“Oh my, Jack, you should have seen it,” Bitty said. “I swear
they were counting down to the very second.” He held his phone against his ear
with his shoulder and took the pie crust from the fridge where it had been
chilling. “As soon as it hit midnight, Chowder and Caitlin were all over each
other, kissing like nobody’s business. I haven’t seen such a display since,
goodness, last Winter Screw. Only with less alcohol involved.”
Bitty laughed. “Yes, Lardo had the score cards all ready to
go. Perfect 10s from everyone but Holster, but I think that was because,” Bitty
stopped, looked around, then whispered, “Ransom and March were cuddling and
being cute on the couch right next to him.
“Hmm, what else? Oh! Nursey and Dex were holding hands all
day. Dex’s face was all pink and he was glaring something fierce, but that boy
would not let go of Nursey’s hand for love nor money. Nursey was just as
pleased as punch. He forgot all about being ‘chill’ for almost a whole hour.”
Holster walked into the kitchen carrying a cellophane-wrapped
basket. “Special delivery,” he sang. “From your sugar daddy, Bitty.”
“You hush, Holster. Sweetheart, you didn’t have to send me
anything. You know I’m coming up this weekend.” Bitty unwrapped the basket and
began to take out the contents. “Apples… is this a fruit basket? Butter, flour…
Jack Zimmerman, did you send me a pie baking basket?”
Holster groaned. “Here we go.”
Bitty looked Holster dead in the eye and said into his
phone, “Jack honey, you are the sweetest, most thoughtful, loveliest boyfriend
I could hope for. I wish you were here with me right now so I could give you a
big ol’ kiss. Thank you so much.”
Holster shook his head and turned to leave.
Bitty raised his voice. “And I wish your butt was here, too,
so I could give it a big ol’ squeeze.”
“Enjoy this while you can,” Holster said from the hallway.
“The Valentine’s Day fine amnesty ends in a few hours, and tomorrow it’s double
fines for all PDA and pet names so we can snap up all that sweet discount
chocolate. Tell Jack to send his wallet; we both know you won’t be able to
knock it off with the pet names and I need to stock up on Reese’s peanut butter
“Oh, ha ha. We aren’t that bad,” Bitty called after him.
“And you hush too, Mr. Zimmermann.” He sighed. “I really do wish you were here.
I sure am looking forward to seeing you this weekend.
“Well, you know if it was up to me, we’d talk for hours, but
if you have to go… Anyway, I was in the middle of baking a pie before I got all
distracted, so I’ll let you go. See you soon, honey. Love you, good bye.”
Bitty hung up his phone and got back to work on his pie. He
was just pulling it out of the oven when there a knock on the front door. Someone
answered it and there was a round of enthusiastic greetings – obviously somebody
they knew. He didn’t think anything more of it until someone stepped through
the kitchen door.
Bitty spun around. “Jack? What on earth?”
Jack walked over to him and took him in his arms. “It’s
Valentine’s Day. I wanted to see you.”
Bitty pulled him down into a deep kiss. “I’m so happy to see
you sweetheart, but you didn’t have to come all this way. I mean, with your
schedule… And you sent me that adorable basket…”
“I didn’t want to miss fine amnesty,” Jack said and Bitty
had to kiss him again.
Summary: Reader works for George Washington and on her break she decided to tease him in his office which leads to something a little more up close and personal ;)
AN: Originally this wasn’t supposed to be a smut but something full of fluff but then it turned to this…oops. I haven’t written smut in so long so I’m sorry for this lol.
Warning: Some cursing; teasing; some jealousy; SMUT and everything in between
The Washington law firm was a big deal in NYC. And you were lucky enough to score a job there….as a secretary. Though it’s not the most ideal job, it pays very well because it’s a big firm. You worked outside of your bosses office, as his private secretary. Though you weren’t complaining though if you got to see your boss everyday.
George Washington your boss man. He was I guess you can say feared through out the firm. Everyone held respect for him even if he was intimidating. You on the other hand found his authoritative, intimidating stature attractive. Naturally as his private secretary you would have to speak to him and every time you did was out of the public eye and there would always be an underlying meaning to the things he’s said to you which made you crave for him.
You wanted him bad.
In the morning you wore your usual pencil skirt that stopped a little bit above your knee’s and a white blouse with the top buttons undone to reveal your cleavage and your black bra strap. Applying mascara and pink lip gloss you thought you were work ready.
You sat at your desk writing as the person on the phone spoke to you. The door opened. George walked in passing by.
“Morning Ms. L/N.” Sparing a glance at you for a moment, moving to go into his office when he looked at you again. his eyes pinned themselves to your cleavage.
“Hold on for a moment.” You said to the person on the line. A smile turned on your lips. “Is everything all right Mr. Washington?” You asked in a sweet voice.
“Get back to work.” His voice turned hard, looking away he went into his office the door closing loudly behind him. You smirked.
You stood by the coffee machine talking to your friends Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette and Mulligan all laughing away and something Laurens said. Out of the corner of your eye you can see your boss looking your way.
“So I told him to fuck off, what the hell was I supposed to do?!” Alexander explained. You giggled, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at it and smirked.
“Oh, Alex, you and your way with words.”
Suddenly everyone tensed up, standing straighter. You looked at your friends confused before turning around and seeing your boss standing there in all his glory.
“Ms. L/N, my office now.” Mr. Washington stated through gritted teeth before turning and striding his way to his office.
“What did you do mon ami?” Lafayette asked, his voice sounding fearful.
“I’m about to find out.” You stated.
You knocked on Mr. Washington’s door.
“Come in.” It was muffled but still hearable. Opening the door you saw your boss leaning on his desk with his arm’s crossed, a blank expression on his face. “Close the door behind you.” You complied with his demand. Your back faced him for the briefest moment. Once the door closed you were pushed into it. A gasp escaped as you felt your boss pressed up against you.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He growled in your ear. With how close he was caused you to shiver.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean sir.” You replied innocently a smirk twisting ever so slightly on your lips. His hands grabbed your waist, swiftly turning you around so now your back was pinned to the door.
“Oh, really?” He asked challengingly.
“I think you’re going to have to elaborate for me.”
“The fucking teasing, trying to get me jealous, you revealing more skin to me through the entirety of the day.” His hand pushed your hair away from your facing. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?” Your hands rested on his chest rubbing up and down.
“Show me.” Your voice was barely audible but he heard it. Next thing you knew his lips crashed onto your, you didn’t hesitate to kiss back with as much heat and lust. Pushing your tight skirt up his hands landed on your ass pulling you up against the door. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist as your lips disconnected before finding each other again. A quick slap to the ass caused you to gasp loudly, his tongue grazed your before they tangled together in your heated make out session.
Still holding onto you he stepped away from the door and carried you to his desk. You were set down right in front of it.
“Turn around.” Your boss ordered you. Below your hips was throbbing…aching to be touched. grabbing your skirt you yanked it down, kicking it to the side. The bulge in his pants looked almost painful. Doing as you were told you turned around. Quickly you were bent over the desk. Your hands gripped the ends of it as you heard Mr. Washington undoing his belt. The fabric of his pants were pulled down as was the boxers that restrained his painful erection. Looking behind your eyes bulged out at the size and gulped.
‘How the fuck is that supposed to fit,’ You thought to yourself.
Pumping himself a few times he aligned himself at your entrance, rubbing against you.
“Mm, Mr. Washington please.” You begged, pushing yourself against him some.
“Call me George.” He told you and without warning he pushed himself inside you.
“Oh shit!” You yelled.
“Shh.” Mr. Was- George hushed you though you heard him chuckle as he did that. He stretched you out completely it felt like. After a minute you adjusted to him. His colossal sized hands held you by the waist, as he pulled out only half way before slamming harshly back in causing you to let a moan.
“Your so big George!” You moaned as he thrusted into you. By how tight he held your waist you figure it’ll leave bruises but you didn’t care.
“Your so beautiful.” He said in your ear. George placed a kiss underneath your ear.
“Ungh!” The knots in your abdomen were ready to burst.
“George I-I’m so close, don’t stop.” This encouraged him to go faster if even possible.
“Cum for me baby.” His words like music to your ears caused you to cum. A hand cover your mouth as you screamed at your release. Shortly after he came inside of you(your on the pill).
Both of you quickly got changed and made yourselves presentable. Looking at the time it was very well much passed your break.
“Well it looks like my break is over.” You stated airly.
“Call me Y/N.” You told him. He smiled.
“Y/N, I know this is all very sudden, but would you like to join me for uh, lunch tomorrow in my office?” He asked.
“I would love to Mr. Washington.” WInking at him you left to go back to work.
The next day the both of you enjoyed a nice looong lunch together. But hey from that point on it was just another day in the office.
A/N: So the winner of my “biggest fan” imagine was @iprobablyshouldntbut12! So this is a personalised imagine for her. Everyone go check out her account, it’s great :)
Summary: Adriana - the junior taking senior classes - stands up to Jackson Whittemore with a sassy remark resulting in Stiles becoming interested in her.
I walked into the class with my head down as always, waiting for lunch to come. I wasn’t really close with anyone in my classes due to being so much younger than them all. I’m a junior, but because my IQ is apparently “near genius level”, I’m taking classes with the seniors. I sit in my designated seat; second row in the middle. Class starts and I listen intently about the backstory to our book, Diary of a Madman. The teacher asked us to get out our books and I do so, placing my bag on the ground afterwards.
“So, what is Gogol trying to convey when he says-” The teachers cut off when the door slams and an angry looking boy storms in. I’d only seen him a new times as he only started attending Beacon Hills halfway through the year, but from what I’ve heard he used to go here a few years ago. His names Jackson Whittemore and his known for being a douche. He places a note on the teachers desk before making his way down the isle to the back of the room. Along the way though, he trips over my bag and quickly regains himself, shooting me a glare.
“Keep your stuff out of the way. These shoes are probably worth more that your house.” He snarls. I scoff and I hear a couple of chuckles and more gasps.
“Oh yeah? Do you think you can buy yourself a better personality?” I snap in a sarcastic tone before realising it came out of my mouth. Everyone’s jaws drop in surprise before a chorus of laughter forms.
“Alright, alright, thats enough. Take your seat Mr Whittemore. ” The teacher hushes everyone as people continue to softly giggle, their eyes still a little wider in surprise.
“Adriana! I heard what you did!” My friend exclaimed as she saw me. “Who knew you were such a bad girl.” She winked.
“Oh shut up. He had it coming, whether it was from me or not.” I chuckled. My friends and I continued to gossip and laugh throughout the whole of lunch. I could sense a presence though. It was as if someone was watching me.
“Hey, who’s that girl?” Stiles asked Scott as he nudged his head in the direction of Adriana.
“The girl from our English? That’s Adriana. Probably the only person that could give Lydia a run for her money. She’s a junior but she takes classes with us because she’s smart.” Stiles looks at Scott with a confused look, wondering why he knew so much about her. “What? She’s nice to talk to when you get to know her.”
“Yeah, and she’s awesome. God, Jackson looked so dumbfounded in class today.” Stiles laughed and Scott joined in.
“Do you want to talk to her?” Scott asked.
“I wanna congratulate her if I’m honest. But nah, I can’t just walk up to her.” Stiles mumbles and Scott rolls his eyes before walking over, dragging along a reluctant Stiles.
“Adriana!” I look up from my lunch to see Scott and his friend Stiles standing next to our table.
“Oh, hey Scott!” I smile.
“Hey! I was just wondering, I’m pretty sure we both have a spare period last today. Can you help us out a little with English?” Scott asks and I smile and nod my head. I look at his friend who stands there a little awkwardly and I giggle slightly. For once, the senior was scared of the junior.
“Oh, hey Adriana.” He waves. “Good job by the way. With Jackson. I’d pay good money to see that happen again.” He chuckles and I smile back.
“Give me your donut and we have a deal.” He pauses for a second and then opens his mouth. “I’m kidding! I’d gladly do it for free.” everyone laughs and Scott pipes up.
“Well, we’ll see you last period then. Meet at the library?” I nod and then the boys walk away. “Was that so hard?” I heard Scott say and Stiles gives him a light smack on the arm. I look back at the girls who are smirking.
“You’re into seniors now? Well, to be fair they were cute. Good choice.” I roll my eyes playfully and the girls and I continue to organise plans for this weekend.
Thank you all for 500 followers. I’ve only had this account for a month or two and I’ve already made so many new friends. Please don’t refrain from messaging me! I love talking to people and could probably babble on forever. Once again, congratulations and thank you to @iprobablyshouldntbut12!
What Do You Know About Love? (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)
A/N: Due to the great response on What Do You Know About Babies?, I have written a second part!! I’m so glad that everyone has enjoyed my Sherlock pieces and I will definitely keep writing about everyone’s favorite sociopath! Enjoy!! xx
The windows were thrown wide open, an unusually warm breeze filled your classroom. Bright, young faces stared at you, ready for you to fill their minds with new ideas, new points of view. Your heart felt as light as a feather, standing in front of young people who were ready to soak up any stroke of wisdom you could hand out. Today, however, the eyes of your pupils were slightly dulled by the topic.
“Now, I know metonymy can be a bit monotonous,” you said, smirking at a rather embarrassed student. A few students snickered. The student in question had raised his hand at the beginning of class, confident that metonymy meant “lack of variety” and “dull.” “But bare with me for the last few minutes of class.”
As if on cue, the door creaked open and a tall man in an overcoat crossed the threshold. Everyone’s heads turned to see who the intruder was. Girls huddled their heads together in hushed excitement. “Mr. Holmes,” you smiled, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” The curly-haired detective nodded to you with a small smile before taking a seat at an empty desk in the back of the class.
Your heart began to beat a little faster and you could feel your cheeks grow hot. This was the first time Sherlock had visited your classroom since the first time you met.
His sudden presence made you forget your place. “Um, yes, metonymy is also used in literature to make a complex sentence more concise, simple. Go back through what we have read in Hamlet so far and highlight examples of metonymy. We will revisit this rhetorical device as we continue reading. Class is dismissed.” Chairs scraped across the wooden floor and notebooks shuffled off the desks into backpacks. “And remember class, Carpe Diem!”
A few students shouted the proverb back to you before exiting the room. One student stayed behind to ask if the book club was still meeting on Thursday and you assured her that it was. The class was empty in about 15 seconds, rather slow actually. “Seize the day?” Sherlock piped up, still seated at the desk.
You smiled at Sherlock as you watched him take long strides towards you. He grinned back at you. That smile was contagious. Since the first time you met, you and Sherlock have been on a few dates, if you could call them that. About 90% of these “dates” were you tagging along on cases because John couldn’t find a babysitter. He had taken you out to dinner a few times, no murderers or jewel thieves involved, and it was very pleasant. Oh, it was more than pleasant. The time you spent with Sherlock was extraordinary.
“Yes, seize the day,” you replied. “I like to encourage my students to take advantage of the moment, seize the day for themselves, take control of their lives.”
Sherlock smiled at you, “Interesting. Intelligent.”
“Well, I stole the idea from the movie but most of them don’t know that,” you say with a laugh. A low laugh rumbles in Sherlock’s chest. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?”
Sherlock looked to the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with one large hand. He looked back up to you, soft, blue eyes locked on yours, curls bouncing on his forehead, “I don’t know,” he began in a low tone. His words worried you. “I found myself thinking about and just had to see you.”
You blushed deeply and looked to the floor. You leaned back against your desk, hands stuffed in your pockets. “I’ve been thinking about you too, Sherlock.” Sherlock was standing awfully close to you but you loved it. You looked back up at him. He was gazing warmly at you. He didn’t breathe a word. His silence said enough, though. You studied his face, his ocean-filled eyes, his plump lips, the stubble that hugged his jaw, the arch of his cheekbones. You shifted your gaze between his eyes and lips.
Before you could reach your hand up to caress his warm cheek, his voice chimed in, “I need you…” you needed him too, “to look after Rosie tonight.”
“John and I have to wrap up a huge case tonight and he needs a babysitter. John was too nervous to ask. He said it would be rude,” he concluded with a roll of his eyes. The fantasy world you were in moments before was fading away into mist. Who were you kidding? Sherlock was not the kind of man to be so forward about his feelings.
You shifted your weight on your feet. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish before saying, “Yeah, sure. When do you want me there?”
“Would five o’clock work?”
You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 3:30 and your office hours ended at 4:30. This meant you were heading straight to Baker Street from the college. You sighed and nodded to Sherlock.
Sherlock beamed at you, his eyes crinkling up. You impulsively smiled back at him. “Thank you,” he said before grazing a kiss across your right cheek. “I know you were expecting something like that.” He quickly turned on his heel towards the door. He seemed to be nervously mumbling to himself the entire trek to the door.
You stood stunned for a few moments. Sherlock had made gestures of affection before but never like that. He had put a protective arm around you at parties, lent you his scarf at colder locations, draped his robe over your sleeping body. You hesitantly touched your fingertips to your cheek, almost expecting the skin to feel different. You chuckled at yourself. Were you in high school?
Lost in thought, you wandered back to your office. You slumped into the desk chair. A slew of papers to grade graced the inbox on your computer. You groaned and ran a hand through your hair, reclining in the chair. You picked up your phone to see a text from the only person who texted you, Sherlock.
What do you want for dinner? I’ll leave it in the fridge for you. SH
You smiled at the kind gesture.
My usual from Speedy’s will be just fine. Thank You
You arrived at 221 Baker Street just as the clock towers chimed five. Frantically, you knocked on the door, straightening the crooked knocker as you did so. The door was thrown open before you could lower your hand. Mrs. Hudson smiled at you but her face look flustered. “Oh, (Y/N), the boys are upstairs just itching to leave. I’ll be popping out too. Farewell, deary,” she said in a huff.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Enjoy your evening,” you replied, squeezing past her. You took the stairs two at time and burst into the living room of 221B. “I’m here,” you exclaimed.
Sherlock was standing beside the fireplace, a wiggly Rosie in his arms. He was dressed in his best suit and, damn, he looked sharp. He pointed to you and said to Rosie, “Who’s that?” She burst into a fit of giggles and clapped her chubby hands together.
“(Y/N),” she squealed, butchering your name. You dropped your bag on the couch and walked over to Sherlock, taking Rosie into your arms for a big hug.
“Hi there, Rosie,” you beamed, pinching one cheek. “I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, turning to Sherlock.
He shook his head with a grimace. “Don’t be. John is taking forever to get ready. JOHN!” he exclaimed.
You laughed at Sherlock’s frustration and Rosie joined in. John rushed into the living room. You turned your gaze to the doctor. He was in an all black tux, his silver hair slicked back with perfection. “My, my Dr. Watson,” you began with a smirk, “the women will be swooning to get a little mouth-to-mouth from you.”
John blushed so hard that he was almost purple. Sherlock nudged you gently with his elbow but his frame was shaking with laughter. “Da, da!” Rosie squealed, her little hands grasping for John.
He walked towards you and planted a kiss on Rosie’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, giggle-bug,” he smiled at her. He turned his attention to you. “Thank you for this, (Y/N).” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sherlock’s jaw clench as he watched John’s actions.
“Anytime, John,” you began, “Judging by your walk, I suppose mouth-to-mouth won’t be happening with random women tonight.” John looked at you puzzled. “That pep in your step shows that you have a special girl other than the one in my arms.” You smirked at him.
John pointed one of his infamous fingers at you and glared at Sherlock. “You know, one of you doing this is enough.” You and Sherlock burst into laughter and John stormed away to grab his coat.
Sherlock turned to you and lightly touched your arm before clasping his hands behind his back. “Thank you. I will see you later.” John was standing in the doorway, now waiting on Sherlock. Sherlock rocked back on his heels before continuing, “They were all out of that Cherry Cola you like.”
“It’s alright. I probably drink too much of it anyway. Now, go,” you reassured him, pushing his arm lightly. Sherlock gave you a small smile before walking towards John who was holding his coat. Sherlock had one sleeve through when you said, “Sherlock, wait.” He turned to you, one arm in his coat and the other half-way. You strode over to him, with more confidence than you thought you had, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I could tell you were expecting that,” you whispered before stepping back.
John chuckled to himself and Sherlock looked stunned as he followed his companion out the door. Rosie made kissing sounds so you pecked her cheek as well. “So, Rosie, what do you want to do?”
“Hop-bit!” she said, bouncing in your arms.
“The Hobbit? Again?” You set her down on the couch before walking over to the bookcase. As you made your way back to the couch, the worn copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel in your hands, Rosie made a roaring noise at you and turned her hands into little claws. “We’ll get to the Smaug part, don’t worry,” you giggled at her.
About the introduction of the mountain trolls, Rosie nodded off in your lap. You laid her gently on the couch, propping a pillow under her head. You found her blanket on John’s chair and tucked it in around her. Finally, you dug into the sandwich Sherlock had bought you. You sat in Sherlock’s chair, tucking your legs up against you.
Around 11 o’clock, Mrs. Hudson returned. You heard her go straight to her rooms downstairs. You had forgotten to ask when they would be home but it would have done no good. Whatever Sherlock said wouldn’t have been true.
You let out a long yawn and curled up in Sherlock’s chair. Before you could fall asleep, a little hand tugged at your pant leg. You opened your eyes to see Rosie looking up at you with large, scared eyes. “What is it, Rosie?” you ask, concerned.
“Twolls,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. A bad dream about the trolls. You pulled Rosie into your lap and stroked her soft hair. You reassured her that the trolls wouldn’t get her and she quickly fell back to sleep. Not too long after, you had nodded off as well.
John and Sherlock returned at about midnight. The evening had been successful and Mr. Wellington’s prized beagle was safe and sound. Both John and Sherlock were melted to feelings of warmth and fondness as they laid eyes on the scene in the living room. Rosie’s head was tucked under your chin, her mouth slightly open. Your arms were wrapped protectively around her, a soft snoring emanating from you.
John pried Rosie from your arms and took her up to his room. “Goodnight Sherlock,” he whispered before creeping up the stairs. Sherlock grunted in affirmation before turning to you, curled up in his chair. A soft smile graced his face as he watched you sleep.
He didn’t quite understand how he felt about you. There were feelings similar to the ones he had towards John, but there was something else. Your presence made him forget what he was thinking. Your face made him want to do things he only thought of in private moments. Your voice made him want to close his eyes and listen to you talk for hours. It bewildered Sherlock.
You shifted in your sleep and mumbled something, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts. He stepped towards you, reaching a hand out and stroking your hair. Then Sherlock made the decision to bend down, scoop you into his arms, and bring you back to his bedroom. Your head rested against his chest.
He laid your sleeping body on his bed, pulling the duvet over you. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, stroking your hair gently. Oh, how he had longed to do this. Your hair was softer than he had imagined.
Looking at you. Taking care of you. Touching you. Sherlock realized something. He loved you. This had to be it. It was the only logical explanation. The only emotional explanation. Sherlock loved you. “What do you know about love?” Sherlock said to himself, still a little doubtful that he could feel such a thing.
“More than you think,” you mumbled at him, a shadow of a smile on your lips. Sherlock’s fingers froze in your hair and a deep tomato red rose to his cheeks. You opened one eye to look at the man. “You didn’t expect me to stay asleep being jostled around like that, did you?” you giggled at him.
Sherlock quickly pulled his hand away and began to stammer, “I didn't… I’m sorry I.. You were..”
You sat up and took Sherlock’s hands in yours. They were large and rough but warm. “Sherlock, stop,” you whispered. He closed his mouth, concern written on his face. Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his cheek. You drew small circles with your thumb over his cheekbone. He brought up one hand to cover yours. You locked your eyes with his silky blue ones. Before you could think, the words came tumbling out of your mouth, “I love you, Sherlock.”
He closed his fingers around your hand then leaned in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You smiled and leaned into it. His lips were soft and tasted of peppermint and tobacco. They melded perfectly with yours. Sherlock finally pulled away, to your dismay. “I love you too,” he said, his voice a deep, smooth ripple. “I love you,” he repeated, a wide smile on his face. Of course, you had to smile too. You threw your arms around Sherlock. He buried his face into your neck and clung to you desperately. “I love you.”
A/N: I apologize for the length but I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless!! Let me know if you want more Sherlock or any other requests you have!! xx
Also known as the five times he almost kissed you, and the one time he did.
NOTES: this takes place in the cant help falling in love universe, but you dont have to have read that one for this to make sense. im a little bit in love with this universe, so you can probably expect some smut or a sequel to the first one soon.
“Are you wearing my shirt?”
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes raking over your body. You laughed, lightly, and his gaze snapped to yours.
“All my pajamas are in the wash. Don’t I look cute?”
He swallowed thickly, licking his lips.
“I- yeah, it’s a good look for you.”
He took a step closer to you, arms reaching out hesitantly, before you closed the distance, wrapping yours around his torso. He took a deep breath, and the next time he spoke, his words shook slightly.
“How was your day?”
You smiled, breathing in the scent of him.
“Good. Better now.”
His arms tightened around you slightly, and you rested your face in the crook of his neck.
The word was soft, breathy. You backed away slightly, arms still circled around his waist, and stood there, face inches from Lin’s. His eyes shifted to your mouth, and lingered there, for a fraction of a second. Neither of you moved, too caught up in the weight of each others gaze, and time seemed to slow. He leaned in, just barely, breath warm on your lips, and-
The doorbell rang.
He snapped backwards, and his eyes had a faraway look to them, as if he had just woken up from a dream that had tasted better than reality.
By the time you answered the door, you had nearly forgotten about his breath on yours lips, and way you had wanted him to close the distance.
“How much did you drink?”
His arm wrapped your shoulders, steady grip guiding you towards your shared apartment.
“Just enough to have fun,” you teased, stopping in the middle of sidewalk, and wrapping your arms around his neck.
His eyebrows furrowed, gaze turning downwards, and for the first time in months you remembered that almost kiss.
“I’ve been good all week,” you said, still teasing, but something in your voice was softer.
“Is that so.”
His tone was light, but you could hear the strain in his words.
“So good, in fact, I think I deserve a kiss.”
His eyes snapped to yours then, quick and wide with something you thought might have been fear. But as quick as it came, it was gone, and he let out a hollow laugh.
“You look like you could use a burger. I’ve been told I know New York’s finest.”
When you woke up the next morning, hung over and hating life, he was there to hold your hair back. Neither of you said anything about the almost confession. You had forgotten. He never would.
“You look cute in glasses.”
The frames were thick, black rims resting low on his nose, and you pushed them up with your index finger.
“Not as cute as you.”
Before you could blink, his arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you gently as you laughed loudly.
“Put me down!”
You could hear the smile in his voice, and it spelled trouble. Without warning, he took two steps into the bedroom and tossed you ass down onto the comforter, body following to press against yours. Your laugh bellowed, full bellied and loud, before you became aware of the proximity. Dazed, you glanced up at him, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.
Fingers trailed your collarbones, down the soft skin of your neck, and you swallowed audibly.
That did the trick.
He sat up so quickly you wondered for a moment if he had teleported. The distance in his eyes was back, and you reached out to touch him, to hold him, anything.
Your voice was soft. For the first time in your life, you almost didn’t know what to say to him.
“You know I love you right?”
You looked away so fast, you almost didn’t see the look in his eyes when you told him you loved him. Almost.
“Wait a minute, are you jealous?”
Across the room, you could see his jaw clench, and the gesture was so unlike him, you could feel the dread beginning to pool in your stomach.
“It’s… it’s not even a date, you know?”
You felt sick. Why did you feel sick?
“What do I care, it’s not like were dating.”
He turned then, away from you, and you could feel it, the sense that everything you could possibly say was wrong before you could say it.
“He’s kind of annoying.”
The anxiety buzzed in your chest, swelling and expanding, waiting for him to turn and look at you.
“Maybe i’ll just stay in instead.”
His head snapped to you then, and you could see it in his face, relief, and the joy felt suffocating almost, like you had forgotten how to breathe for a moment when he’d looked at you like that, eyes so deep and brown and full of love. You saw it, then, the moment his gaze flickered down to your lips, and it startled you, with how much you wanted.
How much you wanted what?
It didn’t matter. He grabbed your hand. Whatever he’d seen on your face was enough.
Eyes flicked upward, your gaze meeting the object hanging on the doorframe. He cursed under his breath
“It’s not even December yet.”
You frowned at him, reaching upwards to grab him by the lapels, hands fisting in the soft wool of his coat.
“Oh, hush, Mr. Grumpy pants. Come on.”
He looked at you then, eyes wide, darting between your face and the single sprig of mistletoe between you.
“Come on what.”
“Come on and kiss me. Tis the season, and all that.”
He sputtered, stepping out of your embrace for a moment, before pausing, eyes flicking to your lips. Reaching forward, one hand steadied itself on your cheek, hesitantly, as if worried he’d spook you, the other fisting in your hair, and as he leaned in, all you could think was how every moment had seemed to be leading up to this, like you had standing on the edge of something beautiful your whole life, and were only just about to get a taste of it, and his breath was on yours, stuttering and warm, and-
His lips landed on your cheek. You left so quick you hardly even had time to let yourself wonder what his lips would have felt like on yours.
“I’m gonna write a rap about your collarbones. Quick, what rhymes with collarbones?”
“Oh my god, Lin, if you don’t start fucking me five minutes ago i’m gonna lose it.”
He huffed a laugh, breath coming out heavy as he snapped his hips forward. Laughter turned into a moan, fingers reaching up to curl around yours.
“I love you.”
You smiled, free hand tracing patterns down his chest, before he hit you just right, and your fingernails raked down his arms.
“Lin, honey, I’m gonna-”
His head tilted upward, eyes meeting yours, and his smile was soft, spreading across his face slowly, like he had all the time in the world to spend, right here, with you.
“Come for me.”
Hips met yours, breaths mingled, and the last thought you had before you came was how blissfully happy you were, right in that moment.
Later, as you lied there, sweaty and gasping for breath, you’d reach out for his hand, and he’d hold on like a dying man, desperate for you, just like he’d always been.
The word broke the soft silence that had settled around the room.
As we all know, I can’t do drabbles. (also i did have a minor freak out cause DANA PROMPTED ME. I really hope you like it. I felt like I was writing the most overused trope to ever trope)
Rinch. Hurt/comfort. Reese!whump.
John stirs, a groan spilling from his lips. The first thing
he registers is pain. Everywhere. Having no memory of how he got here, he tries
to focus on his surroundings. It’s difficult to open his eyes, his vision
blurry. He wonders why everything is so dark, panicking for a moment, before
realizing its night.
The next thing he registers is the smell. He is apparently
lying in a dumpster.
And just like that, he remembers what happened. A Number. An
amateur gang. Getting caught. The gang deciding they couldn’t risk him being a
cop and beating him up. If John has to guess, he would say they probably
panicked after hitting him too hard on the head, and decided to dump him here.
Wanting to get away from the smell, and slightly concerned about what the
rotting food and the insects might do to his open wounds, he tries to sit up
but groans again. He’s sure he has broken at least one bone.
Something Old, New, Borrowed, and Blue-Percival Graves x Reader
Fandom: Fantastic Beasts and Where to
Characters: Percival Graves, Reader,
Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader
Notes/Warnings: There is some cursing
Word count: 1388
Request: Anon-Hi! I love your headcannons and imagines for the gentlemen of Fantastic Beasts. Could you please do a Percival x Reader wedding day imagine? (I’m sorry if this bothered you. I don’t see a lot of activity in the tags so I’m not sure if you’re still active.)
“What are you even doing here?! The healers said you’re not supposed to be doing things like this!”
“Don’t play innocent. I saw your fine hand in this from the beginning of this mission to get me out of my slump. It worked. I came after you. And I’ll be damned if I’m letting you out of my sight, because you get into more trouble then Tina! So when we get back, I’m tying you to my waist and you’re going to marry me !”