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sardonic-the-writer · 5 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in between their friends voicemails, and a spanish teachers punishment, troy and abed are struggling to tell you something important. or; a reader insert of season one episode sixteen

↳ warnings: period accurate jokes, internalized homophobia, jeff being weird, and alcohol

↳ notes: abed and troy are in a relationship change my mind

↳ song: me and your mama—childish gambino

masterlist | commisions | carrd

It was early morning, just before first period Spanish, when you finally decided to say something.

“Okay, so I can’t be the only one creeped out by that thing, right?”

You looked around with a sense of judgement as six pairs of eyes immediately whipped around to meet your own. Taking a moment to observe the flower in Annie's hand, and the box of chocolates in Shirley's, you stopped biting at the end of your pen momentarily to gesture at said thing; which just so happened to be your school's mascot.

It was Valentine's day at Greendale community college. Something that, in between your day to day classes and usual group shenanigans, you had forgotten about. If the seven couples french kissing hadn’t reminded you of that enough on your way to the library, the pair of heart shaped boxers draped over the statue outside did.

You had sat down at the study group as usual, expecting Britta’s rant about the patriarchal undertones of the holiday and a well timed meta quip from Abed, but instead all you got was a pair of artificially painted eyes staring at you.

The mascot in question turned to you and made what sounded like an offended gasp as it stopped wheeling its little cart full of gifts. Cards covered in pink hearts and lacey trim overflowed from it, all attached with tacky glue, and you got a good look at one of them as it was sent flying near your forehead.

“Jeez! Sorry, man! I didn’t know this job meant that much to you!” You swiftly ducked under the table to avoid the line of fire. Coming up once the sound of squeaky wheels on carpet faded away, you ended up glowering as Troy laughed at you.

“Shut up, Barnes. Abed got more muffins than you.” You glared, referencing the lack of valentines gifts he'd been given. Troy was quick to choke on his laughter after that. He straightened his posture consciously, only stealing a look or two at the goodie basket placed neatly in front of Abed.

“Great dodge.” The amateur filmmaker praised you in his usual quick pace as you picked up the card from the floor. “If you had been in the Matrix, and that card was a bullet, that would have been the second coolest scene in the movie. Next to the other part where Neo also evades bullets.”

“Neo’s? I have a few friends that are those.”

“Ignoring Pierce's questionable life choices and their daily allotted hazing— ” Jeff sighed from his usual spot next to you, “— I have more important things to discuss. And speaking of which!”

Jeff slouched further into his chair as the door to the study room opened once more. You all watched as an extremely hungover Britta stumbled in, a pair of reflective aviators resting on the brim of her nose.

“Sorry I’m late.” She grumbled. Going to sit down she nearly fell out of the chair, and all of you exchanged various looks. If the way Jeff was smirking at Britta said anything, there was some new weird sexually charged adventure to be had between the two, and you were not ready to be in another one of those. You had done your time last week, and you weren't eager to repeat it.

"Actually, you're very late, Britta. See you later!" You slammed your Spanish textbook down on the table with an overly cheesy smile to punctuate the end of your sentence. Britta jumped at the loud noise, hissing at you to shut up, but you were already walking out of the room by then. If the shuffling behind you told you anything, it was that the rest of the group had done the same. Sans Britta and Jeff, per usual.

You tilted your body sideways as you navigated through the busy hall full of various highschool dropouts and divorced parents, letting the sound of tennis shoes squeaking against the floors bounce around in your head. It was more annoying than usual today, and it took you a second to realize that it wasn't the shoes making the noise, but rather Troy as he called after you.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!" He wheezed. "You are very fast when you want to be!” The athlete gasped for breath when you finally slowed down. Coming to a stop as you turned around to face him, you saw another pair of legs enter your line of sight. This time much thinner, and accompanied with a wicker basket full of various baked goodies.

“Troy, I know you like to have someone hold your hand as you walk to class, but normally that's Abed’s job. Please don't allow me to take that pleasure from him.” You said, face completely blank. If you looked hard enough, you thought Abed’s nose flared a bit to insinuate a laugh.

“No, that’s not what I'm here to— hey how did you know that?” Troy took another gulp of air as his brows furrowed.

“I took a guess based on the way both your bodies and hands are angled apart each morning as you walk into Senior Chang’s class. Also, when you eat Cheetos, it rubs off onto the back of Abed's palm.”

“I don't eat Cheetos that much.” Troy frowned. “Do I? For the record I am not gay." Troy made sure to ennunciate that last part as he stared you down. His facial expression reminded you of a nervous first grader doing a bad job in their school play.

“You do, and that's not important right now.” Abed answered back. His head snapped to you with the same amount of intensity that he always got when thinking of a movie reference, and you got the sense he was holding back for the sake of the conversation.

Raising both eyebrows, you motioned for them to go on. The hallway was clearing out a bit more, and you didn't want to be caught late for Changs class a third time in a row. Last time he threatened to beat you with maracas, and you wouldn't put it past him to actually carry through with it this time.

“Listen, we have something important to say.” Troy began. Abed backed him up with a furious nod, or his equivalent of it. Which really just boiled down to a regular paced nod.

"Is this about Valentine's day? You should ask Shirley about that."

"Come on man!" Troy threw his hands in the air, turning away from the both of you and crossing his arms. "How did you possibly come to that conclusion so fast?!"

"We were just talking about us holding hands."

"Thank you Abed." The both of you said at the same time. Albeit Troy with a little more teeth grinding then nessicary.

"Did you become a ninja overnight? Did you take a ninja class?" Troy took a step forward as he pointed his forefinger in your face. You stared at it as it approached, going cross-eyed momentarily.

"Yes. And if you did, I would like the name to that class." Abed pipped up.

"No, I didn't go to a ninja class." You said while pushing Troy's arm down. "Does this mean I'm right?"

The lack of response from Troy and Abed's unbothered expression provided you with your answer.

"Are you two trying to ask for dating advice or something?" You frowned as you started to walk in the direction of Spanish. Both of them followed as you fixed your backpack strap. "Because if so, Troy you could learn a lot from Abed. And Abed, if you're having a problem, I don't know how to make you anymore appealing to the ladies than you already are."

"It's true." He responded, looking off into what he probably thought was the fourth wall. "I am devilishly irresistible."

"Stop that!" Troy waved his hand in front of his friends face, bringing both their attentions back to you. "Listen. We were wondering how to go about asking the same person to the dance tonight."

"Oh. So like a love triangle thing? I never liked that troupe."

"No no." Troy shut his eyes as he shook his head. "More of like, uh—"

"Neither of us exactly know." Abed cut Troy off in a matter of fact manor. "We both see ourselves hanging out with them at the dance, but aren't exactly jealous of the other being there too."

"If you wanted me to I could crack open Websters dictionary to find a word for that."

"No thank you." Abed echoed. You simply shrugged.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?" You questioned while turning a corner to another hallway. The three of you were nearly at Spanish now, but this conversation had pulled you in more than conjugating verbs ever could.

"We don't. Exactly know how to ask this person to go to the dance." Troy sucked in a breath.

"You guys have seen plenty of movies. Do the typical thing. Flowers, chocolate, and not what they do in your sci-fi movies Abed." You grinned at him knowingly as you passed through the doorway to class. "Personally I'd take kickpunching robots over literally anything ever, but I tend to be the exception for most things."

"It's not a date though. It's, like, three really close people hanging out. Not in a gay way though! I like girls! With boobs. Yes." Troy stammered as you all plopped into your rickety seats.

"Nice save Troy." Senior Chang called from the front of class with a snicker. He brought his feet down off his teachers desk to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth. "Or should I call you gay-lord!"

"I really hate this language requirement." Troy grumbled, sinking into his chair. You snorted as Abed stiffly reached his hand out to pat his shoulder, making robot sounds as he did so.

"Cheer up." You allowed yourself a shit eating grin. "It is Valentine's day after all."

“Well that was a disaster.” You said over the sound of a ringing bell. Students and teachers alike passed you and Annie by as the two of you made your way through the hall, neither of them seeming to care very much if they bumped into you or not. To say that’d you’d almost gotten into a fight or two due to traffic here would be an understatement.

“I don’t know.” Annie frowned. She brushed her hair out of her face and clutched her books to the front of her chest. You made a face subconsciously, the sight reminding you all too much of the stereotypical school girl. “I thought it was very mean of Senior Chang to do that to Troy! And Pierce, I guess.”

“Annie. He called a balding senior citizen and a lonely freshman out on their sad Valentine’s Day gifts to themselves. It’s Chang. Of course it’s mean. But mean things can also be also be disasters.”

The girl next to you seemed to think about your words for a second. Furrowing her brows once or twice, she eventually let out what you could only describe as a harumph.

“Well I think we should do something about it!”

“Pass.” You said without a seconds hesitation. Annie deflated a bit at that and eyed the tips of her shoes. You stole a look down at her, and let out a sigh.

“You know me. I’m such a big fan of sticking my nose in other peoples business when it doesn’t belong— “ Sarcasm. “— but I think you and Shirley would be a better duo for this. She’s ruthless when she sets her mind to it, and you’re crafty in the way that you could have written the script for the movie Seven if you wanted to. Probably.”

“Aww thanks! I think.” Annie beamed. She regained some pep in her step as she skipped ahead of you, only turning back to say one more thing to you. “No wonder Troy and Abed like to talk about you so much. So many obscure movie references between you guys. Cute!”

“Seven was a box office hit, Annie— “ You began with the hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but she was already off. No doubt to find Shirley before lunch so they could cook up their plan in a flurry of giggles. That only left you with one more question.

“They talk about me?”

Jeff huffed as he walked into the near empty classroom. His hands, which he had spent the last three minutes nervously slathering in expensive lotion as a part of his mid-day exfoliation routine, were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this interaction, but sometimes he’d throw his better judgment out the window. Sometimes.

Raising a single eyebrow, he glanced around at the spare video equipment set up; the bulk of which was sat right in front of his target. The former lawyer ignored as a kid in a yellow button up kicked a trash can across the room, instead making a beeline for Abed. Who was giving directions rather loudly to the angry kid.

“Wow. Do you normally deal with divas like this?” Jeff flashed his signature charming smile while commenting on the temper tantrum. Better to be friendly and break the ice rather than dive right in. Otherwise you’d scare people off. He learned that while working at the firm.

“One Papa Johns commercial, and he thinks he’s Christian Bale.” Abed pursed his lips comically.

“Look, uh— “ Jeff began to steer away from the topic of the questionable kid as he pulls Abed’s attention in. “You were right earlier. During Spanish. Britta is being weird around me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“By being right, do you mean my prediction that the accidental booty call she sent you while drunk is going to cause the imminent breakup of our fragile group?��

Jeff blinked.

“Yeah. That.” He spat out.

“Nice. So what can I do for you?” Abed leaned back into his makeshift directors chair while crossing his legs. “Do you need a drunk voicemail of your own to send to her so the score will be evened? Because I have nowhere to be for the next twenty four hours and personal dilema to avoid.”

Jeff inhaled with the intent to bulldoze over the younger mans statement, but ended up falling flat.

“Ignoring that last part, yeah I do, actually. How did you know that?” He squinted. Jeff would never admit it, but sometimes it creeped him out how easily Abed could predict what people would say next.

“Classic sitcom staple.” Abed shrugged without changing his expression one bit. “Goes hand in hand with the booty call. Now— “ He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. One that Jeff didn’t quite like.

“How well can you act?”

You don’t know how you ended up here, and you had been ready to leave the moment you arrived.

A faint punch stain from years ago sat at the hem off of your slacks, reminiscent of a house party from a year ago that had ended in disarray. They were the good slacks too. Paired with what was thankfully an unstained button up polo shirt. This was the closest anyone was going get to fancy from you tonight.

Various pink and red hues cascaded across the dance floor, playing into the Valentine’s Day theme as the schools mascot continued to prowl around on the dance floor. You were sure that the dean would be happy with himself over that if it wasn’t for the fact that couples were making out everywhere. It was pretty fun watching him try to break them all up, actually. You’d made a little game out of it with how long you’d been standing at the punch table.

The toe of your shoe came in contact with a stray balloon from one of the tables centerpieces. With a downward twitch of your lips, you picked the rubbery material up into your hands and started messing with it. Sounds of latex on skin distracted you from all of the screeching and poor singing.

“Not having a lot of fun, huh?” A voice from your left asked.

Glancing near the onion rings that had been laid out as finger food, you saw the familiar form Britta peering at you from under some fake eyelashes. That would have been more of a shock to you if the skimpy red dress she was wearing didn’t overshadow it.

“Hey there.” You avoided her question as you threw the balloon back into the crowd it had come from. “Great disco ball costume. Very sparkly.”

“Ha ha.” She mocked you before crossing your arms. “For the record, I still think Valentine’s Day is a sham. I’m just doing this to see Jeff squirm.”

“Ah. Well then, I’m sure all of the women out there will forgive you for your transgressions.” You teased her with an empty smile.

Britta let out a cross between a laugh and a huff, gaze straying from you to look out at the mass you launched your balloon into. Occasionally someone in unusually high heels would fall, only to be swept back up into the bobbing heads.

“Have you talked to Troy lately?” Britta cut in suddenly. The tone of her voice made you narrow your eyes, and you hummed out a suspicious no.

“That question is both too casual and well delivered on a night like this to have come from you. What’s going on.” You had fully abandoned kicking around stray balloons for talking with her. Or at least, staring at her forehead while she talked. You didn’t know if you could manage eye contact right now.

“He was looking for you earlier at lunch. While sweating. A lot.” Britta scrunched her nose up as if she could still smell the body odor. “Sounded like he wanted to ask you something.”

You looked away from her for a moment, temporarily overcome with a feeling of nausea.

“Oh, yeah. My bad. I was in the study room.” A pause. “Studying.”

“Troy said that he checked there beforehand.” It was Britta’s turn to squint at you. “Why are you the one acting weird now?”

Rubbing at the back of your neck proved as a temporary relief to her question. Inhaling through your mouth, you pulled out your phone and messed with it for a second.

“I got a weird voicemail from Abed today. The main part is him talking to me about the dance scene from Breakfast Club, I think, and some weird phone thing with Jeff and you— " Britta coughed into her hand at that “— but the last few seconds really threw me.”

You opened your mouth to continue the story, but quickly shut it once you saw that Britta wasn’t paying attention anymore. You didn’t even have to follow her line of sight to know she was staring at a dejected looking Jeff— who had been standing by the cusp of the exit for six minutes now. You didn’t even have to nod at her to go before she took off, awkwardly waddling in her stilletos in an attempt to not trip.

It only took a few more minutes of watching the two of them go back and forth for you to give up on anything exciting happening to you. With a halfhearted grumble, you took one last grab at the punch bowl before starting towards the double doors. You hoped the juice had been spiked. If you made all this effort to show up to some lame school thing, might as well get a little tipsy.

“Well this is awkward.”

A harsh cough came from your throat as you choked on your own spit. In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you turned around to glare at whoever had scared you, only to start coughing more.

“Abed?” You wheezed. Letting out another round of coughs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the sunglasses on his face.

“I came as fast as I could when I realized Troy was stuck as Senior Changs whore for the night.” He looked at you calmly as you continued to die a little right in front of him.

Finally taking one more gulp of punch from the table, you calmed down enough to string together a sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me explain for any in the audience that might have missed it while in the bathroom.” Abed held up a finger. All you could do was deadpan weakly at him.

“Both Troy and I approached you a little bit ago saying that we had something important to say to you. He worded it wrong. We were supposed to ask you something, not tell you. Instead, Troy allowed Senior Chang’s torture to ruin that question, and later I with Jeff and Britta’s voicemail problems”

“Their what’s? What is going on with voicemails today.”

“Not important.” Abed carried on. “What’s important is that while I was fulfilling the spot of Jeff’s drinking buddy, I realized something.”

“That you shouldn’t be drinking??” You questioned wildly. It was beginning to feel like this night was a special episode in a really bad main cable show. Either that or this place was finally getting to you.

“No. I realized that while Troy was fitting himself and Pierce into extra tight women’s suits, that we would miss the opportunity to ask you what we wanted to. I called Troy to tell him to go look for you, but only after sending a call to you that I do not remember the contents of. I assume you have it?” He blinked owlishly.

With a pair of very wide and very confused eyes, you grabbed your phone for the second time that night and shook it with a loose wrist. The audio from a few hours ago began to play faintly. It’s sound was swallowed by the bass of the dances music, but the both of you could still make the words out. Abed’s voice tumbled out at twice the speed it normally does, his energy no doubt heightened by alcohol.

“— e’re sort of like Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker, but there’s three of us. Have you seen the second movie? I need to show you the second movie. There’s more of Jennifer in that than the first. And Martys mom isn’t trying to get with him. Oh, and you don’t have to have a time traveling car for us to want to go to the dance with you. Although that would be nice. Jeff stop drooling on tha —"

Abed looked at it silently as the message continued to run. It was as if he expected nothing more from its contents. For a second you wondered how he’d react to the twenty minutes before that where all he talks about is Breakfast Club, but you figured it would be the same.

The feeling of nausea from earlier was back, and this time was trying to crawl out of your throat with a ferocity. Swallowing both your nerves and that not so metaphorical metaphor, you inhaled.

“So. Troy’s okay with this?” You asked cautiously, as if this was a dubious prank. Abed nodded almost immediately after you asked. The nausea subsided.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You shuffled. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off your chest, and you didn't know how to express that. “I’ll go to the dance. With the both of you.”

A brief period of silence stretched between the two of you. The lights continued to flair, and the music continued to shake the floorboards, but none of you moved.

“Abed?”

“Sorry. You made me so happy I peed a little, and didn’t want to say anything.”

The corner of your mouth lifted up once. Twice. It only took one more time for a tirade of laughter to escape you all in one go. Abed’s unmoving expression just watched as you laughed to yourself, waiting patiently until you had stopped. When you paused to catch your breath, Abed placed a hand on your shoulder and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Normally this doesn’t happen in shows.” He hummed. “Do you think that this is a way of adding some diversity in the form of a polyamorous couple at a community college?”

“How about no lables?” You suggested. “It feels weird. What if it was just me, you, and Troy for now.”

Abed repeated your words under his breath, mumbling a little. He lifted his head back up to you with his thought on the proposition, which arrived in the form of a steady thumbs up.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” You grinned at him. Abed’s nose flared at your use of his unspoken catchphrase, and he turned away from you to cup his hands around his mouth.

"They said yes!" He told the figure dancing on the floor; the likes of which responded with a yell of victory before getting back to it. It took you a minute to get past the skintight blue suit and floral scarf to realize who it was.

"Troy?!" You sputtered with an open mouth. He looked at you at the mention of his name with a painful smile before turning back to his dance partner with a dramatic sob.

"What is he wearing? And why is Senior Chang— oh god." Your eyes widened, unable to look away. "I think I'm going to puke."

"It's better if you don't question it." Abed told you, his hand just a few inches shy of touching his eyes as he hid behind it.

"Give me your hand Abed." You said blankly. Without questioning you, he held it out. You were quick to sheild your own eyes from the dancing.

"So." You turned your head to look at him after a moment of gross silence, both of his hands still in the air. "Movie date tonight when Troy is released from captivity?"

"I've been waiting forever for you to ask that."

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88-special · 1 year

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Masterclass in Denial

Part 5 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you couldn't.

Y/n was lingering. Her class had let out early and she was supposed to meet the group in the study room in a half hour. It had been a month since they all had the flu, for a month Y/n had been avoiding being alone with Jeff. He had taken care of her for two days, making her meals, keeping her cold medicine on schedule, comforted and held her close both nights. They had put up a wall a long time ago, one that was there so that they wouldn't cross the boundary of friendship, but once Y/n was feeling better, they both felt the cracks start to take hold. When the group resumed their regular meetings a few days later, she thought - hoped everything would go back to normal, but as she walked into the study room, there was a palatable shift in the atmosphere.

Sitting next to Jeff, she felt electricity between them. He was looking at her more often, smiling at her more, he was taking up more and more of her space, his arm draped across the back of her chair, his foot bumping hers every few minutes, when it came time to look over their books, he opted to press himself closer and read from hers, leaving his unopened on the table. Y/n wasn't alone in her observations, Annie and Shirley had been shooting each other questioning looks and Abed had been scrutinizing the pair at every meeting.

If anyone asked, she would tell them they were just friends, they're just comfortable with each other. There's nothing between them. She could lie to anyone, she was having a harder time lying to herself. Jeff wasn't the person she thought he was when they first met. It took awhile, but she learned to see under the mask he always wore. He was insecure, he had to prove himself, he couldn't-wouldn't allow himself to ever be perceived as vulnerable. Secretly, her heart raced every time he was near, she loved when she caught him staring at her, and had found her gaze drifting back to him more and more. It was thrilling, electric, and catastrophic. It couldn't be, it would never work, and when it did eventually end in disaster, their friendship wouldn't be the only casualty. So she made excuses, intentional scheduling conflicts, and never walked into the study room alone.

She was going over homework, huddled on a bench on a far off corner of campus, when a crowd emerged from around a corner, Jeff among them. His eyes met hers instantly, it was like he always knew where she was. No matter the place, or size of the crowd, he was always drawn right to her. He cocked his head, and made a beeline to her bench.

"Are you seriously studying before the study group?" He sat down impossibly close, leaning in to see what she was working on.

"What are you doing all the way over here?" Y/n couldn't hide her disbelief. She knew which classes he had and when, he should be on the other side of campus.

"Field trip, front entrance is closed so we had to come in through the side doors." He shrugged. She pondered the chances before deciding she should suggest that they start making their way to the library. She was hoping maybe Annie or Shirley had shown up early as well. She closed her book, leaning away to put some distance between her and Jeff.

The schools PA system crackled to life, "Gooooood afternoon, Greendale!" A foreign voice boomed.

"In a few moments every student will receive a text invitation to join in on today's competition." Oh, for fucks sake! They're really doing this again? The paintball war nearly closed the school last time. An ensemble of ring tones echoed through the school.

>Greetings Greendale Student, Please click the following link to be assigned to your partner for the upcoming game.

The phones chimed again with a link. No, no way in hell was she wasting her day on another psychotic game. Y/n scrambled to shove her belongings into her bag, trying to think of the quickest route to the parking lot. Unsurprisingly, Jeff was having the same thought as she.

"If we cut through the cafeteria, I think we can avoid whatever circus this is going to bring." She nodded, allowing him to lead the way.

"All students have five minutes to accept the app invitation. Then you will have thirty minutes to find your partner with the help of the gps function in the app. After which you will be giving the guidelines for the first game. The winner of this competition will receive one free Pass grade to use for any class, past or future." The duo halted their escape. A Pass grade? If she actually won, she wouldn't have to retake that class next semester, she could actually graduate on time, maybe even early! Jeff turned back around, "I don't know about you, but I could really use a free pass."

"Yeah," She answered, "We survived the paintball wars, how much more difficult could this be?" They pulled their phones back out, and accepted their invitations. Y/n watched as the screen buffered, chewing on her lip she prayed she wouldn't get a dud for a partner, gleefully remembering Pierce was out of the country for his company's retreat. Jeff pinged first, a dazzling smile spread across his face as he saw his partner wasn't far away at all. Y/n's phone loaded next, popping up Jeff's school i.d. photo, and two dots right next to each other on a map. Well, at least it wasn't Pierce.

While they waited for the next stage of the game to start, they theorized strategies. Opting to head to the middle of campus, but staying in the hallway nearest the back doors, they discussed escape routes, where to meet up if they are separated, even who goes left and right, who goes high and low.

When the thirty minutes were up, the disembodied voice spoke again. "The first game will be revealed momentarily. Please listen to all the rules and instructions, any play outside of these guidelines will result in disqualification. The game is Hide and Seek." Y/n sighed with relief, things can't get too out of hand in such a simple game. "You will have fifteen minutes to prepare, after which the game will begin. All players may either choose to hide, seek, or a combination. Players may only hide on campus. When a player is found, they are to remove themselves from the game. This round will end when there are 20 players remaining. Detail specifications are available now on the game app. After your prep time, the P.A. system will ring three times to signal game start. Your fifteen minutes begin now."

There was a flurry of movement around them, it appeared most of the campus had chosen to participate in the game, and now they were all racing to find the best hiding spot. Y/n froze, envisioning the school grounds in her mind, she couldn't think of a single hiding spot. Everything was open concept, some of their classrooms didn't even have doors! She was overcome with embarrassment at being Jeff's partner, she felt useless.

"Come on, I know where we can hide." Jeff yelled over the roar of their classmates, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him. They weaved through the crowd, everyone was in a state of panic, shouting over each other, stampeding in all directions. A body slammed into Y/n's knocking her to the floor. Starburns stood above her, looking pleased with himself.

"You should just quit now Y/n, I'm going to win that Pass grade, and I'm going to make it my personal mission to be the one to find you." Jeff hadn't seen Starburns coming, but as soon as Y/n's hand slipped his grasp he turned to see the confrontation. He saw red. Jeff marched back to the scene and shoved Starburns down with all his might.

"Don't you fucking touch her." He was about to climb on top of him and beat him senseless, but Y/n took his hand once more, and pleaded with him to get to the hiding space.

They slipped into the vacant cafeteria, Y/n wondered what Jeff was thinking, there weren't any hiding spaces in here. Everyone knew that. He kept pulling her along back to the kitchen. Then into a pantry. He hurried to the back wall, unloading the bottom shelf of a bakers rack. She watched him curiously. Once the shelf was empty, he laid across it, and removed a hidden hatch. Y/n knelt down to get a better look. Inside the wall, there was a tiny cove, it was maybe four feet tall, five feet long, and just wide enough to sit. Jeff motioned for her to climb in. She crawled into the space gathering her knees to her chest trying to take up as little space as possible. Jeff backed in, replacing the items onto the shelf, and slotting the door in place. She had to admit, it was a good hiding spot. It was unlikely anyone would check the cafeteria to begin with, and if they bothered looking in the kitchen pantry, no one would see the hatch. Jeff shuffled to the other side of the bunker, mimicking Y/n's body position. A bell chimed three times, signaling the start of the game.

"How the hell did you know about this place?" It was pitch black in there, but Y/n knew Jeff well enough to know he was beaming with pride with himself.

"Remember when we all had to do community service to clean up after the food fight incident?"

"This is where you disappeared to?" She waved her hand in his direction, finding his leg and giving him a smack. He chuckled in response.

"Well, it started by just looking for a snack, but I set my phone on the shelf and it fell behind the rack, and the rest is history. Though, I should have hid some booze in here..."

A silence fell between them, Y/n used to find it comfortable, they were close enough that they could sit in the quiet and not feel awkward. But now she needed something, anything to distract her from the fact that they were alone, squashed together, in a tiny dark room. She thought back to middle school when Jenny would force her to join in on 7 minutes in heaven at boy-girl parties. She was awkward then too, she would sit in the closet much like she was now, and talk endlessly about whatever she could think of, the latest book she read, a tv show she liked, rumors about their teachers. Most of the boys were just as uncomfortable as her, and happily went along with the discussion. Her Legs were already feeling sore, how long would they realistically be able to stay in here?

"We should have brought our bags with us, we could have used our phones for light and studied." He snorted at her suggestion.

"We have very different priorities." He responded.

Y/n managed to come up with topics to fill the air, and they chatted for a while. It was almost like how it always had been for them, easy, friendly, platonic. Until Jeff let out a groan and shot his leg out, landing it in Y/n's lap.

"Last time it was just me in here, I was able to stretch my legs," He gritted out, as he massaged his cramped calf. "Come over here, we gotta try a different position."

Her heart raced, this was not supposed to happen. she was supposed to stay on her side, with her knees as an additional barrier from him, he was supposed to mirror the position and they were supposed to stay like that until the end of the game. Like parallel lines.

She half crouched half crawled, turning herself to the side, trying to allot him space to lay his long legs flat. She attempted to maneuver to the wall alongside them, hoping to find a position that allowed them both comfort with little physical contact. Jeff adjusted to move his other leg flat, accidently sweeping Y/n's feet out from under her. She toppled over landing on top of the man she was trying to avoid, his hands found her waist instinctively helping her regain balance. She immediately made to scurry away, when his grip tightened holding her in place against him, and he shushed her. Then she heard it.

Someone was in the cafeteria. They listened intently, a door slammed, a chair scraped against the linoleum floor, voices. There were two of them, a team of seekers. She could feel Jeff's heart pound against her back, who knew a silly kids game could install so much anxiety. The unknown seekers continued to make noise coming closer and closer to their hiding spot. The creak of the pantry door caused Y/n to jump, Jeff wrapped his arms around her tightly, they could hear their hunters now.

"See I told you no one would be stupid enough to hide in here, there's not even a lock on the door." The pantry door slammed shut, followed moments later by the cafeteria door. The hidden pair simultaneously let out sighs of relief. Jeff settled back into the wall, resting his hands in Y/n's lap. Y/n stayed rigid, unsure of herself, she waited for Jeff to notice, to offer a change in position, to make some stupid joke that she was suffocating him. But he surprised her by leaning further back and pulling her with him, similarly to how he held her when she was sick. She forced her muscle to slacken, and masked a gulp, trying in vain to give the appearance of ease.

Once she settled he whispered to her, "You think Starburn's been found yet? Idiot probably tried to hide behind a window."

His breath was warm, his lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. Despite the precarious circumstance she was in, he made her laugh, then chided her to be quiet. They stayed nestled against one another for over an hour, murmuring back and forth jokes, then gossip, and finally what they were going to do once they were done with school. Y/n admitted that her only goal had been to get her bachelor's degree, in order to qualify for a promotion at her job. She thought back to her monotonous lifestyle before coming to Greendale. Every day she woke up, went to work, then came home. If it was as if she had been hiding herself away, when did she start doing that? It all changed when she joined the study group. They brought her back to the living world. She confessed her fear as it came to her, that once school was over, what would stop her from locking herself away again?

"There's not a chance in hell I'd let that happen, sunshine." Jeff's arms tighten around her once more, he pressed his forehead to the side of hers. She brought her arms to rest over his, pressing gently, erasing any space there was left between them. She steeled her nerves, and turned her head, the light from her phone they had set up, allowed them to meet each other's eyes. Her brain screamed at her to turn away, say something stupid, say something mean, stop looking at him, do not look at his lips. She failed to listen. Jeff watched her carefully, when he saw her eyes wander down his face, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked her in the eye once more, silently asking, pleading, begging for permission.

A bell chimed over the speaker, a second chime, then a third. The game master cleared his throat, "The game of hide and seek is officially over, congratulations to our first round winners! Please make your way to the gymnasium for round two. You have thirty minutes."

Y/n pulled away first, clambering back to her feet. Jeff twisted himself to his knees, and got to work on getting them out. Their walk across campus was silent, bursting with tension.

The gym's doors open thirty minutes later. In-between two lines of red tape that ran the width of the floor there were rope lines, balance beams, nylon preschool tunnels, balls of every size from marbles to beach ball all sporadically placed, it appeared you wouldn't be able to take more than two steps before encountering an obstacle. Beyond the mess and red tape, there was a gigantic stop light hanging above five men masked and clothed in all black.

The twenty winners of round one stood in awe. Y/n and Jeff scrutinized every piece in the floor ahead of them, doing whatever they could to avoid the subject of their now reoccurring lasp in friendship. Y/n recognized some of the other teams joining them in the second round; Magnitude and Leonard - odd pairing, Troy and Abed - ofcourse they would win a round of hide and seek, Garrett and unfortunately Starburns. The latter narrowed his eyes upon seeing Y/n, and stalked towards her. As he neared, Jeff jumped into action placing himself firmly in between the two. Starburns stalled at the sight of her protector.

"Better be careful Y/n this game looks treacherous." He sneered over Jeff's shoulder. Before sulking away.

"Big word for such a little brain, " Y/n quipped trying to hide her unease from Jeff.

"If this game is what I think it is, you need to stay away from him." His tone disapproving, but his concern for her evident on his face.

Troy and Abed made their way to them, excitedly telling the duo of the adventure they played out during hide and seek. They were merciless in their seeking, but promised to go easy on you, unless it gets down to your two teams, then 'they weren't taking any prisoners.'

"Please line up against the red starting line." The PA creaked to life once more. "The game is Red Light, Green Light. Players will begin at the starting line, when the traffic light turns green you may move through the obstacle course. When the light changes to red, all players must freeze in whatever position they may be in. Cameras and referee's will monitor for movement. If any movement is detected while the light is red you will be disqualified. The game ends when 6 players cross the finish line. When the light turns green your play begins."

Y/n and Jeff readied themselves, she cast a glance down the line of other players. Troy and Abed were in runners' stance, poor Magnitude was trying to convince Leonard to plot out the least obtrusive route, sweet Garret was stretching, while Starburns was glaring in her direction. She looked back to Jeff, he nodded back at her. They could do this. The light clicked to green.

The group surged forward, some leaping over obstacles and army crawling through tunnels. Jeff stayed close to his partner, he could easily clear the highest of the ropes, but he lagged behind to ensure Y/n made it through. They had only cleared a couple feet when the light changed to red. Jeff had one foot on a beam holding Y/n's hand to help her over. Abed was in a tunnel, just his frozen feet sticking out, Troy was stuck comically on all fours having just emerged from the same tunnel. A handful of players were mid jump and immediately disqualified upon landing, more had lost balance while waiting, also disqualified. Starburns and Garrett were neck in neck with them, both had been lucky to have their feet firmly placed on the floor, they were noticeably closer to Y/n than before. There were two teams ahead of them, but she couldn't tell how many on their heels. She met Jeff's eyes, he offered a warm smile and a wink. She could hear his voice in her head 'we got this sunshine.'

The light switched to green. Y/n quicken her pace, opting for a speed shuffle, she could hear Garrett questioning Starburns chosen route behind her, but didn't risk looking back. Jeff shot a glance towards them, missing the tiny hurdle before him. His foot caught it, and he surged forward. Y/n moved quickly grabbing him around the middle to bring him upright.

Red

They froze, her arms wrapped around him, clutching him to her. His hands gripping her upper arms, looking down at her shock and awe plastered across his face. In this position the only thing in either of their visions was each other, peripherally aware of the red light. More players were disqualified. She was happy to not hear Troy or Abed's name, shocked Leonard was still in a game, and utterly dismayed Starburns had made it through.

Green

She reluctantly released her partner, continuing their trek. Jeff eased over another low bar, looking ahead to see what direction they would head. Y/n started to step over, when she felt a presence behind her, Starburns shouldered passed, sending her tumbling to the floor. Jeff whipped around at the sound, his face red with rage, fists shaking, knuckles white.

Red

Y/n remained sprawled on the ground, her ankle pulsating in pain. Her mind only on Jeff, her eyes pleading with him to keep his cool. His eyes were burning a hole through Starburns smirking face. Y/n risked a nearly imperceptible grunt. Jeff, ever attuned to her very being, shifted his gaze to her. His face softened at the sight, her hair splayed on the floor, her leg at an awkward angle, her lips pinched together in pain, but her eyes are what held him, calming and enraging him at the same time. He knew she'd kick his ass if he fucked this up by going after Starburns, he blinked in apology to her. Promising himself revenge after they've won.

Green

Jeff helped Y/n to her feet. She gingerly took a step, and yelped as pain shot up her leg, pressing herself into his side. He scanned the course around them, they were close to the end, only a couple teams left, Troy and Abed were already past the finish line, if they didn't hurry they'd be out. He sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm going to need you to trust me."

"What?! Why?!" Her eyes grew wide as he bent down, scooped up her legs, and cradled her to his chest. She threw her arms around his neck, grasping for leverage. She opened her mouth to demand he put her down, when he began sprinting through the course. She buried her head into his chest, bracing herself for inevitable impact.

Red

She heard the click of the light, Jeff had already stopped his sprint, she eyed their surroundings, keeping her head still against his heaving chest. He was grinning down at her, they were across the finish line. They made it. She and Jeff. Troy and Abed. FUCK. Garrett and Starburns.

"Congratulations on winning the second round of the competition. Please make your way to the auditorium. You have thirty minutes."

Starburns clocked Jeff's current predicament and used it to his advantage, running off in the direction of the auditorium. Jeff glared at him as he made his escape, but made no move to pursue. Once he caught his breath, he began to tenderly carry Y/n in the same direction.

"You can put me down now, the walk isn't that far."

He scoffed as if it had been an unreasonable request. "We don't know what the next game is, let's keep you off that ankle until we're sure."

They bickered the short journey to the auditorium, Jeff never letting her go, Y/n hardly resisting.

When they arrived, the disqualified players were all seated facing the stage. One of the referee's in black directed them to the stage, where six chairs awaited them. Each seat had a table next to it holding some sort of medical device with wires attached. Y/n's stomach dropped, she had no idea what these machines were, but she knew it couldn't be good. The final six sat in their appointed seats, while the men in black attached wired probes to wrists, necks, and heads. She whispered an apology to Jeff, vowing she would quit if they were going to zap her with electricity.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and congratulations to our six finalists! This is the final game of the competition, with ONE of you walking away with a free Passing grade." The crowd gasped. One of us? Y/n brain screamed, she had begun to rely on Jeff more than ever, now he was her competition?! She looked over her friends, she was already struggling to find the willpower to succeed over Troy and Abed, adding Jeff to the mix was pushing her past her breaking point.

" One of us?! " Jeff's furious voice echoed her thoughts. "What the hell was the point of putting us in teams if we can't both win." He shouted into the air.

The voice ignored his questioning, "The third and final game is Truth or Dare. Contestants will be asked the question truth or dare, if they choose truth they will be asked a question, the lie detectors that have been attached to you will monitor your honesty. If a lie is detected, you will be disqualified. If a contestant chooses dare, a dare will be given to you that must be completed on stage within the time allotted. The game ends when all but ONE player is left."

Y/n began to wonder if electrocution would have been preferred.

"The game begins... Now."

The audience started clapping, Y/n started sweating, Jeff reached over and squeezed her knee in an act of reassurance. She gave him a weak smile in return.

The questions started off easy enough, basic questions to establish their baseline. They all picked truth the first round; what's your name, is that your real hair color, when Garrett was asked if he was a Taylor Swift he proudly exclaimed a resounding yes. The second round Troy chose dare, and had to do 30 push ups in 30 seconds. Abed was asked if he could only pick one movie, what would it be. They set a timer while everyone watched his face contort in existential dread and unknown mathematical calculations, he blurted out his answer with less than a second remaining. Jeff chose truth which resulted in him admitting to having a Knight Rider poster hanging above his bed well past childhood. Y/n was next in line.

"Ms. Y/l/n, truth or dare?" Her ankle was starting to feel better, but she didn't want to press it too far so early in the game.

"Truth."

"Is it true you take antidepressants?" What. The. Actual. FUCK. What kind of question is that? Was she supposed to feel ashamed? FUCK that. With more conviction then she thought possible, she straightened her back, and cleared her throat. The crowd was booing, her cheeks warmed with the fear of ridicule. Wait, they were yelling at the questioner, Jeff loudest of all, outraged at the inappropriate question. She regained her courage, and smiled, opting for a simple 'yep.' hoping to knock them down a peg by not offering any further explanation. The crowd lavished her in praise, while Jeff leaned as close as he could, searching her face, quietly asking if she was ok. She squeezed his hand, and assured him she was fine.

Garrett was up again, choosing Dare. The announcer dared him to chug a gallon of expired milk. He got down almost half the jug before becoming violently ill. Y/n's heart broke upon seeing the acceptance of defeat on his face, as medics escorted him out of the room. After a brief recess to allow custodians in hazmat suits to clean up the sick, Starburns was asked.

"Truth."

"On both your drivers license and dating profile you claim a height of six foot and two inches. Your question is, what is your actual height?" He froze. The phrase deer in headlights had never been more accurately portrayed. The timer ticked down the seconds, as Starburns searched the faces of the audience, his ego and logic debating internally.

"Five foot, eleven and three quarters of an inch." He muttered a response. There was an uproar of laughter, Jeff's pointed finger and exaggerated jeer egging them on.

Three more rounds passed, each one getting more personal, and outlandish. When Troy's turn came around again, he looked absolutely exhausted having picked dare everytime hoping to avoid embarrassment. He prayed for an easy question.

"Truth."

"Mr. Barnes, there is an ongoing investigation into some personal items that had gone missing from Travis Richey's hotel room last month during the Inspector Spacetime convention. CCTV footage captured the people of interest. Two people who bear a strong resemblance to yourself and Mr. Nadir. My question for you is, did you have anything to do with the theft?"

Troy's stunned eyes shifted across the room, the grip he had of the arm rests left indents in the faux leather. He took a quick breath and nodded once. He gave a pageant smile to the crowd, then swifty unstuck every wire from his person, walked over to Abed and stared intently into his eyes. Abed cocked his head, they finished with what seemed like an extra long hand shake. Troy walked off the stage without a second glance.

"Um." The announcer was as surprised as the rest of them, but recovered quickly. "Mr. Nadir, truth or-"

"Dare." He hurriedly interjected. It was the first time Abed had chosen a Dare, Y/n surmised he was trying to circumvent the same question Troy had just walked out on. It appeared the game master was switching strategies, embarrassing the contestants didn't work as well as he had hoped, it was only going to get worse.

A henchman in all black wheeled out a cart with cocktail tongs, and a single plate holding one lone small thin red vegetable.

"In front of Mr. Nadir is a Carolina Reaper Pepper, these pepper's vary from 1.5 to 2.5 million SHUs on the Scoville scale. Your dare is to completely consume the pepper. You have thirty seconds" The crowd obediently oohed. The timer began its countdown. Abed picked up the pepper, using the provided mini tongs, his brow furrowed. He tilted his head back, and held the pepper above his open mouth. He released the tongs and allowed gravity to take hold, he swallowed once, and opened his mouth to display no remains of the vegetable.

Above the audience, the unmistakable sound of a chair being thrown against a wall erupted from the press box. The entire student body cheered, their disqualifications forgotten, they had heroes on that stage and a villain hidden away, they needed to witness a victory.

"Mr. Winger. Truth. Or. Dare.?" The announcer panted out.

"Truth."

"You pride yourself on your good looks, attuned fashion sense, your toned body, handsome face, and of course your meticulously sculpted hair." Y/n watched Jeff, she had no idea where this was going, but she could see in his body language, Jeff did. The voice continued, "However, looking through photos of you in high school and up until your second year as a fraudulent attorney that was not always the case. Your hair was a lot thinner in those days, possibly receding? It's it true that you went to Mexico and participated in an illegal experimental hair transplant?" Seriously? Where are they digging up this information? There's definitely HIPAA violations going on.

Jeff's skin paled, there were multiple scorned lovers of his in the audience snickering loudly. He could live with that, he cast his gaze to Y/n terrified if this was the final straw for her. She was already studying him, not his hairline, but his face, an amused smile on hers. She shrugged, and mouthed 'who the fuck cares?' Relief washed over him. Only she could silence that cruel voice in his head, constantly beating him down.

"Yes, it is true." More snickering, but all he focused on was the proud smile Y/n threw at him.

"Ms Y/l/n, truth or dare?" There was a new edge to the voice. Whoever was behind all this was getting irritated.

"Truth." She made it this far playing it as safe as she could, it could go all night and she doubted she would ever pick dare.

"There has been some evident animosity between you and your competitor Mr. Osbourne. It even came to a physical altercation in our previous game. If dared to fight one another, who do you believe would win?" Y/n's skin prickled at the possible foreshadowing, she'd taken some self defense classes, but he was a wild card. In this particular situation he would probably happily throw hands, but she knew her heart.

"I would win." Pandemonium broke out in the audience, most supportive of Y/n, Starburn's few friends disapproved, and the rest seemingly excited to witness a fight.

"Mr. Osbourne, truth or dare?" Starburns hesitated, despite his desire to defeat his nemesis, he knew he couldn't actually hit a girl. Additionally, and he prayed he wouldn't have to admit this, he agreed with her statement, she held an aura of a blood thirsty woman, she'd tear him apart.

"Truth."

"In the far back corner of the science wing, there is an unused room. The key mysteriously vanished a few months ago. Despite no one having a key to the room, no dust has appeared on the door. Furthermore strange chemical smells, noise, and lights have been reported coming from the room. Many on campus believe it's haunted. However, it is theorized someone has been using that room and its contents for illegal purposes. Mr. Osbourne, if we checked your keys, would we find the missing key for room N-109?"

Beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He scanned the large room for exit signs, then assessed his opponents. He straightened his back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Repeating the therapeutic breaths, he watched the clock tick down. When the timer reached three seconds he responded.

"No!"

The needles of his polygraph danced furiously, a buzzer screamed over the speakers, and the timer changed from yellow numbers to scarlet letters spelling out L-I-E D-E-T-E-C-T-E-D. Starburns jumped from his seat, wires still attached to him pulling the machine off its table, landing on the floor with a crash. Three men in black descended upon him as he screamed the machine was lying, and that there were already drugs in the room. The men dragged him kicking and screaming off the stage and through the outer doors.

"Mr. Nadir, truth or dare?"

"Truth." Abed's answer surprised Y/n she thought he'd be picking dare for the remaining rounds, especially after witnessing Starburns unsanctioned lab coming to light.

"Mr. Nadir, there is an ongoing investigation into some personal items that had gone missing from Travis Richey's hotel room last month during the Inspector Spacetime convention. CCTV footage captured two people of interest. Two people who bear a strong resemblance to yourself and Mr. Barnes. My question for you is, did you have anything to do with the theft?"

"Yes." Shocked silence blanketed the room. The speaker continued to buzz with static, the voice speechless. An eternity later, he cleared his throat and asked,

" Mr. Winger, truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Rumors have been circulating for some time about you and Ms. Y/l/n's relationship status, but with your constant badgering of the female students and faculty, it is assumed you two are not together. Do you intend to pursue a romantic relationship with Ms. Y/l/n?"

Jeff audibly sighed, Y/n's pulse raced causing the machine connected to her to sputter. She focused on presenting a neutral facial expression, and turned to him. She gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile, letting him know it was ok. That he was safe to say whatever was needed to win. He stared at her, the girl he had been pining over for the last year, the girl he had been following around like a pathetic puppy, she held his heart in her hands, she held his emotional stability in her smile, she had taken up permanent residence in his mind. He had contemplated that very same question over and over, always coming up with the same answer.

"No."

The world stopped, Y/n's vision went dark. If the audience had had a reaction she was deaf to it. How could she have been so stupid? Yeah, she'd always been attracted to him, but knew she needed to keep a distance. He was still staring at her. She was grateful the shock had frozen her expression in place, she robotically directed her attention to the press box, waiting for her turn.

"Y/n, let me explain-"

"Just a yes or no answer is required, Mr. Winger. Additional commentary will result in disqualification." Jeff glared in the direction of the speaker, contemplating the prize's worth.

"Ms. Y/l/n, truth or dare?"

"Truth." She had responded automatically, regretting her choice instantly. Given the recent questions, she knew she should have picked dare. At least if it turned out to be awful she could gracefully bow out, and save face.

"Ms. Y/l/n as previously stated, there is much interest regarding yours and Mr. Winger's relationship status. Mr. Wingers answer would lead us to believe that it is strictly platonic. To prove that that is a mutual account, your question is are you romantically in love with Jeffrey Winger?"

The blunt question shook her out of her stupor. She quickly reviewed her feelings, yes, she could now admit she has a crush on him. Yes, she had almost kissed him hours ago. Yes, she had believed sooner than later they would end up crossing the line of friendship. But love? Romantic love? She loved him as a friend, a classmate, but she had only told one romantic partner in her life that she loved them, and still questioned if it was love or just the pressure of reciprocating the words after they had said them. No, she was certainly not in love with Jeff. She swallowed down her doubts, and mimicked Jeff's previous deadpanned answer.

"No."

She heard the needles scratching frantically next to her, the buzzer blared over the speakers a second time, and bright red letters advertised L-I-E D-E-T-E-C-T-E-D for all to see. Her cheeks fell aflame, her eyes stung, she bit her tongue and screamed at herself to hold composer just until she made it outside. Her shaking sweat covered hands blindly roamed her body for the sticky probes, gently tugging them off one at a time. She set them down on the table and to her mortification, gave an awkward wave goodbye before hurrying out the exit.

She broke into a stumbling run across the campus, with no destination in mind, driven by sheer need to escape and be alone. Her ankle was throbbing when she came up on a bench. She collapsed onto it, and finally succumbed to her heartbreak.

Once she was able to catch her breath, and her tears had slowed, she gingerly made her way back to her car. She had a plan, the long weekend ahead of her gave her the perfect amount of time to recover. She would go home and straight to bed, she would sleep past noon tomorrow, then give herself the day to wallow, order some pizza and a pint of ice cream, maybe cry some more. The day after she would send out the batsignal to her friends, have a girl's night and trash talk Jeff, while they built her self esteem back up. The following day she would focus on resuming her normal routine. By the time the study group meets next, she will have a well rehearsed script at the ready, shutting down any sympathetic attempts to console her. Maybe she'll take a page out of Starburns book, and claim the device was defective, that the game was rigged for dramatic effect. She'd polish that out with her friends, editing it down to a simple yet plausible explanation. But for now she just had to get to her car and drive home, one step at a time. The time she spent on the bench and her limping gate reassured her that the game was probably over, and most everyone had cleared the campus. Sure enough when she entered the parking lot, her car sat alone, the sight should have been a relief, but she felt loneliness sink deep into her bones. She fished her key out of a pocket and walked around to her driver's door.

"Y/N WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" She nearly jumped out of her skin. Sitting on the ground, with his back leaning against her car was Jeff. Yelling at her. "I ran around the campus twice looking for you!"

Fuck. She physically ached seeing him, being near him. He got to his feet and rushed toward her, his arms reaching out, while scanning her up and down. He was first unsettled by her limp, her ankle looked swollen, but was rapidly distracted by residual wetness under her eyes. His arms fell back to his sides when she tensed and stepped back from him. She forced a polite smile.

"I'm fine, I just took a walk, it's been a very long day, I'm going to head home now and get some sleep."

"Y/n are you serious? We need to talk."

"No, we really don't. I'm fine. You're fine. But I should really go rest my ankle. I'll see you at study group, maybe we can plot how to get back at Starburns?" She was impressed by her tone. It had been a while since she'd worked retail, but she easily slipped back into her customer service voice. She shimmied past Jeff, and made her way to the door. He reached out and placed his hand on her wrist.

"Five minutes, please just give me five minutes."

She wanted to say no. After all, she didn't owe him anything. Just summon up some bad bitch energy, tell him to fuck off, and go home. But she made a crucial error and looked into his eyes. Fuck. FUCK.

"Five minutes." She acquiesced.

He led her back into the auditorium, refusing to just say what he needed to. She couldn't bear the silence between them, and asked if he had won. Apparently, Jeff had attempted to follow her out, ripping the cords of himself and most likely breaking the machine. The men in black tried to stop him, even the announcer yelled at him to finish the game. He yelled back that he quit, and punched one of the refs. The rest backed down after that, but by the time he got outside Y/n was out of sight.

He brought her back onto the stage, and sat down in her previously occupied seat. His was upturned, with the polygraph in pieces next to it. He stuck the wires back where they had originally been placed, then handed her a stack of folded sheets of paper, each numbered one through four. He flipped the machine on.

"The first two are control questions. Ask me them out loud."

"Jeff, come on. We don't have to do this."

"Please Y/n, I'll never ask anything from you again, just do this for me."

She closed her eyes for a moment. This was still in the realm of her recovery plan. Maybe it'll help get them back to the friend zone. And at least they don't have sixty plus people watching them.

She silently read the hand written note. “Jeff, seriously?”

“Just asked the questions.” He hurried her with a wave.

Question 1 truth

“Is it true that you failed your first driving test, after running a stop sign because you were distracted by looking at yourself in the rear view mirror?”

“Yes.” The needles remained in place. Y/n sighed again, she was so tired, she considered arguing with him again to just let her go home, when he aggressively motioned for her to continue.

Question two lie

“Is it true you have the complete box set of Golden Girls hidden in your closet, that you watch regularly when you're alone.”

Jeff exaggerated a face and scoffed out, “No.”

The machine came alive scratching back and forth, Jeff's heart warmed when her mouth cracked a smile. But tapped his foot anxiously, having written the next two questions, knowing they would change everything.

Question three

She read the unfolded paper, once, twice, a third time before her tear filled eyes met his.

“When you were asked if you intended to pursue a romantic relationship with Y/n, you said no because you know she deserves a much better man than you could ever be?”

“Yes.” The room remained silent, her gaze never wavering from his.

“Jeff-“

“Just one more.” He demanded.

Question four

“Jeff Winger, are you in love with Y/n Y/l/n?

“Yes.” She couldn’t help but stare at the machine, waiting for its movements to break her heart all over again, but it remained still. “Honestly, obsessively, head over heels, in love with you.”

His voice cracked at his confession. Tears ran down her cheeks, the slips of paper fell from her hands as she hurried to him. He was trying to pull the wires off, when she pushed his hands aside, and crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Almost fully distracted by her taste he bundled the wires in one hand and ripped them from his body in one quick tug. Now free from his confines he cradled the back of her head with one hand, using his other to guide her waist to his lap, securing her tightly to himself. She felt every emotion they had bottled up flowing between them, she was drowning in his adoration for her, she pulled away to gulp down a breath, before he dragged her lips back to his.

Annie listened intently to Abed regaling the story of how he and Troy had bested everyone during Hide and Seek, complete with shuffling through air ducts, impromptu disguises using trash cans and a mop, and turning the CPR dummy into a decoy with stolen items from Dean Pelton’s office closet.

Troy and Britta were having an identical conversation on the opposite end of the hall, both groups making their way to the library.

“So, I get why Troy quit to avoid confessing to stealing that guy's stuff, and why you ate that pepper, but what I don’t understand is why you chose truth after all that. Did you really think you wouldn’t be asked about it?” Annie questioned Abed.

“Oh, no, I knew they were going to ask that. I just had to buy some time for Troy to go home and get rid of it.” He replied.

“You guys didn’t say anything to each other, how did he know you were going to take care of it?” Britta asked.

“Our handshake. I just tapped out morse code to him.” Abed proceeded to clap out a code.

“I told him with my eyes.” Troy answered, bringing his face closer to Britta’s, and bugging his eyes out.

The girls looked equally impressed as the four of them converged in front of their study room. Opening the doors, they all groaned in unison at the sight in front of them. Y/n was nestled in Jeff’s lap, their arms encircling each other, locked in a passionate kiss. She pulled away when she heard them, offering a sincere apology.

“They’re early.” Jeff quipped, placing the blame on their friends, moving down to nip at his lover's neck. She playfully swatted his arm, and moved to her usual seat next to him. Shirley and Pierce joined them shortly after. Once everyone had settled, and begun pulling out their books and folders, Jeff grabbed the arms of Y/n’s chair and dragged it up against his, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Shirely and Annie awed, even Britta had to admit they made a cute couple. Pierce questioned when they had gotten together, accusing the group of discluding him again. They all agreed to not tell him about the games.

“Alright, since this week's topic is all about perspectives, I was thinking it would be fun if we all took turns reading our notes aloud. Getting each other perspective!” Annie looked around the table excitedly. The majority of the group returned with blank expressions.

“Seriously?! None of you took notes again?!” She screeched. Y/n held up her sheets of notes in protest.

“No, that’s it! I’m not sharing my notes with you guys anymore!”

“Annie, calm down, I'll read it out loud.” Pierce offered, in an attempt to diffuse her tantrum. He held out his hand expectantly.

“Pierce, I’m not giving you my notes to read out loud. I want you guys to take your own notes and read them!”

“Hey! That’s not how this works, you take the notes and we use them!” He hollered. “What the hell else am I paying you for?!”

“You’ve never paid me for notes!” Annie was close to reaching a pitch only dogs could hear.

“And I’m not going to now!” Pierce crossed his arms, he really believed he had made a valid point.

“This is textbook negative reinforcement.”

“That’s not even slightly correct.”

“I’ll take your money.”

“It’s closer to conditioning, Annie has conditioned us to expect her to take notes. Despite claiming she won't for us, every week she does.”

Britta offered her usual incorrect psych advice, of which Y/n couldn't stop herself from discrediting, Pierce handed Troy fifty dollars much to Annie's dismay. While Abed in a rare move, agreed and expanded Pierce's point, setting off today's first round of bickering.

They had to stop, at least for today they actually needed to study. The games disrupted last week's study session and Y/n had missed her usual solo studying over the weekend, Jeff keeping her fully distracted. She pulled away from his embrace, with a pout etched in her face.

"Jeff, do something, please?"

He brought his hand to her chin, bringing her closer, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Anything for you, sunshine."

The End

#abed nadir #annie edison #britta perry #community #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger x y/n #jeff winger x you #joel mchale #pierce hawthorne #shirley bennett #jeff winger

165 notes · View notes

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years

Text

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely. “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

#jeff winger x reader smut #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger #community #pierce hawthorne #abed nadir #troy barnes #britta perry #shirley bennett #annie edison #have fun with this #i have no idea why i wrote this #but i do love it #also i’m very proud of the title

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berryzxx · 6 months

Note

Hello! could you maybe do something with Grayson Hawthorne x reader, something fluffy, thank you so much!

Lazy Mornings

Summary: Grayson doesn't want to wake up and makes you stay with him in bed for as long as possible

Grayson Hawthorne x reader

I blinked away the lingering sleep and tried to make out the time. It was nearly ten. It was nearly ten?? I turned to look at Grayson who was sleeping peacefully, his blonde hair in soft waves, no longer neat and tidy like usual. I liked his hair like this. It was something I only got to see. Grayson Hawthorne with messy hair was a sight to behold. He looked so peaceful that it took all my will power to murmur his name, trying to wake him up.

"Grayson?" I whispered, pushing away the hair that had fallen forward onto his forehead. He mumbled something before tightening his grip around my waist and burying his face into the crook of my neck. As much as I loved the warmth of our bed and the way Grayson was holding me we had places to be this morning. If I was late to another brunch with Avery and Jameson, I'm pretty sure they would stop inviting us to double dates. Grayson would be happy to hear that seen as though he was always saying "I want to go on a date with you. Just us two. If I wanted Jamie along I would just sit at home".

I shifted closer to Grayson tracing his features, his soft lips, his sharp jaw, his eyebrows that were probably more perfect than mine. "Gray. We need to wake up"

He let out a warm breath on to my neck and pulled his face back to survey me. His lips turned up in a small smile. "Morning, love"

God, I heard his voice every day but in the mornings it was just something else. I gave him a smile back "Good morning. We're going to be late if we don't wake up"

He rolled his eyes "Does it matter?" His hand moved up and down my back in a steady rhythm, a technique he used to help me fall asleep when I couldn't. I placed a hand on his arm so he would stop otherwise I would sleep until I missed brunch and dinner.

"Come on Gray. We've planned this for ages"

I don't think he heard me because instead of getting up he shifted his weight until he was on top of me, his arms on either side of my head making sure all his weight wasn't about to squash me into the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you your morning kiss" He leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek, then he moved to my other cheek, slowly peppering kisses all over my face and neck. I reached up to hold his face still and kissed him full on the lips. Every kiss was like our first in the best way possible.

His grey eyes pierced me, amusement evident on his features once he pulled away. "Was that a distraction technique, darling?"

I tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably "Maybe"

He slowly lowered him self down and wrapped his arms around me again, resting his head on my chest.

"Just five more minutes"

I ran my fingers through his hair the silk strands escaping my fingers. "Fine, but if we're late your making up the excuse"

"Whatever you want, love" He murmured, before his breathing evened out, his heart beat in sync with mine.

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson x reader #the final gambit #the inheritance games #the hawthorne brothers #my fic #the brothers hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x y/n #request #ask reply #hawthorne legacy #jameson and avery #avery grambs #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #fluff #the hawthorne legacy

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 3 months

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Hey! I love your writing, if your taking requests could you do a Grayson hawthorne x reader? Maybe one where the reader has chronic migraines or is injured in some capacity? If you don’t feel the Inspo for it no worries, thank you so much!

Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

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Grayson frowned. He had never seen you like this. He was becoming more and more concerned. You kept mumbling something about, 'its just a migraine.'

Your head rested on his chest. You had been clingy all morning. Blaming it on the migraine.

Grayson softly ran his fingers through your hair, a subtle attempt to comfort you. He hated seeing you in pain. Especially when there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His body tensed as he heard a small whimper leave your lips. You buried your head into his neck. His skin was cool and it felt nice, it was comforting due to your migraine.

"Y/n, are you sure you don't need anything?" He asked, his voice was soft. He was careful not to soak loudly and aggravate your migraine.

You nodded against his skin, "M'fine Gray." You half mumbled. The piercing pain in your temple was hell. You felt bad for keeping Grayson in bed for so long.

Grayson sighed. He hates not being able to do anything. But, he guessed by being there he was helping... In a way.

He rubbed small circles onto your back as he held you. He noticed your breathing had grew softer. He was careful not to move very much. He didn't want to wake you. Not when being awake would cause you so much pain.

He let his eyes close. He would hold you like this for as long as you asked. Having you in his arms was comforting. He didn't have to worry about you.

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My requests are open.

#grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #the inheritance games #Fanfic #Blurb #Migraine #tw migraine #the inheritance games fanfic #requests are open

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hotdilfs11 · 8 months

Text

Mafia Boss-Thomas Shelby x Reader pt5

✩summary: The Shelby knew this girl when she was very little. However, when her mother passed away (at 16) everything changed and everyone drifted away from each other. Now after seven years Veronica is a mafia boss in her fathers business. Her father sent her to Birmingham on business, will this play off well?

✩pairings:girl named Veronica(POC) x Thomas Shelby

✩warnings: Alcohol, lots of cursing

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I was sitting in a cafe, drinking coffee, and having a meeting with the known leader of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby. The cafe had a dark, cozy vibe to it. It had dark brown chairs and off-white floors. The cafe had a little green color to it while keeping that cozy and mysterious feeling. I was sitting at one of the tables by the window while I observed the people going by outside as the cars and buses passed us at a speedy pace. I had my legs crossed as the dark-colored, bitter liquid slid down my throat in a medium-sized white mug. I was wearing an all-black fitted suit with black basic heels. After I was done sipping my bittersweet coffee, I placed it down on a glossy wooden table, looking up at Tommy in a dominant way. "Did you do what I asked of you, Mr. Shelby?" I say as I fasten my hands together, patiently waiting for his answer. He looked at me with a cold, somber expression, looking into my deep hazel eyes for a minute. Butterflies started to flutter in my stomach as I felt his piercing blue eyes run up and down my body.

"Yes, I did, Miss Hawthorn," he said while making eye contact with me.

I broke the unbearable eye contact as I took a sip of my coffee; however, I still felt his desirable and desperate eyes waiting for me. I looked up at him. "Well, okay, Mr. Shelby, you're free to leave," I said in a nonchalant tone.

"No," he demanded as he started to lean on the table, getting closer to me. "I still want my answer, love."

I look at him in disbelief, and I let out a chuckle. "Now, Thomas, you know what I said," I say with a smirk on my face. I looked at him while he started nodding his head, breaking eye contact with me. He rubbed his face in frustration while staring out the window. We were in silence for a second, and all I hear is people chattering and laughing inside the cafe.

Tommy looked at me after a second of silence. "Okay, Miss Hawthorn, see you at the party." He said this while standing up as he was about to leave, and I blurted out, "Are you mad?"

He shook his head and said "no" in a cheery tone as he walked away from me and out the door.

2 DAYS LATER

It was the night of Tommy's ball, and I just finished getting ready for tonight. I was wearing a long, elegant, promiscuous burgundy dress that hugged tight around all of my curves. It was a v-neck, cross-back satin dress. I had black high-heeled pumps on, and I put on one of my diamond rings, which my father bought for me, as I grabbed my black clutch.

I walked downstairs, got into my car, and went off to Tommy's party. I was nervous and frustrated, but I was also excited in a way. I kind of wanted to see Tommy, even though I promised myself I shouldn’t date him, but I couldn’t contain my feelings in this forbidden safe anymore. I wanted Tommy so badly, and I don’t know how to control myself around him, but then I start to realize how this can affect everything that's going on in my life. I try to push these thoughts out of my mind, but I can’t.

I was at Thomas Shelby's house. The door swung open, revealing Dante in a suit and tie, reaching out his hand. I took his hand and stepped out of the car in a sharp motion. I looked at Dante and told him thank you as I started walking towards the door with him by my side. I walked proudly and confidently with my head held high, and each step I took inside this house made a thunderous roar that echoed down the hallways.

I got to the ballroom, and it was classy, lively, and gloriously gorgeous. I walked in and got offered a glass of champagne from a waiter in a tux. I nodded my head at him and moved on, trying to find Tommy. I started scanning the room and walking around, and then I saw him. I got excited and tense; I felt like a teenage girl all over again, with butterflies in their stomachs and forever blushing. As I started inching towards him, I noticed that he was with someone in a blush pink dress and a white fluffy shaw over her shoulders. She had blond hair and a petite build. I looked down at where Tommy's hand was, and it was on the small of her back. They were laughing, talking, and looking into each other's eyes like some cringy high school couple. My eyebrows furrowed as I started to regret my choice. But right now I was envious of how he looked at her; I was insecure about how I dressed, but then I felt possessive over Tommy. I wanted him more than ever now, and I craved him deeply.

I stood there frozen, unable to move, until I saw the open bar and marched right up to it, not feeling as confident or as proud, but I had to keep a good look. I started to sit down on the slightly comfortable chair while asking the bartender for a bourbon. I basically started drinking my jealousy away and all the problems I had leading up to now. I didn’t want to think or feel; I just wanted to not care about anything or anyone.

As I sat there at the bar, I felt a familiar presence creep up on me. I turn around to see that John has a serious look on his face. "Veronica, what the bloody hell are you doing?" he said in an aggressive tone. I looked at him in a cold, stubborn way, not caring about anyone.

"Oh, look at it, John!" I said it in a happy tone as a big, drunken smile appeared on my face.

"Veronica, are you fucking drunk?" he said as he squinted his eyes in confusion.

I remained in eye contact with him and still had a big smile on my face. "No, John, I’m not fucking drunk. I’m okay, your okay, and Tommy is doing more than okay," I pointed to Tommy, and then I stopped making eye contact with John as I looked into my sad, bitter drink. I tried to take a sip of the fiery liquid until John snatched it right out of my hand.

"What the fuck, John?" I say this in fury, but he didn’t care how I was feeling; he just didn’t want to see me like this.

"Is this because of Grace and Tommy?" He pointed at them in anger.

I kept my head up, unable to look John in the eye. I was scared to show emotion around him or anyone at all. I felt weak.

"Veronica, look at me," John said as he inched closer to my face.

I slurred my words. "What do you want me to say, John? I feel fucking horrible." I paused for a moment, trying to collect my useless thoughts together. "And then Tommy wants to bring this

fucking blond bitch as his fucking date, so now what, John, what the fuck do you want me to do about it, huh?" I stared at him as I felt heartless.

"You look amazing, V, honest."

I brushed off his compliment as I looked down at the table again until I felt John's strong yet soft hands pick up my chin to look at him. "Let's make him jealous, shall we?".

I smirked as I toyed with the idea for a second. I can already see Tommy getting so jealous and angry that it makes me excited. I told John, Okay, as I started to stand up from the stool. I was kind of tipsy, but not tipsy enough for anyone to notice. I stood up beside John as he wrapped his rough hand around my waist, pulling me close to him. I was surprised that John was so gentle with his hands. I sink into him as we start walking in the crowd towards Tommy. Me and John had our heads held high and were proudly walking through the ballroom until we reached Tommy. He was talking to someone with his date strapped to his side.

Tommy's eyes widened when he saw me say, "Veronica!"

He sounded so excited to see me. He introduced me and John to one of his old friends. I greeted them with a hello, and John shook his hand roughly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Ronnie, this is my date, Grace," he said as he pointed to her. I painted a fake smile on my face. "Hello, Grace," I said kindly.

As I was saying hi to Grace, John started to move his hand up and down my back, sending a chill through my body.

"Is this your date, Veronica?" Grace said it innocently.

"Yes, it is. This is Tommy's brother, John Shelby," I say with a smirk on my face.

John generously greeted her as he grew more touchy with me, trying to get Tommy a little bit more angrier than he already is.

He saw John's hand slide up and down my back in a playful motion. Tommy grew furious, and you can tell it on his face. John pulled me closer to him as I took in his earthy and sweet, comforting scent while feeling his warm body up against mine while I started to sink into John's body. Tommy's body starts to tense up while he's witnessing what's happening right in front of his eyes. I looked up and down Tommy's body, pleased by his reaction towards me and John.

"Oh wow, I didn’t know you guys were dating; you should’ve told me Thomas”, Grace announced with her cheeky and irritating voice. She looked at Tommy and playfully hit him on the chest. Tommy shrugged his shoulders, not even catching a glimpse of Grace; however, he remained his eyes on me and John. Being witty, I looked up at John. He looked down at me in a flirtatious way as he started to gently wrap his arm around my neck, trying to piss Tommy off a

lot more. As he was wrapping his arm around me, I grabbed his hand and started to lock fingers with him.

In a cold manner, Thomas said, "Ronnie, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

"Of course, Mr. Shelby." I smiled. John let go of me, and I looked at him and said, "I’ll be back, love."

He nodded and gave me a half-grin as I started to walk with Tommy. He was walking on the side of me as we both walked out of the ballroom and away from all of these people. After we were out of people's sight, Tommy grabbed my arm and started to walk me to his office. I could see a tint of red forming on his cheeks and his ears from anger. I was thrilled that I got a reaction from him; however, I was worried about how he was going to react to me. I gasped, trying to slip out of his hold, but his grip got tighter and tighter as he pulled me into his office. "What the fuck, Tommy?" I quietly yelled, knowing there were a lot of people outside that could hear me. Tommy started walking towards his desk while I was still standing by the door. He turned around, facing me, and stopped in his steps. "What are you playing at?" he asked while making heavy eye contact with me.

"I don’t know what you're talking about." I said it with an innocent tone.

"Why were you all over John?"

"Maybe because you brought a girl as your fucking date even though you were the one who invited me here," I said, folding my arms tightly.

"But that's my fucking brother Veronica, are you serious?" The room echoed from his voice as he started to yell louder.

I scoffed in frustration, then I looked away from Tommy in anger. We stood in silence as I gathered my thoughts.

I uncrossed my arms and looked back at Tommy, but he turned away from me, unable to look at me.

"Why does it matter anyway?"Your brother has his own life, and so do I just worry about your own and Grace, okay?" I urged as I stepped towards him.

He looked at me in disbelief, unable to even process what just came out of my mouth.

"BECAUSE I WANT YOU, VERONICA, I’VE BEEN SAYING THIS!" he shouted.

My eyes widened. "IF YOU WANT ME TOMMY, THEN FUCKING SAY IT AND STOP BLOODY TOYING WITH ME." I exclaimed in uncertainty. I noticed that we were too loud, so I tried to calm myself down by taking a deep breath. I was tired of emotion, and I couldn’t handle any of this.

Tommy sighed in frustration. "Your the one whos fucking toying with me, Ronnie... You are the one who said it was bad for business." Tommy lowered his voice, but you can still hear the anger and bass in his voice.

"Ronnie, I love you. Not Grace, not anyone, only you," he said as his voice softened up. He stared, inching closer and closer to him.

I scoffed harshly. "No, you don't." I stepped back from him and crossed my arms. "This is exactly why... fuck”, I muttered under my breath.

"Why what, Veronica?" he asks as he gets closer to me, urging to know my next words. I went silent, not wanting to answer him, but he just kept getting closer to me, knowing that was my weakness. I felt his body heat jump off of him when he got closer to me. I can smell his comforting scent as he starts to cup my face gently. I looked into his eyes, and he seemed sincere and desperate.

I tried not to sink into his touch or get lost in his eyes. "No, Tommy! I fucking can't." I pushed away from him harshly. He tumbled back a little, but he still wanted me more and more.

A single tear fell down my cheek, but I whipped it away quickly as I tried to leave. When I grabbed the door knob, Tommy's rough hand grabbed me, but I yanked it away quickly.

"Tommy… I can’t keep waiting for you anymore. I have things to do, and I cannot wait for you to show these feelings. I just can’t." I said it in a cold yet demanding voice as I walked out the door.

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azureseacloud · 9 months

Text

Failed Escape

Grayson x Fem!reader one-shot

Warnings— swearing

Summary—After securing the inheritance, you try to get away before the Hawthornes stop you. Unfortunately, Grayson gets to you before you can get out. Oh, and he’s pissed.

This is my first post on tumblr so yayyy!! I hope I’m doing this right. This is from my AO3, under Azure_Sea_Cloud. Anyway, enjoy!

This was a bad idea. This was my only idea. I couldn’t stay any longer, I had to make my escape. I finally had the money— all 48 billion of it. Straight in my bank account, inherited from someone I had no previous obligations or even interactions with. I, a stranger with no ties to the old man, had been chosen over his three grandsons. To inherit his fortune.

And fuck, they were pissed.

He was pissed.

I tore my thoughts away from him before I was swept up in my feelings. I had the money, now it was time to run. To disappear. To escape. If they came after me I was prepared. I had information now, that I had learned during my time as the Hawethorne’s reluctant guest. Blackmail, if they weren’t able to leave me alone.

I ignored the twinge of guilt I felt at the thought of using their secrets. Of using his secret, the one he had confided in me during a moment of shared trust. Should I really be doing this?

I swept another hand through my hair as I swung a bag over my shoulder. The key I had stolen weighed heavily in my pocket. The light that filtered through the lavish drawn curtains was a grim reminder that I had to hurry. Slipping away under the darkness would have been tremendously easier, but circumstance had not allowed it. They could be coming to confront me any moment now. I had to leave before they could catch me.

Sticking me head out of the door to my room, I scanned the hallway. It was clear, and pausing a moment to listen confirmed there were no sounds of another person. I wasn’t sure where all the Hawthornes were—but luckily for me the only ones that were in this house right now was Xander, Jameson, and him. Grayson.

I strode out into the hallway before I could change my mind, pushing away the thoughts of the second eldest. It was eerie, the way the house was so quiet and every step of mine seemed so loud.

It was relieving to reach the front door at last, with no sight of any of the boys. I breathed a sigh, reaching into my pocket for the brass key.

My hand pressed against the handle as I slid the key in. Through a section of glass around eye level, I could glimpse a small crowd of paparazzi lurking outside. They clutched their cameras, eagerly awaiting for something photo-worthy to happen.

Anxiety clawed at my chest. If I went out there, they would no doubt see me. This would be a massive blow to the Hawthorne’s status—an unrelated girl snatching up their inheritance only to turn and run at the first opportunity. The media would have a field day on tearing their reputation down.

My grip on the door faltered momentarily as I continued staring through the glass. Should I be doing this?

My eyes snapped to movement as a paparazzi raised his camera, interest replacing boredom as he looked straight at where my eyes were peeking. I jerked back. They’d seen me. It was now or never, then it was over and I would be free.

I twisted the key only for a hand to wrap tightly around my wrist and wrench my hand away from the lock, pinning it to the door above my head. My body twisted so my back was against the door as another hand enclosed around my other wrist. I let out a gasp of surprise and shock.

I was met with Grayson, his body close to mine as he pinned me against the door. His piercing grey eyes were narrowed dangerously as he tilted his head to regard me.

His normally pristine blonde hair was bordering on messy, with stray strands hanging down around his eyes. The white button up he was wearing was disheveled and the top few buttons were undone. His grey jacket that matched his slacks had been flung on the rack beside the door, likely moments before he had grabbed me. He must have come through the passage. His sleeves had even been rolled up to his forearms and they flexed as he held an iron grip on my wrists, his hands encircling them like shackles.

My mouth dropped open as my heart accelerated. I’d always dreamt of Gray having me in this position, but under very different circumstances. And now my brain was going haywire as I wondered what it would be like to run my lips along the curve of his collarbone that was peeking out from his shirt. At the same time, my legs felt weak just from the close proximity. Oh, and the fact that he was furious.

“What do you think you’re doing, darling?” The words rolled off his tongue in a controlled way, though there was a menacing edge that was barely concealed.

I swallowed uncomfortably, scrambling to think of something to say. A lie, a distraction, anything.

His gaze dropped down to the bag that had fallen off my shoulder and was now resting at my feet. I could tell that he knew exactly what I had been planning as his grip on my wrists tightened. I forced myself to stay still, even as my body tensed.

His eyes skimmed slowly upward until they reached mine again. Only then did my tongue seem to loosen.

“Listen, Gray, I’m sorry but—“

“Don’t,” he growled, cutting me off. “Don’t call me that like we are friends.”

“Grayson-“

“Was this your plan all along? To use me, my brothers—all of us—then steal our inheritance? You didn’t really care about me—us. This was all some elaborate scheme of yours. You planned it from the start.” Grayson was leaning in close, his face so close to mine. The scariest part was that he was quiet, his voice sharp but not angry and loud.

With each breath my chest tightened. His shin was flush against my knee and his grip was not loosening. I didn’t say anything. How could I even explain it? What could I say that would make this better, that would make him feel better? I didn’t mean to hurt him? That I hadn’t faked any of my moments with him? He wouldn’t believe any of it anyway.

So I settled with matching his own hostility instead.

“There’s paparazzi outside,” I said quietly, making my voice as cold and emotionless as I could. “I doubt they would have a hard time stirring whispers of, unappealing actions against your name, Mr Hawthorne, should they snap a picture through the door. I’m sure they’ll also find it very strange for me to be sighted here ready to leave only for me to never make it outside.”

He narrowed his eyes, betrayal and darkness lurking in their depths, alongside a calculating cold.

“Are you threatening me?” He asked slowly as he shifted his weight to his one arm above my head, leaning in closer still and tilting his head so he could whisper in my ear. “You are not in control here. And I am certainly not letting you run away, Miss L/n.”

I took shallow breaths, tensing as a small shiver of fear—or maybe even desire—trickled down my spine.

Grayson used his other hand to reach into his jacket pocket from where it rested on the rack. Metal glinted as he withdrew what he was looking for without ever breaking eye contact. At the last second my eyes darted over to see what it was.

Handcuffs. What the fuck?

“What are you doing?”

Grayson smirked, opening one section of the slim metal band. I reacted slowly, too stunned at what he was doing, that gave him enough time to let go of my wrists with his other hand and fluidly slip the cuff on one of my wrists. It closed with a smug snick.

I tried to push Gray away, but he kept his grip on my wrist and spun me around , locking the other side of the cuff around the clothing rack.

It all happened so fast. He must have planned that.

“Grayson, what the hell?” I growled, tugging at the restraint. The rack was solid metal, some kind of artistic piece, and barely moved. Pulling at it with my other hand, I tried to slip my wrist out but the shackle was too tight.

He shrugged, casually unrolling his sleeves. “We shared our darkest secrets with you, and you break our trust by running away the first chance you have. I’m not going to let you go and destroy the reputation I have worked so hard to build. You don’t get to run away with the fortune that should be mine.”

He smoothed out his shirt and buttoned it up all the way.

“You can’t keep me here. That’s not how this works.” I said defiantly, but I wasn’t so sure. I’d never seen Grayson like this, so unhinged and betrayed. I hadn’t wanted it to end like this.

I watched as he slid on the jacket then ran a hand through his messy hair until it was neater. He did another quick check of the paparazzi waiting outside. What was he going to do?

I had my answer when he grabbed the side of the cuff that was attached to the stand. He unlocked it, then slipped the key into his jacket’s inside pocket. Then he closed the metal around his own wrist.

I stared, open-mouthed, at Grayson as he slid his sleeve over the cuff. No words could seem to leave my mouth—why would he do this? I’d never seen this side of him before, the side beneath all his charm and charisma.

Grayson tapped my cuffed hand with his, catching my stare with a calculating look of his own, a sly smirk hinting at the edge of his mouth. He tugged at the jumper sleeve until it covered the cuff, then grabbed my hand in his. The contact jolted me out of the shock and I finally managed to find words.

“Grayson what the hell are you doing?” His hand was surprisingly soft and wrapped around mine perfectly.

He sighed loudly, running his free hand through his hair one final time. “You and I are going for a drive.”

“A drive to where?” I demanded.

His grey eyes met mine. “Somewhere we can talk, privately.”

He lowered his head, whispering in my ear. “Now be a good girl and play along. You do that, darling, and I’ll let you go.”

Heat rushed to my face and a quiet gasp escaped me. Holy shit.

I barely had time to linger on his words and how they made me feel when Gray flung open the doors and strolled out, tugging me along at his side.

The paparazzi pointed and began lining up shots as soon as they saw the two of us. I looked up at Grayson to see a smile on his face and none of the betrayal that had been so clear just moments before.

“Smile love,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the press. I smiled bashfully—it was easier than I thought, considering the cool metal that enclosed my wrist.

I could get out of here easily. All it would take is for me to show the handcuff, and Grayson would be caught. His reputation destroyed. I would be free.

I couldn’t do it.

His words from the doorway lingered in my head and I fought back a blush. I didn’t want him to know the effect those words, his words, had on me. I knew it would be hard to leave him behind, but now, when I could easily escape, I didn’t want to. Shit.

I had played him, and now he was playing me, just as effortlessly. And I liked it.

The wave of cameras and thrown questions passed in a rapid blur. We pushed through them, smiling and nodding, but politely declining any questions.

We finally cleared the wave of paparazzi and reached a black BMW that had pulled up. I guessed this was our ride, from the way Grayson guided me to it.

This was my last chance to escape, to run and get away. Freedom was so close. But was it freedom at all?

“That’s a good girl,” Grayson said in a low voice, as I slid into the car with him.

I had made my choice.

#grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #oneshot #x reader #i don’t know what I’m doing #cross posted on ao3

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delopsia-archive · 4 months

Text

Bob x Reader x Rhett Ask Archive

Abbott + Floyd = Floytt

Adopting small animals

Are any of the Floytts musically inclined?

Bob cums in Rhett's boxers and Reader's panties

Bob spanking Rhett

Broad food/eating headcanons

Catching Rhett jerking off

Can Rhett handle spice the way Robby can?

Celebrating birthdays together

Cheese tax

Christmas decorating

Christmas morning in the Floytt household

Coffee, tea, and other drink preferences

Corn mazes

Cumming from anal stimulation alone

Cumming untouched while eating the Reader out

Dagger reactions to Bob's name change

Dating to proposal to marriage timeline

Does Rhett pick Bob up?

Dominance

Domestic Floytts

Do the animals sleep with them?

Do the boys & Reader wear other jewelry they've given each other?

Do the trio have any animals?

Do the trio invite anyone over for the holidays, or do they prefer to remain alone?

Does the Reader ever just have an awful day and take control over both boys? Does Bob like getting spanked, too?

Does the Reader have any influence on getting her boys to eat better/healthier?

Fall headcanons

Fights

Giving you flowers

Going to a bookstore

Grocery shopping headcanons

Halloween costumes

Has Bob ever bottomed for Rhett?

Has tackling & wrestling ever led to Rhett and Robby getting sexy?

Haunted houses

Honeymoon elaboration

How do sleeping arrangements work?

How do the boys adjust to looking similar?

How do they take your mind off Sunday scaries?

How the trio decorate when they move in together

How the trio split holidays before they lived together

How their families react

How they ask for comfort

How they react to Rhett having so much odd shit on him

How they react to walking in on an Outer Range Season 2 scene

How they react to finding you crying

How they take care of their drunk s/o

How would Bobby & Rhett react to their lady love having...intimate piercings?

If two of the trio are going it, and the remaining person walks in...

Lingerie

Lingerie: The Sequel

Love Languages

Making Rhett crack an egg with his bicep

New Years Headcanons

Older Rhett and Bob

Pegging Rhett while he sucks on Bob’s cock

Playing with their hair

Possessive over Bobby

Prostate stimulation with Rhett

Protective! Bob

Random assignments

Reader and Bob edging Rhett till he cries

Reader cockwarming Rhett and Bob whispering encouragements

Reader getting pouty when Rhett and Bob are carrying each other

Rhett's ass

Rhett being a tease while Bob is deployed (and what happens when he gets home)

Rhett's cowboy side rubbing off on Bob and Reader

Rhett doing a boudoir photoshoot as a wedding gift

Rhett leaving hickeys

Rhett's legs over the Reader's shoulders

Rhett putting on healthy weight

Rhett refusing to sit in Bob's lap

Rhett refusing to sit in Bob's lap PT.2

Rhett's rodeo knee injury (& the start of the Hawthorn Rodeo)

Rhett, the spreader bar, and the vibrator…

Rhett’s thoughts during Rhett_16 is typing...

Rhett turning red when complimented

Rhett wearing short shorts

Robby strapping a vibrator to the head of Rhett's cock

Spanking Rhett

Taking care of you on your period

The first time Robby and Reader saw Rhett's bedroom

Them lying on top of you

Them not wanting to let Bobby leave for his deployment

Training Rhett to receive and ask for physical affection

Truck headcanons

Truck headcanons Pt.2

Toys and Reader lying them both down on the same night

Ugly Christmas sweaters

Vacation sex

Valentine's Day

Watching Rhett chop wood

Wedding songs

What desserts do they cook for Thanksgiving?

What physically attracted them to each other

What was the wedding like?

Where do they like to cum?

Who likes to cook/bake

Who’s the most desperate for it when Bob gets back from deployment?

#delgato's masterlist #Updated 04/25/24

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kirencer · 2 years

Text

[Hawthorn: Chapter One]

Cedar

Summary: Cedar has always meant strength. Resilience. The ability to stand on your own for forever.

Word count: 2.1k

Relationship: Vampire! Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Warnings: vampires, slight wet dream mention, abusive/neglectful parent, and “mild” vampire kink. NSFW SERIES 18+ ONLY

A/N: First chapter of a much-needed series. I, Kiram, the vampire Spencer king, present Hawthorn.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

— — — — —

To say I was excited for the first day of the class would be an understatement. I was practically vibrating in my seat, eyes plastered to the board. Dracula: Intro to Slavic Folklore and Vampires was written in what one might call ‘Chicken Scratch’. It’s a course at UVA, and while it’s been taught by one professor since its start, this year, it’s to be taught by Doctor Spencer Reid.

I had vaguely heard of the name, upon further research I learned that he was an Ex FBI agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit, a genius, and he was hot. Though, from what was written about him, he didn't seem to be the kind of person qualified for teaching about Slavic folklore, an even deeper dive led me to believe that his eidetic memory and IQ alone qualified him for anything.

Plus, vampires just so happen to be my favorite thing ever. So, a pretty face talking about them wouldn't be too bad.

When he walked in, tawny curls floating around his head, shoulders pulled with confidence, and stubble coating his strong, set jaw, I realized that no matter how good of a Professor he was, I would always be unprepared.

See, I had thought that he was attractive at first, yes, but seeing him in person made me realize that the photo truly had no grasp on him. The photo from an article made him seem like … a pretty boy. What I had seen in front of me was a man, with the mirrored nose and eyes and lips of the picture, but set more purposefully. Like Doctor Reid was trying to show everyone how he could be seen; how he wanted to be seen.

What I was truly unprepared for, however, was how his eyes pierced me like a hunter bowing down a deer. My excitement grew as my knees shook instead of my body. For, at that moment, I could swear that the Professor's eyes showed red.

The rest of the hour and a half escaped me, I remember a blur of syllabuses being passed out, Professor Reid’s voice mentioning how the course would be divided into two units “The Lore” and “The Truth”, and also how this wasn’t just a Literature and Folklore class, but a Vampire class.

Before I knew it, I was back in my dorm and looking up everything I could on modern vampires and how they could relate to my Professor. There was something captivating about him - it had to be the subject he was teaching.

After all, I do love vampires. To what my grandmother said was an unhealthy extent. My father raised me as his father had raised him, a Vampire hunter, and had even warned me of them my entire life. Going as far as to train me every day of my life to kill vampires. Instead of fearing the blood-lusting creatures, I went the opposite way.

I fell into the Twilight and the Vampire Diaries frenzy, and my wet dreams very often consisted of teeth grazing my skin and red eyes. Though, this was hidden deep within me. Had my father ever learned of my turn from my training to hate everything no longer living as a human, he would destroy it. And me.

The next few days passed as quickly as the hour and a half and before I knew it, I was back in the classroom. A few minutes passed and I settled in as Professor Reid started his lecture.

“Now, who here has ever consumed any kind of media that had vampires? Or, at the very least, creatures like vampires?”

People around the room tentatively raised their hands, mine shot up as well. I wasn’t ashamed at all in my love - obsession - with vampires. The professor nodded. “Some of you are lying about having not. That's okay! If you’re in this room, you have consumed some kind of media or the other that sparked your interest.”

Oh, no. Oh God, no. Not only was Doctor Reid an attractive professor, but he was also a good one who had captivated me beyond what I deemed capable. When he said the word sparked, his hands pushed away from each other in a little motion as if to simulate an explosion. That little motion enamored me to no end. My brain tickled, as though it was searching for something missing.

“The vampires we will learn about will be associated with slavic lore. Many of these will then tie into how we currently view vampires as a collective culture, specifically within media,” Professor Reid leaned back on his desk with a confident smirk.

“It’s interesting, really, that we typically associate vampires with bats. The reason for that is actually more convoluted than one might think. You see, in Slavic folklore, vampires allegedly possessed the ability to transform into butterflies. Which, if you ignore most anatomical and biological classifications, butterflies and bats are sort of similar, no? One is certainly more ominous than the other, but who is to say which creature would be more appealing to the undead.”

My eyes fluttered as I scrawled down the words that flowed so elegantly from my professors’ lips. Every single word felt chosen with purpose and stride. There was confidence in his knowledge as he went through the first bits of pieces of information most of the people in the room with me would ever learn about the lore of vampires. Biting to change, dual souls (“hearts”), and so much more of the best things. True, a lot of my knowledge was from the militarian-like vampire hunter training my father instilled in me, but the rest was from my own late-night research on secure browsers - hidden from where my dad could find it.

Soon, just like the first: it was over in a flash. The lecture hall was practically empty before I had realized, scrawling down the last of Professor Reid’s notes and then, without my better judgment, decided to walk up to the Professor. He was skillfully and fleetingly moving his things to a brown leather side-satchel type bag. I was planning on waiting patiently for him to notice me, however, he turned around to face me as soon as I made my last step towards him.

There was this look on his face of curiosity, almost a hint of familiarity, and something that I truly could not place. Though the feeling must have been something I had seen before, as it almost made me bristle like a frightened tabby. It wasn't that I was frightened, but rather more so that I was startled. Every cell of my body scrambled for me to run but the small ache that spread from my legs begged me to stay.

“Do you have an urgent question …?” Professor Reid inquired softly, biting into the pillow of his lip before continuing, “Sorry. I do not believe I know your name.”

My mouth fell open and a squeak left it. I wasn’t the kind of person to be hyper aware of other people's teeth. I mean, good dental hygiene and tooth conditions were often highly restricted to higher classes in America, but I couldn’t help but stare at the pristine white that left imprints on his bottom lip for a split second before his tongue swiped over it. What I truly stared at though, were his incisors. They seemed … off .. as if they were a tag longer than what should be normal. It was not unheard of for a human, as I noticed they were not at all long enough to perhaps be the kind of lengths that vampires would have, but they were very noticeable.

“Um … Sorry.” I blurted out. My eyebrows furrowed as I promptly turned around to exit the room. My professor’s voice rang out from behind me.

“I didn’t catch your name!”

Yet I was already too far away, my head enamored with how my professor’s teeth would feel bared against my neck.

(i was lucky that he wasn’t a vampire! my heart sped up and even a civilized one would have pounced at the rush of blood in my veins, as highlighted by my pulse)

⟺

Or, I was the most unlucky person in the world. As I neared my dorm, the first thing my eyes caught onto was the flier taped to it with the word NOTICE plastered in big red font. Sticky dread flowed through my fingertips and into my toes as I skimmed the words.

I should have known. My dad was missing and the college funds he set up for me already drained. When the board fees hit, it didn’t pass through.

I was lucky enough to have a scholarship for my classes but it did not cover room and board. I had three days to either find my funds or move out. Well, with virtually no ability to make even a fraction of the needed amount, I would instead need to find a place to stay and hopefully for cheap - the small part time cafe job I had would be enough for a couple hundred a month of rent and groceries for me to live off of. With tips, I wouldn’t be too bad but it’d be cutting it tighter than I wanted.

I knew how to take care of myself, though. With my fathers profession of monster hunting, he would often disappear for months at a time on a job.

I wasn't able to focus too much on it, though, seeing as I had a shift in an hour and needed to make it to the small bakery and cafe not too far from campus.

Work wasn’t hard, per se, and the regulars were sweet, but it was just exhausting. I have always had a very good worth ethic. I just wasn’t in the proper mood today and the fear of losing my dorm. I don’t know what else I expected. My dad had never been the kind to care for others, especially caring about me. I had learned everything I ever needed. I never had a mom to teach me kindness or what my body was changing into – I had to pull myself up by my bootstraps. A mentality that only ever hurt me with every challenge I ever faced. I never asked for help in school and I never relied on anyone but myself.

Dad said he wouldn’t leave again. He lied, obviously. Lied and took the money we had saved together. Out chasing monsters that sometimes, I didn’t even think existed. Well, ones I wouldn’t think existed, had I not seen one when I was fourteen. My fathers quote unquote arch nemesis. A vampire so cunning that he blended seamlessly into the human world. I had only seen him once. I only remember the way his arms cradled me, his smell, and the red eyes. His smell must have been addictive – he smelt too good for my barely teen mind to comprehend, like sweet incense hinted with woods. Now, I know enough about pretty scents and cologne to know it would be reminiscent of Lavender Cedarwood, my favorite candle. That scent and that grip took over my teenage wet dreams. I could trace back my taste in men and most certainly, my love for vampires to the one specific creature deplored by my father the most.

I don’t remember why he held me – only that the last thing on my mind was fear. It was the first time I had been held in so long that I couldn’t remember the last time I felt safe and protected in another’s arms.

My shift passed quickly with my mind focused on the vampire of my dreams (quite literally) and before I knew it, it was over. I had accumulated a whopping 35 dollars in tips and compared to the impending debt over my head, it was pennies to a hundred bucks.

Then, just as I was passing the communal post board, I saw it. A flier with soft little butterflies.

“Roommate Wanted:

Cheap rent. Possibility for no rent, just provide your own groceries and help with water and gas. Looking for someone to make coming home less lonely.

(p.s. I am a man and I understand that might make some uncomfortable. I am open to you bringing a friend to meet and see the apartment with you. I am also open to first meeting in a common and safe area as well as ample talking on the phone. Comfort is important to me. :] )”

And like that, I had decided to try my luck. I mean, cheap or free rent? Genuinely, it sounded like an old man or someone planning to kidnap me … but desperate times called for desperate measures.

My fingers slid over the paper, snagging one of the perforated number slips at the bottom. For good measure, I snagged all of them. Better for competition!

I stared at the little slip of paper. It was a soft, baby pink. I brought the paper to my nose. I didn't know why. Just … I needed to. And well, there it was.

Sweet cedar.

[TAGLIST: @hotchandspencearedilfs @reidgraygubler]

[join this series taglist!]

#professor spencer reid #spencer reid #vampire spencer reid #kiram loves vampires #hawthorn spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid series #hawthorn series

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dead-un-arrival · 2 years

Text

Female Jeff Winger

Summary: You give Jeff a run for his money when you join the group. Good thing he places all of his bets on you. The slow story of how you, the female version of Jeff Winger, stole the one and only’s heart.

Warnings: swearing, dear God lots of smuttt, elements of sexual harrassment? But Jeff takes care of that.

Word Count: 5k - AKA - too freaking long but so worth it, I promise.

Masterlist

It didn’t take long for the Greendale 7 to become the Greendale 8 when you started attending the community college. As much as the study group acted like they were just another group at school, everyone else knew the school revolved around them. You noticed this the first day on campus when they were in your biology class and made a huge stink about their lab partners. But, unlike the other students in the class, you refused to be a bystander and made a move to be one of the main characters. You remember it like it was yesterday.

*Flashback*

“You know, I really think you guys could use a fourth girl in your group just to even things out,” you said as you put your books in your backpack after class.

“Well, Pierce is hardly in the group anyway so it’s pretty even.” Jeff retorted.

“Hey!” Pierce yelled.

“Jeff!” Annie scolded. You laughed.

“Even if that is the case, I still think I could bring something fun to your table,” you flirted as you left the room, not wanting to beg for acceptance.

“You’re welcome to have some fun with me if you want!” Jeff called out after you as the other six groaned in disgust.

*Present Day*

One semester later and you were still sitting in the once empty seat between Jeff and Annie. You were something refreshing for the group. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be blunt, never hid anything, was always open about your life and your attitude. The way you saw it, too much time gets wasted hiding feelings or trying to save face. So in the moments when Annie and Shirley would go on their own sidequest in the group or when Britta tried to diagnose someone with a mental disorder, you were there to shine a light on the big picture before something big spiraled out of control and it was up to Jeff to make one of his speeches to save everyone’s ass. He would never say it, but Jeff slowly became thankful for your presence. In the beginning, he was a little threatened that you were trying to take his place as “leader” but as everyone got to know you better, you slowly fell into your role as negotiator amongst everyone. However, the flirtation between you and Jeff never stopped.

“What did you guys do this weekend?” Annie asked the group as they sat down at the infamous table.

“Andre and I went to the movies.” Shirley started.

“(Y/N) and I went to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. We made candles shaped like our hands.” Britta shared.

“I was busy getting laid like a man,” Jeff mumbled, attention fully on his phone.

“Uh!” Annie crossed her arms.

“Gross.” Britta groaned.

“Oh, really? And exactly how does such a manly man get laid? Doggy style? Or missionary?” You turned your full body towards Jeff, hand resting under your chin. You now had Jeff’s full attention, his eyes slightly widened at your words. He quickly reacted, putting his phone down on the table and staring you down.

“Missionary, I like to see the face they make when I fuck them.”

“Really? I would’ve figured doggy. With a narcissistic ego like yours, it’d give you full control.”

Jeff smiled and leaned back into his chair. He opened his textbook then mumbled, “Reverse cowgirl.”

“Ha! Make them do all the work sounds fitting.” You mirrored Jeff and opened your book as well.

“You guys!” Troy yelled.

You and Jeff looked up to see Troy covering Abed’s ears and Shirley covering Annie’s. Britta sat covering her own.

You let out a breathy laugh and looked down.

“Alright, chapter 4!” Jeff announced. He looked down at you, feeling his eyes, you made eye contact with him seeing his side smirk before looking back at your books.

You were never shameful about the information you shared with the group. If anything you think you helped them break out of their comfort zones. Especially Jeff as you two shared your one-night stands with each other. Something Jeff solemnly enjoyed knowing how the rest of the group would respond. While this was a rare occurrence as most of both of your times were spent with the rest of the group, it was still nice to have someone to talk to about your sexual relations. You were someone Jeff has never seen before. He’d become so accustomed to a certain type of woman that he knew what plays he had to make for a quickie. But you weren’t like that. You left Jeff confused.

If anyone else talked to Jeff the way you did, he’d have them pinned against a wall in seconds because he would know it’s what they wanted. But not you. You were so matter-of-fact about everything you said, no matter how dirty. There was a time when you two were having lunch at the cafeteria together and the conversation somehow became about eating a girl out. Jeff automatically claiming to be great at it and you immediately quizzing him on his habits. By the end of the conversation, Jeff was taking notes and you had to leave abruptly to avoid being late to a class. By the time Jeff finished writing and saw you were gone, he was left slightly winded by the things he learned and slightly hard.

These interactions continued every week and slowly Jeff became more enamored with your presence. He would look for you in every room. He would be anxious if you weren’t at the study group. And most importantly, he was having fewer one-night stands. The two of you would steal glances at each other and slowly talk about things more personal. Even though you were very open to the group already, you still had things hidden. It was as if Jeff had access to a hidden flashlight that only you let him use to get to know you better.

You had always found Jeff attractive, even before joining the group. If he came to you one day and wanted to sleep with you, you’d do it with no hesitation. But you’d be damned if you were the one to initiate it. You loved the friendship you had with Jeff and how close were able to be with him. You didn’t want to jeopardize anything by having sex. So instead you flirted, and talked about having sex with other people, leaving out the parts on how you wished it was him. This was something completely contradictory to how you would normally operate. If you were infatuated with anyone else you would’ve boned them by now. But this was Jeff you reasoned. You knew how he operated. He flirts with everyone and you didn’t want to be everyone to Jeff.

That is until things started to shift leading up to one of the many school dances. You had somehow managed to capture the attention of a man named Trey. Trey flirted with you every single day in math class. You were very much not interested and you told Trey every single day. You had even expressed your frustrations to the study group. But there wasn’t much to do; he was stuck in a class with you. Things started to escalate the week of the dance.

The study group had ended another meeting and was walking to their next class together when Trey approached you.

“(Y/N), will you go to the dance with me?” Trey knelt down with a bouquet of flowers in front of you.

“No, Trey. I don’t want to go to the dance with you. I don’t want to go on a date with you. I don’t even want to talk to you. Leave me the fuck alone.” You spoke deliberately, hoping this time he would finally listen to you. You walked around him, the group following you to class.

“Hey!” Trey yelled, he ran up to you and grabbed your arm. “Just go to the dance with me, I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll show you I can be the man you want.”

“She said no dickface. What part of that don’t you understand?” Jeff scolded. His eyebrows furrowed.

“This doesn’t concern you, man. (Y/N), I love you please.” Trey caressed your face with his opposite hand.

“Ugh! Get off of me!” You slapped him and wiggled your arm out of his grasp.

“Hey!” Trey started to move towards you but Jeff dropped his books and grabbed him, pinning him against the lockers.

“You fucker. What the fuck makes you think you can force a woman to date you? You’re a pathetic piece of shit.” Jeff said in a deep, threatening tone, his face inches away from Trey’s.

A few moments later security arrived to remove Trey from the premises where he was later expelled.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you, Jeff.” You hugged him and let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

It had been a few days since the incident with Trey and it was now the night of the dance. You didn’t really want to go at all but Annie begged you to and knowing you would be able to see Jeff in a suit pretty much solidified your decision. You and Jeff spent most of the night standing at a tall table drinking punch and talking about other people.

“What about her? Look how tall her heels are? I bet she’d be fun in bed.” You motioned towards a blonde on the dancefloor. Jeff followed where you were pointing.

“Nah, I don’t think I’m in the mood for anyone tonight,” Jeff revealed, taking another drink.

“Why not? I’ve noticed I’ve been doing all the talking on our relations here. What’s up with you? Erectile dysfunction?”

Jeff stifles a laugh, refusing to make eye contact, “No, I think I have my eye on someone else.”

“Oh, alrighty then. Well, I hope I get to meet her. Hey, what do you think of him? He’s a little short but looks strong.” You quickly changed the subject, flexing your arm muscles to mimic the man you were referring to.

“What for you?” Jeff asked.

“No for you, yes for me, unless you have something you’re not telling me.”

“Very funny. I just didn’t realize you were looking tonight.” Jeff still refused to make eye contact with you.

“I need something to get past Trey, he freaked me out a little and I haven’t felt like myself. I need to know I still am myself even just for a one-time thing.” You admitted.

There was a moment of silence between you two. Both of you looking at the man you brought up in discussion. Before Jeff spoke again, he sighed.

“I think you’re capable of whatever you put your mind to. Just be safe okay?”

“I promise.” You tapped his arm and made your way over to make your acquaintance.

When Monday arrived, you appeared slightly happier as you walked into the study group. Feeling more like yourself after the previous week’s events, you were excited to go to class knowing there was no more Trey.

“Hello (Y/N), how was your most recent escapade?” Pierce asked.

“Delightful. Thanks for asking.” You sat your stuff down before sitting next to Jeff and waiting for the usual banter to commence before actual work got done.

“Okay, so we’re on chapter five right?” Jeff asked, opening his book to your surprise.

“What did you not do anything fun this weekend?” You asked.

“I just want to be ready for our test tomorrow.” Jeff shrugged, never looking up at you since you arrived.

“Okay, then.” You mumbled, opening your textbook too.

At lunch, you noticed how Jeff decided to sit on the other side of the table from you as opposed to usually sitting next to you with his arm around your shoulders. You pretended not to feel hurt by it and continued to participate in the group’s discussions, glancing at Jeff every once in a while, trying to figure out what was wrong.

By the end of the day, Jeff had hardly spoken to you and you had had enough of it. You were determined to know why your best friend was giving you the cold shoulder. So, after your last class of the day, you walked out to Jeff’s car, knowing he wouldn’t be there for another 10 minutes after his class. You leaned against the driver’s door, arms crossed, and waited.

“You better not have scratched the paint.” He called as he approached you, his keys in hand. “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what the hell your problem is! You’ve hardly spoken to me all day.”

“Right now, my only problem is someone standing in the way of my car.”

“Jeff.” You sighed, not wanting to fight. “Please. Did I do something wrong? Something is different and I don’t know what it is or how to fix it. Did something happen with the girl you were talking about the other day?” You noticed a slight change in Jeff’s demeanor when you mentioned the other woman.

“No, (Y/N) you didn’t do anything wrong, this is something I have to deal with myself.”

“But it does have to do with that woman! What happened? Did she turn you down? Tell me who she is and I’ll talk to her, tell her what a “great guy” you are,” you mocked.

“No, (Y/N),” Jeff said sternly as he tried to get past you to unlock his car.

“Why not?” You pressed, stepping in his way again.

“Because you’re the woman I was talking about!” Jeff yelled frustrated. Your smile left your face and your eyes widened. “For fucks sake.” Jeff groaned. “Look, I really like you (Y/N). I don’t know when exactly it’s just-” Jeff sighed, his eyes focused on his feet as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s doing. “ We’ve gotten really close since you joined the group and yeah I thought you were hot when I first saw you but now it’s like- I don’t know you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever been wi-”

“Oh, gross please. You did not just use the ‘you’re not like other girls’ line on me.” You interrupted.

“No! Would you just shut up for a second? It’s just I can usually read people and tell if they’re interested in me or not and you’re unpredictable. You take my shit and throw it back in my face, you’re someone I can talk to and I’ve never felt like that before. I don’t know how to explain it because I don’t have my shit together but I don’t like seeing you with anyone else. I stopped seeing other woman because I kept imaging they were you. And I don’t want to fuck things up with you. So I’m sorry I’ve been a dick today I just-”

You grabbed Jeff’s collar and smashed your lips against his. It wasn’t pretty. In fact it was very messy. Both of your lips moving against each other’s in some form of hunger. After a few seconds you pushed him away leaving him confused for a second. You had his attention now. Jeff was no longer looking at the ground but was searching for your eyes to figure out what the hell that was. Except you weren’t looking at him now. You were staring off into space as you briefly touched your lips with your fingertips as if to make sure that really happened. After a few more moments you finally made eye contact.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I saw you.” You admitted. Jeff let out a small, breathy laugh, his lips curving at the edges. “Jeff, I don’t like seeing you with other people either.”

“Are you serious? You never said anything! You always have something to say when you have feelings!”

“Because you flirt with everyone! And I don’t want to be everyone to you. I can’t just have sex with you and go back to normal.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against his car, no longer looking at Jeff, closing yourself off. You just let your biggest secret out in the open to the one man who’s opinion actually mattered to you.

“Hey,” Jeff whispered, “look at me.” Jeff set his books down on the roof of his car and placed his hands on your shoulders, leaning down so he was eye level with you. “You are not just like everyone to me. I like being around you. I like talking to you. I want to keep you safe. And I really want to fuck you.”

“Jeff?” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I really want you to fuck me.” You whispered, tilting your chin up towards his, he could feel your breath on his lips. Jeff leaned dow the rest of the way, pressing his lips back on yours a little calmer than the first time but no less hunger. His left hand settled in your hair, his right one on your hip pulling you closer to him where you could feel his hips against yours. Jeff pulls away slightly but continues to kiss down your neck.

“My place or yours?” He asks.

“Mine’s closer.” Jeff reluctantly pulls himself off of you and finally unlocks his car. You run around to the passenger side and let yourself in. Jeff throws his belongings in the backseat and you give him directions to your apartment.

When you arrive to your apartment you had a difficult time unlocking your door with Jeff pressing himself against your back. His arms reached around your body, one grabbing at your breasts as he turned your neck into a work of art. You decided two can play at this game and pushed your ass into his crotch eliciting a low groan from him as he halted his advancements.

“Naughty girl.” He whispered. You laughed as you finally got the door open and let him inside.

The two of you continued your making out as you guided him to your bedroom. By the time he pushed you down on the bed you were both stripped down to your underwear. Jeff took the moment to stare at your body spread out on the bed waiting for him. You bit your fingernail in anticipation and took the moment to stare at Jeff’s muscles as well. You could see the outline of his hard cock in his underwear.

“God, you’re so hot.” Jeff said as he knelt between your legs and placed himself above you. He leaned down to kiss you, his left arm holding him up while his right arm held your hip. Your arms loosely wrapped around Jeff’s neck and your legs around his waist. Your tongues meeting and mixing different tastes causing you to moan. Jeff moves his kisses down your neck to the tops of your breasts that sat above your bra. He leaves marks wherever he travels.

“Can I take this off?” Jeff asks, sitting up to look at you.

“Yes.” You lean up on your elbows so Jeff can reach around your back and unclasp your bra. He quickly throws it off to the side and you lay back down.

“Fuck.” Jeff mutters to himself making you laugh but your laugh is cut short and turns into a moan when Jeff starts to suck and lick your nipples. Whatever isn’t receiving attention from his mouth is receiving it from his hand and within minutes your breasts are covered in purple and blue markings.

When Jeff is pleased with his work he continues to kiss down your navel, stopping at the top of your underwear before he leans back on his knees and looks down at you.

“Is it okay if I take these off?”

“Yes.” You breathe. Still in disbelief that Jeff is going to see you naked. You lift your hips enough for Jeff to easily move your underwear down your legs and he tosses them in the general direction of your bra. He kneels between your legs and starts to kiss up your inner thighs. You stare at your ceiling, trying to control your breathing as Jeff Winger gets closer and closer to your pussy. Before he advances further he looks up at you and notices how you’ve closed your eyes and your chest move up and down with each breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” He reaches up to grab one of your hands in his.

“Yes, yes oh God. I just, can’t believe this is real.” You laughed, making eye contact and grasping his hand tighter in yours. Jeff smiles and squeezes your hand back.

“Tell me if you want me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, smiling at Jeff and watch him lean back down to his previous position, his hand still holding on to yours. He has your legs spread wide enough for his shoulders to fit between them. He has the perfect view of you. Without further ado, Jeff licks up between your folds. You sigh, pressing your head back against a pillow, closing your eyes, and relishing in the pleasure of Jeff’s tongue. Jeff continues to explore your pussy and runs his tongue along the sides, around your hole, and back up to your clit where he gives it a couple of swipes making your hips move up and a moan escapes your lips. Jeff smiles and uses his free hand to hold your hips down.

Jeff focuses all of his attention on your clit. Sucking, licking, moving his tongue in circles, he explores other sensitive areas until he finds the exact spot that makes you cry out and focuses all of his attention there. He never moves, never stops, you’ve never experienced someone as persistent as Jeff was at making you come from his tongue alone.

“Oh my God, Jeff fuck.” You whined, your hand still squeezing Jeff’s, the other one pulling in his hair. Jeff groaned at your noises and picked up his pace feeling your hips move against him.

“Jeff, I’m close. Fuck don’t stop.” You were a mess. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of euphoria and finally the dam broke. You cried out and Jeff let you move your hips against his face and slowed his pace as you came down from your high. Jeff crawled up your body and kissed you, softer this time. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“I like how my name sounds when you say it.” He confesses in a whisper.

“Who taught you how to do that?” You smirk.

“You did.” He matched your smile, reminiscing of your conversation about eating girls out.

“I must be a fantastic teacher.”

“One of a kind.” Jeff pushes off of you, rolls off the bed, and walks to your bedroom doorway where his jeans lay. He pulls out a condom from a pocket and walks back to you.

“How many do you usually keep with you?” you inquire. Jeff hesitates for a moment, trying to read in between the lines of your question. Do you actually care and this is an insecurity talking? Or are you just making fun of him? He looks at you and sees you with your hands folded behind your head. You give him a soft smile and raise your eyebrows in a suggestive way. Jeff laughs.

“Just the one. What did you expect?”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a rep from Trojan following you around at your beck and call.” Jeff lets out a huge laugh making you smile proudly.

“I tell you what,” Jeff pulls down his boxers, “I’ve never laughed this much during sex.” He rolls the condom onto his cock and looks back up at you. All signs of jokes and playfulness have left your expression and you just stare at Jeff’s cock.

“Do you like what you see?” Jeff poses, hoping to make you laugh again, not entirely sure what you’re thinking. You bite your lip and make eye contact again. You nodd at Jeff, truly at a loss for words at his naked appearance. Jeff smiles and returns to his original position above you but you place your hand on his chest to stop him.

“Wait, I want to be on top.” A glimmer shown in your eyes at the idea. Jeff lets you push him over with little hesitation and now his arms are folded behind his head and your legs are spread on either side of Jeff’s waist.

“If you want to do the work, be my guest princess.”

“I just like the idea of having Jeff Winger under my control.” You whispered in his ear and kiss below his earlobe. You continued to move your lips across his neck and up to his mouth again. Your hands grab onto Jeff’s and pin them by his head. Jeff groans, his body slightly tense but nevertheless, he lets you take the lead. Whatever makes you happy.

You pull back into a sitting position and slowly lift yourself up to hover over Jeff’s cock. You wrap one hand around him and pump it a few times. Jeff quickly inhales and sighs at the feeling. You run his tip between your lips and shudder as you pass your clit. Jeff groans in response and your legs shake slightly.

“Fuck, I guess I’m still sensitive.” You smirk.

“I must be a fantastic student.” Jeff retorted about his handiwork. Finally, you line up Jeff’s cock with your hole and slowly lower yourself onto him. You fall forward, your palms pressed against Jeff’s chest to hold yourself up. Jeff’s hands automatically find your hips and follow them as they lower all the way down until you’ve fit all of him inside of you.

“Oh my God.” You breathed staring down at Jeff.

“Fuck sweetheart.” Jeff groans, “you feel so fucking good.” His voice deep and raw causing your pussy to flutter slightly making Jeff flinch. You slowly raise yourself up and down, gaining a rhythm and speed. Jeff’s hands never leave your sides.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy (Y/N).” Jeff groans. His hands run up your back and pull you down to be level with him. His hands return to your hips and he moves with you, meeting your pace but hitting even deeper inside you.

“Oh fuck Jeff, yes!” Jeff groans a low guttoral moan at your noises and picks up his pace. It doesn’t take much for you to let him take over again and he’s pounding his cock up into your pussy, hitting all the right spots to make you feel dizzy. Your hands are running through Jeff’s hair, you’re face down on his shoulder as he slams his hips up toward yours.

“You’re mine (Y/N).” Jeff spanks your left buttcheek making you cry out.

“Jeff please, I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you (Y/N).”

Jeff continues to hit your favorite spot until he feels your pussy start to convulse around him. You let out a string of moans and cries of Jeff’s name as he makes you come. With a few more thrusts Jeff is groaning too and his hips still inside you. He thrusts a few more times before finally relaxing and calming his heartrate.

Jeff wraps his arms around your back, your chest pressed against his, your face positioned towards Jeff’s but you’re too tired to open your eyes at the moment. Both of you breathing heavily, sweat sticking your bodies together. After a few minutes, you lift yourself up and slowly raise your hips off of Jeff before rolling onto your back.

Jeff rolls off the bed and walks to your bathroom to dispose of his condom. He cleans himself up a little and puts his boxers on. He taps on your thigh to get your attention.

“Hey.” He gently whispers. You look up at him and see a washcloth in his hand. You spread your legs a little with as much energy as you can muster and he gently cleans you up as well. Once he’s done, he pulls your covers over you and joins you in your bed. He starts to wrap his arms around you to spoon you but you surprise him by turning around and wrapping yourself around him like a koala while he’s flat on his back. Your head lies on his chest and you can hear his heartbeat if you’re quiet enough.

“What does this make us?” You ask. Jeff tenses below you making you laugh. “Relax, I know you. I’m not looking for a boyfriend girlfriend label I just… want to know where I stand with you.” You explain.

“I promise you’re the only girl I have sex with.” Jeff offers. You smile.

“Likewise. But is that dating? Or friends with benefits?”

“We’re seeing each other.”

“We’re seeing each other.” You repeat.

“You’re more to me than a friend with benefits.”

“But dating would mean boyfriend girlfriend?” You ask.

“I don’t want to rush whatever this is. I don’t want to complicate it with labels. I just want it to simply be.” Jeff explains in a rush. Feeling as though he finally got something off his chest yet, still worried about how you’ll react.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” You tilt your head to look up at Jeff and see him already looking down at you. You raise your left hand to run through his messed up hair. “We’re exclusive together.” You shrug. “I can do that. And when you decide you want a label, let me know.” You confirm.

Jeff feels as though he might cry. He’s never met someone so understanding of who he is and doesn’t push him into anything he doesn’t want. But instead, he opts to kiss you and hope that you can feel his appreciation than way. You return to laying against Jeff’s chest and Jeff lays back on your pillow, both of your arms wrapped around each other as sleep takes over.

#Jeff Winger x reader #community #joel mchale #Abed Nadir #Troy Barnes #Pierce Hawthorne #Britta Perry #Annie Edison #Shirley Bennett #jeff winger smut

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sardonic-the-writer · 4 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: undone - the sweater song—weezer

masterlist! | commissions | carrd

• Rooming with Troy and Abed had been one of the easiest decisions of your life. Two years of friendship and student debt loans really did a lot to convince a person

• You were a little worried about the actual process of moving, considering what happened last time the study group got together to move, but it ended up going pretty smooth. Jeff didn't even try to pretend he was sick this time, something that Britta sarcastically applauded him for. And Shirley held back from judging you about your lack of Christian memorabilia. She instead resorted to clutching her cross necklace tighter than the time she found out Britta smoked pot

• In between lugging boxes and bedframes around, Annie reassured you over and over that she was totally fine with you taking up the apartment vacancy instead of her. She was honestly looking forward to her new place just off the cusp of campus grounds. Said it would be easier to get in for a midnight study session. Whatever that meant

• You just nodded slowly and excused yourself to pack in a different corner

• Troy and Abed on the other hand were absolutely stoked throughout the move. So much so, that they put most of their shenanigans on pause to get the move over faster. Most of them.

• "Abed, untie Troy from the chair. I need to put that in the back of my car. You can do that when we get to your place."

• "Ten more minutes?"

• "No, guys."

• "Aw man."

• The next few hours ran as smooth as they could with eight people trying to walk up two flights of stairs. Eventually, everything got unloaded into the living room, and excuses were made as why people had to leave. Some more elegantly than others

• "Yeah, as much as I'd love to stay and watch you three nerds discuss which Batman poster goes where—" Jeff hummed as he typed away on his phone, "—I've got places to be and women to charm."

• "What he said!"

• "Pierce, I don't think there's a single lady out there that would touch you with a ten foot pole." You deadpanned

• "Ertha Kitt did. And she did more than just touch me—"

• "Okay. Out."

• Troy and Abed surprised you that night with a new pair of pajamas to match their own, and an impromtu Inspector Spacetime marathon

•Both of them beamed when you came out into the living room later wearing it. A part of you figured they were just happy that you were cool with your blanket fort, though

• You ended up sitting criss crossed on top of an unpacked box while they took to their knockoff la-z-boys

• "Do you guys think we should actually unpack things before starting the next episode?" You asked at some point late into the night, glancing at the blinking analog clock on the TV stand

• "No." Abed answered you without even looking up from the end credits

• "Yeah me neither." You grinned. "I want to see if Reggie kills any blorgons this time."

• All in all, becoming their third best friend and tennant was one of the best decisions any of you had made—even if it did take you a month to convince Troy and Abed to let you take partial room in the dreamatorium

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88-special · 1 year

Text

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering.

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home."

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused.

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

#jeff winger x reader #joel mchale #greendale community college #community #jeff winger #Jeff winger x you #Jeff winger x y/n #britta perry #annie edison #shirley bennett #pierce hawthorne #troy barnes #abed nadir

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luna-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

Annie’s Friend, Abed Nadir

this is my writing blog and i get to choose the comfort character

Fanfic, gender neutral! reader

Fluff (I think)

Tw: mention of Annie’s rehab/drug addiction, Pierce saying the wrong and offensive things yet again, season one Annie, use of Y/N (oops), references to all kinds of fandoms, none other?

Summary: You have been a life long friend of Annie and spend the weekend at her place. As you arrive at Greendale on Friday to pick her up, you find out she and Troy have to finish a project before leaving the building. Abed sacrifices his free time to keep you company until Annie is done. There, he discovers that there is more to you than he had primarily thought.

How long had you been standing there? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? Annie had told you to meet in front of Greendale, and she’d look for you. It wasn’t something for Annie to be too late.

You would spend the weekend with her, hence why you were picking her up now, but as the minutes passed, you grew more worried; If Annie say she’d meet you at 16:00, she’d be there at 15:45, but now, it was 16:15 and she had yet to show up.

Maybe you should just walk in and try to blend in, but where would you go? She didn’t mention any other places you could meet her. And you knew nothing of her friends beside - perhaps - three names. And you figured it’d be kind of weird to simply walk around and ask everybody’s names.

“I’m sorry!” You suddenly heard a familiar voice. You noticed Annie running towards you, but no backpack in hand.

“Troy and I have to turn in a project, but something malfunctioned last minute, so we have to fix it real quick.” She explained, wrapping you in a comforting hug.

“You could wait in our study room. The rest is still there so you can meet them!” She stated, separating from the hug and grabbing your hand instead. As you trailed behind her, you realized your travel bag was still hanging from your shoulder.

“What do I do with my bag?” You asked, knowing you could not drop it off anywhere as you took the bus.

“Take it with you. People have taken weirder things in here.” Annie proposed, opening one of the school doors and holding it for you.

“Annie, where are you?” A voice called from the halls, alerting the brunette next to you.

“The light are being weird again!” The voice yelled.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go.” She spoke through hissed teeth to you. “I’ll make it quick!” Annie excused, now pointing towards a room in front of you.

“They’re in there. Don’t worry, they’re really nice.” She spoke hurriedly. “Just don’t talk about personal stuff to Pierce.” She instructed, walking off hurriedly.

“Who’s Pierce?” You asked.

“You’ll know!” She yelled over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

“Right….” You mumbled, staring at the glass door of he vacated room. You noticed a few of the people in there were packing their bags. Annie’s backpack laid on top the table, seemingly untouched. At least you didn’t have to worry about being in the wrong room. With a deep breath, you walked towards the entrance.

Just as neared the doorway, it swung open, a blond haired woman walking out. She offered you a kind smile before walking towards the exit. You gave her a polite nod back, but couldn’t muster up the urge to say something. Instead, you turned your head back to the door, which had closed again. With the shake of your head, you knocked three times, before opening the gate.

“Hello.” A woman warmly spoke, an excited, yet unsure smile showing on her face.

“You must be here for me.” An older man exclaimed, walking up to you.

“Hello, Pierce Hawthorne.” He introduced, standing a bit taller than he had appeared earlier, offering you his hand.

“Actually, I’m here for Annie.” You declined, remaining polite, but shaking his hand nonetheless.

“Oh, you’re Y/N!” The woman from earlier remarked. “Annie’s been talking about you all week!” She explained, clapping her hands lightly.

“My name is Shirley. It is nice to meet you.” She presented, wrapping her bag around her arm.

“She’s working on a project.” A second man spoke up, his eyes glued to his phone as he made his way towards the door.

“I know. She told me to wait here, if that’s okay with you.” You explained, taking a step back to let him pass.

“Fine by me. I was leaving anyway.” He stated, walking out after his words. You frowned at his actions, but didn’t say anything.

“I have to pick up my kids in ten minutes, so it’s best I leave too.” Shirley spoke apologetically.

“It was very nice meeting you!” She announced happily through a smile, before following the man’s steps.

“Well, if you’re not my smoking hot date, she’s walking around here somewhere.” The older man remarked, walking towards the door.

“I’ll find her.” He announced, weirdly excited while simultaneously appearing truly disturbing.

“Do you want me to wait with you?” The last person in the room offered. He had been on the tall, lanky side, though none of the names Annie told you earlier shot to you at his appearance.

“Oh, it’s okay.” You acknowledged. “If you have somewhere else to be, I’m fine with waiting by myself.”

“Actually, I’m going to watch a movie with Troy, but he’s busy with his project with Annie, so we can wait together.” He decided, walking up to you and offering you his hand.

“Abed.” He introduced, to which you smiled politely, accepting the handshake.

“Y/N, but I think you already knew that.” You mumbled. He nodded at your words, letting go of your hand.

“You’re a Star Wars fan?” He asked, pointing towards your shirt. You were wearing your Cantina Band long-sleeves, so it took you by surprise that someone actually noticed it.

“Yeah, actually.” You answered, pulling on the bottom of the shirt in reflex.

“What’s your favorite movie?” He suddenly began, making you let out a tiny smile, before answering him again.

“Empire Strikes Back, probably.” You began, “I loved Lando in that one.” You explained.

“I really liked Han’s character.” Abed countered, sitting down on the chair he was earlier vacating, gesturing for you to sit on the seat next to him.

“Han is cool too, though I’d have to say that Leia was my favorite.” You confessed honestly.

“Annie never told me you liked Star Wars.” Abed remarked. Annie had told them so much about you in only five days, but she had never once mentioned the things you enjoyed doing.

“Well, Annie and I don’t really watch the same movies, so it’s difficult to talk about them.” You explained.

“When we watch movies together, they’re usually comedies with Steve Carell or Jim Carrey.” You elaborated, observing Abed’s confused look.

“Jim Carrey movies are fun. Liar Liar is always a good one.” Abed agreed, pointing towards you with a small smile.

“It is, but Bruce Almighty cracks me up every time!” You replied, glad to have found someone who actually knows what you’re talking about.

“I loved that one. Have you seen Evan Almighty too?” Abed discussed.

“Yes, but I didn’t really like it.” You admitted, not having been too excited with that movie.

“The sequel wasn’t a necessity.” He agreed, nodding at your statement.

“I know, right?” You acknowledged.

“Well, what kind of movies do you enjoy watching that Annie doesn’t like?” Abed began again, trying to keep your conversation running, not yet willing to break it off.

“I love Tim Burton movies. Or James Cameron movies. He’s a great director!” You concluded.

“Annie doesn’t like the whole Tim Burton vibe and most of the times she can’t really get into sci-fi movies.” You explained to Abed, who did not yet seem to make any intention of speaking.

“Which is weird,” you went on, “because she really liked the world of Tolkien, so I figured she’d like Sci-Fi as it’s the only genre that guarantees new worlds, but perhaps it might just be a bit too much for her.” You pointed out, trying to find a way to rant about it without seeming too annoying.

Abed however, still made no intention to talk. He just looked at you, as if contemplating on what to say next. You just frowned at him, afraid you had said too much or rambled on about things he might not have wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, letting your hands wonder back to the bottom of your shirt, fidgeting with it nervously.

“Don’t apologize.” Abed spoke, snapping out of his daze.

“You and Annie should come over at my place tonight. Has Annie watched Alien yet?” He proposed.

“Yes,” you started, “but she didn’t really like it enough to watch the rest of the saga.” A hint of disappointment was heard in your tone. You had enjoyed the Alien movies and tried to drag Annie into it. It really was a shame she didn’t enjoy the first one.

“Then we skip the second and third movie. They’re bad anyway, and we go to Resurrection.” Abed disclosed, his finger following some form of line, as if he was visualizing the movies in front of him.

“But in order to follow that one you’d have to have seen the first three.” You informed, silently agreeing with the fact that the second and third movie sucked.

“That’s a good point.” Abed observed.

“Then we just go to Alien vs. Predator. You don’t need background information on that movie. It’s not a James Cameron project, but it’s not a terrible choice.” He ended.

“No, that’s true, but I’ve seen it already.” You pointed out, not entirely sure whether he would mind or not. It would get the whole idea of ‘watching a movie with first impressions’ off.

“Do you mind rewatching it?” He questioned genuinely, obviously not bothered by the fact it was a known movie to you.

“Not really, no, but don’t you?” You wondered.

“I never grow tired of rewatching.” Abed justified, his tone plain as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, then I’ll discuss it with Annie first, but I like the idea.” You said sincerely, your features softening at his excited face.

“That’s okay. I’m sure Troy won’t mind any way.” He affirmed.

You smiled at Abed, a sense of peace waving over you at the calmness he just seemed to radiate.

“You’re cool, Abed.” You remarked with a soft smile.

“Thank you. So are you.” He returned.

“Very cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He mumbled inwardly, the words going unnoticed by you.

The silence that struck afterward had been on the verge of uncomfortable. In a way, being around Abed was not necessarily bad or awkward, but the sudden silence gave you the idea that you said something wrong.

Abed, however, quickly picked up on this and began talking. “You like Tarantino movies?”

You nodded eagerly at his question. “Hateful Eight is my favorite.”

Abed’s eyes widened slightly at that statement, his mouth quirking up in a delighted smile again.

“That’s my favorite too.”

The look on his face was enough to make you grin on glee. Perhaps you had more common than first assumed. But then again, first impressions can be difficult. As he began talking again, you could not resist the occasional laughs escaping your throat as Abed gave you his best Hateful Eight impressions.

Abed wasn’t that bad. Two hours of waiting barely felt like anything at all. Annie and Troy had been so apologetic upon entering the room at 18:00, but as they noticed you and Abed caught up in laughter, they figured it wasn’t that horrible after all. Sure, Annie felt bad for making you wait so long, but she was glad you were able to find it with her. And how could she refuse a movie night with them?

#the community #Netflix #Annie Addison #Troy Barnes #Abed nadir #Troy and Abed #Jeff winger #pierce hawthorne #shirley bennett #britta perry #Abed nadir x reader #Abed x reader

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