funnily enough, the said colleague was nowhere to be seen even if she was the sole reason of your presence here tonight. She claims that she had the flu and so you were forced to take in the hors-d’œuvre by yourself.

Here you were, in a fitted beige-colored pantsuit. You didn’t know whether it was your fake it ‘till you make it mantra during work, but you managed to survive (so far). Sipping in your flute of champagne and socializing with people. Your feet were starting to ache and so were your cheeks due to the endless polite smiling you have done for the night. It was draining, so to say.

Just as you were on your way to the bathroom to do some touch up, a recognizable voice made its way to you.

“Please do tell me that you went here without a date, (y/n/n).” a sultry voice uttered directly on your ears and you turned to them too fast, almost getting a whiplash.

You haven’t heard of that for a while. It was a nickname that your closest friends and family called you by.

Lo and behold – it was Samantha Loomis.

Your eyes fluttered as she left you flabbergasted for multiple reasons. Sam had you putting your hand on your chest, beating madly as if you’ve seen a ghost.

“Shit. Sam, you scared me, Jesus. Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

She bodied the suit better than every man in the room. Sam stood with hands in her pocket, an aura that can easily rival anyone else’s confidence in the room, her jet black hair was fixed in a neat ponytail. She was donned in a well put navy blue suit – truly tailored to her perfect figure, emphasizing her good attributes. Damn this woman. Sam was still taller than you and insanely oozing with attractiveness.

Another thing? This woman was the one you were silently pining over during your teenage years. You were also heartbroken when she left town abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

“Finished checking me out?” she says, cocky. “Not one hi for me? you’re still easily frightened, (y/n/n).” a smile ghosts on her face as if Sam knew a secret. “So, how are you? If you’ve got a mystery date for tonight, I’d say they are doing a bad job of keeping you entertained.”

“Hi. Happy now?” You immediately blush at her blatant flood of compliments. “And I’m fine. Really, I’m just here to enjoy the drinks and all, maybe a bit of expanding in the work field too. So, it’s definitely just me – a last minute decision.”

Sam nods, eyes trailing on you.

“I’m more than happy to hear that. ‘Cause that also means I can do this–?” she reached for your hand and pressed her lips at the back of it, making you flustered more than ever.

You weren’t used to Sam being this direct. She was affectionate, but not to this extent. She was more laid-back as you recall, not as forward and not this flirty. Women had always been your achilles’ heel but to experience this with Sam in the present time – it was a no-brainer that your old feelings were being tested.

“You always do this to the women you encounter?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just you, (y/n/n).”

The way she kept saying your nickname felt too intimate as it was the one you were previously called back in one of the towns you used to stay in. One that Sam was a part of until she moved again – a common occurrence in her life that she mentioned in passing – albeit you were somewhat expecting it, you didn’t actually think it would hurt that much still.

You were by each other’s side all night. She blossomed into a refined and sophisticated woman, answering questions from other gentlemen and business people in the room with unshakable confidence. It was apparent too, with how they looked at her with respect. Sam even introduced you to others too, by your respective job and all, definitely buttering up your good qualities too that you haven’t even realized that this was benefiting you in your long forgotten plans of exposure.

“I don’t think I should be with you Sam,” you whisper close to Sam who had her eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Whatever your business is, it’s definitely beyond what I do. Wouldn’t it be sketchy? Or like using you? Because that’s not–”

“Now slow down, honey. It’s no problem with me. Honestly, I was just thrilled to have you by my side tonight and you deserve the good word and all. It’s still me, (y/n/n).” she assured you as she held you softly by your shoulder.

Exhaling the distress away, your stomach soon fluttered at Sam’s intentions.

“I’m having fun too, just so you know.” You truthfully admit, stopping a stupid smile to spread on your face. Sam gleamed at your words, evidently content as you are.

Soon you were catching up a little with life. Sam asked you how long you have been away from your hometown and what brought you to a new one. You sheepishly say that a new start was long overdue for you and interestingly, Sam returns the same sentiment, albeit there was longing in her tone but it disappeared quickly as it went. Before you could attempt to pry for more, a new set of people were catching up to the two of you, making you sigh.

Sam murmured to you after the man had left. “That man is definitely a no. He’s got a good history of attempting to shag his secretaries. Bound to be kicked from their board soon. I assumed a terrible workload and possibly environment, too.”

“Noted. Crossing that one out immediately.” You snorted at her unfiltered yet helpful tip. “He was rather creepy with how he was staring.. It’s like his first time seeing a pair of boobs during Victorian times.” you quip and laughter filled your chest.

“Did he now?” Sam squinted her eyes. “Well… you’re absolutely a sight for sore eyes, alright.” You see her eyes now surely over the valley of your chest.

Was she really checking you out?

Another new information for you is that Sam had apparently grown playful. You were astounded to receive her gaze, you elbowed her side. “I’m just saying! But him? oh he’s not worth your time, is all.” Sam reasoned, petulant.

“And you’re no better.”

“Excuse me, I am. I was simply admiring you.” she quipped at you very quickly and sipped her drink.

“If you say so. And hey, what about her?” you subtly point at the tall, middle-aged woman you met earlier.

“Uh-uh, also a pass. Better CEO than him and the others, for sure, but you could do better. A bit of the same as the old man, just a woman version of him on a somewhat low profile.”

You look with much interest now. For two different reasons – one, because you didn’t expect that and two, how exactly of a big shot was Sam to know all of this insider information?

“Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Not for me. Sam murmured as she sipped on her drink. You look at her quizzically, obviously not catching her words.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what about that one…” Sam subtly points out another person across from you.

She listed out the company’s stand point, what they were looking for, and you momentarily tuned out – savoring her voice that melted in your ear.

“How do you know all of this?” You blurt out.

Sam was sporting a distant tight-lipped smile. “I own a few businesses from here and there. Can’t spill them all to you in one night. I have to remain mysterious so I can be interesting for you, don’t I, honey?” she tilted her head.

For the hundredth time that night, your heart pounded and cheeks were crimson once again, all by Samantha Loomis.

This morning as you flipped through the channels, it reported the death of a wealthy CEO, stabbed in most inhumane ways and his eyes were reportedly gouged out.

Momentarily, you felt sick to your stomach until you realized that it was the same man who was a creep from the gala. You vividly recall Sam's words; with this man's business fluctuating badly and his poor work ethics, your thoughts gradually eased and snapped yourself out of it. He did see that one coming, you suppose.

You couldn’t be any more grateful that you’re far from that circle.

While you were terrified, it didn't stop you from going outside by yourself. Normally, this routine of yours is done during day time. However, resting got the best of your time this weekend and so with a resigned sigh, you came prepared with a pepper spray that you blatantly held as your free hand pushed the cart. Your stock of groceries wouldn't be done by itself, after all. Were you paranoid? (The answer is yes, rightfully so).

The mundane chore was going well.

Until you were on one aisle, on your tip-toes, barely reaching the chips that were now placed a tier higher than normal. It’s like a trick and you were being played, as coincidentally, it was the last one on the rack. You irrationally listed this as a bad sign - change wasn't to be welcomed for you in times of horror.

The lighting grew dark and it shadowed you. it triggered your fight or flight mode as this person towered you from behind, the scent strongly engulfed your senses and so did their body frame, making you gasp as their front was almost pressed against you.

They picked up the item for you and as you turned around, it was Sam.

She hasn’t preoccupied your mind for a while and you take in her presence as a fresh breath of air.

"Hey, pretty girl, I don't want you getting hurt." She joked and dropped the chips herself on your cart.

"Fancy seeing you here," you retort with equal amusement to the woman in front of you. You thought it was unfair that she always stunned you as you saw her casual get up.

Sam wore a bomber jacket and a navy baseball cap. She handheld her own cart and interestingly filled it with junk food, just like yours, and a couple of cleaning disinfectants.

"Do you usually shop this late?” Sam quips gently, hearing the concern in her tone.

You sheepishly smiled, "I know. But in my defense, work kept me late unfortunately. Or maybe it was me over napping..." admitting it out loud felt silly. "I don't have much of a choice. I ran out of stash in my pantry and while it's not really a good time.. wait, I don’t mean that with you, but what I meant is that, given the circumstances happening right now - it’s horrifying to be out and about."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your rambling. She found it endearing that you had to clarify each time how you liked her company.

"And what circumstances are we talking about?"

"You know, the whole killing thing," you hushed down low and kept walking with Sam who hummed right behind you. "Haven’t you heard it yet? It honestly had me worried. I don't want to be put in that position."

You both come across the isle of candies, you picked up a couple of them. Embarrassment soon crept in the more you confided your fear out in the open and how you revealed your unhealthy fix of snacks in the presence of Sam, the woman you're swooning about.

"I see. That explains your trusty pepper spray," Sam nodded along in understanding. "Say, do you mind if I accompany you? Sticking together could be better, after all." she lightly nudged your side with her arm and swiftly took over to push your cart by her own.

An easy smile crossed your features. You can't say no to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

The simple scare and business exchange was the start of your reconnection with Sam.

It seemed that Sam was sticking for good - or near you. At least, that’s what you thought so. Her place couldn’t be that far as you happened to come across her for a few times already.

A few days later she surprised you, sent a rather straightforward message and opened up how she misses you (you almost fainted on that message). Come the weekend, Sam called you to say that she’s sending a driver to pick you up around 6 PM. After you gave her your address, Sam notes to dress in nothing strict and formal as the gala, and you quote Sam who said in her own words: just bring your pretty self.

It was rather bossy and forward, if you were being honest. Though your senses dulled it out of bias, being Sam’s friend in the past she hasn’t done anything to put you in harm.

Another thing that brought you to a conundrum was how it sounded like a date but you didn’t want to be that hopeful – even with her endless flirting. You simply note it as another Sam evolution; a part of her confident self. The driver who picked you up was dressed in casual business attire, no older than late 20s, gave you a polite smile. He introduced himself as Martin and referred to Sam as Ms. Loomis and as you were in a phone call with her, she immediately confirmed to you that it was indeed your ride.

Relief washed over you, feeling secured enough with the whole get up. Especially with the case of brutal murder as of recently.

Arriving at the place, the door was opened for you and he mentions that he’ll be parked at the same place. The restaurant itself was one of the places you haven’t had a chance to visit yet, mostly because you didn’t feel zealous to spend a lot of money on a glorified casual meal. The ambience striked your interest immediately, the interior was cozy, and welcoming – especially for whatever they served, the aroma made your stomach rumble.

Looking around, it was opposed to what you expected – there was no single sight of business suits hovering in the place. They were stuffy people in casual attire, maybe.

“You made it.” Sam stood up from her seat and your eyes fluttered at her beauty once again. Her floral scent was hypnotizing and covered your senses as she went for a hug. “How was your ride?”

“It was nice. I like your car,” you timidly say as Sam pulled a chair for you.

“And I like your outfit. You look so beautiful, (y/n/n.)” Sam’s words were earnest and crimson quickly spread on your cheeks and rose up to your ears.

The stark contrast of her in formal attire with slick ponytail was apparent, yet equally so attractive. Sam stood in plain tight polo, baggy pants and some sneakers with her hair loose. She gave you a warm smile and her eyes also did a once over to your figure; you were dressed simply in a knitted zip top that hugged your torso, some trousers, and decent platform shoes.

“Says you. You’re absolutely charming, it’s unfair.”

“Don’t start that with me, honey. We’ll be here all night arguing about that.”

Sam grinned at how you affectionately rolled your eyes at her quip. As you settled in and looked at the menu, you noticed the familiarity. It was on par with your tastebuds. She definitely remembered your type of crowd. You hid a smile with this information.

However, your joy was temporarily cut off as you noticed the server giving Sam the heart eyes as she took note of the order, although the latter paid no mind, swiftly reiterating your orders with her polite smile, it didn’t stop you from getting irrationally bothered on the inside.

You should have seen this coming. Surely, other people were bound to find Sam attractive as much as you do.

“Have you ever been here?” Sam eagerly questioned, her doe-eyes all on you. “I was nervous to pick a decent place, to be honest. I didn’t want it to be stuffy and stiff, but not too casual – only because I wasn’t so sure with your taste now, so I relied on my (y/n) senses.”

You were quick to nod off, “No. I was interested but I never had the chance.” a slow appreciative smile spread on your lips. “Your senses were right - don’t worry, Sam. They definitely serve the type of food I like. I hope you didn’t compromise that much for me." While you liked the thoughtfulness, you wanted Sam to have a good time as well.

“Well, that’s great! It means you can enjoy it with me that way. Don’t worry, based on their menu it seems appetizing for me, too.” her eyes lit up assuring you, and it was an adorable sight. She showed you another side of her again, reminiscent of how you remember her relaxed state and wasn’t as constricted from the gala held days earlier. “I have to ask.. is this setup okay with you? In case you’re… seeing someone.”

You’re surprised at her interest at your love life. Her attention remained fixated on you and it made you blink couple of times.

“Definitely not seeing any woman right now. Nothing recently.” you hint your preference, in case Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet even before. You haven’t come out back then.

Sam smiled at your response. “That’s a relief. Means I won’t be breaking any faces any time soon.” your eyes widen at her words. “I’m kidding, (y/n/n). Or not.”

You nod along at Sam’s words with an unsure smile, not knowing what she exactly meant by that. You shrug it off as her odd humor.

“What about you, any lucky person yet?” you asked, it was your chance to know more about her too.

A playful smirk was written on Sam’s features.

“Funny thing is that it's the same case for me, I haven't gotten around it for uh, for some reason.” she ended sheepishly and shuffled a bit on her seat. “I could be eyeing on someone, who knows. But I have to be mysterious to you.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower. If you didn’t know any better, your delusions would think that she’s implying suggestively to you.

While her vague answer didn’t provide you what her type was, it was a relief for you to know that Sam is not off the market yet.

Both of your smiles barely wore off since then. Soon you were finally eating your go-to food and Sam with her chosen pasta. You debate whether you should finally ask Sam of her sudden disappearance, but you really didn’t want to spoil the mood either.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your meal?” Sam leaned in to you and you quickly motioned no.

“No, no. It’s just– I want to know, why did you have to leave?” you can’t help it but the hurt dripped on your tone. “It was so sudden and I haven’t heard from you since then… and now, you’re here again.”

You felt silly because it was a long time ago. Seeing Sam in flesh again gave you a whiplash, you valued her presence as she was your confidant during your hard times. If it weren’t for the gala, maybe you’d be left wondering until now, you’ll never know.

Warmth covered your hands, surprised that Sam has taken them to intertwine with hers.

“I can’t say the full details yet. But.. I’m here to stay. Believe me, honey. What happened then - it has something to do with my father. You knew how unstable things were at home, right? And I was expected to… step up into things at a faster pace than I can ever imagine,”

You only had a slight idea – if Sam before wasn’t very talkative and open – it was a thing that definitely remained until now. Sometimes their house was rowdy, full of men that wore notable sparkly ostentatious accessories. You only knew that his father’s job was demanding and that he was uptight, didn't want Sam to be out late, she had to sneak to parties, and was harsh with his words - even in front of you. It reflected the fear that glinted in Sam’s eyes when you were caught at their house, at the same beat, Sam also seemed to respect him. It was odd and the similarity of her tone was not lost on you but you didn’t push further.

You also wondered how Sam's sister, Tara, is doing and most likely all grown up now.

“Is it enough for you right now?” Sam meekly asked you, hopeful glint in her eyes.

You mimic her playful smirk from earlier.

“Only if we get mint ice cream right after this and I’m paying.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh, leaning back to her seat and an easy going grin gracing her features once again.

“Alright, whatever your heart desires, (y/n/n).”

After a wholesome reunion (or date?) the two of you were on a weird loop. At least for you. She was bearing gifts that weren’t so little at all – packages were being sent to your house, always coming with a handwritten note that said ‘reminded me of you’ with a scribbled wink, sometimes a heart, and seeing Sam became a part of your routine. It was all you looked forward to every week – seeing Sam – that your friends even asked whether you were dating someone as you appeared more occupied than ever.

At this point, you have visited restaurants and stores you could only imagine. Sam mentioned that having to try delicacies with you was a terrific experience, she liked your honesty and fun quips of critique. Although it shifted to something you’d say – a bit odd. While she was warm and welcoming, she never stopped by at your house.

Although you weren’t going to lie, it made you curious. Disappointed, too. Was she embarrassed enough to avoid being seen dropping by in the eyes of the public, in an intimate way? Granted, there wasn’t anything intimate going on.

Other than that, it dawned to you how tactile Sam was with conversations. It was always knowing something new and familiar, never delving into something deeper.

For her sweet quips, you remain confused whether it was flirty and intentional, after all, you didn’t think that Sam was to take interest in you romantically speaking. So, it was a challenge for yourself to not get any less flustered. Especially when you’re crushing over her.

"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna eat out tonight?" Sam smoothly asks you from the other line and you snorted at her forwardness.

You peer over your window at the kitchen before shutting the blinds. You didn’t know whether it was still the lingering paranoia you felt over the gruesome murders and the irrational fear that you could be next.

What if they were watching you?

"Dunno Sam," you scratch your nape, debating your answer as you remembered the events happening outside. "Is it safe? A brutal death happened recently. And you know, honestly, Sam – it rattled me a little more than I thought it did."

"Is this about the CEO? Honey, I've told you that he was already in deep shit. his decisions have probably caused him to dig himself into a bigger mess unimaginable."

The lack of care in Sam’s tone surprised you a little. But your mind weighed in the facts; these were billionaires who fucked up, didn’t do anything good for the others, and put themselves in the wrong crowd. You give Sam credit for that similar thought as you assume.

"Okay, but still…"

You hear Sam cooing in sympathy. "If it helps, I have my men around. We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe with me, don't worry." she promises with conviction enough for you to believe her.

You hummed as you rethink your answer. You wanted to hang out with the woman you've been crushing over (again) and having an idea of how her bodyguard's in question are built, you feel yourself leaning more to saying yes.

"I guess that helps yeah- you just had to be so damn convincing, didn't you?" Even if this was a call, you can already see the stupid grin that Sam has now. "Alright, I'm sold with that. I'll see you later, Loomis." you playfully sing-songed to which Sam giggled as you dropped the call.

“Let’s try something new today.” Sam said in her low voice and to your surprise she held the car door open for you in the passenger seat and you weren’t in the backseat this time.

“Don’t we always?” you refer to your eating escapades with her.

To your shock, Sam went to the driver’s seat.

She was the one driving for today?

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to my house.”

“What?”

You turn your head fast to face Sam with your expectant eyes; filled with surprise and excitement. After all, your brain was racking itself with much curiosity of what is going on with your friend slash crush’s personal life. When Sam caught the glee in your expression, her own eyes crinkled at the corners and muttered something about how adorable you are.

As you parked outside, you noticed familiar vehicles that tailed the one you and Sam were in. You only saw a few of them before, the men only looked at you out of politeness – as if their eyes weren’t around to linger – and they were more pliant with Sam. It instilled an idea that your friend was this much of a respected person.

“Don’t worry, they’re with us.” Sam informs you and you were shy of how evident you were glancing at the side and at the back.

You took tentative steps inside her home, surprisingly it was bursting with colors. It was apparent that Sam liked the idea of experimenting when it comes to style, as her interior and decorations felt straight out of magazine.

In her living space, she offered for you to sit first. She looked messy this time – not as neat after work, her hair down again instead of the usual ponytail, which seemed unnatural for someone so polished for her professional state.

“This was all of a sudden, sorry. I can’t… I’m a shit host for tonight. I’m honestly not feeling well today. I can get someone to fetch our food, whatever you like, it’s on me mi quierida.”

“You could’ve postponed this thing that we have. I mean, I don’t mind.” Okay maybe that was a complete lie – but you didn’t want Sam to feel forced.

Sam tilted her head. “And risk depriving myself of not seeing you? I do mind that. More than you can imagine. I guess you could say that I selfishly wanted you all by myself tonight, regardless.”

You feel somersaults in your stomach – making you squirm at your seat. Before you can process her words further, your attention panned to Sam’s hands and grew alarmed as you saw a faint view of her knuckles were red, you figure it'll be bruising the next day. She tried to hide it a lot as soon as decent lighting was present. Sam discarded her silver watch and then removed the champagne from the bucket near her to submerged her closed fist as it contained ice. It clinked against the metal, and as seeing her face, her chestnut eyes kept fleeting over you – observing.

"What exactly were you doing anyway?" Amusement was in your tone, although concern crept in quickly. You didn't want Sam to be hurt in some fight club. Or any way, for that matter.

Sam beckons you, "Come here." she softly uttered. as you did, her free hand rested on your lower back. "I ran into a small inconvenience. I guess you can say that I handled it well."

You snorted at her poor joke. A boyish smile spread on her pretty face.

"If you're joking with that shitty pun… I'll take your word for it, Loomis." You slid an arm around her neck, patting her shoulder affectionately.

It was truly a gesture meant to be playful but it appeared that it became a cause to shift things between you two. The proximity made you hyper aware with your heartbeat pounding loudly by the minute. You can’t even look Sam in the eye, remaining frozen.

"Uh-huh. You should trust me with it, mi quierida. You know I always mean well.”

Sam smirked, as though she knew something you didn't. She was difficult to decipher at most times but you shrug it off, noting it as a part of her charm. It was her thing thenand apparently, until now.

Case in point: her sneakily trailing her hand lower as they were, now resting on the slope of your ass. She grabbed you by its underside, feeling her fingers digging into the flesh. Knees growing weak at the contact, you barely stifle a gasp. It was surprising yet very welcomed and better than you imagined.

She rubbed her calloused hand back and forth on your back soothingly. "Stay... stay the night with me.'' Sam whispered as she nosed the crook of your neck, her breath against your skin spreading goosebumps.

It was an all-too familiar scene, however, Sam was bolder.

“Let me give you your present for tonight,” Sam husked out, her face moved to bite on your earlobe – her hands needy all over your body. “or… just say the word and I’ll stop,”

You were pulled in, moaning as you finally cracked through the tension. Both of you no longer teetering in friendly boundaries. It was hard not to – not when it was Sam you adored for a great chunk of your life and how her siren eyes were pierced onto yours. As Sam was nervous, you were simply stunned and returned the same feeling as you did.

"Okay,” you responded shakily yet you moved with an ounce of bravery, finally affirming your answer by grabbing Sam by the nape and lips crashing with much need, electrifying you.

Sam devoured you in her satin sheets until you were swollen, frazzled, and dripping.

The next day, you discover that another case of murder has happened in your town. This was an odd occurrence, as while death is inevitable, it was surprising to hear more of them happening in a short period. More so, it was unusual to hear of a brutal case in your normally nonchaotic town.

Fear began to creep into you as your colleague mentioned it was another CEO yet, this time it was the woman whom you've also met from the gala – being there, meeting these people and hearing them as nothing but reported deaths now felt like a bad omen. It created quite the buzz in your workplace, after all it was one of your company's competitors, too.

Shiver ran down your spine; you couldn't be next, right?

If you were to follow the pattern, it only suggests isolated killings of wealthy figures and you couldn't be any farther from that. You were another normal person who’s only trying to get by.

Then you remember Sam and the extra security she provides to you. All this time she had kept you safe and away from harm. You found solace over the thought, so you exhale and tried your best to let go of your worries.

In all honesty you were only expecting to pull connections that can land you higher positions that promised bits of grandiose escapades in between – all tied to your work during that gala – and you’re surprised that you landed in Sam instead, though in a much more compromising position that ignited your whole body for days. Sometimes you can’t even move due to soreness. More often, you burned and yearned for Sam’s touch.

It’s like the woman imprinted on you.

Sam finally brought you to her actual place which was a good breaking point. As soon as you saw past the soaring entrance and the modern architecture that greeted your wide eyes. So far, it appeared that she was indeed the only one based on your frequent stays – only men in between casual and formal attires, some being her bodyguards and maids as well were around the area.

You were surrounded by a lavish wardrobe that you can only dream of. You were amused that you share similar skin-care products as her when you first used her personal bathroom. It was a good coincidence, it made your stay-ins much more comfortable and efficient.

The spacious place felt intimidating to your bones as you walked around halls and doors after one another, although you’ve handled much more terrifying things that were specifically this she-devil.

It was a surprise to you how she can swoon you with her gentleness and barely any of that remains in the bedroom activities. She was absolutely rough and domineering.

She continues to take you to different places you’ve never been to before. Though, now they were private and more high-end properties. Today, Sam took you today to where you wouldn't normally get your sexy undergarments.

It was sultry and inviting to the ladies. The assisting ladies were polite, kept a minimal distance, and didn’t blatantly stare unless their attention was called to. You and Sam came by fairly early, hence the lack of people, you assume. You were fascinated with the quality of the garters and fabrics that felt different on your fingertips.

One of her men, Martin, stood by inside the store. Sam assured you that everything was fine, it’s only a precaution and more of a just-in-case business thing. She kissed you before you could ask anything else, effectively distracting you.

Finally having both of your picks, you were welcomed by another part of the area where the sconce's recessed light only added to the thrill that was covering the lavender hall of the boutique. It certainly made the atmosphere downright sinful and erotic. For a minute, you thought that maybe you can handle being Sam’s dirty secret. You felt so dizzy. Feverish. Needy.

Sam placed a final kiss to the side of your neck before she was gently ushering you to go, seeing the familiar look of hunger in her eyes as if she was controlling herself - it made you shiver with the same desire - then you went in to fit.

You nervously stood in front of the mirror, doing final touches on the laces. Sam insisted that she prefers seeing you fit the lingeries instead of her dropping them on your face out of nowhere – something you appreciated.

Slipping yourself into the intricate laces of the lingerie, you were unable to stop nitpicking on the blemishes and stretch marks that were on your skin and how apparent they were beyond this flimsy material that attempted to cover your intimate parts.

“Don’t forget to show them to me, alright?” Sam hollered from the other end.

You try to suck it up, being snapped out of your insecurities. “Wanna come in here?”

“No, come out here.”

In disbelief, you shook your head no even if Sam couldn’t see it. What did she mean by that?

“Are you crazy? There’s… there could be people out. Just come here,” you whisper-yell to Sam.

“There’s no one. We arrived early and just – trust me. It’s only me out here, seated, completely alone.”

You hesitantly move the curtain in the fitting room and step out. Indeed it was silent and no one was there just as Sam reassured. It helped that the room was actually just for the two of you. As you stood there, you felt so naked and raunchy, being were dressed in nothing but lingerie.

“What’s the verdict for this?”

Sam was manspreading on the emerald upholstered chair and you stood in between her legs, inquisitive.

“Oh, baby.”

“How is it…?” you fiddle with the laces, not meeting her eyes.

Sam looks at you with her mouth agape. She didn't say much but surprise was written on her face. You cannot help but overthink still, as your skin wasn’t flawless nor ridiculously skinny like any other models that Sam surely had been entwined with at one point… or even now.

“Hey, are you feeling okay, (y/n/n)?” Sam questions and taps on her thigh. “You aren’t comfortable with this one, are you?” she worriedly asks, her hands on your side, rubbing to soothe you. “Because you look so stunning to me, god,”

You refuse to meet Sam’s eyes, “I- I don’t think I look flattering at these. I’m no model, Sam. Surely you had better.” the distaste on your tone didn’t go unnoticed by the woman who frowned at your words.

Your insecurities began to gnaw in rapidly; what if Sam had other women on days you weren’t available? It made you sick to your stomach.

“What makes you think that? Oh, baby this is the best I’ve ever had.” Sam tugs you by your forearm and while you are teary eyed, she places a gentle kiss at the back of your hand. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to do this. You can take it off now if you want. If I’m being honest, I only thought of wanting to see you strip for me."

The explanation had put your mind at ease. It definitely gave you a sense of comfort that to some extent, you do matter to Sam.

“We could have thought of something else. I.. I’m just not feeling this, Sam, it doesn’t fit me. I’m sorry.”

Sam's heart sank at your words. You weren’t to blame at all. Soon, you felt her fingertips subtly tugging down your skimpy underwear to which you put your hand above hers, halting her movements.

"What – Sam, someone might see us," nervousness washes over your expression, you don't want to get caught in such a vulnerable state.

Sam only looked at you with her dilated eyes. "As if I'd let them see this. Trust me, we just have to be quick, princesa, because I can’t wait much longer.." her fingers smoothly went to hook her fingers under the garter of your underwear and moved to grab the base of the fabric. “Let me apologize to you in this way.” She gave it a pulling tug, your moan vibrating in the small space as it deliciously cupped your pussy lips. “You look so beautiful right now, (y/n/n).”

You barely stifle a moan from erupting out of your mouth and feel yourself drip with wetness.

“My pretty girl is getting turned on with a fucking wedgie? You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?” Sam moistens her lips, “So pretty and all for me. You can’t be loud in here baby, I need you to stay quiet. Don’t want others to hear you moan.”

“Thought- there was no others,” you whimper at Sam who only smirked.

“But the assistants are outside. Can’t have them knowing you’re such a whore for me, hm? Now turn your back to me and look at your pretty reflection.”

Nodding your head profusely, you swallow the lump in your throat. It made Sam chuckle in delight, her eyes gleaming. She pulls up the fabric once again, you’re sure that a wet patch is now evidently staining it. She pokes it with the pad of her two fingers and brushes them back and forth, the friction bringing you pleasure.

She interrupts your reverie by halting her motions, unclasping the bra off you and the intricate straps – one your eyes lingered to – only you didn’t realize that Sam saw the dismay on your face, as though it didn’t fit you. It would be an understatement for Sam to say that she abhors seeing you treat yourself this way.

You observe her hooded eyes now full of desire as she looks up to you – it’s undeniable with how it matches her actions, feeling Sam’s thumb pressed then on your back muscle, letting go to run over her hands all over your torso. It’s soothing although given your position, you feel the want and her touch intoxicating you.

“Sam, please.” you begged, ass pushed to her direction with your posture bent over.

She merely laughs and smacks her hand hard on your ass. The sound echoes in the dressing room. You hissed at how it stings.

Sam had always found your curious look so endearing. You always looked so ready for her to take, attentive, always so curious and beautiful.

She moves her hands agonizingly slow and sensual to your hip bones – brushing her thumb against them – to the skin right under the curve of your ass. You shriek out loud with eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily forgetting that you’re in a public place as Sam notches it up by squeezing you tenderly.

Repeatedly.

“Look at the mirror, (y/n)” Sam sternly orders. You shudder with eyes wide, still not moving. “My little bunny is not dumb, aren’t you, my sweet thing? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You gulped audibly and a string of moans were pulled out of you as Sam kneaded your supple breasts pleasingly. Being bare while Sam was fully clothed made you uneasy. Looking at the mirror didn’t feel right - seeing yourself become this needy and you meet Sam’s eyes in the reflection. What was her point in doing this? You don’t know either how it intimidates you yet a tinge of excitement is unmistakably laced underneath your impression. While you weren’t new to her roughness, this was particularly still felt exhilarating to you.

Lost in a haze of lust, the ambience changed within the store – it felt as though you were trapped in a heating chamber. It’s charged and so electrifying to be in a compromising position with Sam – while it was a secluded and high-end one that provided privacy, you hoped that no one barged in soon.

Sam left a kiss on your lower back and feeling her hot breath brush on your skin made you shiver run down your spine, snapping you out of your worries.

“I’m going to need you to sit between my legs, (y/n/n). And I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers until you understand in your pretty head that you’re beautiful, hm?” Sam’s words echoed titillatingly on your whole body, your breath hitched and bothered.

Soon as you sat hesitantly onto the couch between her legs, Sam gripped it and opened it wide for you as she saw you squirming and shakily closing your legs. You saw yourself in the reflection - how bare you were. And all you can think about is Sam and how you’re about to soil the velvety seat. She tuts at your shyness and manoeuvres her hand, wrist curling as she glides one finger over your soaked slit, gasping at how you were already so wet – teasing you.

You sharply inhaled, chasing more of Sam’s touch. “Told you that I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, baby. So don’t hide yourself. I’d like to keep you like this, so gorgeous and ready for me.”

Sam did it for you – adjusted her own thighs to accommodate your legs, placed them on top of hers and spread them for you to see how exactly you were dripping. The wetness trickled down the expanse of your inner thighs out of your folds. Sam had a wolfish grin, what you’d describe as predatory and hungry for you. Lolling your head back to Sam’s shoulder, you hear her grunt as she glides her fingers now directly to your folds, eventually entering inside of you.

The sloppy sounds of your wetness echoed in the room. It didn’t help that you felt Sam pressed the base of her palm against your pelvis as her curled fingers rammed madly inside of you. You were pouring out your arousal.

“Oh Sam, oh fuck– fuck, fuck!” heat rose on your belly, coming in waves. Sam responded by pressing kisses on your now sweaty face.

“Mm yeah? More?”

“Yes, yes… Please, Sam!”

You were lost in the haze of lust, driving you dizzy, as your pussy kept pounding with Sam’s rapid thrusts. A slew of guttural moans were out of your mouth – not even minding how loud you are now. You feel how your own core clenched and sucked the entirety of Sam’s fingers, taking a peek in the mirror proved it enough – it was a terrible decision for you.

“Open your eyes, come on now, my good girl. Don’t want you to miss out on how beautiful my sight is.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, you comply for Sam’s sake. She called you a good girl, after all. You kept bouncing on her slender and now thoroughly soaked fingers, your slick all over her pants and you saw how it trickled down to damp and darkened the very upholstered chair. Seeing yourself blushing and so fucking used, your pussy squeezed once again over Sam’s fingers and to both of your delight, her thumb pried and did circular motions to your clit.

The pleasure shot you straight in waves over your body and vibrated so deliciously.

You meet Sam’s thrusts and as you bounced, you also saw how intently focused she was on your reflection.

“God, look at these tits,” Sam roughly squeezed the flesh, making them aggressively jiggle. “I fucking love having you like this baby. Aren’t you my good girl?” she hotly whispered to your reddened ear, giving your earlobe a bite.

Her other hand that supported you by the waist, crawled up to grab the very breasts that she verbally appreciated.

“Come on, say it.” Sam gave it another squeeze – plenty that made you mewl – and tugged your perk nipple harshly. “and look at me as you do.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m.. I’m your good girl!”

“Mine only,” Sam growled and you felt her teeth sinking in the skin of your neck, biting and nipping. “Oh how I wanted you for so long, like this for me…”

You moan as you turn your head, not minding the awkward angle, not in this needy state of yours you did mind. Neither did Sam, who was visibly appeased with her pearly grin as you do – even more when you shifted your gaze to the mirror and this time, you actually stared at it.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your hand slithered to Sam’s nape, who was almost as breathless as you. You tried to keep a firm grip on her as you feel more lost in the pleasure.

“Yes, Oh… oh! Sam!”

You nod instantaneously making the woman smile even wider. Soon, Sam’s fingers were sloppy wet and rapidly applying pleasure on her pad and focused on your very clit. You couldn’t do anything but elicit more expressive moans and squelching noises that bounced through the room as Sam fucked you dumb. The coil in your stomach finally untangled, leaving you breathless.

You meekly look at your figure in the reflection once again. Your cum trickled down continuously, leaking out of your pulsating hole. Sam panted lowly in your ear and inserted her hand again, making you grab her inner wrist as you felt the oversensitivity. She hushed you to calm down and she was gently pumping.

It was indeed a pretty sight.

The thick slick of your arousal and cum soon was on your lips, Sam prying it open. It wasn’t up for discussion – you didn’t hesitate either. You taste the bittersweetness coating your tongue and mixed with your saliva, eagerly sucking out of Sam’s fingers. She moaned at your enthusiasm, encouraged by this you sucked more of your remains out of it, your teeth grazing along and Sam pushed it deeper until you felt her slender fingers slightly poking at your throat.

Once she was satisfied, she handled you differently by flipping your position so now you straddled her leg and faced Sam instead of the mirror. Her lips quickly made its way to give you open mouthed kisses to your sternum, to your neck, finally your mouth.

“You did so well, mi amor. And you were so pretty.” You shyly nodded at Sam’s praise. “Remember that, hm? Regardless of dressing like this – lingerie or not – I’ll look and appreciate you the same way.”

“Mm-hmm,” you lazily nodded and met Sam’s gaze.

After Sam helped you dress your clothes. While being fucked the lights out earlier was heavenly, the walking out of the fitting room was not pleasant at all. Your legs feel like jelly, you can barely walk properly without Sam’s tight support on your waist (you refused her offer of carrying you not wanting to be further embarrassed) but it helped that there weren’t any side glances from the assistants.

Oh, heavens. You forgot that Martin was also waiting inside the boutique. Even if he remained mum, you couldn’t be any more humiliated today.

Sam pushed back her slightly tousled hair and you helped her smoothen the back of her clothing. As for her trousers, the damage has been done and it’s currently stained with your wetness. An odd sense of pride came at you because you did that.

Sam held the undergarments – even the one she destroyed and fucked you into and personally offered to place it inside of the provided bag and then handed her black card.

“We’ll take the seat too, the green one in the fitting room. I’ll send someone to pick it up today.” she uttered in what you recognize as her professional voice, the lady simply smiled, replying with Yes, Ms. Loomis, as she agreed with no hesitation.

You hid your face in the crook of Sam’s neck and your cheeks burned. Sam only giggled at your shy reaction. She wrapped an arm around you and brushed your hair gently as she leaned closer to you.

“Come back ‘ere.” Sam lazily mutters, voice still raspy. She was still in bed which was such a miraculous sight. Not only because her godly body was exposed but the fact that she stayed in. Her arms were reaching out to you, caressing your bare lower back and eyes barely open. “It’s so cold, you know.”

You gave her a wistful smile. “And you do know that I’m out of clothes here, right? I also happen to have a place of my own, Sam.”

“You can always–”

“–borrow yours, yeah. I know, Sam. But I have to go. My work stuff isn’t here either.”

She sits up fully. “Okay, baby.” Sam replied dejectedly. You shake your head at how she’s acting like a kicked puppy and barely the same as an insatiable sex god from last night. “How about I drive you home? This is an inarguable offer, by the way.”

Sam gave you a pointed look and you can’t help but think if she’s tricking you – seducing you, almost. She’s unashamed with her nakedness and the way she crossed her arms, further made her biceps prominent, the mysterious scar across them, and her supple breasts gave you a mouthwatering view. You chose to ignore how your stomach fluttered at her use of endearment. The more time you spend with Sam, the more they slip out.

“Don’t talk business to me, Sam. You’re so annoying.” You turn back fully facing her with an impish disbelief, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself.

Sam looked at you with childish glee on her face. “Excuse me, you were the one who brought up work. I’m simply reminding you of what you are absolutely missing while I’m on leave for today, mi princesa.”

“Fine, fine. It's not my fault that I’m a corporate slave.”

“That’s why being with me is a good idea.” Sam insists with a kiss on your jugular notch. “Come on, I was planning to make your favorite dish. Maybe you can do it with me, what do you think?”

“Very professional.” You sigh at Sam’s silliness unfolding in front of you. “You just know all the right words to say…”

She crawled her way to you, shutting you up by capturing your lips with soft ones. It was chaste and you felt her smile in between. Moments like this only tugged at your heartstrings. It deluded you that it was somehow coming home to your girlfriend, only to be shaken to the reality of you knowing it was an unlabeled limbo with an old friend. So you shift, initiating with much force this time, getting rough with how you were kissing Sam as though it was your last time.

“Am I still annoying if I do… this?” You feel Sam’s calloused fingers smoothly trailing on your inner thighs, making you shiver. You throw your head back as you reeled to her touch. The familiar wetness reemerged on your core once again.

Before she could do anything else, her phone rang. Sam immediately went for it and barely a trace of her sweet disposition remained as she excused herself.

You blinked at her reaction, paying not much mind to it. Instead, you let your body relax in the softest mattress you’ve ever laid on and quickly, you’re pulled by the thoughts of Sam again, missing her already as you sprawl onto the bed, smelling the distinct coconut shampoo and addicting lotion that she uses and how it clung to the space you laid in.

Half an hour had passed. Getting up, you look around where she could have been, only to find her out in one out of two living rooms, absorbed with the phone call she's in. It wasn’t your plan to eavesdrop but your heart sank soon as the words became much clearer to your ears.

"Yes, I'm dropping by the strip club tonight... of course."

Strip club… tonight? Her words came out in a hush, obviously Sam didn’t want to be heard or rather, caught. No wonder she has been insistent on you to stay this morning.

You simply weren't Sam's fix for this evening.

With cautious steps, you retreat back to Sam's bedroom and with the disgust that brewed in, bile rising in your throat, you start dressing up.

"I thought we agreed that you're staying?" Sam raised her hands in confusion.

"Work couldn't wait, sorry. It’s bugging me the more I ignore it.”

Sam’s face fell immediately at your sudden change of mind. Your heart twinged a little, almost believing that it was genuine.

"Alright. Let me drive you home, (y/n/n)."

Your smile twitched as you hummed in agreement. Suspicion and confrontation will rise if you didn’t, and given what you just found out, you truly didn’t feel up for it.

"I'm bummed that you won't be cooking with me, just so you know. I'll make it alone - don't worry, it will be filled with love and care, a perfect fix as you get your reports done." Sam enthusiastically clasped her hands to you and it only made harder for you to stop the tears that were threatening to pour.

The way Sam took you in her grasp, arms loosely clung around your neck and the mesmerizing gaze she held was doing the opposite reaction. You felt repelled, uneasiness continued to flow through your mind. You've just heard her in the same beat a few minutes ago planning to go to not only a mere club to drink for fun - but a strip joint? Her intentions became even more confusing to you.

Your resolve was crumbling and it was becoming apparent when Sam leaned in for a hopeful kiss and you dodged it, her puckered lips hit the corner of your mouth instead. If she was baffled and had finally picked up your sour mood, you didn't see it as you continued to avoid her gaze.

The car ride was silent. It didn't even occur to you that Sam actually drove you home, but instead of filling the space with laughter and bickering over your taste in music, the two of you were met with an odd silence. You peer at the window throughout the ride, the silent turmoil grew inside of you at the backseat as the car drove on your way home. Eyes fluttering rapidly, you feel the waterworks coming in. Of course this was only a matter of time before it was confirmed to you that you weren’t only the one being fucked by Sam.

You felt gross. The inkling worry that filled you previously turned out to be right. You just hated yourself for blindly trusting her and giving further meaning to her mistaken gentleness.

Honestly, you did plan that to be your last time to see Sam.

At least temporarily, you wanted to avoid her. You kept making excuses about how you had a lot of work to do. You knew it was unrealistic to actually avoid her forever, not when you literally were tangled with her on her sheets for a couple of months already. Unless you were to flee the country, of course. The idea is slightly tempting. You consider it, albeit impractical, it’s one of your last resort of choices.

You were used to her scent from her bedsheets to her clothes and to her sleepy self arguing that she is very much awake during your random movie nights, her voice – everything revolves around Sam now and you hated it.

It felt like you were a teenager again with a hopeless crush on the girl you’ve liked from afar for years.

Even as you pulled away from Sam, your brain was racking through heaps of what-if thoughts – were you ever enough? Why did she have to make you feel so special, leading you into this domestic bliss? She always made time. Besides the good, you witnessed her downs, the aggressiveness, how her indistinguishable job took a toll on her. All because she let you in. You wondered why she even thought of you as worthy as such, yet made you feel of being less than that, at the same time?

However, if there is a light to all of this domesticity you shared with Sam that gave you warmth, there were also a lot of questionable actions that she specifically kept on doing. She appeared hesitant with dropping you off to your house and insists that one of her drivers will do the honors instead – with the sex on the table, it made you feel disposable and cheap – or how sometimes hours after sex; you get a sleepy glimpse of Sam sneaking onto the balcony. The faint noises of her raised voice in her phone, doing god knows what – you were there, unaware if it was a conversation with another woman and maybe, just maybe, Samantha Loomis wasn't as heartfelt as you naively believed her to be.

As you expected she didn’t drop by at your house. Her little gifts and take outs from restaurants that you liked and visited with her continued to be sent every weekend. You didn’t know whether it was out of pity or a proper goodbye in her own terms, making your stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought.

Your friends weren’t any less worried even with your now constant appearances for hangouts and karaoke nights, they gently explained that your mind often fled elsewhere and your gloomy disposition was noticeable. It’s not that they were annoyed, your friends were concerned more than anything. So, you finally open up but not too much. You retell you were in this Friends with benefits recently and it ruined your sanity, for better or worse, all in vague descriptions. After all, you were sure that now Sam was more likely ashamed of being seen by you and wanted to keep her bachelorette status.

The chorus of oh sweetie in an understanding tone immediately came and when they hugged you, it worsened the longing you felt for Sam and how you have been entangled with her this whole time.

“It sucks how you can get roped into that so suddenly.” Jane, your friend, empathised. “does that count as a situationship – or whatever it is they call it nowadays?”

“Let’s call it friends with benefits for the sake of simplicity.” Margo, the colleague who ironically was one of the main reasons why you got into the gala and met Sam, nodded her head with no hesitation. “I don’t understand why it is that hard to communicate something simple as that. And getting her fix of pleasure in another place, too, Jesus Christ.”

“Feels a bit of a power trip to me. Based on what you’ve said, how she’s got a sexy mysterious vibe going on and while that sounds sexy in other ways, I can only imagine how it must’ve taken a toll on you, (y/n).” Jane adds with a forlorn expression on her face.

They were expressive with their opinions - you liked how your friends were very protective of you. They felt betrayed almost as much as you do soon as you mentioned that Sam was a friend of yours way back.

Although, you hated how there’s a lump in your throat and a part of you was ready to jump in Sam’s defense. Before you drown more in the thoughts of her, you decided to pour another shot.

“Fuck that. Let’s drink to this,” your words come out slurred and your friends only follow suit.

Sam didn’t stop spamming you with messages. It was expected considering that she’s the most insistent person you have met yet. Still, you shrug her off, saying that you work overtime these days and you don’t feel like being a booty call for a while – or ever for her. But Sam’s resolve proved to be unwavering as she updated you about her thoughts and invites of coming back home; her words, not yours.

“You know, if you’re up for it, you should totally meet this girl. Most blunt person I’ve met yet, so.” Margo indiscreetly implies that it shouldn’t be as troublesome as your previous limbo was. “She’s also really hot. And just down for either something casual or serious, depends how you talk about it.”

“Margo, you know I don’t think–” you shake your head. Besides being full of what-ifs and considering that you might have a good time, your thoughts keep bouncing back to a specific Latina in your mind.

Your mind swirls, not knowing why it feels like a betrayal deep down.

“Just give it a chance.” Margo interrupts, firm with her stand. “One date. It’s also been almost two weeks since you’ve been moping. You know we don’t mind that but- I just wanted to tell you that the dating pool is full of choices.

What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam loomis #sam carpenter x fem reader #lesbian #wlw #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #scream vi

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sarahisslytherin · 2 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful.

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear.

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!”

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief.

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton oneshot

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

Note

heyyy! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is part of the bau, and their favourite bracelet breaks on a case so aaron offers to fix it for them on the plane? love love love your stuff btw!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

the small things

instead of a bracelet i went with a necklace i hope that's alright <3 cw; nothing but fluff, aaron is down bad hehe

every day you took the chance, and you knew it was stupid.

your favorite necklace. your most prized possession. deep down you knew you shouldn't wear it in the field, but the need to have it overruled your caution.

despite being hidden behind the safety of your vest, the chain had given out, snapping amidst the rush of chasing an unsub. you were lucky your vest was so tightly pressed against your body; while it's sole purpose was to protect you from the imminent threat of danger, it's snugness prevented the necklace from slipping onto the ground unnoticed. instead, it had noticeably dropped onto the floor of the suv as you were freeing yourself afterwards.

you felt partially silly for feeling upset over it, it being such a small thing, but it held a lot of sentimental value. a day literally hadn’t gone by where you haven’t worn it.

it helped you think- rolling it between your fingers as you pondered over a difficult profile, or found yourself doing the same in times of stress. most importantly, it made you feel safe. and given your job title, you would take as much of that as you could get.

and aaron noticed.

he noticed it as you became accustomed to the team in the very beginning, every day after that, every time he talked to you. so as you all were packing up to leave the department, it wasn't hard to miss- it's absence was loud. so was the sadness in your eyes, and the strain in your voice as you casually talked to jj, trying to act as if nothing were troubling you.

it was a part of you, familiar. so he could only imagine how you currently felt.

"so," aaron started, taking the open seat to your left. you had secluded yourself from the others, giving yourself the opportunity to wallow alone on the jet ride home. "i know- it's not much, but. do you still have it? your necklace?"

you gave him an almost questionable look, but nodded a yes.

aaron's eyes were soft, trusting as always, but he still asked- needing the permission to handle something that held so much meaning to you. "may i?"

you sat up slightly from your slouched position, granting you the room to fish the necklace from your jean pocket. the broken sight of it caught you off guard again, just as the initial discovery of it's broken state did earlier in the day. you felt a tad sick to your stomach, the object being on your person, for years- more than you could count- brought down to nothing but a scrap piece of jewelry.

nonetheless, you still dropped it into his open palm.

"i thought this could work, for the meantime." aaron narrated as he reached into his suit pocket himself, obtaining a small safety pin. very carefully, he threaded the small needle through the chain, before doing the same on the opposite end. he gestured for you to turn, and you twisted in your seat upon his instruction.

his breath was warm on the back of your neck as he spoke, fastening the safety pin to a close. "again, i know it's not mu-"

"no." you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. the necklace now hung lower on your chest than you were used to, but it was secure. and right back where it belonged.

to say the least, you were extremely touched, turning back around to face him. you were nearly speechless, finding it hard to form words. "it's perfect. thank you."

the corners of aaron's lips twitched, pulling into a smile. "i know of a good jeweler. he was haley's go-to back in the day, and i still have the number somewhere in one of her old phone books. he's an old friend, so he'll do this as a favor. you won't need to worry about a cost or anything."

your eyes softened more if it were possible. "no, hotch. i-"

"no." he threw your word right back at you, nothing but kindness in his eyes. "trust me. it's the small things, right?"

his words took you by surprise, a soft breath leaving you. suddenly, the world didn't seem as dark. "yeah, it is."

he nodded, his mouth drawing into another small smile as his eyes left yours.

"i'm sorry it broke." his words left him in a mumble, and from the solemn, regretful tone present, one would think he was at fault for your necklace breaking.

sweet man.

you clasped onto his hand, giving it a tight squeeze and causing his brown eyes to meet yours yet again. you held onto the eye contact, not allowing him to tear his gaze away. "thank you for fixing it, aaron. really."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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mysaintkitten · 7 months

Text

Mile High | Robert Fischer x fem!reader

prompt: you’re the stewardess on robert fischer’s private jet, and he’s not too fond of your attitude. (NSFW, no minors)

WARNINGS: robert’s a cunt, plane sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), degradation and praise, slight age gap, power imbalance

word count: 2.1k

today was your first day working with mr. fischer, you had been a regular stewardess for a few years now but due to good word of mouth you were able to become a private jet stewardess. it was a more intimate environment, the pay was better, you had less people to tend to, it was overall quite the win for you.

the jet was set to leave in a few minutes, so you found your way to the bathroom and quickly dolled yourself up a bit before mr. fischer came onto the plane. you’re expecting a man, at least in his 60s, rich as hell and eager to pounce on a young woman such as your self. you could use it to your advantage, maybe leave the jet with some extra money in your pocket.

while in the bathroom, you overheard some small talk happening within the jet.

“good afternoon, robert! right this way” you hear, “robert?” you think to yourself. you wait until the minor chaos of dealing with the baggage is dealt with before you take one last look in the mirror, feeling satisfied with what you see staring back at you. with a deep breath, you walk out the bathroom. what was once lively a few moments ago has fallen silent. you see a lone man sitting in his seat, hands clasped in front of him while gazing out the window. is that mr. fischer? or, robert, as you had just overheard.

you were expecting some grandpa. oxygen tank on standby if need be. you could tell from afar he was older than you, but not by very much. a decade at the most.

you quickly dismiss those thoughts, and bring a semi-artificial smile to your face. as you begin to approach him and his face becomes clearer, you can tell he’s quite an attractive man. sharp suit, nice watch, clean shave, he looks good to say the least. as you stand beside his seat, you start to say the introduction you were told to say by the jet company.

“good afternoon, mr. fischer, my nam-“

“i don’t want any handouts.” he says sharply, not even attempting to shift his gaze from the window.

oh. so he’s like that.

you brush past his blatant arrogance and continue with your introduction, “oh, no, i’m not here to offer anything at the moment. just introducing myself, my names y/n and i’ll be taking care of you for this flight.” you say, forcing that smile back to your face. it’s at this point that he actually looks at you and you’re met with his striking blue eyes, he really looks like the embodiment of if looks could kill. “throughout the flight, anything you need, just let me know.” he scans you up and down before returning to your face, muttering a small “mhm” before looking back out the window again.

once your backs to him, you roll your eyes, heading to your lounging area to wait around until robert to wants something.

around a half an hour has passed and you’ve resorted to reading a book, you’ve read it multiple times before, but it’s an old reliable. and you also had absolutely nothing else to do. that is until you hear him call out for you, “ma’am?” you hear robert say, you place your book down and stand up, walking over to him.

he’s watching you this time, actually looking at you like a person.

“could you get me a scotch on the rocks?” he asks, leaning his head back slightly, “of course, i’ll be back shortly.” you reply before heading to the opposite side of the jet to make his drink. after a few moments, you return, drink in hand.

“here you go, mr. fisc-“

“could you get me a cigarette, too?” he adds, fully cutting you off without care.

“i’m sorry, sir, smoking isn’t allowed on the jet.” you reply, obviously you can’t smoke on the goddamn jet, but this would probably come as a surprise to him. arrogant little pricks probably never been told no in his life.

he brings the drink up to his lips, taking a swig before placing it down in the cup holder.

“i could buy you, and this jet company. get me the cigarette.” he spat, you’re rendered speechless, as you begin to leave to try and find cigarettes you feel a tight grip on your wrist.

“for future reference, doll, when i want something, i get it. i’m not asking you, i’m telling you.” he grumbled before letting go of your wrist. as you kept walking you couldn’t help but be absolutely appalled at his behaviour.

somehow, you were able to find the cigarettes and a lighter.

you remind yourself, suck it up, he’s filthy rich, the pay will be good. the thought of taking money from him gave you an authentic smile that you held on your face as you approached him, cigarettes and lighter in hand.

“here you go, sir.” you say, he grabs them without acknowledging you at all and quickly brings a cigarette up to his lips, lighting it before inhaling the smoke sharply. you watch as his shoulders drop as he exhales.

you turn your back to him to leave, “wait.” you hear him say, you turn to face him.

“sit.” he adds, using his head to signal towards the seat sitting across from his. you feel your anxiety begin to peak, but you oblige. “how’d you get this job?” he pries, taking a sip from his drink and then a drag from the cigarette. “uh..” you start, mind racing. you’re about to lose your job, you think to yourself. “i worked as a regular stewardess for a few years, but someone put a good word in about me, so now i’m here.” you say, as sweetly as you can.

“good word? about what? did you fuck someone to get them to say that?” he asks, his words are jarring. you can’t believe he’d speak to you like this, “excuse me?” you question.

“because the behaviour you’ve shown is less than satisfactory to say the least. so i’m just wondering if you fucked your way to get here.” he shrugs, “i’m disgusted with how you’ve acted. and if you wanna keep your job, you’re going to have to prove yourself worthy.”

you don’t know what to say, “mr. fischer i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re-“

“call me robert, hun.” he says, his tone still cold as he puts out the cigarette.

“robert. i’m not sure what you’re implying here.” you repeat, feeling yourself become flushed.

“you said you’d be taking care of me for this flight, didn’t you? and right now, i’m having some needs that i’m sure you could meet. after all, the other favours i’ve asked of you have been a disappointment.” he says, beginning to unbuckle his belt, your eyes go wide,

“robert, i’m not sure-“ you squeak, being thrown off by how quickly everything is progressing.

“sh, do one thing right and keep yourself quiet.” he says, now unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. “matter of fact, get on your knees.” he growls, blatantly palming himself in front of you. this entire situation is a huge mind-fuck. roberts been nothing but a petty little cunt the entire time, but he’s still rather handsome, and, his most dominating quality, rich. you don’t wanna lose your job, and you’re willing to do whatever he’d ask to prevent it. so you fall to your knees in front of him.

“you’re gonna suck me off, and then i’ll consider forgetting about your bad hospitality.” he remarked, scooting his hips forward slightly. you nod, not saying a word before tugging his waistbands down, watching his hard cock spring against his stomach. you hesitantly give him a few pumps. after building up the courage, you bring his tip into your mouth, sucking and swirly around it gently, watching his body begin to go limp as a low groan came from within him.

slowly, you start to take more, pumping whatever isn’t fitting in your mouth, he’s moaning now. not very loud, but enough for you to be able to hear him. you feel a palm being placed on top of your head, forcing you down lower on his cock.

“take more, and don’t be shy, sweetheart, you wanna keep your job, don’t you?” he purrs, you view that as a sign for you to play with his balls as well while sucking him off. at this point you’re basically deep throating him, twisting your hand to act as if a continuation of your mouth.

“ah fuck..” he grunts, “do you only follow instructions when they involve you being a whore?” he growls through gritted teeth, you hum around him, unable to give him any other response. he swats your hands away and locks his fingers into your hair, fucking your mouth at a rough and unexpected pace.

you can barely breathe, your eyes are watering, and worst of all- you can feel yourself becoming wet. you hope to god that he doesn’t know that he’s turning you on, he’d never let you forget it.

“god..” he moans, “such a good girl. is that all it takes to get you to behave? a cock down your throat?” he teases, brushing your hair back to watch himself fuck your mouth. you whine around him, and glance at him through half lidded eyes, continuing to let him have his way with you.

he starts to huff quietly before roughly tugging you off his cock, making you gasp loudly at the ability to breathe clearly again.

“don’t wanna come just yet, wanna use that pussy first.” he grunts, pumping himself slowly. almost as if in a daze, you stand to your feet and shimmy your stockings and panties off, leaving you still nearly fully clothed. you place your hands on his shoulders and climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance before slowly sliding yourself down. wincing slightly at the stretch.

he moans lowly and his head dips back, “fuck.. you’re so wet.. gripping me so good.. shame you’re such a disrespectful slut. maybe you just need a good fucking, huh?” he groans in your ear, running his tongue along its outer shell. chills spread across your body as you raise your hips and slowly begin to ride him, “y-yeah.. i think i do..” you reply, hiding your face in his neck,

“mhm.. i think so too..” he purrs before placing his hands on your hips, guiding you to pick up a faster and rougher pace. you can’t help but moan while gripping his shoulders, “s-ir!” you whine, “feels so good!”.

he lets out a breathy laugh, “such a good girl when she’s got a cock inside her.” he nudges your head up to expose your neck and plants wet kisses, occasionally sucking gently. he sneaks his hands down and rides your skirt up so it’s sitting around your waist, fully exposing your bare bottom half. he grips your ass roughly before placing a firm smack against it, making you gasp loudly. you feel yourself becoming wetter, almost embarrassingly so. he noticed this.

“oh, did you like that, sweet thing? god, you really are a slut..” he laughs lowly before shifting his hips up to meet your trusts. the cabin is only filled with the sounds of heavy breath and moans, skin on skin, a slight squelching sounds which are making you blush harder.

you’re a moaning mess, shaking slightly, gasping and whining. he grabs one of your wrists and moves it between your legs,

“rub your clit, get yourself off on my cock, sweetheart.” he groans in the sweetest tone he’s had the entire flight. and you do just that, rub your clit while he fucks up into you. you’re close, very close, and judging by that gesture he just pulled you assume he is too.

“i’m close, robert!” you whine, screwing your eyes shut tightly, “come for me.” he growls before smacking your ass again, the sting of the smack pushed you over the edge. your orgasm rippling through you as he continued to thrust himself inside you.

“oh, shit, hun..” he mumbles, “squeezing my cock so nicely.. like you’re begging me to come inside..”

before you can fully process what he’s said, hes coming inside you, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his own moans. after riding out his orgasm, he begins to lift you off. but instead of guiding you to the seat in front of him, he moves you to the seat beside him, then proceeding to lean forward and pick up your stockings and panties for you.

“if you clean up your act, i’ll have you on my flights more often. i’ll treat you good, sweetheart, real good.”

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #inception #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #hope you guys enjoy #:))

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joshhutchersonsgf · 2 months

Text

“million dollar man.” a derek danforth fic ♡

an: smut starts after the third separator for all you horny people (this: ♡•♡•♡)

“mrs. danforth? your phone is ringing.”

her phone vibrates in your hand as you walk toward the conference room, only a few inches behind the president.

being the assistant of the woman in charge of an entire country was not an easy job. her orders were often strict and precise, and dealing with her son was a whole other story. it wasn’t uncommon for her to ask you to “take care” of him when he’s around, unfortunately. you loved your job, of course, but some things (or some people) made it hard to enjoy.

mrs. danforth takes her phone from your hand and answers it with concern.

“yes, derek, what do you want?” her stern strict voice questions.

damn it.

you pray to whatever god was up there that you didn’t have to deal with another one of his messes he can’t seem to clean up himself. you continue your path behind mrs. danforth, hoping to hear what derek has to say.

“i’m at the beach house. you’re welcome to join if you behave.” mrs. danforth tells derek.

you internally curse yourself for ever agreeing to this job in the first place.

she goes quiet for a moment, taking in what derek has to say. your eyes don’t leave the back of her head as she continues her signature strut through the hall. with every step she takes, she radiates nothing but confidence.

the guards around the both of you seem to pay no mind to her or the phone, and you begin to wonder if your body language has changed at all since mrs. danforth took the call. you sigh and roll your shoulders back, trying to keep perfect posture with every step.

“fine. no drugs.. give my assistant the details. love you. i have to go.” mrs. danforth quickly hangs up the phone and stops when she gets to the room filled with important people.

she turns to you and places her phone in your hands, then says, “derek’s joining me this weekend, help me keep him sober for the party.”

“yes ma’am, i love babysitting.” you smile, amusing yourself. she nods you off and puts a smile on her face, turning back to the people she’s here to talk to.

“madam president, this is..” you begin to introduce the people in a sorted line, all eager to meet your boss.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and when you leave the conference room, you see multiple texts from derek. he informs you about what time he’s arriving, who will all be with him, etc. you roll your eyes at the text and put your phone back in your pocket without replying.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

on the day of derek’s arrival, mrs. danforth is no where to be found. she told you she had an important meeting in the afternoon and she was sure to be back before the party started. did she really leave you to take care of derek by yourself?

you wait for derek and the others outside of the beach house, the sun shining in your eyes. you look up, eyes squinting, and see derek’s private jet flying overhead. you look back down and try to look as professional as possible, hoping he could take you seriously.

when the jet lands, you put your hand above your eyes to block the sun. you definitely should have brought sunglasses.

you scan the aircraft for anything you should take note of. after the guards gets out, derek slowly steps out with an unopened bottle of vodka in hand.

you take a moment to really take in his appearance, and you could almost laugh. he was wearing a green suit with a yellow and greenish button up underneath, and his hair had been dyed blonde at the tips. he’s always had a “different” sense of style, but this really takes the cake.

derek walks up to you and looks you up and down, then looks around the property. you felt small when he looks at you like that, but remind yourself that you’re supposed to be in charge. you straighten your back, and follow his gaze around the beach house.

“where’s my mother?” he questions, still searching.

“she has an important meeting but she should be back before the guests arrive. your mom wouldn’t want you to have this, anyways.” you reply, taking the bottle from his hand.

“well if she’s not here, then it doesn’t matter, does it sweetheart?” he says, smirking. you roll your eyes at the nickname and turn around to walk away.

“no, but when she gets here,” you start, turning your head to the side to make sure he hears every word, “it will be my fault. so until your mommy gets here, i’ll be in charge.”

derek scoffs at your answer, but when he sees how serious you are, he frowns.

“come on, she won’t be here for a few hours. let a guy have some fun,” he drags out, hoping you’ll give in.

you laugh at his words, and it must really get to him. but before he can open his mouth add any stupid remark, you’re both happily greeted by the people at the front of the beach house waiting to take his belongings.

“here, take this,” you say, giving the bottle of vodka to the woman closest to you and leaning in, “and put it somewhere he can’t find it.” you add in a quiet voice that you know derek won’t hear.

you turn back to him and smile innocently, then begin telling the woman you would like everything to be.

“what the fuck? that was some expensive wine, you know,” derek says to you. you couldn’t care less about the price of it, as long as it wasn’t in his hands before mrs. danforth got here. you were given an order, and you weren’t going to disobey it.

“derek?” you begin, completely ignoring his words. “tell this nice lady where to put your stuff, hm?”

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

derek seems absolutely miserable and he’s only been here an hour. you confiscated everything his mother ordered you to take the second he walked in the door, and of course he tried to fight to keep every last thing.

“i don’t understand what the big deal is. my mom won’t be here for a while, anyways.” he argues, watching you search through his last suitcase, frowning when you pull out a small bag of white powder.

“your mom may not be here, but i will.” you correct, turning behind you to give the last of his “hidden items” to the maid.

you glance over derek’s shoulder to check the clock behind him. you still have time until mrs. danforth gets here, so you might as well start getting ready.

“i’m going to go change, stay here.” you tell derek, smiling when he furrows his eyebrows at your order.

“i’m not a dog, stop ordering me around like one.” he grumbles with his arms crossed.

you give him a toothy smile and turn away, making your way up the stairs to the room you’re staying in.

you open up the door and immediately start searching through the top drawer of your dresser. you wanted to look nice, of course, but not too nice. you’ve done nothing but wear your absolute best business attire everyday for as long as you can remember with this job, and you finally got to wear something different.

you find the perfect dress that fits your body well, and you smile at your reflection in the mirror, seeing how well the dress looks on you. it’s been forever since you’ve let yourself wear anything other than the best, so wearing this felt so freeing. even though it was still pretty nice, it wasn’t business attire.. and you loved that. you take one last look at yourself then walk down the stairs.

you go into the main room and see derek sitting on the couch, talking to one of his colleagues.

you would have to be blind if you missed derek’s reaction.

derek’s eyes widen the moment he sees you and you thought they would pop out of his head. he sets down the glass in his hand after he chokes on the contents inside.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you taunt, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

derek scoffs at your comment and starts picking at the side of his face, another one of his habits you didn’t like.

“don’t do that,” you scold, swatting his hand away, “it will leave scars.”

“and why do you care what i do, sweetheart?” derek questions, even though he already put his hand down.

you roll your eyes at the nickname he knows you hate, throwing your head back against the cushion. derek’s friend dismisses himself and begins greeting others the hallway, leaving you and derek alone. you find yourself in the company of derek, finally enjoying a private moment together, free from any outside disturbances.

you glance over to derek to see him already staring at you, then quickly looks away when you make eye contact.

“are you seriously going to wear.. that?” you ask derek, pulling on his green blazer. he takes offense to your comment, ripping his shirt out of your grip.

“calm down, derek. i’m just kidding.” you say, smiling widely at him. he folds his arms and turns away from you like a child. you laugh at his reaction and close your eyes, leaning your head on your hand that lays on the armrest. the silence was nice.

your eyes furrow when you realize how quiet derek is being. you’ve known derek for as long as you’ve had this job, and him being quiet was extremely rare, almost impossible. the silence was wonderful, and you could actually almost tolerate derek.

your eyes flutter open and you see derek staring at the wall, deep in thought. you observe the way the soft glow from the sun outside the window dances across his features. it would be impossible to not realize how beautiful derek was. sure, he had an .. interesting way of expressing himself through his outfits (or hair), but his features were mesmerizing. you look down at his hands that now rest in his lap, and you can’t help your mind from wandering.

no, you can’t think about that kind of stuff with your boss’s son, you thought. but you really can’t help it. attempting to break the silence, you clear your throat to get derek’s attention.

“what are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you say, using his own stupid nickname for you against him. like you pulled him out of a trance, he looks up at you and shakes his head.

“sorry” he apologizes, cracking his knuckles against his thigh.

“i’ve never seen you so quiet, derek. what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” you question, suddenly gaining a new found sense of confidence.

derek cocks an eyebrow at you and smirks, but before he can say anything, a housekeeper walks into the room you and derek are situated in.

“excuse me, mrs. danforth is here.”

you thank the woman for informing you both and look over at derek, seeing that he’s already standing up. derek quickly dismisses himself and you sigh, the room feeling empty without his presence.

soon, the party will start, you thought to yourself. did mrs. danforth seriously expect you to be able to keep a man like derek danforth away from any drugs for the entire duration of the party? your tongue plays with the side of your mouth as you think, soon following derek outside.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

once guests started arriving, you realized how out of place you felt. you wanted to enjoy the party on your own, but instead you have to watch derek like a child. you have not let derek out of your sight for the whole party, but when you realize you haven’t seen him for more than a few moments to get a drink, your heart sinks.

you quickly search around the party, desperately trying to find him. you ask people if they’ve seen him, and when they shake their heads, you feel a heat rush to your face.

why did you have to be his personal babysitter? if he can’t stay sober for one weekend, that’s completely his fault. it shouldn’t be your responsibility to constantly keep up with a twenty eight year old man all the time.

you stop in the middle of the crowded room and take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. when you spot derek, you’re not sure if you’re happy or angry. you see him leaning against the doorframe, talking to a girl you don’t recognize. feeling upset and relieved emotions intertwine, you walk over to him and grab his arm tightly. he jumps at the touch, but when he turns around and sees who it is, his eyebrows furrow.

“can’t you see i’m in the middle of a conversation?” derek asks, slightly annoyed that you interrupted him.

“i need to talk to you,” you scowl, completely avoiding his question. before he can pick a fight, you practically drag him by his arm into the hallway. you pull him into the first empty room you find and slam the door behind you, locking it just in case anyone decides to interrupt.

“what the hell, derek?” you scold, annoyed that he wandered from you, “why did you walk away?”

“i’m not some child that needs to be told what to do, I’m a grown man.” derek snaps at you.

even though you’re annoyed with him, you can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips at his words.

“what’s so funny? do you know how embarrassing it feels to have someone have to constantly watch me like i’m some child?” derek throws his hands in the air dramatically and stares at you sharply, waiting for a reply.

you honestly didn’t know what to say. you will admit that you’ve only thought about yourself today, and didn’t bother to think about how it made derek feel.

you walk closer to him and study his features for a moment. you see the way his jaw clenches slightly, and how there’s a hint of red in his face. you didn’t mean to upset him, but with his child-like temper, it’s really not hard to push his buttons.

“you know, i wouldn’t have to babysit you if you could just listen to what your mom says.” you argue, pointing a finger in his face.

derek’s voice is now filled with irritation and annoyance,“you might be my moms assistant, but I’m the one that decides what i want to do and what i don’t want to do. i don’t need to take orders from someone who only cares about what my mother has to say, not about me.” derek’s eyes narrow as he keeps eye contact with you, not wanting to look away.

your eyes widen as you look into his, shocked at what he had to say. you open your mouth but no words come out, and derek scoffs at you.

“don’t have anything to say?” derek taunts.

you stare into his eyes for a few moments more, then look at the ground in defeat. you look to see derek’s hands clenched, his nails digging into the palm.

“i do care about you, derek. but you have to realize that if your mom tells me to do something, i have to do it. it’s my job.” you explain, voice more calm than before. derek rolls his eyes and sighs.

“did my mother tell you that she’ll give you a raise if you pretend to care about me?” he asks, annoyance lingering in his voice. your face scrunches up at his harsh words. you couldn’t believe he thought so lowly of you.

“this might sound crazy to you, derek, but not everything is about money. i’m actually a real person with genuine feelings.”

the tension in the room is almost suffocating, and you can’t stand to see derek annoyed.

derek opens his mouth to say something back, but before he can get one word out, you cut him off with a kiss. he pushes you back slightly, confused as to why you just did that. embarrassment washes over you but before you dwell on it, derek grabs your face roughly and begins to kiss you again.

you knew that derek would not be a gentle man, but the way he was kissing you had you convinced your lips would be sore the next morning. he bites your bottom lip aggressively, pulling your lips apart so he can put his tongue inside.

derek groans when he first feels your tongue brush against his, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. he wastes no time exploring your mouth harshly, like the only oxygen left in the world was from your lips.

derek’s lips tastes slightly sweet and you swore you could get drunk on the taste.

even though his kiss was aggressive, he begins to rub soothing circles with his thumbs on the side of your face. the feeling of his calloused hands holding your face while he was kissing you had your mind racing and begging for more.

he pulls away from your lips, looking at how your lips are already swollen. he puts his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at you thoughtfully. derek softly kisses your lips a few more times, contradicting the previous kisses he left. he grabs you by your hips and drags you to the bed, pushing you on your back. you gasp at the impact, not expecting to be manhandled like the way he is handling you now.

“don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to do this,” derek whispers and crawls over you, situating himself between your legs. derek reconnects your lips again and it feels even better than before. his kisses are so hungry and desperate for yours. you felt like forgot how to breathe.

this is wrong, you thought to yourself. this is all wrong. you shouldn’t be making out with your boss’s son under her own roof. your mind keeps telling you to stop and leave him there, but your body is aching for his touch. if it was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

derek’s hips slowly rut against your clothed cunt and you swear you’re on cloud nine. everything was moving so fast and it felt like the room was spinning. you whine loudly against his lips and he swallows your sounds.

after breaking the kiss, he brings his head down and begins to suck dark circles into your neck. you put your hand in his hair and start playing with his bleached curls, tugging lightly on the ends.

when derek finds your sweet spot just above your collarbone, he abuses it with tongue and sucks on it harshly. while he does so, you accidentally pull his hair a bit too hard, but to your surprise, he doesn’t get upset. instead, he groans loudly and his hips jolt forward aggressively.

you smile at this new discovery and start pulling his curls harder, which quickly turns him into a mess. he can’t help the moans that come out of his mouth with every pull while simultaneously pushing his hips down to meet yours. he felt like a horny teenager, dry humping you for pleasure.

even though he didn’t want to stop, he also didn’t want to cum completely untouched. he wanted to hold out for as long as possible, but considering how much he’s daydreamed about this happening, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted to.

derek pulls away from your neck and looks back up at you, staring at your face in complete admiration. your lips are formed into a puffy pout while your eyebrows are pinched together softly. you looked so needy like this, and he was thankful he wasn’t the only one. he looks down at your body underneath him, eyes locking on the way your hips are angled up.

derek brings hand down to your aching cunt and pulls your underwear to the side. he runs his middle finger through your folds and his eyes widen.

“jesus christ, you’re this wet for me?” he smirks, his confidence skyrocketing.

you wanted to argue with him, but all you could do was shudder when his calloused finger began to circle your clit with slow, antagonizing circles. you didn’t want him to see how good he made you feel, so in an attempt to silence your moans, you put your bottom lip between your teeth. all this does is make derek move his finger faster. your mouth falls open in an ‘o’ shape, and derek feels accomplished when a loud moan leaves your lips.

derek replaces his middle finger with his thumb on your clit and slowly slides his middle finger in.

“you’re so fucking tight,” derek groans, watching as your pussy swallows his finger. he gives you a moment to adjust before he curls it a few times, perfectly hitting the spongey spot inside of you.

you pull him up by his collar and kiss him again, trying to hide your moans. derek muffles every sound you make and loving every second of it. he wishes he could hear every sound from you, but knew you wouldn’t let him hear you easily.

you were stubborn and he knew that. you didn’t want derek to know that you’ve been thinking about this as long as he has, but when he adds another finger, you’re falling apart.

his fingers feeling perfect inside of you, with his thumb massaging your clit. derek pulls away from your lips and looks back down at his hand, then back up at you.

“can i taste you?” derek asks, searching your face for approval.

you swore you could cum from hearing those words alone.

“yes, please. you whine a bit too loud, then quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

“you want the whole house to hear how much of a whore you are for the president’s son?” derek mocks.

you moan against your hand at his words, eyes rolling back when he curls his fingers in a certain way inside of you. you push his head down to your cunt, begging for him to eat you out. derek pulls his fingers out of you for a moment to pull your underwear off, and the coolness in the air made your hips jolt.

derek smirks at your action, then places his head between your thighs. you look down at him to see him already staring at you.

you push his head against your pussy, moaning when his nose brushes against your clit. you take your hand off your mouth and move both of your hands into his hair, guiding him through it.

derek licks your pussy from your cunt up to your clit a few times, tasting you.

“you taste so fucking good.” he mumbles against you, and the vibrations of his words have you a mess. you knew you wouldn’t last long with him like this, especially after he fingered you earlier.

you wrap your legs around his head tightly, trapping him between your thighs. he seems to pay no mind though, since he just continues to lap your pussy like his life depended on it.

the way derek sucks on your clit sends a shiver down your spine. you feel the bed shaking slightly, and when you look down, you see his hips rutting against the bed. your eyes widen when you see that, surprised that he can get off so easily just by eating you out. the thought has you clenching around nothing as he continues to suck on your clit, using his tongue to flick it harshly.

you arch your back against the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows. you pull on derek’s bleached curls and he moans against your clit loudly.

you cry out at the feeling, pushing your hips against his face. derek lets you get yourself off with his tongue, the bed only shaking more due to derek’s movements.

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, taking in the feeling. derek’s stubble is rubbing against your thighs, and you wondered if they would be marked. you didn’t want to think about anything other than the feeling of derek eating you out though, so you quickly push the thought of your mind.

derek’s hands are gripping your outer thighs tightly, leaving crescent moon shaped marks.

the sound of the bed shaking is now evident, you and derek both rutting your hips for pleasure.

“derek— fuck, i’m gonna cum.” you whimper, hoping derek can hear you with how tightly your squeezing his head between your legs. derek only speeds up his movements against your clit, sucking on your clit harshly. he takes his two fingers he previously had inside of you and pushes them back in. the stretch around his fingers felt perfect.

he curls them up into you at a quickening pace, even moving them in and out of you for more stimulation.

after a few more curls of his moving fingers, you’re gushing around them. you lock derek’s hair in your fingers and pull up, moving his head in the way you want to. derek groans loudly and ruts his hips down a few more times. one of his hands is shaking on your thigh as the other continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

you see stars with how hard you came, completely going limp against the bed. derek doesn’t slow down, his tongue perfectly overstimulating your clit. soon though, it becomes too much, and you’re pulling him off of you.

derek slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss. he plops down next to you, breathing heavily. your slick is coating his face, and he looks beautiful. his curls were now all messed up due to you constantly pulling at them. there was a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead, and he was shaking slightly. you kiss him again, but not like before. you kiss him slowly, enjoying the moment. you gasp against his lips when you taste yourself on his tongue. derek lets you take control of the kiss, following your touch as you explore his mouth, continuing to taste yourself.

you pull away, putting your forehead against derek’s. you close your eyes, letting yourself fully relax.

“thank you,” you whisper to derek, who seems to be just as tired as you are. you look down at his pants, seeing a wet stain on the front of them. your eyes widen and derek follows your gaze, gasping when he sees what he did.

did he seriously cum in his pants while eating you out?

taglist: @xcherryerim @laurrrelise

#Spotify #josh hutcherson #derek danforth #derek danforth smut #joshhutchersonsgf #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt #billy burn #five nights at freddy's #josh futturman #josh hutcherson is my man #five nights at freddys movie #fnaf #clapton davis #mike schimdt x reader #derek danforth x reader #mdni

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x you #javi peña x reader #Javi Peña x fem!reader #Javi Peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #narcos fanfiction #queue

2K notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 13 all chapters

-Later that evening he picks you up near your hostel in a gorgeous wooden water taxi. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks from the scruffy backpackers hanging out in the courtyard, as you’d exited in your chic new dress and heels. You wonder if you look utterly ridiculous, until you see the way John looks at you. There is a heat in his dark eyes that could burn the city down, and you flush all over, knowing the evening hasn’t even begun and you’ve already soaked through your new silk panties.

He waves away the driver, lifting you down by your waist into the boat. It surprises you, and you cling to him, though you never feel for a second that he might drop you. The strength in his arms is unyielding as an oak.

He’s changed into a black suit for the evening, and he’s so fucking handsome you could die. When you’re settled in the bench seat in the back of the boat he lifts his arm for you in invitation, and you nestle in. The night air is a little chilly once the boat gets going, but you are pressed to the long lean length of John’s side, and he keeps you warm. He drives you a little crazy, drawing slow circles with his fingertips on your bare arm.

You go to dinner, and it’s everything you’d hoped and feared. The light is low, the food is delectable, the wine is good, and Mr. Wick is the very picture of dark temptation in the candlelight. He is charming, and sweet, and he touches your fingertips lightly with his from across the table. You always knew he had a wry sense of humor, but loosened up with an aperitivo, he is downright funny, and you find yourself laughing at his comments with purest joy.

You brought that leather-bound notebook from Florence in your new little handbag. When you present it to John he cradles it in his big hands like you have gifted him with something made of pure gold, his dark eyes shining like high-polished mahogany. He looks at you with a tenderness that makes your knees weak, and you are glad you are already sitting down.

“I know it’s not much…” You feel a little sheepish suddenly, thinking about what he spent on you earlier that day.

“I love it,” he assures you adamantly, and tucks it into his inside pocket, where it will rest over his heart. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hands across the table again, and as if you weren’t gone enough already, you feel yourself steadily, inexorably, falling in love with this man.

Afterwards you go for a walk. He smiles down at you, amused when you stumble on a raised cobblestone, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“I think you are a bit drunk, Miss y/n,” he teases you.

You like wine, but you don’t drink it often. You’d had half a bottle with dinner, plus a negroni aperitivo, and a digestivo of grappa after dessert… Yes. Yes you are, and maybe it will hurt in the morning, but right now it feels wonderful.

“And whose fault is that?” you fire back with an insouciant smile, winning real laughter. The rare sound warms you to the bottom of your soul.

“Guilty.” He’d ordered the drinks, after all.

There is a mischievous sparkle in his jet-black eyes, and you think maybe he’s a bit drunk too. Or maybe it’s just this fucking country, that’s so goddamn romantic. You’re not sure why that annoys you in that moment.

You pause on a bridge, and he reaches up to lightly touch your hair, sweeping it behind your ear, tracing the curve of your neck. It’s almost like he’s petting you, and you cannot help but close your eyes.

Is this man finally going to kiss you?

A small, feral sound escapes you with the thought, and you are too tipsy to be embarrassed about it. It makes him smile knowingly, and now you think he might actually have an inkling of what he’s been doing to you.

You do not know it, but over your shoulder, John sees a suspicious shadow move in an enclave in the distance. He does not like the look of it at all.

“I should probably get you back to your hostel.”

You stick your lips out in a pout, mildly infuriated and currently lacking any healthy inhibitions.

“Are you really going to make me tell you how much I want you, Mr. Wick?” What an effective truth serum a good chianti makes. Your hands find his tie, pulling him closer towards you. He lets you, of course, until your bodies are nearly pressed in a line.

It’s almost enough, but not quite. Never quite, it seems.

He lowers his forehead to rest on the top of your head, and you sense that he is coiled tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel it in his hands on your sides, as though he can’t decide if he should pull you closer, or push you away.

“Do you?” he asks, his voice gone low.

“As if you don’t already know,” you grouse petulantly. There is a part of you deep down that knows, as you look up at him, that you are pulling the tail of a tiger. You just don’t possess the self-control at the moment to stop.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s hard to read you,” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability, which you find utterly absurd.

“Hard to read me? Mr. Tall Dark and Broody? Mr. Hot and Cold? Mr. I’ll Take You Out On My Bike For The Ride of Your Life on Your Birthday Then Barely Speak To You?”

Again, he laughs, though this time there is an edge to it. He frames your face in his big hands, and you know he could crush you if he wanted, but you still cannot suppress a sigh. You crave the strength in those hands on you with every fibre of your being.

You’d let him pull you apart, so long as he promises to put you back together again.

“Sweet girl…my love is a curse. I don't want to hurt you—but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

It almost sounds like a warning.

You pause at that, listening to your heartbeat pounding in your ears. There is a hint of darkness in that sentiment that would have scared you a little, had you been in your right mind. As it is…you are too far gone, and you are desperate to have it all out at last.

“Are you talking about your wife?” you dare ask, your voice hushed as though she could overhear you. Maybe she can. Maybe her spectre would have the mercy to let this man who still walks among the living go. “John…she got sick, and that is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head slowly against you, his long fingers sliding into your hair, tightening at the base of your skull.

“You don't understand.”

He has you firmly in his grasp, and it sends the most delicious thrill down your spine, right to your loins. You can’t help but squirm against him, closing that distance at last. The line of heat between your bodies pressed is maddening, and you marvel that you can think at all.

“I'm trying to.”

“I know.” There’s something in his tone that cracks your heart in two, and you find you are afraid. You’re afraid that he still might backpedal on you after all, after all this, and you’re not sure your heart will survive it.

“Please don’t let me go?”

He tilts your head back, in full control of you. You do not fight him, too entranced by his mouth hovering over yours.

“Remember that you asked.”

You don’t get the chance to formulate a response, because at last his mouth presses to yours, and you forget everything but the feeling of his soft lips and the tantalizing intrusion of his tongue. You would have surged to meet him, but he holds you immobile in his strong hands, taking you just the way he wants you. Yet you are a greedy thing, and your fingers seek the flat planes of his chest, running over the muscled contours beneath his jacket, up the column of his neck to grab fistfuls of his soft hair, the way you’ve craved practically since the first time you laid eyes on him.

You fancy you almost hear it snap, when at last you manage to break this man’s iron-clad self-control.

Or perhaps it is you, your fragile body, that makes an audible pop when he grabs you up in those strong arms, his fingers digging into your waist as he practically lifts you from the ground in the desperation his ardor. You meet the fury of his kiss with a matching passion, with lips and teeth and tongue, so caught up in the whirlwind that you entirely forget where you are, that you’re in public, that you’re probably not alone. The focus of your world narrows to the single pinpoint that is him, and maybe it’s been that way for you for a while now.

It’s over all too soon, when he tears himself away, breathing heavily in the bend of your neck. You make a small sound of protest, needy for more of his delectable mouth, and he nips your shoulder, maybe hard enough to bruise. You jump with surprise, but you don’t exactly mind the feeling of his teeth in your skin, as though you are something sweet he wishes to devour.

In that moment you reckon you would let him eat you whole, and lick the bones clean.

You are aware of it this time, when he lifts his head to look beyond you, his hawkish gaze sweeping the shadows beyond. It seems like he’s worried about something. But you are wrapped up in his arms, tucked perfectly against his larger body like you are puzzle pieces finally found—you feel as though nothing could possibly touch you.

“I should get you back,” he says, his voice pure gravel.

“I don’t want—”

“Don't fight me, y/n.”

He uses a tone of voice you've never heard from him before. It is hard as granite, utterly forbidding, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. Feeling this change in you, he sighs and kisses your forehead in apology. “Come on.”

Slightly comforted, you let him lead you with your hand in his, though you still feel more than a little unbalanced, and not because of the height of your heels on the uneven paving stones, or the tremor in your limbs from that hurricane of a kiss.

This man…

You are not sure what unsettles you more. The whiplash of his mood, or the fact that you’re not sure you wouldn’t follow him to the depths of Hell anyway, so long as he held out his hand to you.

#here it is lovelies <3 #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #yandere john wick x you #yandere! john wick #yandere #yandere john wick

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artemismoorea03 · 8 months

Note

Ok, but for your amusement, might I suggest:

Tucker decides Danny needs a break and a shot at a love life. Tucker blackmails Danny into ATTENDING (though he makes the mistake of not specifying for how long) and Danny runs into a bored Wayne kid. Neither want to be there. Both were blackmailed with the kindest intentions. Both decide to team up to make their well-meaning but obnoxious meddlers pay.

I MIGHT HAVE GONE A LITTLE CRAZY WITH A REPLY HOLY FUCK, I'M SO SORRY. WARNINGS FOR THE END: MENTIONS OF GUNS, THREATS OF VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE. Happy ending <3

"Danny, you need a break." Tucker said, and Danny sighed.

"This again? Guys, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Danny." Sam insisted, standing next to Tucker. She had originally struck up this conversation when they were still in Amity Park. "You're going through a lot right now and you need a distraction that isn't work or ghost related. Gardening didn't work-" Because he froze every plant he touched, "Meditation didn't work-" because when he closed his eyes and tried to relax he would have flashbacks about the countless things he'd seen since the accident. "So the next step is dating."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Hard pass."

"Come on dude, Sam is right. If nothing else you can at least do some people watching and get to know the city better!"

Danny simply continued to scroll on Tiktok, wondering how hard it would be to do one of those dancing videos he saw everywhere. Then again he'd actually need to know how to dance for that to work. He was so busy looking at the video he didn't notice the glance his friends passed between each other before they sighed.

"You've given us no choice, Danny." Sam said, "Tucker."

Tucker held a phone out to Danny to make him see the screen as Danny's face burned red at the picture. It was a picture of him in his Phantom form after a fight with Skulker where a good chunk of his suit had been destroyed, showing off more than Danny was comfortable with.

"DUDE! I told you to delete that!" Danny said, jumping off the couch towards Tucker who was pulled out of the way by Sam who then armed herself with a frying pan. "Delete it, guys!"

"No way! And if you don't at least get out of this house and at least make a friend I'm going to make a Phantom Dating Profile using this picture!"

"You wouldn't dare." Danny glared.

"Try us." Sam said, "We'll even send it through the Ghost Zone now that the Phantom Phones are working we're bound to get some replies from interested ladies."

Danny faultered, then groaned. "Fine."

"Hell yeah, we even made it easy for you." Sam said, handing Danny a piece of laminated plastic. "One ticket to the Wayne Gala this weekend. Tucker got permission for two people to go with him. Which means the three of us are going to a party!"

"A party. A Wayne run party? You guys are just begging for trouble." Danny sighed, "Besides, I don't own a tux, remember?"

"Leave that to me."

Two days later the party arrived and the three of them walked up the drive towards the building where the event was being held.

Sam was wearing a beautiful A-Line dress that was jet black in color with a rose shaped black bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist over the back of her hand and connected to her middle finger.

Tucker was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt with slight rose shaped patterns on it, a black tie and a thin gold chain connected to his left vest pocket. he looked very sofisticated.

Danny felt like a fool though. Silently wishing he had never let Sam pick out his clothes. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the black compression sleeve on his left hand, a gray vest, black suit pants, black shoes and a black tie. He was wearing a silver watch on his right hand which served as a ghost portal maker in emergencies.

He also knew that the 'pocket watch' in Tucker's Pocket was the same kind of device, and the rose Sam was wearing would release harmless smoke out of it if they needed a distraction.

Danny still felt like this was a bad idea. No, actually, this was a terrible idea. Not only because he looked out of place compared to his friends but compared to the rest of the party he hardly seemed like he fit in. He was going to draw so much attention to himself.

They walked to the front doors, showing their invitations and id's to the guards before walking inside. It wasn't as loud as some other parties they'd seen since coming to Gotham but it also was more crowded. There were people everywhere in expensive outfits, talking about... something that sounded like rich person gossip, it was boring.

"Have fun you two, don't make fools out of yourselves." Sam said, waving as she walked over to mingle with a young woman with blonde hair and another girl with short black hair, both seemed to recognize her.

"Oh, hey those guys are from my team, I'll catch you later, Danny. I wanna talk shop." Tucker said, rushing off just as quickly as Sam did as Danny sighed.

'I wanna go home.' He thought as he began to wade through the sea of people, trying to find his way to a wall where he could make himself look as small as possible. Not that it would be hard, his body was so busy developing new powers all the time it had decided that he didn't need to grow anymore after he turned 16 and stuck him at a solid 5'6".

He finally found his way to a corner, letting out a sigh as he sat down on a chair and looked out at the party happening all around him. He started to subconsciously count the people in the room, even going so far as to closed his eyes and sensed the very souls in the room. 56 people in his room, 17 in the room Sam was in, 10 upstairs. Danny then opened his eyes and got a sense for the room in another way. 45 windows lined the entire South side of the building if he was going his math right, with two sets of double doors near the front of the building. The building was mostly open floorplan which helped keep an eye on everybody but in an emergency it would be a stampede.

A man walked over, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall with a growl. He was wearing clothes similar to Danny's but with a red shirt, but what caught Danny's attention was how he felt. He was luminal but not like Sam who felt like a walk through the garden or Tucker who felt like gritty sand, no the feeling that came from this man was like fire. A burning pain that also felt like grease stuck to the back of Danny's throat.

He was luminal but the ectoplasm that made him luminal was so fucking tainted that it made Danny want to gag.

Seeming to notice Danny's glance the man looked back at him.

"What?" He growled.

"Nothing, just thought your hair was cool." Danny said, noting the white streak at the front of his bangs.

The man blinked, touching his hair. He was about Danny's age if he had to guess, maybe a bit older.

"Thanks. It's a birthmark." He grumbled, but Danny could tell that it was probably a sore subject. If death turned his hair white he could only assume it did the same to this guy too. "What's your name kid? Never seen you at one of these boring as parties."

"Danny. Danny Fenton. And I'm not a kid, I'm 19."

"Same age as me, neat. The name's Jason." Jason introduced, himself. "You work at Wayne Enterprises?"

"Kinda, I'm just the janitor, my friend was the one who was invited. I'm just one of his plus ones."

"Yikes, what'd you do to deserve a punishment like that?" Jason asked as Danny laughed.

"My friends decided that going to work then living as some kind of godless cryptid that sleeps the rest of the day 'isn't healthy' so they dragged me out here in hopes that I'll make friends. Though they may have heavily implied that they expected me to either find a date or hook up with somebody while I was here. When I said no, they blackmailed me here. I'm just hoping that if I stay small and don't complain then they'll just let me exist without getting in my face for a while. What about you, what are you in for?"

Jason hummed and nodded, "Similar story. My dad and siblings are all here and said that if I didn't at least make an appearance this time that they would hide some of my books. Among other things. Plus my older brother used the whole 'you never spend time with us' whimper while my two sisters gave me puppy dog eyes."

Danny and Jason sighed before Danny looked at him. "Wanna hang out so they think we're playing nice and leave us alone?"

"Sure." Jason chuckled, "So which ones are your friends?"

"That one there." Danny said pointing to Tucker, "Tucker Foley, he works as a Programmer at WE. Then over there is Sam Mason, she works as a Gardener."

Jason's eyes widened, "Doesn't your friend Sam work at the Wayne Manor?"

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"My dad is Bruce Wayne." He said, his eyes going to Tucker before they landed back on Danny and he laughed. "Wait. You're that Janitor?"

Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. "I don't understand?"

"My dad came home one day and said that somebody told him that there was information happening at Wayne Enterprises that was above his paygrade an we've been teasing him about it for weeks. Now every time he asks anything we reply with 'that's above your paygrade, Bruce'."

Danny groaned, his cheeks burning red. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. I didn't even mean to say that, I just panicked when he suddenly showed up in storage for no reason and caught me... uh... testing stuff."

"Testing stuff?" Jason asked as Danny nodded.

"Y-yeah. See, I work as a janitor because I didn't graduate high school and unlike Tucker I can't just breeze through school and show off my hacking skills to get a job. So I've been using some of the tech that gets thrown away to make something that would help me temporarily lift some of the fragile heavy objects around the building and place them harmlessly down so I can clean under them. But then Bruce caught me, I panicked and that was my reply." Danny was quick to explain, which wasn't a lie he was working on something like that but it was for the Ghost Zone to help him move some heavy things around his Lair and hold down things that often floated off for no damn reason.

"You know, that does explain a couple of things. I can't imagine your boss seeing you mess with tech would be a fun thing to explain. But... if you're so smart why didn't you graduate?"

Danny shook his head, "I'm not smart, I mean not like Tucker or Sam or my family. My sister is in Metropolis studying Psychology and is already a good way through her degree because she graduated a year early. Tucker and Sam graduated and are both working on getting degrees in something but nah, school just wasn't something I could do. Sitting behind a desk learning from a book isn't my thing. I'm better at using my hands, figuring stuff out on the fly, and trial and error shit."

Jason thought about this for a moment before he smiled. "I don't blame you, school is bullshit. Just like stupid galas."

"Mhm..."

Jason suddenly smiled, "Dude, I have the best idea to get back at all of them."

Danny smiled back, "Oh, you have all of my attention."

That one choice was how Danny ended up leaning against a wall closer to the crowd while Jason loomed with one hand near his head, talking to him about absolutely nothing important just to play the position while Danny occasionally chuckled. To anybody outside of the conversation it was supposed to look like they were flirting, which in a way they were but they also weren't.

"Do you like raisins? How about a date?"

Danny chuckled, at the horrible pickup line. "Excuse me, sir, do you have the time? I would like to know the exact time when I got a crush on you."

Jason snorted, "Are you a magnet? Because you sure are attracting to me."

Noticing Tucker and Sam looking his way Danny reached up and gently touched Jason's black tie to sell it more, but he was careful not to touch Jason otherwise. "Let's flip a coin." He told the taller man, "Heads I'm yours, tails you're mine."

Jason's cheek got ever so slightly red as he cleared his throat. "Are you a parking ticket, because you've got fine written all over you." He said as Danny chuckled again, watching Sam and Tucker quickly walk away to give Danny privacy.

"If you were a vegetable you'd be a cute-cumber."

Jason relaxed again at the cheesy flirt as Danny touched the silk tie in his hands. Not because he was actively trying to flirt with Jason but because it felt really nice and expensive. Jason snapped him out of his thoughts with another flirt. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk by again?"

Before Danny could think of another flirt another man walked over, this one about 24 or so in age. He had wavy black hair and blue eyes with tan skin.

"Little Wing! Who's your friend?"

"Ugh." Jason groaned, moving slightly as Danny let go of his tie. "Take a hint, Dickie-Bird." He groaned.

The new person simply ignored Jason though and held out his hand.

"Hi! I'm Dick, Jason's older brother."

Danny shook his hand, "Danny. Danny Fenton, it's nice to meet you."

"You too, Danny! You look a little young to be working at WE, are you here with somebody?"

"A bit of both, I'm a janitor at WE but I'm here with my friend Tucker."

"Really? That's awesome! How old are you, Danny?"

"I'm 19."

This seemed to relieve Dick in a way that confirmed any suspicion that Danny had about him checking to make sure Jason wasn't doing anything illegal though he found himself ever so slightly annoyed. Did he look that young? No, people were just blind.

"Neat! Well, I just wanted to make sure Little Wing here didn't ditch the party, so I'll let you guys go back to what you were doing. Have fun~" He said, then walked away as Danny chuckled and looked at Jason.

"'Little Wing'?"

"Dick gives everybody nicknames, it's stupid. Now, where were we?" He asked, suddenly slamming his hand back by Danny's head as his cheeks grew warm. "Oh, that's right, I was going to out cheese you with these stupid fuckin' flirts."

Danny snorted, "Do you play soccer? Because you look like a keeper."

"I'm studying to be a historian. I'm really interested in finding a date."

This continued for a long time until they ran out of flirts and by that point Bruce Wayne was about to do a speech. At least that was the plan until suddenly the doors slammed open as party was crashed by a large group of people all wearing matching masks. Masks that looked like Ghostface from Scream.

There were at least twenty of them, all heavily armed with guns that they fired into the air. Jason cursed and Danny quickly grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't." He said, looking for Sam and Tucker who were trapped on the other side of the room. They were separated, they were in a large room but with so many people they might have been trapped in a hallway. "Where's your family?"

Jason looked around, "I see my dad and youngest brother. My two sisters are with your friend Sam. I don't see the other three though."

Danny shook off the question of 'just many of you are there' and instead nodded. "Okay, my friends are together too. So we should stick together, everybody else is in groups. Rushing anywhere now might start a stampede."

Jason frowned then glared at the criminals who were pointing their guns at everybody.

"Okay~ I think it's time we get this party started. Now, let's make this easy. If you don't actively work at Wayne Enterprises or aren't related to Wayne Family via blood or adoption get on your stomachs on the ground, the rest of you stay on your feet."

"They're looking for somebody..." Jason mumbled as Danny nodded.

The majority of the crowd laid down while only about a third of the crowd remained standing allowing them to see each individual person.

"Very good!" The criminal in charge praised and looked around. "Now, anybody who makes the wrong move will get one of the people laying on the ground killed. I know a lot of you are stupid enough to try to play heroes so instead of you getting shot we'll shoot whoever is closest to us."

"Shit." Danny and Jason both said together before passing a glance at one another.

The one in charge looked around again until he looked at Danny and pointed at him. "You. Step up."

"No way." Jason said as the man pointed a gun at a young woman who sobbed in fear.

"No no, it's okay. I'm coming." Danny said, patting Jason's arm as he walked carefully through the crowd towards the gunmen.

"Nice to see you again, brat." Hissed the man as Danny raised a brow. Before he could question it though the man pointed to Bruce Wayne. "You. Step up."

"Father." The young kid standing next to Bruce Wayne said going to argue but Bruce just told him to stay put then walked towards them. Bruce kept his hands up, looking at Danny with a clear look of recognition.

"Why don't you let the kids go, there's not a lot of them but those who are here don't need to be involved in whatever demands you have." Bruce said.

"Hah, no way, Bruice-Boy." Hissed the man as two of his men grabbed Bruce by his wrists, yanking his arms behind his back and knocking him back down to his knees. "We came here today for you, but damn we're lucky that this one is here. See, if it weren't for the kid here-" The man grabbed Danny by the front of his suit, shoving the barrel against his chin. "We wouldn't need to do this. This is what happens when you meddle, brat."

Danny's heart sank before he glared. "It's you. You're that bastard who boke in a few weeks ago!"

"Yeah! And if you had just minded your damn business this wouldn't be happening now. If you had just let us do what we were going to do then it wouldn't be a problem."

"You were trying to burn down part of the building with people still inside, I wasn't going to let you."

"And how is that turning out for you now, brat? Hm?" He moved the gun from Danny's chin as shoved Danny back into the arms of two more men who grabbed Danny's arms and shoved them behind his back but let him stay on his feet. "Now, Mr. Wayne, let me explain. See, you and your company were trying to find a cure for something found in the water supply that was making some kids sick, but see were were making a lot of money selling the cure at the highest price. We were going to destroy your progress but unfortunately we were stopped by another kid who thought he was a hero. So, this is what we're going to do. You're good at fundraising so you're going to help us fundraise ransoms for each and every one of these people from their own pockets. The more a person pays the more limbs they get to keep. We'll start at 20,000 per limb." He pointed his gun at Jason. "We'll start with the young man closest to doing something stupid."

Danny growled, glancing at Sam and Tucker. Their eyes met and Danny flashed them green. Sam nodded then with a swift motion told her friends something before smashing her bracelet on the ground.

In an instant their area filled with smoke that rushed out covering the men with smoke and protecting the majority of the crowd laying on the ground in a layer of smoke while only those standing could be seen. Danny reacted as well, knowing that more people would be able to see him . Dropping his full weight down he yanked the two men holding him together as they smashed their heads together and let him go. Danny then elbowed the one to his right in the crotch before standing up, grabbing the barrel of his gun and yanking it upwards, squeezing the metal so the gun would be unusable before he pulled it from the mans hand. Flipping on the safety of the gun he spun it and smacked the man in the temple with the butt.

Danny spun the gun, moving it to his left hand before disarming the man of his gun and kicking it into the smoke in the direction of the stairs in hopes of keeping it away from people. Snapping out of their dazes Bruce and Jason also seemed to react as Bruce slammed his head back, breaking the nose of one of the men before elbowing one in the center of the chest knocking the breath out of him while Jason grabbed the barrel of the gun the main guy was using and shoved it up, causing the gun to go up and break some of the ceiling plaster but preventing people from getting hit. Deciding to leave those men to those two Danny go to work again, but this time in a slightly different way.

He hated fighting humans.

They were too fleshy and not durable like ghosts so he chose not to fight and the smoke provided the perfect cover as he froze the feet of the enemies who were still posing threats while mysterious snake like shapes wriggled under the smoke and yanked the men under to where they would later be found wrapped up in plants or ice. One by one the men were taken down until there was a pained cry that made Danny turn when he heard Bruce shout.

"Jason!"

Danny turned, seeing Jason rubbing at his face. There as a cut above his brows from a knife. He had managed to get the gun from the man but he had pulled out a knife.

Protect.

Danny snarled, taking a step forward as the man went to stab Jason. Danny and Bruce moved at the same time with Bruce covering his son. But Danny made it to them before the man could make contact and he got in the way of the attack. Danny held the wrists of the man as he barred his teeth.

Danny shoved the mans hands upwards, knocking him back slightly before he spun and did a roundhouse kick. An attack that he might have put just a bit too much power into as the man was thrown a good ten feet backwards towards the stairs and the doors that he had broken down. Danny could hear the man wheezing and coughing, seeing him flailing desperately under the smoke but not getting up.

No sooner did Danny relax and turn back to the Bruce and Jason then did Batman (who seemed shorter today for some reason), Red Robin and Signal showed up with the police and a verity of confused looks.

"You sure you're okay?" Danny asked Jason who nodded, his forehead bandaged.

"Just a scratch, headwounds bleed a lot. I'm more confused what the hell just happened. Normally the bats react more quickly than that when they send in a smoke screen."

Danny chuckled, "You have a lot of experiences with the bats?"

"I'm a Wayne, it comes with the territory. Are your friends okay?" He asked as Danny looked towards Sam and Tucker who were mostly just waiting for Danny to finish but Tucker was also hacking on his phone to erase whatever data he could from the security cameras as he possibly could.

"They're fine. I'm going to get an earful for being reckless though."

"I don't think you were reckless. But... how did you learn to fight like that?"

"Uh... long story. Where we come from though the saying 'fight or die' was serious and there were daily reminders of it. But again... long story."

Jason nodded, looking drained. "Well... I know that this whole thing was just a way to get our groups off of our backs but how would you like to get dinner together some day? Just as friends, I mean I'm not against maybe trying some day but right now I kinda wanna get to know you. Besides, I'd like to thank you for protecting me and my dad."

Danny thought for a moment before he smiled. "Sure." He reached into his pocket and handed Jason his phone. Jason typed in his number then handed the phone back. "Get home safe, Jason."

"You too, Danny."

Danny started walking away when Bruce suddenly called out.

"Danny." Danny stopped and turned towards his boss, shrinking down slightly before Bruce smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"All good."

"Are you sure? You did really well out there but if you're hurt you should get looked out."

"I'm not hurt, Mr. Wayne, I promise. Just really tired."

"Alright, if you're sure." Bruce moved his hand and smiled, "Thanks for saving us, Danny."

"Any time, Mr. Wayne, but let's not make a habit out of it, okay? I moved to Gotham to get away from craziness like that." He said, waving his hand as he walked to his friends as he wrapped his arms over both of their shoulders and they made their way home.

"So, you guys have fun?" Sam asked as Danny looked at her.

"You know what... kinda, yeah. At least until the end."

"Did you get his number?" Wondered Tucker.

"Of course I did."

#dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #Friends let friends use stupid pick-up lines as conversation starters #Petition to call JasonxDanny “ALIVE BUT DEAD INSIDE” /j - unless #I honestly don't write a lot of shippy things with Danny #I actually think this might be the first #so it might be awkward #I'm also shit at fluff #SO I HAVE TO ADD ANGST #anyways #i loved this it was so fun #wrote this at 4:30 in the morning any mistakes just live there now

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octuscle · 5 months

Text

Changed circumstances

Jonathan Douglas was annoyed. His father and his older brother, the crown prince, had both been in a bad mood for days. His mother could not be reached, she had probably gone off to the Cote d'Azur with some lover. And Jonathan was bored in his penthouse in New York. The weather was terrible, his mood miserable. But then he had to change something. The family's permanent suite at Las Brisas in Acapulco had just been renovated and the weather forecast for Mexico was excellent. What was keeping him in Manhattan in the sleet?

He called his father's assistant and asked for a jet to be waiting at the airport. And he needed a helicopter, he didn't fancy the after-work traffic right now. And it would also be nice if she could inform Miguel from Las Brisas that he had an hour of personal training every morning at 09:00 for the next two weeks. The answer should have been a warning to him that something was wrong. There was no jet or helicopter available, but a driver would be waiting for him in fifteen minutes. And she had booked a flight for him with Netjets. He would have to contact the hotel directly about the personal training, but she didn't have time for that now. Jonathan was outraged! That was impertinent! But don't get upset, he would just have to get on with it. Even if he hated Netjet. The idea that anyone could have sat in his seat disgusted him.

His anger was somewhat dissipated when, after an exhausting journey, he was finally sitting in the hotel's beach club and looking out to sea. Friends always flew this route on scheduled flights. Unimaginable. He would need a week to recover from the stress.

The next few days were great. Miguel got Jonathan back in shape, the weather was glorious and the parties were great fun. Only his family was annoying. After days of no one being available or having time for him before he left for Mexico, he was now constantly getting calls and emails from his father and brother. But Jonathan was now on vacation. He didn't have time to deal with any boring issues. And he didn't feel like being reproached for not being involved in the family holding company. That was a mistake.

The debacle was already looming when he got up in the morning. 23 new e-mails from his father, his brother and various managers at the holding company. But not a single missed call. Funny, the phone was dead too. Only wifi connection. He had to take care of that after his manicure.

Rosalita got his fingernails back into perfect shape. In between, she whispered with a colleague. When the treatment was finished, she asked Jonathan to pay straight away. For technical reasons, he couldn't write the bill on the room. Damn it, why didn't any of his credit cards work? Exasperated, he put USD 100 on the counter for Rosalita and said that would be fine. Rosalita gave him back USD 20.00 and said that he might still need it. Confused, Jonathan pocketed the bill.

The day got better and better. His door card no longer worked. So Jonathan got into his jeep and drove to reception to have the card recoded. The receptionist asked him to follow her to the hotel manager's office. And then a nightmare began to unfold. The hotel manager informed Jonathan that, in view of the adverse circumstances, he would unfortunately have to demand that the current arrears be settled immediately. Jonathan looked at him questioningly. The hotel manager said that there were currently two months' worth of outstanding bills amounting to USD 60,000.00. And even if he regretted the development and even if Jonathan was a very valued guest, he would have to insist that he receive this money immediately. And if Jonathan wanted to stay in his suite, he would always have to pay the bill a week in advance.

Jonathan asked what the hell was going on. And the hotel manager handed him the New York Times. The spectacular collapse of the family empire was the subject of the front page. Jonathan turned pale.

An hour later, Jonathan was sitting in front of the staff entrance gate, surrounded by his suitcases and a few boxes of things from his suite. On his wrist was the Tudor that he would only wear on the beach at best. But he had left his platinum Rolex Daytona at the hotel to pay off his debt. He still had a little cash, a few watches, some jewelry… But apart from that, he was obviously broke. His cell phone was locked, so he could no longer listen to his voicemail. But there was still enough signal here at the gate to read his e-mails. He should probably have done that earlier. His family and the managers of the family companies on whose board he sat had been desperately trying to reach him for days. In a catastrophic chain reaction, the stock market value of the company had virtually vanished into thin air and the resulting over-indebtedness had led to its collapse. And apparently the family's entire private assets had been frozen as a result.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting here at the gate. He was hungry, thirsty and sweaty. But damn it, his fingernails were freshly manicured. Certainly didn't happen to many homeless people. "Hermano, I heard what happened to you. Can I help you?" Miguel stood in front of him. Not in his gym uniform. In jeans and an undershirt, with a red scarf wrapped around his head. He looked a bit like a little gangster. Jonathan was completely stripped of his sovereignty. He couldn't help it. He started to cry. Miguel took him in his arms and told him to wait here. He would be right back. And he came back with an old rusty pickup truck. Together they loaded up the rest of Jonathan's belongings and drove to Miguel's apartment. Jonathan could stay here for a few days.

The few days turned into weeks. Little by little, Jonathan, who had taken the precaution of calling himself John, sold most of his valuables. To pay Miguel his share of the rent. But also for tobacco and tequila. And for a few clothes that would make him less conspicuous when he hung out with his new pals in cheap bars during the day. By now, only a few items of clothing from his old life remained. Most of the rest had been sold.

When Miguel came home from work, he exploded. John sat in front of the TV again with a beer and watched some soap opera. "¡Pedazo de mierda autocompasiva!" he yelled at John. "Get your ass off the sofa and get to work." John burped and said he was depressed. "You're not depressed, you're just incredibly lazy and spoiled," Miguel replied. "I've got a job for you tomorrow. A rich American tourist is looking for someone to show him around the real Acapulco. I need someone who knows their way around here and speaks Spanish." "But I don't speak any Spanish," John whined. "Estúpido pedazo de mierda. ¿En qué idioma hemos estado hablando durante semanas?" Damn it, Miguel was right.

The kick in the ass was probably just what John needed. He was actually the perfect city guide for the rich and beautiful from Las Brisas. He knew their wishes and problems from his past. And he knew how to satisfy sensationalism in the slums. He knew who to avoid and where to recover stolen watches and wallets. He knew where to get an authentic lunch. And where to find almost every drug on the planet. And since he started showering and brushing his teeth regularly again, he was also occasionally given money to suck a rich tourist's cock and fuck his ass.

It had been a few years since Jonathan had to move out of his suite. Jonathan no longer existed. Jonathan had been flushed into the sewers of New York with the remnants of a corporate empire. Instead, there was Juan. And Juan was a celebrity among the guests at Las Brisas. He knew everyone in Acapulco, could organize everything and get everything. Anyone who wanted to break out of the hotel's artificial world of luxury would discreetly ask for Juan's contact details. Yes, his services were not cheap. But worth every dollar.

Inspired by @randomnobodyandfriends. Pics found @boytoyinrolex, @stargazerguy and @yeahthatsmypapi

#male tf #reality change #male transformation #inked man #white to blue collar tf

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blackmensuited · 1 year

Text

#antonio cromartie #athlete #sports #nfl #football #🏈#new york jets #suit #tie #style #pocket square #sharp #sexy #handsome #suave #men's fashion #phyne #attractive #fine

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ofallthingsnasty · 5 months

Text

a few days ago I had a little thought about secret admirer Sanji trying to keep things lowkey and how he'd still overdo it. thanks to @tang3r1n's addition, I had to use this as a little writing exercise because it tickles me

tags: secret admirer (and thus unintentional stalker) Sanji, modern AU, crack treated seriously, misunderstandings, i definitely did not write this with the US in mind (everyone drinks) pairing: Sanji/GN!Reader word count: 1k

“Another one?”

Robin’s eyes are dark over her porter. She leans closer, chin perched on her hand, rapt attention all on you.

“Yeah, another one”, you confirm and nip at your beer. Crystal wheat, your third today - and you can tell. Usually - or, at least when you’re sober - the little letters that flutter into your mailbox every other day are not only a great source of discomfort but also… weirdly embarrassing. You’re definitely not as eager to share them with your friends as you are now, when the alcohol has loosened you up a little, breathed some humor into this whole ‘secret admirer slash stalker’ situation that has been going on for a while now.

“Here, get a load of this”, you say, tapping the paper with your nail. It’s a little crinkled from throwing it in your bag but it still smells nice, probably spritzed with some floral perfume. Yeah, creepy.

“‘My darling, you looked simply ravishing today.’ The ravishing is underlined, by the way”, you slot in and turn the letter around to show her. “See?”

She nods and you continue. “‘Blue suits you exceptionally well. It makes me think of the skies when we first met. Maybe you remember it, too? I’ll never forget the first time you looked at me-’ oh my god, I can’t even read you the rest, it's so embarrassing!”

You can’t help but pull a face at your own voice. The letter goes on and on, as they all do - paragraphs upon paragraphs of someone laying it on thick, usually talking about your eyes, your clothes, your body - and then their feelings about those things. It reads like a paperback romance from the 90s, flowery and greased up to the maximum. You hand her the paper, so she can read the rest for herself.

“Ugh. Like, who- who fucking talks like that?”, you mumble into your beer and try to wash down the heat in your cheeks with another swig of sunflower-yellow wheat.

A snort interrupts you, the sound coming from Zoro, who sits right next to Robin. He looks like he’s about to spurt out his mouthful of beer like the jet of a water pistol. Of course he finds it amusing.

He swallows loudly, then barks out a laugh.

“That sounds exactly like- Eouch-”

Robin gives him a close-eyed smile as she shifts her weight around. “... Like a secret admirer, doesn’t it?”

“Secret admirer? Robin, how often do I have to tell you? This person has started sending coffee and donuts in my name to work. My coworkers are starting to talk. How do they even know where I work? This is so beyond ‘secret admirer’ territory.”

“I want free food, too”, chimes Luffy from behind her as he loads up on peanuts before shimmying back to the darts, where Usopp and Chopper are waiting for him. “If you don’t want them, tell them they can send me donuts!”

Very helpful, thanks, dude.

You lean over the edge of the table once he’s out of earshot again, eyes wide as you let them flit between Robin and Sanji, who has been awfully quiet during all of this. He looks weirdly downtrodden as he peers into his own glass, spinning it with one hand. It’s nothing new for him to be a little sulky during your meet-ups - probably another tinder date that didn’t turn out quite as he had hoped.

“I got a fucking bouquet the other day, can you imagine? I even took a- oh, wait-”

You fish your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and swipe through your gallery to show them a picture of the decadent monstrosity (in your favorite color, no less) that had everyone at work chuckling two Fridays ago. It’s gaudy, over the top, ridiculous - you let your oldest coworker take it home with her because you simply couldn’t stand to look at it any second longer.

“Look at this. Next thing they’ll do is put my head in the center of one of these, I swear.”

Robin says nothing. Sanji visibly pales, then he mumbles into his white wine spritzer.

“Darling, aren’t you exaggerating? Just a little bit?”

“Am I, Sanji?”, you say, dead serious and voice gravelly. “Am I?”

You lean closer until you’re almost nose-to-nose with him, the one too many crystal wheats making you a little animated. You don’t care, suddenly humorless under the dim lights above you.

He pulls back as you shove yourself into his personal bubble, eyes swimming with something. It’s incredibly out of character for him to be so silent about this whole situation and even beneath all of your buzz, you feel disappointment sting in your belly.

“What’s gotten into you, Sanji? Why are you defending this random creep?”, you say, very confused and a little mad. One year ago, when you had troubles with a too-friendly coworker, he had been there - had chaperoned you home after work, had helped you address the situation with your employer. For him to see you so distraught and almost brush you off is more than just a little strange.

“What if they follow me home, huh? What then, Sanji?”

Well, you have officially rendered him speechless. The blond looks like he’s choking on some words that are trying to climb out of his throat but never quite make it through his vocal chords.

“Yeah, what if they’re in this bar?”, mocks Zoro and gives you a pointed look.

“Stop making fun of me, idiot”, you hiss and aim a single peanut at his head. “This is serious.” Of course, you miss.

He opens his mouth to say something but a laugh to your left stops him. Your head snaps back and Robin at least has the decency to cover her mouth as her shoulders shake ever so slightly.

“Why are you laughing now?”

She waves her hands in surrender but that mischievous smile you’ve grown to know and loathe is still on her face.

“Well, I think that this secret admirer of yours should speak up soon, right, Sanji?”, she says and picks up her porter again. “I-”, he starts and somehow looks even more uncomfortable than before. He reaches to adjust his tie and you take the opportunity to butt in.

“I don’t know if I want that, Robin”, you deadpan. “If this continues, I’m gonna call the police.”

There’s a clatter next to you - Sanji is suddenly up from his seat, with both hands on the table. Something about his expression screams deer in headlights.

“I need a cigarette. Now.”

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #/one piece #/sanji

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linkcities · 13 days

Text

in a year or two (i'll take care of you) | gojo satoru/reader

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

You ask him this moments before the two of you begin your journey home, dragging along your worn out suitcases and the individual white plastic bags filled with dirty laundry. You ask him this and you’d come to realize later on in your life that it’s a question he found himself thinking of whenever he hears your name.

He places his head against yours gently. “I do.” He whispers, “sweet peas, if you know them.”

You hum. “What do they mean?”

Geto Suguru and his jet black irises gleam under the light of the vernal sun, his hair dancing along to the music of the leaves from before. Through the corner of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of the way he smiled at you so softly that day—it’s one you’ll grow to never forget, regardless of how many years pass you by.

“I’m a bit unsure, but,” he tells you, his index finger tapping the tip of your nose. “It’s ‘thank you for the time we spent.’”

or,

Snippets of your grief after Geto Suguru's betrayal, spread throughout the course of thirteen years; alongside the only person who could understand even just a crumb of your pain.

—

pairing | gojo satoru/reader

note | this is a preview of the current 'fic i'm working on. not sure when i'll be posting it, but the projected word count for this piece is around 17,000 words, subject to change. enjoy! :]

—

The day after that, Shoko went on to pretend as if nothing happened. She continued her routine. Medical check-ins, training, mission updates. The day after that, from Satoru, you heard that she blew through an entire pack of cigarettes in under six hours. You think this must be her way of repenting. Irrational penance for something she knew she wasn’t accountable for.

In the present, Satoru hops up to sit on the metal bar posing as the only hurdle between you and the running stream. His hands are in his pockets now, your bag discarded safely next to the railing. Carefully, just as he averts his stare elsewhere in the distance, he brings out an old and tapered pack of cigarettes.

You watch him intently.

“Stop staring at my hands.” He grumbles underneath his breath, loud enough for you to get rightfully annoyed by. “I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say.”

Your heart drops to your stomach after that. You say nothing in response.

Satoru tugs out his lighter from his other pocket cautiously, as though he was testing out your reaction first, and when he realizes that no protest would be sprinting towards his direction, he takes a stick from the box and he brings it close to his lips. You watch everything through the corner of your eyes.

The lighter clicks, and then you wince. Smoke flows out through his mouth in seconds, three coughs following suit. He tests it out repeatedly, a few more times, more and more times; waits for his body to get used to the smoke.

Halfway through his first stick, he coughs violently after a long puff. You wince again. “I’ll leave if you don’t put that out.” You mutter, displeased, waving away the cloud of gray enveloping your surrounding area. He doesn’t budge.

Deep breath. You know better than to try and tell him what to do. I know better than this. There was no rational conversation to be had when it came to Satoru. They were only ever frustrating and indignant and brutal and upsetting. “It’s bad enough that Shoko’s smoking more and more each day.” You try to bite your tongue, but the metallic taste of your own blood only makes you want to keep speaking, “why are you doing this to yourself, now, too?”

Ash falls from the burning end of the cigarette. He hangs the stick loosely between his index and middle finger, turning around to rest his elbows against the silver railing. Satoru does not offer you anything but an unconcerned shrug.

More and more ash falls atop the grass beneath your soles. When he coughs for the last time, you push yourself off the barricade and turn to the direction of the subway station.

“This isn’t mine.”

You pause. Satoru exhales deeply behind you.

“Shoko and I cleaned out Suguru’s old room three days ago,” he tells you, quietly, overdosing on the wave of uncomfortable air. “We were supposed to clean it with you, but your mission was extended and Yaga said we can’t keep putting it off.”

At this, you clench your fists. You take it upon yourself to look back at Satoru, who was now standing straight—overlooking the flowing river, watching the currents pass by and turn orange. You dissolve into a puddle of many, many regrets. You circle in on the lingering emptiness that has been tormenting you for weeks, and the conclusion strikes you like lightning again, almost as though you were realizing it for the first time: We had all lost something so terribly important when Suguru left. It all happened so quickly, you think to yourself. Suguru left quickly, too. Just three weeks ago. The wound was recent and fresh and the higher-ups didn’t even give you enough time to let it scab first before ordering you to search through Suguru’s things. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

This isn’t mine.

That’s what Satoru said. So it must be Suguru’s. It couldn’t be Shoko’s; she never liked to share. You and Satoru never smoked as often as they did. No, incorrect, the two of you never smoked at all. You walk closer back to the railing, laying your left hand on top of the bar.

“Did you find anything?” You ask him. “Anything worth keeping?”

You see him struggle with looking for an answer for your question. Satoru was never subtle with what he was feeling. “I took some of his clothes,” he starts, “I kept a bunch of his shoes, too. We’re the same size. Shoko took his lighters and books.”

There’s a lump in your throat filled with words you know you’re not allowed to speak into existence. You want to tell him, though. Put it back in his room. I can’t handle seeing someone other than Suguru wear his clothes. You argue with yourself, inwardly. You asked him the question, yes, but truthfully you were hoping he’d answer no. No, I didn’t find anything. It’s equally as devastating, but at least that way you’d carry no reminder of his leaving.

(But is that what you really want? To forget? To erase all traces of Geto Suguru from your brain?)

It’s a horrible thought to have. It’s a horrible thought to have. Satoru and Shoko were more than welcome to grieve the way they wanted to grieve, and the lord knows you weren’t significant enough to the universe to ever be given the right to police them.

A single cough. He disrupts your thoughts, loudly stomping over them, almost as if he knew what was running through your head. You know he does. “I don’t know why I decided to keep them.” Satoru directs his stare down to the ground, his hair nestled in front of his eyebrows. “They’re in boxes on top of my closet. If you want some of them, just let me know.”

Your mind goes numb. You don’t know how to respond to that. Satoru’s saying all the right things right now and you’re unsure of how to handle his being rational—it’s not like he hasn’t been this way in the past, it’s just that usually Suguru was the one who was often rational enough for the both of them. Your mind goes numb. You hear nothing but an incessant ringing. Ultimately, you understand what Suguru’s abandonment entails; you know that his leaving necessitates numerous adjustments and relearning of previous lifestyles. If Yaga were here, he’d say something along the lines of Good. If it took him leaving to get Gojo to straighten up, then good. You could honestly hear his voice saying that. But you know he never would. He’s high strung, but he’s not heartless. You’re projecting something.

You’re projecting something because everything feels either wrong or excessive. Satoru is being rational and quiet and Shoko is avoidant and even more jaded than before. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be; and yet Satoru stares at you, finally, for the first time in a while, with wide blue eyes and chapped and parted lips, staring so expectantly almost as though he’s tethered to your reactions. The sheer weight of his eyes alone is too heavy for you to carry.

“I don’t.” You say, finally. After several agonizing minutes of only trickling silence. “Keep them, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have a place for them in my room, anyway.”

In the blink of an eye, the weight dissipates when his pupils slant themselves back towards the gushing river. The tension is thick, and so is his nearly tangible disappointment, but you convince yourself it’s out of your control. Gojo Satoru is a god among mortals and if his sorrow cleaves the world in half, the burden of stitching it all back together shouldn’t fall on one as miniscule as you.

“Alright.”

He throws the worn out pack of cigarettes to the steep downhill curb near the river, and then he turns around to walk to the direction of the subway station. His footsteps echo loudly in your head. It disrupts the incessant ringing from before.

An exhale escapes your throat. None of the air you’re trying to keep inside is staying inside. You lean against the barricade. We had all lost something so terribly important when Suguru left.

When the silhouette of the young god’s retreating form no longer appears in your peripheral vision, you descend down to the river and you pick up the pack of cigarettes before the wind blows it towards the water. The sun sets in the horizon, and you feel an ache inside your chest, a thrumming in your head; the ghost of a migraine looms over you, and yet you think it couldn’t possibly feel any worse than this.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk one-shot #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #one-shot preview #✧ | juno writes!#pls count on this fic to slay as hard as wormwood because it WILL #im not finished with it yet but best believe i Will be powering through soon enough

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ereardon · 2 years

Text

You Again [Hangman x Reader]

Summary: It’s been five years since you last saw your childhood best friend and first love Jake Seresin. But fate, or coincidence, has you back in Jake’s life and he’s desperate not to lose you again.

WC: 4K+

Warning: Pining, alcohol, cursing

Miniseries masterlist; part 2 here; part 3 here

The last person you expected to see that night was Jake Seresin.

Just off the back of a 24-hour shift, you plopped down on a bar stool and ordered a burger and a beer, not caring that it was eleven o’clock or that the crowd was filled with ruckus Navy men proudly puffing their chests in their almost-too-tight uniforms. You rolled your eyes as not one, not two, but three separate men hit on you using opening lines around how much they like a woman who eats.

The final one, a tall redhead who smelled of jet fuel and desperation, loomed so close to you that he was nearly touching the food before it entered your mouth.

“Wow, gotta say, I love a girl who really eats.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what, do all of the twits that you date survive off of photosynthesis alone?”

A barking laugh came from behind your left shoulder and you saw the ginger visibly stiffen.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” the ginger said, standing straighter before rushing off, and the name alone nearly left you gasping for breath.

Jake.

A tanned arm came down on the bar to your left and before you could even see him you heard his voice. “Witty. About time a girl like you came around.”

You turned to see him in all of his glory. Green flight suit unzipped just enough to show off his tanned, glistening chest, dog tags swinging from his impossibly taunt neck. His mouth turned up in a brilliant smile that immediately faltered when he realized who you were.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

You set the burger down and wiped your fingers with a napkin. “Hangman.” He winced at your use of his call sign. “Been a long time.”

“Five years,” he said, without missing a beat. He looked you up and down, not in a leering way but like he genuinely was trying to memorize every change in your body that had happened since the night he left. You wondered if you looked different when he wasn’t looking at you in the rearview mirror. “You look good.”

You crossed your legs, suddenly feeling silly for still wearing scrubs at a Navy bar but you had been too tired and too hungry to change after the shift change started. “I’d say you too, but any ego boost might just make you combust and I heard the Navy doesn’t like it when they waste money on performative assholes.” It came out sharper than you anticipated, but he chuckled.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” he said softly. In that moment it was Jake, not Hangman speaking. Jake, the boy who had been riding shotgun the day you got your driver's license and subsequently crashed into a neighbor’s mailbox. Jake, who had taught your little sister how to fish. Jake, who had held your hand the day they buried your mother. Jake, who had walked out of your life five years before with no regard for how you felt. Jake, who’s name you cursed at night when you couldn’t sleep. It had always been Jake. Until it wasn’t.

“I’d say the same, but I have a date with this burger, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone that’d be great.”

He inched closer until his lips were brushing the hair behind your ear. “Y/N, don’t be like this. Can we talk?”

You frowned and your hands shook as you lifted the burger again and took a wide bite. He pulled back to look at you and you took your sweet time chewing and taking a swig of beer to wash it down. Finally, “Nothing to talk about, Hangman. I’m sure your friends over there are wondering where you’ve gone off to, and I have a shower at home calling my name.”

His face, those beautiful Adonis-like features, drooped. “Bunny.” The pet name stung rolling off of his lips.

You held up a hand. “Don’t even. You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.”

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. And then, “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

Jake gave you his best puppy eyes, and it took everything you had to turn away. “See you later, Jake.”

He hesitated, and just as you thought he was going to leave you felt his lips press softly to your cheek. “Proud of you, baby,” he whispered, pinching the fabric of your scrub top on the upper arm where you had it layered over a tight white long-sleeve shirt. He smelled the same and even though the bar was crowded and reeked of stale fries and spilled beer you could still identify every note of him within seconds. You hated it, but his proximity, his smell, flooded every nerve ending in your body. And a part of you wanted nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to his before he could pull away. Taste him to see if he still tasted the same as when you were sixteen and drinking his dad’s beer on the roof. If he tasted the same as the adrenaline rush from the first time you two went skinny dipping in the creek. If he still tasted like the dirty vodka martinis you would drink in college while visiting him on break, pretending to be adults but still very much two sheltered kids with no real world experience.

And then he was gone, back to his group near the corner of the room. You saw a few of the other aviators look at you for a second too long as Hangman made his reappearance. One, a dark-haired woman, sized you up for so long you got goosebumps before finally turning away.

“I see you’ve met Hangman.” The woman behind the bar set a fresh beer down in front of you.

You sighed. “Yes, I have.”

She gave him a long look before turning back to you. “He’s not as bad as you think.”

You shook your head. “He’s not. And that’s the problem.”

The bartender flicked her eyes over you and then back to Jake. “I’m Penny, by the way” she said, taking your credit card from where you had laid it on the wood bar. “Let me close you out.”

You smiled and told her your name, and she disappeared with your card and a knowing smile. You sighed, pushing away the plate of food and guzzling down the second beer.

Just your luck. You had vaguely kept track of where Jake was stationed all these years. Your grandmother had mentioned he was at Top Gun out on North Island, but it hadn’t clicked until you heard his sweet Texas accent creeping into every single one of your pores earlier that night. Of course out of all the hospitals you landed a residency at UCSD, not ten miles from Jake.

The air was warm but not swampy as you expected. The headlights on your car sprung to life, and you were just about to open the door when you heard him.

“BUNNY!”

Closing your eyes briefly, you turned to see what mess Jake had made. He stumbled out of the bar, giddy with liquor, followed by a cohort of aviators in matching jumpsuits.

“Hangman,” you said sharply. “Go home. You’re drunk and smell like shit.”

A few of the aviators in the back hollered and you watched Jake’s dopey smile tilt. “Hey, that’s not very nice, baby.” “I’m not your baby and I’m not your Bunny,” you replied as the group edged closer. “Not anymore.”

The raven haired female from earlier had her hand on Jake, holding him upright. “I’m sorry about him, I don’t know what happened. We looked away for a minute.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. That’s his problem, not yours.”

Jake lurched forward and the brunette pulled him back, with the help of a handsome, bespeckled aviator. “Come on, Y/N, just one drink.”

You laughed. “I think you’ve had enough drinks to get the whole Navy drunk, all by yourself.”

“I’m Phoenix,” the brunette said and you nodded.

“Y/N.”

“I gathered.” She looked down at Jake who was still being supported by Phoenix and the guy with glasses. “That’s Bob,” she nodded toward glasses. “Fanboy, Payback, Coyote, Rooster.”

“Hey guys,” you said. “Do you need help with him, or what?”

“He got up and started running out the door when he saw you leave,” Rooster said. “We were worried he’d knock himself out trying to get to you, so thought it would be best if he got escorted out.”

You sighed and ran your hand through the front pieces of your hair. “Listen, Jake,” you whispered and he perked up hearing his name falling out of your mouth. “It’s been a long night, OK? For both of us. Just go home. Please”

“Not before we talk,” he slurred, leaning forward and slipping past Phoenix and Bob. You stepped forward and caught him, stumbling a bit at his weight. He towered over you by at least eight inches, and he smelled like the bottom of a barrel.

“You need to shower and sleep,” you said and you felt his hands, those familiar hands, melt into your back. Your fingers pressed tightly against his rock hard abdomen. “Doctor’s orders.”

He chuckled lightly and you pressed him away from you until he was standing unsupported, Bob and Rooster hovering behind him in case he fell. “Doctor. You fucking did it.”

You nodded with a small blush on your cheeks. “So did you.” He looked down at his olive jumpsuit as if seeing it for the first time.

“I fucking did,” he bellowed and the group gave a laugh.

“Night, guys,” you said, unlocking the door again. “Goodnight, Hangman.”

“Don’t go,” he begged. You sighed again. You knew Jake. He wouldn’t give up. You could see it in Rooster’s eyes too. They all knew Jake got what he wanted, one way or another.

“Does anyone know where he lives?” you asked.

Bob nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I can send it to you if you’d like.”

You took the phone that he offered and typed in your number, and a moment later a text popped up with a dropped pin.

“Alright, let’s get you home Hangman,” you said as Bob and Rooster guided Jake to the passenger side of your car and tucked him into the seat. The group hovered around while Jake immediately lolled his head against the window. “Thanks, guys. Appreciate it.”

“Not to pry,” Phoenix said, but that was indeed what she was doing and she knew it. “But how do you know Bagman?”

You grimaced. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” Rooster said, crossing his arms over his chest. For the first time you noticed he was the only one out of uniform, in a pair of low strung jeans and a God awful Hawaiian shirt open a little too far for your taste.

You laughed. “Let’s just say we’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s just Jake to me. This,” you swept your arm toward the car where he was passed out, “is a new asshole that I am not so familiar with.”

“Have to say, we’ve never seen him act like this before,” Phoenix said, giving Jake a look that for a second almost had tenderness running through it. And in a moment it was gone. “You two must have some serious history.”

Your hand was on the door handle to the car. “That’s one way to say it. Goodnight.”

There was a chorus of goodbyes as you ducked into the driver’s seat and started the car, a new BMW 5 series convertible you bought yourself as a reward for finishing your intern year. Once the match came through for the residency at UC you immediately started to daydream about flying down the PCH in a little white convertible. It was only a few days old, but now it would be forever tainted with the knowledge that Jake Seresin was the first person to sit in the passenger seat.

“Mmm,” he muttered and you shushed him before tapping on the GPS coordinates Bob had sent you. It was only a ten minute drive, but you took the roads slow, fearing Jake would get sick in his drunken stupor and even further christen your brand new car.

You pulled up to the house, a small white rambler with perfectly mowed grass, and cut the engine. It was a sweet little house, and you wondered briefly if he lived alone. Or if you’d find a girlfriend, angry, red in the face, on the other side of the door.

“Come on big boy,” you said quietly, pulling open the door and nudging Jake awake. You had to tug on his arm to get him to stand, and when you dug your hand into his pocket for his keys he reached up and grabbed your chin with his hand.

“Looking for something?” he asked seductively.

“Shut up,” you grunted, pushing his palm away and fussing with the keyring. The first two didn’t fit, but the third slid easily into the chamber and you turned the lock with bated breath, waiting for an alarm or a girlfriend to scream at you.

Instead you were met with silence. It was obvious he lived alone. No second set of shoes at the door, no framed photos of him with women besides his mother and sisters. A fresh aroma flooded your senses, and you dragged Jake in by his collar. He stumbled in and you slammed the door, peering around to get your bearings. It was small, but quaint and neat, everything you expected from Jake. Even as kids he always made his bed, corners tucked, and his bathroom had been neater than yours. And later, in college, when you had lived off of instant coffee and ramen, organic chemistry books lined your shelves alongside tubes of dried mascara and half-drunk bottles of vodka in a mess that made his mind boggle. Jake had stepped into your junior year dorm with eyes wide at the disarray. Your visit to see him in Annapolis cleared up why: his sheets were pristine, his shoes lined up perfectly against the wall, his uniforms hung crisp in a closet that, unlike yours, did not have anything crumbled at the bottom in heaps so large they obstructured the hanging items.

You wandered down the hall, Jake at your heels, and found yourself in a kitchen with a round table in the middle. Jake immediately sat down, scraping a wooden chair back so he could collapse into it. You found two glasses and poured water into them, sliding one toward him. “Drink.”

He groaned and reached out for the cup. Just beyond the kitchen you saw a small hallway with a door ajar. When you pushed past it you saw Jake’s room, neat as always.

Back in the kitchen, Jake was more alert than in the car. He had one leg crossed over his opposite knee, and was trying fruitlessly to undo the tightly tied laces. You knelt down and pushed his hands away, deftly undoing the boot and pulling it off his large foot. The other shoe came off and you pulled him to standing.

“Alright, bud, time for bed.”

Jake reached out, both hands coming to the sides of your face. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“Not tonight, Jake,” you whispered. “Come on.”

To his credit, he followed you dutily to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. You sighed and stood in front of him, carefully unzipping his flight suit down his chest, sliding it off of his shoulders to reveal his undershirt that you peeled off. Once the suit was down to his waist you bent over and tugged it from around him until it was down his legs.

Jake sat in only a pair of dark boxers and socks on the bed, looking up at you. He looked better than before. Muscles rippling under glowy, tanned skin. Like an Abercrombie & Fitch model that you would have thirsted after in middle school. But he was still Jake and no matter how badly you wanted to smooth your hands over his skin, kiss a trail from his neck to where his boxers skimmed his hip bones, you didn’t. You knew the trouble that would lead to.

“I would say shower, but you don’t seem up for it.”

He shook his head. “Not tonight,” he echoed your words back to you. His hands reached up to grip your waist as you stood in front of him, and a chill ran down your spine. How could you feel him this plainly even with two layers of fabric between you?

“You’re here.” There was a thread of disbelief in his voice. Almost a stutter.

“It’s time for bed,” you said, peeling his hands off of you and forcing down the covers from their tight tuck near the pillows. “Come on, get in.”

Jake crawled under the covers and rolled onto his left side. You went to walk away, and he reached out to grab your wrist. “Thank you.”

It was uncharacteristic of Jake. He wasn’t a thank you or a please kind of guy. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. But sometimes you saw the glimmer of the little boy he had been. It made your heart pang for someone you lost. Someone you had long ago convinced yourself no longer existed.

Instead, you brushed your hand over his hair and cheek and watched him melt into the bed. The clock on his nightstand said it was nearly two in the morning. You had been awake for almost thirty-six hours at that point, and the idea of driving back to your condo sounded like a nightmare. In Jake’s walk-in closet, you pulled out a large Naval Academy t-shirt and slipped it on. It hung to your knees, covering everything it needed to, and you stopped searching for a pair of bottoms. Tip toeing past him to the bathroom in the hall, you brushed your hair back into a sloppy bun and wiped away the mascara that had accumulated under your tired eyes.

By the time you exited the bathroom, you could hear Jake’s soft snores. In the kitchen, you emptied both cups of water and left them in the spotless sink. The living room was small but cozy, with a three-seater couch and a throw blanket slung over the back. A real fireplace against the far wall held a mantle littered with photos, and despite the tug of sleep against your eyes you wandered over to them. Several of Jake as a child at his grandparents’ ranch outside Austin. One of the full Seresin family smiling in matching Christmas sweaters. A photo of Jake and his mother Pearl smiling wide at his commencement ceremony from the Naval Academy. Your fingers aimlessly picked at the hem of the shirt you were wearing. Just as you were about to turn away, finally lie down, you spotted it. Slotted behind a few other frames so it was just barely visible, there was the photo of the two of you taken at the beach, spring break of your senior year of college. Jake’s parents had invited you two down to Kiawah Island to stay at their beach house, but at the last minute they had to stay back in Austin for work so it had just been the two of you all alone in the big house by yourselves. It was the first time you felt like a real couple, playing house for days on end. Waking up to the smell of fried eggs and bacon and Jake pulling you out of slumber by pressing his thumbs into the arches of your foot. Driving over the bridge to the nearby Harris Teeter for groceries and playfully swatting at him to drop two kinds of sugar cereal in favor of just one as a treat. How the sun had beat down on you until you felt like your skin would melt, and you’d go inside and mix together margaritas for the two of you to drink on the deck, your feet swinging in the pool. Those six days had felt like an eternity. Jake drove you out to the north end of the island that last night for drinks and dinner at The Beach Club. As the sun dipped below the watery lip of the horizon, you told him you had been accepted into medical school in Boston. You watched as his face crumpled, even as he tried to hide it. It meant another four years apart. He took your hands in his and smiled and ordered a celebratory dessert. Told you how proud he was.

Two months later, it all fell apart.

In the photo, Jake has his arms wrapped around you from behind and your head is tipped back to smile at him. The sun is glowing on your cheeks, the water behind you sparkling, the sand white and soft and if you closed your eyes you could almost feel it between your toes.

He has no idea, but you have the same photo framed. It’s the first item you unpack in every new apartment. It’s the last time you can remember being truly happy without a scalpel in your hand or without the beat of a heart thundering through a stethoscope into your ear.

The light streaming in on your face was worse than any beeper wakeup. You tried to roll over to stop the beam from landing right across your eyes, but the couch was too damn small and you ended up rolling off the side onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You were still on the ground when you heard footsteps and when you looked up there was Jake wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight shirt standing above you with the demonic rays of sun illuminating him from behind like an angel. “Come on, you klutz,” he said, holding out a hand. You flung it toward him and he pulled you up effortlessly.

It wasn’t fair that he looked perfect after drinking the entire bar under the table the night before. His hair was perfectly tousled and he smelled clean, like he had showered. Judging by the smell from the kitchen, he had made coffee too. You followed him wordlessly into the kitchen and slumped into the chair he had vacated only a few hours before as he slid a blue mug of coffee toward you, already topped with milk, exactly how you liked it. “Drink,” he said, smirking at the irony. You took a sip of the steaming coffee and sighed.

Jake sat down across from you at the small wooden table.

“Have to admit I’m surprised to see you stayed,” he said. “And also I’m sorry for being the world’s biggest ass last night.”

You smiled into the coffee cup. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was too damn tired to drive home. I can sleep anywhere after intern year. A couch is a hell of a lot better than some of the chairs I’ve fallen asleep in. Or worse, patient gurneys.”

He laughed and it rang out into the quiet house.

“Besides, I thought there was a high chance you’d choke on your own vomit and I don't want my medical license revoked for manslaughter.”

Jake put his hand over his heart. “I’m touched you think so highly of me.”

You shot him a glare and went back to sipping the coffee, crossing one leg over the other. It wasn’t until Jake’s eye line focused on your bare thigh that you realized how little clothes you were really wearing.

“I should get going,” you said, standing up and dumping out the rest of the coffee in the sink and rinsing the cup.

Jake rose from the table. “Let me drive you home.”

“I drove you here last night?” you said and that dawned on him slowly. He smacked a palm to his forehead.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“What?”

“My truck,” he sighed. “It’s still at the Hard Deck.”

You shook your head. “I asked Bob last night to bring it by.” Walking over to the window, you peered out across the driveway and saw Jake’s cherished black Wrangler sitting in the driveway. A short text on your phone from Bob confirmed the key was under the front mat.

“You always knew exactly what to do. I missed that about you.” He paused. “I miss everything about you.” You turned around quickly before he could cross the room and do something you’d both regret.

“Jake.” It came out in a plea. “Let’s not do this, OK? Not again. Last night was a coincidence.”

“Or fate.”

“It was a coincidence,” you repeated, starting down the hall to his room where you had left your scrubs. Jake watched in silence from the door frame as you pulled on your pants underneath the baggy t-shirt, scooping up the discarded scrub top and long sleeve shirt into your arms and breezing past him. “Let’s just pretend you never saw me.”

“That’s impossible,” he said, following you as you picked up your purse from where you had laid it near the coffee table. “Y/N.” His fingers reached out and brushed your arm and you were shocked that the electricity was still there.

“Jake.” He knew from your tone. His hand dropped and he watched as you took a step toward the front door. You opened the door and bent down, retrieving the Jeep key from under the mat and tossing it to him. He caught it in one hand. “I’ll drop your shirt off later.”

“Keep it.” Jake pressed both hands to either side of the open door frame, the bright light of the early sun blinding him a little. Beyond, he could see you rushing down the steps.

You paused before you got in your car. It felt like no time had passed since that day you watched him drive away. The same truck that had faded off into the Texas sun all those years ago sat fifteen feet away, and it felt like you were losing him all over again. The lump in your throat was back.

“Bunny.” His voice cracked on the nickname. He looked miserable, standing there on the doorstep. But this time you were leaving him behind. Maybe this time he would know what it was like to watch the person he loved leave without a care in the world. Except you did care. You just didn’t want to.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

************************************************************************

Read part 2 here and part 3 here

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