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alotofpockets · 7 months

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I'll follow you everywhere | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You’re on the run with your wife Natasha, when she receives a small box with red vials with a picture of a young Natasha and Yelena attached.

Warnings: Scenes from Black Widow used. Weapons, wounds, explosives, and a car crash. A/n: This is a repost from one of my old accounts.

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 2.3K

You were browsing the shelves of the local supermarket in the small town in Norway where your current safe house was located. Natasha and the rest of the Avengers that weren’t already arrested were on the run. As her wife you weren’t letting her go on her own. You offered to go into town on your first night to get some food and other necessities as the chances of you getting recognized were way smaller than her being recognized by the locals, as her picture amongst those of the other rogue Avengers were shown on the news all over the world.

With all the supplies, you drive back to the trailer. You carry the bags inside and are met with Natasha staring at a box with something glowing inside of it. “What’s that?” You ask, oblivious to the contents of the box. Natasha turns around holding out a picture. You step closer to take a look at the photobooth picture in her hand, there are two young girls hugging, both wearing big smiles on their faces. You recognize a young Natasha, but don’t recognize the younger blonde girl. “Yelena?” You question. Natasha had told you about her sister, but you’d never seen a picture of the girl.

Natasha nods her head, eyes wide. “She’s in trouble y/n, I need to go to Budapest. I need to help her.” Natasha turns around, and starts putting on her shoes, while you grab a bag and put some clothes from the both of you in it. “What are you doing?” Natasha asks. “I’m grabbing some clothes.” You say with a confused look on your face, thinking it was obvious what you were doing. “I know that, I mean why are you packing your clothes?”

Once again you’re confused, “Because I’ll need clothes to wear too?” Natasha’s confusion clears as she realizes what’s going on. “Baby, you can’t go with me. I don’t know what’s out there. It’s too dangerous, I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“Darling, I’m coming with you, whether it’s dangerous or not. The day I married you, I promised you in my vows that I would always follow you everywhere. I intend on keeping that promise, so I’m coming with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” Natasha knows there is no use for arguing with you when you’ve already made up your mind, so she lets you continue packing. Within an hour you’ve made it to the train station, boarding the train to Budapest.

When you got to the safe house Natasha told you to wait outside while she tried prying the lock of the door open. A voice from within the apartment was heard, “I know you’re out there.” Natasha took a big sigh, unlocking the lock and grabbing her gun. “I know you know I’m out here.” She responds, before opening the door.

It stayed quiet on the other side of the door while you waited patiently for Natasha to deem the apartment safe for you to enter. You knew it must be weird for her to see Yelena again, especially because it had been so long since they had seen each other. Natasha didn’t even know if she could trust her. You understood that, so you waited. The quietness was interrupted by the sound of things slamming into walls. Natasha was the strongest person and most skilled fighter you knew, you know she could handle herself. Nonetheless you were worried.

The sounds kept getting louder and louder. You were trying to focus on Natasha’s voice to hear if she was okay. Until you notice a red dot appear on your chest. You weren’t trained on any of this, but you knew that a red dot is most likely a sniper rifle pointing at you. Without thinking you opened the door to the safe house and walked into the room. You turn around to see Natasha and Yelena laying on the floor out of breath, with a white curtain laying around them.

As soon as Yelena sees you in the corner of her eyes, she reaches for her gun and points it at you, “Don’t move.” She says to you, then she turns to Natasha, “You said truce, what is this?” Natasha is quick to answer. “Easy, Yelena, that’s my wife.” Yelena slowly lowers the weapon while repeating the word, “Wife?”

You interrupt the conversation, “Yes, wife. No time for further explanation. There are snipers on the roof, one was aiming at me just a second ago out in the hall.” Natasha stands up quickly, moving in between you and the window.

"Stay on my hip." Natasha tells you as she moves away from the window. Always standing in between you and the outside wall. The three of you move into a backroom where Yelena grabs the box of red vials and some ammo for her gun. "Come on, we can get on the roof from the window."

As she opens the window, the front door is kicked in. "Go, I'll be right behind you." Yelena says while running back in. Natasha climbs out of the window and helps you out as well. Yelena comes running towards the window, followed by a large explosion. "The switch, good thinking." Natasha compliments her sister.

"Where are we going?" Natasha asks. "West side, I have a motorcycle there but it won't fit us all." - "Lead the way, we'll see when we get there." Yelena starts running and Natasha nudges you to follow Yelena. She makes sure you're in between them at all times. Especially because two widows were following you. You had some distance on them, but as long as they were carrying weapons, distance didn't mean safety.

You got to the motorcycle, and there is no way it's going to fit three. Yelena grabs her gun and stops a nearby car, "Get out." She yells pointing the gun at the driver. He walks out with his hands up. Yelena gets behind the wheel but Natasha is quick to tell her to move over to the passenger seat and tells you to get in the back.

Natasha starts driving away, but you're quickly followed by widows on motorcycles, shooting at the car. “Duck.” They say in unison as the back window is about to break. Luckily you are quick to respond and none of you get hurt.

You're driving around like maniacs. Yelena was basically hanging out of the window and now the car was missing a door, but at least it took one of the widows out. All of a sudden the rest of the widows disappeared, which none of you saw as a good sign.

Your instincts were right. An armored car makes its way around the corner. When it starts picking up speed it just crashes right into the cars of the oncoming traffic and parked cars. And if it wasn't scary enough, the roof of the car opened and a fully armored person appeared with a bow and arrow. When you realized it wasn't just any arrow being aimed at you, but an explosive one it was already too late.

The arrow exploded and the car was pushed into the air. It rolled a couple of times before landing upside down into a train station entry. Natasha was quick to get out of the car and pulled you and Yelena out. Since Yelena had no door on her side anymore something had cut her arm open, but other than that none of you were injured.

Natasha quickly tied a scarf around Yelena’s arm, because you had to move. There was no way this armored assassin or the widows were going to give up any time soon. Natasha led you all to a place she once hid with Clint, where you hid out as you saw them walking right past your location.

For Natasha and Yelena this was part of their jobs, so they had gotten used to the rush and adrenaline that came with being chased. That wasn't the case for you though. When you made it into the airshaft your adrenaline started slowly fading, making you realize just how crazy this was. Natasha was quick to notice your upcoming panic attack, and came to your aid quickly, she was able to help calm your breathing down before it turned into a full on attack. Once you’re fully calmed down Natasha turns to Yelena, “Who the hell was that?”

“Dreykov’s special project, they can mimic anyone they've ever seen. It’s like fighting a mirror. Dreykov only deploys them for top priority missions.” Natasha’s mind is trying to wrap around what Yelena just told her, “This doesn’t make any sense.” She says. All these years Natasha thought that she had killed Dreykov, but Yelena explained how that wasn’t the case.

After a while the women decided the coast was clear, and left the vents of the train station to get cleaned up. The three of you ended up at a small convenience store and bought some necessities for cleaning wounds, and some painkillers, since the flipping of the car had an effect on all three of you. You took the supplies to a restaurant nearby where Natasha helped Yelena clean up the wound and they talked amongst themselves to catch up.

“Where are you gonna go after this?” Natasha asks after learning that Yelena had been under the influence of Dreykov’s control and was just freed of it recently. “I don’t know.” Yelena answers. “I don’t really have anywhere to go back to. So, I guess anywhere” Nat puts her drink down but before she can say anything Yelena says, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Natasha says. Yelena laughs, “Oh, you’re going to give me some big hero speech, I can feel it.” Both you and Natasha laugh at that. “Speeches aren’t really her thing.” You share with Yelena letting her in on the look shared between you and your wife. “Exactly, and it was more like an invitation.” Yelena thinks for a moment, “To go to the Red Room and kill Dreykov, even though the Red Room is impossible to find and Dreykov is too slippery to kill?” Natasha smirks before saying, “Yeah.”

“That sounds like a shitload of work.” Yelena points out. “Yup, it could be fun though.” Natasha adds and Yelena agrees. “You saw where he put the keys?” These two were truly on the same wavelength you realized as Yelena answered, “Top drawer, green cabinet.” And with that you were on the road. Natasha called Rick Mason, the contractor she regularly worked with that she needed a jet. When you arrived at the agreed location a shitty old broken down helicopter stood on the field.

“I said we needed a jet.” Natasha says as Rick walks out of the helicopter. “Yeah and you know what you didn’t give me? Time or money. I am not made of jets.” He was funny, just like Yelena said, you could see why Nat would keep working with him. Rick showed all the supplies that Natasha asked for before Natasha turned to you.

“Darling, I know what you said before and I very much appreciate you for sticking to the vows and following me everywhere, but this is as far as I will allow you to come along on this journey, okay? This is going to be a very dangerous mission and I am not able to keep the promise I made to you in our vows, the promise to always keep you safe. With Dreykov in the picture, I cannot risk it, which is why I asked Rick to take you to a safe house for the time being.” You told her it was okay and that you understood, you thought today had been scary enough and you were for sure not built or trained to live that kind of life. You would only hold them back, and you realized that in this situation that could cost you not only your life but also theirs.

You hugged Natasha for a long time before letting go and walking over to Yelena. “I never expected these to be the circumstances that I would meet my sister in law, but nonetheless it was a pleasure meeting you, Yelena. Please keep her safe, I really need her to come back to me.” Yelena put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “I will.”

The two of you joined back with Nat and Rick. Before they got on the helicopter you said, “Oh, and, Yelena, you will always have a place to go to with me and Nat. We might be on the run at the moment too, but you are more than welcome to join us.” With an appreciative nod Yelena entered the helicopter and after Natasha sent you a reassuring smile she did as well. Rick led you to the car and drove you to the safe house he had arranged for you.

It had been a couple of days and you had started to settle in when you heard a knock on your door. At first it scared you, but your worries eased when you heard a familiar voice, “Baby, it’s okay, it’s me.” You practically ran to the door, opening it to see a couple more people than just Natasha.

Natasha ushered everyone inside and hugged you tight, she was relieved to know you were okay. When she stepped back Yelena gave you a small hug too, “I promised I’d keep her safe.” She whispers in your ear. Then Natasha introduced you to the two unfamiliar faces. “Darling, these are Alexei and Melina, they are my parents. Remember the family I told you about from Ohio?” You nodded. “Alexei, Melina, this is my wife, y/n.” You held out your hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Can I get anyone something? You all look like you could use some food.”

“That would be wonderful, sweetheart.” Melina says. “And some vodka!” Alexei adds, which makes everyone laugh. You prepare a meal for the family as you watch Natasha with them. You smile at how happy she looks, she never had any family besides the Avengers, this is what she had always wanted. And this might not be your house, but with everyone surrounding the table it felt like home.

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

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This might be a weird request

Dark! Vampire! Natasha who is also an avenger, but no one knows that she's a vampire and fem! Reader that she tells everyone is her girlfriend, but is actually a pet sub she uses once in a while to drink from and mostly as a sex toy (lots of smut, please)

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Pairings: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 2477

Warnings: Nat’s a vampire, voyeriusm, exhibition (idk how to spell it), basically R is a sex slave, dark!Nat, degrading kink, public sex, eating out, mentions of fingering, possessive/jealous behaviors from Nat, spanking, orgasm denial, small pet play (only nicknames), cnc (nat has previous permission from R), free use, small blood kink, small Wanda x reader, I didn’t spell correct this so my apologies

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

You and Wanda stood in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand as you created small talk. She had been telling you about her plans for today while you listened with a smile on your face. Wanda was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. But you could never have her, Nat already owns you and shows that off proudly. You weren’t actually dating, but everyone thought you were. You couldn’t blame them though, Nat had a tendency to show everyone what’s hers - and that has been shown off many times with markings or rough kisses in front of anyone who was there. Nat pretended you two were in love until it came the time where no one was near, no wandering eyes could see the way she used you.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” You snapped out of the small trance you had and gave her yet another warm smile of reassurance.

“You’ve been off lately, what’s on your mind, babe?” It was a small nickname you both shared, but Nat hated it more than ever. You kept your composure, though, and she didn’t seem to notice.

“Trust me, I’m fine. I just have a lot of papers to fill out, lot’s of mission reports I’m behind on.” She nodded in understanding with a hum to herself.

“I thought I told you I’d help you out with those, why didn’t you come to me?” The truth was that Nat didn’t let you. You had tried to convince her that nothing was going on between you two, that everything was simply platonic, but she refused. You had wanted to take that opportunity to catch up on work and to spend some time with your best friend - even if you’d mainly just be admiring her the whole time.

“I know, I know, but you know I never want to bother you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you this? You’re never a bother to me, my love. You know I love you more than anything and would gladly take that chance to have a girls night with my favorite girl in the world.” Before you started dating Nat - well, it wasn’t really dating, but it felt like it - you and Wanda would have girls nights every Sunday, a perfect way to end the weekend and start the week. But Nat never liked that. At first, she’d convince you to spend your Sunday nights with her to cuddle or watch a movie. But once you started denying her and went back to Wanda, she had to make it known that she simply didn’t want you around her.

Wanda moved towards you and placed her mug on the counter your back had been resting on. You were cornered into her hold and you weren’t complaining, this had been the most contact you’ve been able to have with her for months now. Her piercing green eyes stared back at yours, you had always loved the color of her beautiful eyes.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you but ever since you’ve gotten with Nat it’s like the real you is gone. I miss my best friend, and this version of you isn’t them. So please, come by tonight and we can work together. Just an hour, that’s all I ask.” Your mind moved faster than your mouth as you quickly formed a nod, smiling to yourself at the thought of finally being with her. But the reminder of Nat consumed you, you knew she’d be pissed if she heard about this.

“Am I interrupting something?” Nat walked in the kitchen with a stern glare as she leaned against the fridge. It wasn’t a great look as Wanda had her palms running up and down your arms slowly, both of your bodies being so closely pressed against each other that you could practically feel her pelvis bone. Wanda jumped but didn’t remove herself from you, not being able to sense the deep tension you had both put yourselves in.

Nat raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

“Well, Nat,” Wanda started, a humoric level of sass in her tone. “Me and Y/N here were just talking about our plans for tonight.”

“Oh, well me and Y/N had some plans for tonight so I think it will be best if you reschedule for another day.” You knew another day meant never in her mind. Wanda looked at you, noticing how you cowered down slightly.

“Hm, Y/N never told me about these plans. And besides, it’s been forever since I got to spend time with my girl, can’t you give them up for one night?” It wasn’t a question but more of a demand. You could see Nat’s body tensing up and her grip on the coffee pot that she had been pouring tighten.

You expected a fight, for Nat to backlash some bullshit story and convince Wanda to cancel your plans. But instead, she just smiled with tight lips and nodded - which was almost scarier than her saying no.

“Alright then, you can have her for tonight.” Wanda smiled in victory and placed a kiss to your cheek before rushing out the room with an excited goodbye. You gulped in fear as you were left alone with Nat, she was never fun when she was mad.

“Plans for tonight? Why didn’t I hear about these so called plans?” She was stirring the creamer into her coffee without looking at you, her back facing you. You didn’t know which was worse, her terrifying gaze or her refusing to even give you a glance.

“Uh, well Wanda had just told me about them before you walked in so I didn’t really get to the telling you part yet.” You looked down at the floor to avoid her strong gaze as she finally turned to look at you.

“You two seemed real close when I walked in.”

“It wasn’t like that,” You quickly shot back. “Wanda’s just a friend, you know this.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like when she touches what’s mine.” For a split moment, you gained just a little bit of confidence to fight back. Bad mistake.

“Well it’s not like I’m yours anyways.” You regretted it the second those words left your mouth and you saw Nat’s stance shift. She grabbed your chin and forced your head back up to look at her, your eyes trying to trail onto anything but her.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” You did. “Now, I really do hope I was mistaken and I know you hope so too.” You really did. You hoped she would let it go and act as if you never said such a thing, but you knew that was too much to ask for.

There was a long silence before she removed her tight grip on your jaw. “Bend over.” She didn’t let you speak as she forcefully turned you around to face the counter, bending you over the surface as she had just directed.

“Do I have to do everything for you? God, you’re such an ungrateful little slut.” Her palm came down on your ass through the shorts you wore. You jumped at the unexpected contact and bit your lip to supress any sounds from coming out.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you, got that?” You nodded in response and soon felt her hands on your inner thighs. You spreaded your legs slowly, completing her unworded task that you knew she wanted.

“Such a desperate pup you are, baby. Look at you, spreading your legs for me where anyone could see. Does that turn you on? Having everyone know how much of a stupid fucking whore you really are for me?” Your head hung low while tears pooled in your eyes as her hand continued to slap against your now reddended skin. There were still marks from before, from all the nights she had spent merciously fucking you for her own pleasure, not caring whether it hurt or not. Of course, she would’ve stopped if she knew you actually needed to or you safe worded, but she knew you wanted it deep down. She knew you were a slut for anything she’d give you.

“Fucking answer me!” Another slap collied with your skin. But this time, it was much stronger. You nodded quickly, almost forgetting what she had said only moments ago and trying not to let any words or sounds slip out of your closed mouth.

“Yeah you are. You’re just a toy for my pleasure. You should be grateful that I even touch you, I could be fucking anyone else but I’m here with you and you still want to slut yourself out to anybody that comes by.” Even if she refused to admit it, she could never even touch someone else, you would just invade her mind over and over again.

She grasped your shorts in her hands and yanked them off of you, leaving you completely bare for anyone to see, just like she had said. She smirked to herself when seeing the marks she left on your precious skin, rubbing her palm over them and admiring her work.

“Why don’t we give this camera a little show, huh, baby?” It wasn’t an actual question, it’s not like you had a say in what she did to you anyways. She dropped to her knees behind you, grasping your skin roughly and spreading your legs even further. Your eyes stayed put on the door, fearing someone would walk in and see you like this. Your thoughts were quickly shut down as her tongue made contact with your pulsing clit. Your mouth fell open, your hand quickly coming up to cover it. Nat could see how hard you were trying to stay silent and grinned in satisfaction. She was out to make you fail, to ruin this moment for you and deny you of that sweet orgasm you so badly craved. She had denied you the night before and knew you had been craving it. She was starting to think of giving in and letting your juices cover her fingers or paint her face - if only she hadn’t witnessed you and Wanda’s interaction.

Your bud was sucked harshly, her sharp fangs occasionally grazing over it and causing a jolt of electricity to flow through your body. Her fingers traced gently around your folds, almost causing her to laugh when hearing the muffled sounds you’d make from above.

She was just having fun at this point as she teased you again and again, you hated it and loved it at the same time. Your hand came down to your breasts under your short tank top as you pinched and tweaked your nipples, hoping you wouldn’t be caught by Nat.

You suddenly felt a sharp pain on your thigh. It wasn’t like before when she spanked you, this dug into your skin. You knew what she was doing, and you couldn’t stop it. She moaned, the sound being muffled, as she tasted your blood. You had multiple marks covering your skin from her bites, and she adored it. To her, you looked heavenly with her marks. Your blood was her favorite, it just had a certain smell and distinct taste to it that filled her needs, she wished she could turn it into a candle and have it light up her room all day just to be reminded of you. And she had never had someone so willingly give themselves up to her like you did, you were perfect.

She kissed your clit one last time before standing up, leaving you high and dry once again. You tried to chase after her, but ended up failing. Her hand gripped your hair, making a messy ponytail before yanking your head up.

“You wanna know something?” She started, not giving you a chance to answer before she spoke. “I just texted Wanda to meet me in the kitchen. She said she’ll be here in five, you think you can make me cum in five minutes?”

She had forced you to your knees, her fingers playing with your hair as you stared up at her with fear. Your knees already had bruises coating them from many nights, but she couldn’t care less.

“Now, what do you think we could do for our little guest, hm? I think it would be just perfect for her to walk in and see you eating me out like a starved little bitch.” You nodded after a moment, realizing there was no getting out of this. You were already dreading girls' night with Wanda after this, would she be able to look at you the same? You really hoped so, you didn’t want to lose another friend because of the crazy ways Nat showed her “love”.

“Hurry up. Does it look like I have all fucking day to deal with your shit?” She had pulled you forward by the hair, your scalp practically crying out in agony. But you listened and pulled down her clothing quickly, first her pants and then her panties.

“See these? I wore these just for you, my love. Too bad you won't get more than a quick glance, what a shame.” They were a lacy red and looked beautiful on her - as did everything she wore. She liked to say the color reminded her of your sweet blood. That when she wore it, all she thought about was you. It only fueled her hunger and need, her need for you. For your touch, your mouth, your body.

“That’s it, your tongue- ah! Fuck, you like being used like this? You like being my nasty slut? You’re fucking disgusting, baby.” The harsh, degrading words turned you on more than you’d like to admit. The wetness coating your thighs only proved that statement.

It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps coming closer, and you knew exactly who it was. Nat didn’t even spare a glance at her as she tossed her head back, her fangs on display that Wanda luckily didn’t notice. You closed your eyes and continued what you were doing before your best friend had walked in, sucking her clit just as she did to you before. Wanda didn’t mutter a word as she was stuck in place, watching with a hidden desire as you focused on the woman’s pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, darling. I’m gonna cum in your bratty fucking mouth.” She grunted out through gritted teeth and held both sides of your head in place as she grinded against your face even harder. Your tongue poked in and out of her hole as she was sent over the edge. A loud moan escaped her mouth as her juices filled your mouth, you wouldn’t let a single drop escape.

“How’d you enjoy the show, Wands?”

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cloudcountry · 1 year

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fireflies

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: Teaching Malleus how to caught fireflies leads to a dramatic confession from him.

Author's Comments: I wanted to write fluff of firefly catching because Malleus EXPLODES into fireflies when he teleports but then I got dramatic because I can. I screamed when I finished editing this because I thought the ending was SO CUTE but enough tooting my own horn MALLEUS LIKERS COME GET YOUR JUICE!!!

~~~~~

“Child of Man, what are you doing?” Malleus asked, tilting his head curiously.

You stopped in your tracks as the glass jar flickering in your hands, a few bugs floating around in the container. You lit up like the bugs bouncing around your yard when you saw him, holding the jar in front of you proudly. A few tiny flickers of light lit up and faded, the brief sparkles causing Malleus to look up at you in confusion.

“Fireflies!” you shouted, “I didn’t realize you guys had your own version of fireflies in this world since I hadn’t seen them before! I had them back home and seeing them again made me so happy. I used to catch them all the time on summer nights.”

“You catch bugs?” Malleus furrowed his brow, gently taking the glass jar from your hands, “I suppose they are beautiful.”

The things humans noticed were so strange. You had only a century to live, and yet you found yourself fascinated with such small details.

Perhaps he didn’t mind that about you, though.

“Come on! Would you like to catch some with me?” you asked, taking the jar back from him, “Grim is already in bed, so it’ll be just us. Besides, he’d try to eat them and we really should release them afterwards.”

“I wouldn’t mind us being alone. You know that.” he said, watching as you set the firefly jar down on the front porch.

“I do.” you snickered, picking up a net.

You showed Malleus how to lure the fireflies over with a flashlight and how to swing your net to catch them. But the time he’d gotten the hang of it, you’d caught quite a few yourself. In a few moments, Malleus had caught a jar full of his own fireflies.

“Nice!” you beamed, setting the two jars side by side, “They’re so bright. It's so nostalgic I might cry a little.”

“What was your home like?” he asked, captivated by the lights.

“It was…” you hesitated, your voice dropping to a lower volume as you continued, “It was really nice. It wasn’t much different in this world in terms of nature, though we didn’t have magic. We had so much technology though, even robots. I mean, we made mechanical humans! They definitely don’t have that in Briar Valley.”

“No. They don’t.” he confirmed, “It sounds like your people were very adaptable. Were they all human?”

“Yeah, we didn’t have any merpeople or beastmen if that’s what you’re asking.” you shook your head, “And some of those humans were my friends.”

“You have friends here, do you not?”

“Well yeah, but…it’s not the same. It’s like I’m split between two worlds, and that’s when I start thinking about what the Magic Mirror said. Maybe I really don’t belong anywhere.” you mumbled, furrowing your brow.

“It doesn’t matter to me whether you belong anywhere or not, Child of Man. I hope you know that. A magic mirror cannot possibly understand how you make the people around you feel. I’m sure I’m not the only one that would tell you that you have a home here.” Malleus said, taking your hands in his.

A strangled noise escaped your throat as he knelt in front of you, green eyes shimmering in the darkness.

“Malleus-” you started, only to stop yourself when he shook his head.

“You’ve shown me parts of my own world that I never would have thought twice about.” his eyes flickered to the fireflies before meeting your gaze again, “You’ve taught me that the world can be more beautiful than we realize if we just look a little harder.”

“It’s just fireflies.” you mumbled, flustered.

“It’s more than bugs to me.” he protested, furrowing his brows as he squeezed your hands tighter, “It’s a discovery. It’s proof that I’ve been far too arrogant. You understand that I mean what I say, do you not?.”

“I know you do.” you murmured, squeezing his hands back.

As the two jars of fireflies flickered occasionally on your front porch, you stared down at the Prince of Briar Valley. Time seemed to slow down as the two of you looked at each other, lights bursting and fizzling out around you.

“You’re making it hard for me to want to go back.” you murmured to the night air, your words easing the uncertainty clouding your companion’s mind just a little.

“Good.” he smiled, a smug look on his face as he brought your hands to his lips, “If you want somewhere to belong, you can have the place by my side.”

#auburn's fics <3 #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus fluff #malleus proposal moment?????

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helaintoloki · 3 days

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Relenting

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, sparrow!ben is an asshole as usual, some fluff if you squint

notes: haven’t posted on this blog in forever but the new teaser brought me back from the dead so here’s this

summary: the world is ending and ben thinks it’s time to enjoy what’s left of it

You swirl the glass of champagne in your hand and watch as the alcohol begins to whirl around the cup. There’s a slight breeze in the air, but it’s warm and strangely comforting despite the current circumstances. The music from inside faintly reaches your ears out on the balcony, and though you feel slightly guilty for missing out on such a momentous occasion for Luther and Sloane, you can’t bring yourself to go back inside. What’s the point? Your time on this earth is limited, dwindling with each second that passes, so why bother trying to act like it isn’t.

An unwelcome presence joins your sulking figure outside, and you don’t even bother to spare him a passing glance. You think you hate him, or at least you want to hate him, but it’s hard to despise the man who shares the face of your long lost love. Blame it on nostalgia or pathetic longing, but there’s still some small part of you that believes he could be just like the boy you knew and loved in your youth, even if he hasn’t shown it at all in the time you’ve gotten to know him.

Finally acknowledging his presence, you take a swig of your champagne before retorting, “Don’t you have to go be an asshole somewhere else?”

“You’re hilarious,” he replies in a deadpan tone, and you don’t have to look at him to see that he’s rolling his eyes in annoyance. You like how easily you get under his skin, and his sarcastic remark prompts the smallest quirk of your lips.

“Yeah?” You reiterate with a small shrug, eager to push his buttons in any way you can. “My Ben used to think so too.”

“Would you shut up about ‘your’ Ben, already? It’s pathetic,” He snaps in irritation, obviously set off by your remarks. “All you do is whine and complain about what a jerk I am instead of realizing I could help you out if you’d just help me.”

“By pretending to be your dead girlfriend? No thanks,” you scoff with a wry laugh before downing the rest of your drink. It burns your throat, but the discomfort is almost soothing in a way. It’s a type of pain you can control and inflict upon yourself out of your own volition. You haven’t been in control of anything since becoming wrapped up in all this apocalypse time travel nonsense, and you grapple for any semblance of it whenever possible.

“It’s not pretending if you technically are her,” the Sparrow insists adamantly, faltering for a moment as he adds under his breath, “albeit a more whiney and uptight version of her.”

He immediately ducks when you chuck your glass in his direction, narrowly missing his head in the process. You wish you had Diego’s precision so you could hit the desired target of his face, but the look of bewilderment on his features is good enough for now. You wordlessly turn to head back inside and rejoin the wedding festivities, because forcing yourself to act like attending wedding at the end of the world is normal is much better than spending another second out here with him, but his firm grip on your wrist halts your movements. If you really wanted to you could break free from his hold, you’re a better fighter than he is and you could easily use your abilities to overpower him, but you make no attempt to do so. The touch is familiar, comforting despite how hard you try to deny it, and you’d like to savor it even if it’s not right.

“The world is ending, and there’s no going back,” he reminds you, the gentleness of his voice almost scaring you. It’s a jarring contrast from the usual sharpness that he speaks to you with, and you’re not sure if it disgusts or comforts you. He sounds like your Ben now, and the realization prompts your breath to hitch in your throat.

“What do you want from me?” You demand with a lack of conviction, your previous confidence dwindling as you morph back into that same scared little girl who once thought she could never survive without the boy she loved.

“I want to spend whatever time I have left on this shit hole with my y/n, even though I know it’s not really her,” the Sparrow relents in defeat as he comes to terms with his fate. “Don’t you want to spend one last night with Ben?”

You remain silent, your lips held together in a firm line and your brows creased in thought as you digest his words. This man is not yours, not even close, but he belonged to another version of you in this timeline, a version that is currently buried six feet underground. This entire time you’ve done your best to fight the urge to give in to him, to let yourself play pretend with the Sparrow and act as if tragedy had never struck the Umbrella Academy. With the world coming to an end, did it really matter now if you finally relented to his pleas? Didn’t you deserve to be happy, too?

Taking your silence as rejection, Ben slowly begins to release his hold on you. However, he’s taken by surprise when you immediately throw yourself into his embrace and pull his face towards you for a kiss. He doesn’t notice the tears that streak down your cheeks or the way your hands tremble as you cup his face; he’s too busy savoring the taste of something that had been taken from his years ago.

As he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, he determines that this time around, he’s not letting go.

#oh my god i haven’t written anything tua related in years #the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #sparrow!ben #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #sparrow academy

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abeautylives · 1 year

Text

Until This is Over

a/n: It’s cocky Jake. Of course it is.

word count: 10k+ I do not know when to shut up.

pairing: Jake x female!reader

summary: He’s used to getting what he wants, you couldn’t be less interested. A potential one night stand turns into... something else?

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, drinking, graphic sexual content, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected penetrative sex (they’re responsible!), very light katoptronophilia (mirror kink), no other specific kinks I can think of but for sure a struggle for dominance, sorry if I missed anything!

update: read part 2 here

Jesus it’s hot in here.

Wait.

This is… not my room. Hmm, not my sheets, definitely not my pillow. This pillow is terrible. And who the fuck is… he?

Eyes barely cracked open, lids contending with the sunlight streaming in through an offensively large window, you turn your head slowly towards the sleeping figure beside you.

Well, he’s good-looking at least. Pretty, even. You continue to examine his resting features as you try to recall his name.

Jason? Jack. No… Jake? Jake! That’s right, he’d introduced himself as Jacob but said I could call him Jake, or “Sir”. Cocky shit.

Other memories return as you let your gaze wander over his naked? Yep, definitely naked, body. The sheets are pushed low across his hips as he slumbers on, laid flat on his back with a hand resting on his chest and the other raised up and nestled under his head. His dark hair is long and splayed out across his pillow.

Not my type at all.

You do remember meeting him last night. A local sort of up-and-coming bluesy band had been playing at your regular hangout. You hadn’t shown up for live music but found yourself watching, enjoying and swaying along with it as you sipped the remnants of your drink. A little zoned out in your own world, he’d interrupted an otherwise pleasant moment by leaning in close and speaking over the music.

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Ugh. Not even a “hi, sorry to bother you”. You’d offered up only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of your head that you’d hoped expressed “please leave me alone.”

As you allow yourself to continue analyzing the man whose bed you’re currently occupying, you realize he’s the source of the unbearable heat that woke you. He clearly runs warm and you wonder how he can stand it. You want to throw the blanket off of your body but you've also realized that you too are completely nude. Ahh shit, how do I get out of here?

Shifting slowly, hoping he won’t even wake up, you sit up and grip the sheets to your chest as you scan the room for any sign of your clothes. You’re taking in a visual inventory of your jeans balled up on the floor next to the bed, your shirt flung across the top of the dresser, and your bra hanging around the neck of an acoustic guitar sitting in a stand in the corner. Great, he’s a musician… Where are my fucking underwear? You’re considering abandoning them, scooping up the rest of your items and bolting out of the bedroom door to the nearest room without him in it, when he stirs. You’re holding your breath as he starts to speak.

“Mm morning beautiful,” he almost croaks out, his voice heavy with sleep. “You running out on me already? What if I was a world-class chef and you missed out on the best breakfast of your life?”

Still a cocky shit. His morning voice is deep and unfortunately for you, kind of sexy.

“I have shit to do today, and I’m not convinced that I meant for this little sleepover to happen in the first place,” you lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. You’re free as a bird today, and you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t wanted to be, but you’re sure you’ve gotten whatever you felt you needed from him and it’s time to go. “Can you just like, roll over or something so I can grab all my shit? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Babe, I saw it all last night, what’s the prob-“

“Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“Okayyyy, sorry Y/N,” he emphasizes your first name, because he apparently lives to annoy you. “You know, you didn’t mind it last night. You loved it, in fact. Practically melted into a puddle and did anything I asked when I called you-“

“Bullshit. I may have been a little drunk but I remember it just fine. What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Last Night

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Your non-verbal response did nothing to deter him.

“I heard they were playing here tonight and changed my plans, this isn’t one of my usual spots. My name’s Jacob, you can call me Jake. Or ‘Sir’…” he loudly rambled out an explanation and introduction you hadn’t asked for. The smug look on his face screams “the ladies love me, this shit works every time.” You hate it.

“Well Jake, this has been thoroughly riveting but I need another drink and at least twenty feet of space from you. Have a good one.” You catch the completely gobsmacked look on his face just before you turn away from him and saunter your way through the decent crowd of people and toward the bar. His eyes are still on you, you can feel them, so you add a sway to your hips as you walk.

To his credit, he does remain where you left him and watches you leave. For about six seconds.

Jake Kiszka is not one to pursue the affections of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t have to. They’re drawn to him like a lighthouse, a beacon calling weary sailors to shore. They need him, he is the destination. Tonight though, you had called to him like a siren. Standing alone, feeling the music, he’d felt an unexplainable urge to know you. He’s pissed that you turned his conversation down so easily. And so, he follows.

You could positively scream when he appears once again at your side. On a heavy sigh paired with a dramatic roll of your eyes, you spit out, “Can I help you?”

“Let me buy you a drink. What are you having?”

He’s serious. Turning your body to face him for the first time, you actually take in his appearance. He’s kind of short, definitely a tiny bit shorter than you in the chunky boots you’re wearing, his hair is long and rests over his shoulders that are covered by a black linen shirt being held closed by only two buttons fastened at his waist. A single silver pendant hangs on a necklace and rests on his bare chest. No, there’s no way he’s serious.

After scrutinizing his outfit choice you bring your eyes back up to his face. He is attractive, in almost a feminine way if not for the hair gracing his top lip. Oh his lips. They’re currently pursed at you in slight irritation, but the shape of them is intriguing. His cupid’s bow is defined, his mouth almost curls up at the corners. His bottom lip is full… it’s a nice mouth. The smirk that’s forming on it snaps you out of your reverie. How is he so full of himself?

“Are you going to leave me in peace if I accept a free drink?”

He has the audacity to chuckle, a raspy and pleasant sound that grates on your nerves anyway. “If you drink it with me, I’ll consider it. If that’s what you want.” He finds that he’s actually enjoying your resistance, it’s like a game that he’s never played but he’s interested in winning. Competitive and determined by nature, and fascinated with you by chance, he wants to see this through until the end.

This Morning

“What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Jake laughs at you, a sort of deep rumbling sound still thick from sleep. “It took some convincing on my part, I don’t typically have to work so hard to get laid.” His eyelids are heavy as he looks up at you from his still reclined position against the pillows. “You’re kind of a hardass. Worth it though,” he’s wearing that smirk again. His confidence doesn’t waver under your glare and the smirk turns into a full fledged smile that almost takes your breath away. His teeth are straight and blindingly white, a little too close to perfect, and the way his lips curl up deeply is almost endearing.

He really is pretty.

“Hmm I’m so glad you had fun, cowboy. Can you close your eyes or something so I can get dressed? I’m two seconds away from pulling the sheets off of you for myself.”

“Go ahead, got nothing to hide. M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

The back and forth is driving you crazy and not in a good way. Well, maybe a little bit good. You remember challenging him as much as you could the night before, and the way he let each jab roll off of him easily. He actually seemed to like it, taking your opposition to him in stride and pushing back a little harder each time you tried to shut him down.

Last Night

“So… what are we drinking?” He’s won this battle, or so he thinks. It seems like a free drink is a win for you, and the sooner you can suck it down the sooner he will leave your orbit.

“Vodka soda. With lime. Sir.” If you must be subjected to this moment with him, you may as well fuck with him. The nickname slides through your teeth with a thickly sarcastic emphasis. You’re making fun of him and his earlier attempt to grab your attention, which he picks up on but remains unaffected in the way you’d hoped. He likes it. A lot.

He moves to sit on the stool next to him, eyes motioning for you to do the same. Unbeknownst to you, he needs to sit to hide the evidence of the way you had affected him with your teasing. Your attitude is kind of turning him on, and the chase is giving him a rush. He’s having fun with it.

“A gorgeous woman with taste. Interesting.” He signals the bartender with his hand and orders two of the same. As your drinks are made, he looks a little too deeply into your eyes, making you shift in your seat in slight discomfort. Why is he so intense? “Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to force that out of you too?”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you realize how little you’ve really given him. He savors the sound of it, though it’s at his expense. “It’s Y/N, and you can call me Y/N and only Y/N until… whatever this is, is over.”

As far as he’s concerned, this is far from over and he’s sure he’ll be calling you any number of names before the night ends. Your drinks are placed in front of you and Jake nods his thanks to the bartender with a bright smile. You watch as her cheeks turn pink and she smiles back, flustered as she moves to the other end of the bar. It hits you, the realization that that is the reaction that he’s accustomed to. You’re suddenly sure that he’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. You’re not sure that you understand the appeal.

He notices how your eyes narrowed in the bartender’s direction, relishing the fact that you seem to despise the way she’d welcomed his brief attention. Wanted it. “No need to be jealous, Y/N. I don’t want her.”

You feel yourself sneer at him. “Can we get this over with? I’m bored, and entirely too sober.”

That same smile breaks across his face, this time directed at you. Your eyes roll again as you lift your drink to your lips, but he reaches a hand out to stop your movements, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist before you can take a sip. Oh hell no. Slowly, with a little effort and a lot of self control, you lower the drink to the bar top before moving your eyes from the hand still on your wrist, up to his face. He’s looking at you like he knows you want to hit him, and he loves it.

“Jake. Take your hand off-“

“Cheers?” He asks jovially, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. He does remove his hand to pick up his own drink and tips it slightly in your direction.

“Sure, whatever, cheers,” you mutter, completely over this entire interaction.

“To you, Y/N,” he continues again as if you’re not actively trying to make him hate you. “To the night, to a chance meeting, to fate-“

“EW, no, no thank you. Shut up and drink, Jake.” You bring your glass up again and take a long draw from your straw. There’s laughter in his eyes as he mimics your actions and drinks deeply. Determined to reach your goal of dismissing him, you keep sucking your straw and swallowing mouthfuls of the alcohol until you hear the sweet slurping sound that indicates your glass is empty. The two of you have maintained eye contact as you finished your drink and his eyes go wide as his lips release his own straw and hang open. Finally, he’s speechless. You’re pleased with yourself and with his reaction, the alcohol making you feel warm. The way he’s staring at you makes you warmer. No no no, now is not the time. His attention is suddenly desirable, and you’re irritated by the shift in your body’s own reaction to it.

A little breathless and very turned on, he doesn’t break eye contact as he speaks. “Doll, you are… really something.” He sets his drink down, still half full.

Reality slaps you in the face. “Do not call me that. Seriously.” Your defenses are up again. Why did he have to go and say that, when you were just considering being nice to him? You’ve gotta get away from this guy. “Ya know what, I have to pee. It was so great meeting you and all. Thanks for the drink. Please don’t be here when I get back.” You don’t have to pee, you’re giving him a chance to walk away from you without you having to watch him do it. Turning and hopping down from your stool, you refuse to let him reply and you move quickly toward the back of the room. If you had chanced a glance back in his direction, you would have seen that fucking smirk.

This Morning

“M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

“OKAY, we’re done here. Thank you for what, I’m sure, was a delightful evening.” Throwing your legs over the side, you stand from the bed and pull the bedding off with you. An iron grip keeps a sheet wrapped tightly around your body as you begin to collect your clothes, gathering your jeans up and stepping toward the dresser for your shirt. A large mirror adorns the top of the dresser and in its reflection you catch sight of Jake, now sitting up against the headboard, unashamed of his nakedness. You watch for just a moment as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, and you allow your gaze to trail down the length of his body. His skin is tanned and glowing in the sunlight. Annoying. Your eyes keep moving, down his chest and past his stomach, which is slightly soft. You remember biting into it last night before you- okay keep it moving Y/N. Before you pull your eyes away from his reflection, you let them land on his dick.

It’s hard. Not fully, you can tell, but it definitely is.

“Like what you see?”

Shit. Your eyes snap to his face and meet his in the mirror. He wags his eyebrows at you.

“Hey…” he says softly. “Look at me?” He moves the leg closest to you, bending it at the knee and planting his foot on the mattress, hiding his semi-hard erection from view. You turn your body to look at him directly. “Don’t leave yet. Please?”

Last Night

With a snap decision, in an unprecedented move, Jake stands from his seat and walks swiftly in the direction you had just gone. He finds you in a back hallway, waiting behind another girl for the restroom to free up, looking down at your phone. He stops to study and appreciate your profile for a second, before moving in directly to your side and pushing you ahead of him down the short hall toward an emergency exit, one hand firmly on your back and the other gripping your upper arm.

“Jake what the fuck?!”

He doesn’t stop moving, reaching out to push the panic bar on the door and shoving you through it. Suddenly you’re both outside, the door slamming loudly behind him. You spin to face him and he plucks your phone from your hand and shoves it into his back pocket. He looks just as blindsided as you feel by the last thirty seconds.

“What. The actual. Fuck. Do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is dangerously low, you’re almost vibrating with rage. Dimly lit by a light perched high on the building above you, Jake can read it all over your face. He runs a hand over his before looking up and down the alley he’s maneuvered you both into.

“Look, Y/N I’m sorry about that. I really don’t know what I was thinking. I just… need to talk to you.”

“Are you gonna fucking murder me? What is this?” You can hear your volume rising, the look in his eyes is desperate and you don’t know him from Adam, don’t trust him for shit.

“God, no. No, I swear. Fuck.” He’s flustered now, thoughts jumbled, confidence lost. His next words are bouncing around his brain and he needs them to come out the way he wants. “Why don’t you want me?” God damnit. Smooth, idiot.

“You’re serious right now? You just manhandled me and pushed me into a bar alley because I DON’T WANT YOU? You’re ridiculous, I knew you were ridiculous from the moment you opened your arrogant mouth. And on top of that, you’re stupid! It almost worked, this little game you’ve been playing. I was this close to falling for it. The look on your pretty face when I finished my drink almost did it. Because you’d finally SHUT. UP.”

You’re out of breath when you finish, but anger has settled deep in your belly and it threatens to spark into a flame when his expression changes. It flips from distraught to sickeningly gratified right before your eyes.

“You think I have a pretty face.” It’s not a question. He heard what you said and he’s clinging to the words like a lifeline.

“You’re insufferable.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s manhandling you again. In an instant, his hands are balled into fists full of your t-shirt and you’re spun around. The cool bricks of the building are pressed into your back, and his entire body is pressed into your front. In the flurry of movement, you’ve brought your hands up to his chest. Nose to nose, he opens his mouth to speak again.

So quietly, you’re unsure if you even say it out loud, you cut him off. “No, shut up. Just do it.”

His lips are on yours immediately, so you know you must have spoken the words. They’re soft, as soft as they had looked under the bar lights, but they’re pressed so firmly to yours it almost hurts. You move your mouth against his to get him to ease up, and when he does kiss you properly you let out the tiniest hum of pleasure. When it hits his ears, he breaks away but stays close.

“Come back inside with me. Let me buy you another drink. Please,” he breathes out against your lips that are still tingling from his kiss.

“Fine.”

This Morning

“Don’t leave yet. Please?”

“Why?” You can’t help yourself. You’ve resisted him from the moment you met. With a sigh, you correct yourself. “Sorry, I just mean… what for? You wanna make me breakfast and play house? For what, Jake?”

“Jesus Y/N, give it a rest would you? Why don’t you get back in bed and let me fix your attitude.”

“Ah yes, I forgot how charming you are.”

“It worked last night,” he laughs when you scoff at him. “C’mon, I just want to get to know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

Last Night

You allowed him to lead you back into the bar, though you did have to make your way around to the front and re-enter since the emergency exit door was locked from the outside. You also had to insist that he give your phone back, which he did but not before flashing it in front of your face to unlock it and rapidly entering his name and number into your contacts. Presumptuous of him. Once inside, you found your previous seats still empty and settled into them to order another round. “I need to catch up, never got to finish my last drink,” he looks at you pointedly, as if that was your fault.

Trying your hardest not to be combative, you simply smile at him innocently and keep your mouth shut.

One more drink turned to two, then into several. You found that he was a good conversationalist and didn’t talk endlessly about himself. He wanted to know about you, but you did learn a few things about him. He’s got two brothers and a sister, the former of which were actually seated in a booth on the other side of the bar. They’d all come to see the band you’d been enjoying earlier, though the set had long since been wrapped up. He’d sort of forgotten about the guys in his pursuit of you. Flattering, kind of. He pointed them out to you and your eyes found two men who both looked like him, in different ways. You briefly wonder if they’re also obnoxious egomaniacs. He mentions playing music but doesn’t go into detail, choosing instead to ask about your music tastes and paying close attention to your responses. You mention a band that he apparently is fond of, and he excitedly pulls out his phone to play one of their songs on the bar jukebox.

“Oh shit, I love this song Jake!” You’re feeling much more amiable after the drinks you’ve shared, and the sentence leaves your lips animatedly. He was enjoying your standoffish demeanor earlier, but he’s downright smitten with this version of you that he’s coaxed out.

“Dance with me!” You’re already off the stool and holding your hand out to him. Usually he’s not a dancer, but the alcohol and the subconscious pull to be near you have him grasping that hand and following you to the small dance floor without question. Upon hitting the floor though, he makes no move to dance, instead watching you happily bounce around. This is what drew him to you in the first place, the way you had been moving your body to the music earlier in the night, feeling it without a care for anyone or anything else in the room. He feels that draw now, and can’t resist pulling your body to his. You’re nose to nose again, his arms wrapped around you loosely, and you lift yours to wrap around the back of his neck. Swaying together, not dancing but barely shifting from side to side, you make the second move of the evening.

You place your lips gently against his at first, until you feel him tighten his hold on you. That’s all you need to encourage you to slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip, asking for more. He grants your wish and kisses you back with nearly unbridled enthusiasm for a lingering moment, until he hears whoops and whistles coming from the direction of the booth that contains his brothers.

Breaking apart with a shared laugh, you maintain your hold around his neck and keep him close. “Hey Jake…?”

“Yeah doll?” He lets the pet name slip and barely holds back a wince, thinking immediately that he’d fucked this up again.

The smile remains on your face however, and you bring yourself closer to him, to speak directly into his ear. “Do you wanna take me home?”

Um, fuck yes I do. “You wanna go home? I can call up a ride for you,” he starts, hoping he hasn’t misunderstood but giving you an out, if you want to take it.

“Noooo Jake, take me home.”

“Oh absolutely. Let me tell the guys real quick and settle up, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He steps away from you with a quick kiss to your forehead. That’s… sweet.

You stop by the restroom while he wraps things up with his brothers and the tab, and take a hard look at your face in the dingy mirror while you wash your hands. Your cheeks are a little flushed but the color looks good. You look happy. Do I like this guy? Maybe, I dunno. We’ll see. You dry your hands and decide you can at least let him show you a good time tonight, you’ll assess the rest in the morning.

“Ready to go Y/N? The car should be here in a minute,” Jake murmurs into your hair. You had returned to find him back at the bar, signing his receipt. He’d paid for all of your drinks, including the one you’d had before you met him. And the shot. And the chicken fingers. Okay, charmer. As soon as you’d sidled up next to him he’d wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close.

“Ready, sir.”

God I can’t wait to tear into her. “Very funny, babe.” He also exaggerates the pet name, hoping to bring back a little of the feisty attitude you’d had at the commencement of the night.

“Ew, don’t call me that,” you scold him, but you’re laughing. He likes this side of you. You’re still a hardass but he thinks you’re stunning when you’re laughing at him.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

The ride to his home is tense but fortunately brief. Your fingertips are itching to touch the bare skin of his chest as you let your eyes roam his features. You haven’t paid a bit of attention to your route, not your smartest decision, but you’re feeling needy and a little frantic by the time you reach your destination.

Upon entering Jake’s house, he kicks his shoes off so you do the same. Maybe he’s weird about that. He leads you through to the kitchen, flipping a light on here and there along the way. The house is spacious, the kitchen is huge. You wonder what he does for work, but figure that’s not really your business. Not yet. Maybe never. Once he’s near the fridge he turns and asks if you’d like water or anything else to drink.

“No, thank you though. Jake?”

He doesn’t respond with words, simply raises his eyebrows in question and smiles warmly.

“Are you gonna take me to bed or like, give me the grand tour or some shit?”

Chuckling lowly, he makes his way around the island to where you’re still standing at the entrance of the room. He reaches one hand out to your waist and the other up to cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his and your body close. Your hips are touching each other’s.

“You wanna fuck me, doll?”

This is the first time he’s asked, the first time he’s said something even mildly crude to you. Heat rushes to your face and blood rushes elsewhere. This is good, he’s managed to turn you on, points for him.

Your eyes drop and zero in on his lips. You’ve only barely gotten to taste them and you’re hungry for more. “Ya know what, I think I do.”

“Thank God,” is the last thing you hear before his mouth is on yours in a frenzy. His hands both find their way to your face then back into your hair, pulling you as close to him as you can be, his lips and tongue moving against yours feverishly. You need to relieve that itch to feel his skin, so you bring your hands to his chest and flatten your palms there, fingers spread out underneath his shirt. It’s not enough, you want to see him too, so you move your hands up and outward to push the fabric off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls away from you and yanks his arms the rest of the way out of the sleeves and quickly unfastens the two buttons keeping the material on his body. The shirt falls to the tile and you take in his completely bare torso, aside from that silver pendant. He’s built a little sturdier than you would have assumed, overall he’s a slight guy, small. Not the type of man who would have ever caught your eye, but he’s wormed his way into your brain and right now he’s taken over all of your senses. You let yourself touch, dragging the tips of your fingers down the center of his chest until you skirt them over his stomach and feel it flex, letting them land at the waist of his well-worn jeans. You ease them under the material there and pull him forward to you again.

Tucking your face into his neck, you let yourself breathe in his scent. His skin is musky and masculine whereas his hair is almost… floral? Surprising. The combination is heady and intoxicating.

Turning your head down, you let your lips land on his skin for the first time, in the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. The kisses you leave are wet and slightly open-mouthed and when you pull away you lick the taste of him from your lips. Enjoying the sort of salty flavor, you lean back in and let your tongue drag over the same spot.

Now you hear him, a small sound leaves his mouth, a needy whine. It rings in your ears and you feel it shoot straight to your core. Oh we both liked that. You lick the spot again then nip it with your teeth. This time the sound you hear is almost a growl, it rumbles through his chest and up his throat, and when it pushes past his lips you’re positive you’re about to spontaneously combust right here in his kitchen.

He pushes you away from him now, and you meet his eyes. They’re dark, his pupils wide and almost completely consuming the warm brown you’ve grown used to. He runs them across your face, taking in the pretty pink tint on your cheeks and the way your lips are parted to allow you to suck deep breaths into your lungs. He moves them down to your chest that’s heaving with those breaths, then lower, to your thighs that are pressed together.

“You want me bad, don’t you babe?”

Yes, idiot. “If you don’t take me somewhere and fuck me right now, I’m leaving.”

He knows you’re bluffing, but he worked hard to get you here. Harder than he’s ever had to before, shit he’s never had to work to get in a girl's pants in his life. But he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as bad as he wants you wrapped around him, underneath him, moaning for him and screaming his name. Knowing, hoping and praying actually, that you’ll follow, he just nods his head and walks past you and out of the room.

Huffing in frustration, sexual and otherwise, you do as he’d hoped and turn to follow him down a short hall to a staircase that he’s already ascending. You continue to move in sync with him, a few steps behind, until you reach a landing where he flips a light on. You literally crash into him at the top of the stairs when he stops in his tracks.

“What the fu-“

Your words are stopped in their tracks now as you’re pushed hard against the nearest wall. The first time he did this to you flashes through your mind and you remember it as the moment you gave in to him. You know you’re about to do it again, give him whatever he wants to take. I swear to God he better be a good lay.

He’s got his forearm laid across your chest, keeping you pinned in place while his other hand is fumbling with the button on your jeans. His hair has fallen over his face as he looks down to where he’s now pulling your zipper open and you can’t help but reach up to push it away and tuck it back behind his ear. You notice strands of it are stuck to his neck, perspiration already forming there. His tongue is poking out between his lips in concentration as he finally, finally, presses his palm to your stomach and slides it down over your underwear and cups your pussy. Pressing into you with his fingers, he slides them against the damp silk.

The feeling of your arousal against his fingertips, and the relieving pressure of them where you need them most, cause you both to moan out into the limited space between you. You can feel his dick pushed against your thigh, his hips move almost unnoticeably to create friction there.

“Jake, please.”

“Mm please what, doll?” He’s dropping pet names left and right since you got here, but realizes you’re accepting them now. “Tell me what you want. You want me to touch you here?”

He adds more pressure, this time directly to your clit over your underwear, and moves his fingers in a tight circle a couple of times.

“Fuck yes, please. Inside, want them inside me.”

He responds by pulling his hand away completely, only to immediately move it down your stomach again, this time with his fingers nudging the fabric so he can slip it into your panties. He cups you again, skin to skin, and the feeling is electrifying. The arm across your chest lowers but he keeps you there with his body, his hips now working himself against you with more purpose. The hand that’s not buried in your pants grips your face under your chin, completely wrapped around your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. He waits a beat until your eyes meet his.

“Keep your eyes open and on me, okay sugar?” That name is new but he likes the taste of it in his mouth. The way you nod your head and comply tells him you might like it too.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he drags two fingers through your wetness and teases them over your clit again before rubbing light circles into it directly. He watches your eyelids flutter and eyes roll back as the sweetest sound he’s ever heard floats from your mouth to his ears. “Open and on me,” he repeats lowly. You do as he asks and snap your eyes open wide as he moves his fingers through you again. Asking silent permission with a raise of an eyebrow, he sees yours raise in response. With that, he plunges one inside you to the last knuckle.

You clench around him instantly, and he pumps it in and out of you slowly, examining your facial expression. It’s already a little blissed out with the relief of finally being touched by him. He keeps moving his hand against you, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your clit as his finger slips easily in, out, in.

“More,” you choke out, “please, more Jake.” You’ve got a death grip on his biceps, nails digging into his skin there, and you’re struggling to maintain the eye contact he’s demanded.

The cocky smirk that you really hadn’t missed at all has returned to his face. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Want everything your way, all the time.”

“Fuck you,” you mean to spit the words out into his face, but instead they come out on a gasp as he curls his finger deep inside you.

“We’re getting there babe, have some patience.” He fulfills your request for more by pulling his finger from your cunt completely then pushing back into you with two, tucking them as far inside you as his hand will allow and curling them both forward.

“Yes yes, like that, just like that,” your hips have started moving of their own volition, rocking against his hand as his fingers bring you closer and closer to the edge you’re searching for.

Your eyes have squeezed shut as you chase your orgasm, but Jake uses the grip he still holds on your jaw to regain your attention. He shakes your head from side to side one quick time. “Eyes, doll. Open them. Look at me when you cum.”

“I will, I will, I’m close. Don’t stop.”

“Keep fucking yourself on my fingers. Cum for me Y/N. I need it, cum for me,” he’s demanding, or begging, you’re not sure but either way, it’s working. He presses the heel of his palm harder against your clit and your hips writhe, almost violently, pushing back like you’re fighting each other for your release. Suddenly, it snaps.

“FUCK Jaaaake, oh God!”

You do your best to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you’re cumming so hard on his hand that every part of your body has tensed, your cunt is squeezing his fingers tight but he doesn’t stop moving them. He slows his motions as you ride it out, and watches your face as curses and his name keep spilling from your lips.

That might be his new favorite song.

When your orgasm melts away from you, you release Jake’s arms and slump back against the wall. He’s dropped his hold on your face and brings that hand to hold you up at the waist.

His other hand is still hidden away down the front of your jeans, but he’s stopped moving it and eases his fingers from you slowly. As you work to regulate your breathing, he pulls his hand out of your pants and holds it up between your faces.

Smug bastard. The look on his face is infuriating but you just had one of the better orgasms you can remember in recent history, so you let it slide.

“That was pretty good,”

Nope, he’s still insufferable.

“But I think we can do better.” His fingers, still held in view, are shining in the light from overhead, clear evidence of just how good that had been for you. He slips them past his pompous lips and sucks hard, pulling them from his mouth with a pop.

“Huh. Who would’ve thought you’d be so sweet, with such a nasty attitude.” Your eyes roll so far back you think you know what your brain looks like. “C’mere, have a taste.”

He leans in and kisses you softly, affectionately, and you open your lips to him. When his tongue hits yours, you do faintly taste yourself on it and you find that you enjoy the flavor of yourself mixed with the flavor of him, his last drink and something else that’s really just him. He’s enjoying it too, his dick is rock hard and he’s moving his hips against yours again. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“You gonna let me in, sugar? I need it, pretty bad,” he thrusts into you without force, just enough to let you know he’s getting desperate.

“Mm and you always get what you want, don’t you Jacob? Well, lead the way, let’s do this.”

Instead of turning to lead you through whichever door hides his bedroom, he bends, grips the backs of your thighs, and hoists you up from the floor and into his arms. You fling your arms around his neck, lock your ankles around his hips, and throw your head back and laugh.

The sound of it leaves him momentarily stunned, he’s looking up at you with a smile on your face so wide he can see all of your teeth, your throat exposed to him. You look joyful, he thinks you might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long time. Maybe ever.

You bring your face back down to his and he shakes out of his trance, his hair swaying with the motion of it. His smile matches yours and you stay like that for a moment, watching each other’s eyes as they’re crinkled at the corners.

He really is kind of beautiful.

“Take me to bed, babe.”

He turns you both away from the wall and moves toward the door at the end of the hall. “The difference between you and me, is that I love it when you call me that.” He pushes the door open with his foot. “Say it again.”

A few steps into the room, you drop from his arms but keep yours looped around his neck, fingers twirling through his hair. You lean in and run the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear and feel him shiver. “I need you to get me naked, and fuck me. Now, babe.”

“As you wish.”

Your t-shirt is ripped over your head in an instant and tossed over his shoulder. Your jeans, still undone and hanging open from the hallway, are shoved down your legs. He helps you step out of them and you kick them away. Before he can continue, you reach forward and start to unbuckle his belt. He lets you do the work and watches, an amused quirk to his lips. You don’t bother pulling it out of the loops, instead you unbutton and unzip his jeans and push them off of his hips.

Oh. Shit.

His boxer briefs are snug, dark gray, and doing very little to hide his, much bigger than you were expecting, very hard cock.

“Surprised, doll?”

You giggle a little, but not at his expense. At your incorrect assumption. “You’re kind of a small guy. Not small everywhere, though huh?” Before he can offer up a retort, your hand is on it, palming him over the cotton. He reaches down and grips your wrist firmly, not wanting you to stop touching him too soon. He moves his hand to cover yours and together you squeeze him.

“Tell me you want that, you want me. I need to hear you say it,” the words come out a bit strangled.

“Haven’t I shown you that I do? Let me have it,” you purr.

He squeezes your hand again, effectively grabbing himself. “Fuck, Y/N… say it.”

You resist, just for a moment, because of course you do. You move closer to him, placing your free hand on his chest then looping a finger through and tugging on his necklace. Ghosting your lips over his, he puckers them for a kiss that you don’t offer. Against his mouth, you say quietly, but with conviction, “I want you Jake. I want you to fuck me with this big cock you’ve been hiding. Want you to ruin me.”

His hands move so quickly you don’t even see it happen, he’s spun you away from him and he’s pushing you toward the king size bed on the left side of the room. Once your knees hit the bed frame, you think he wants you to climb on but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your hip.

“Hands on the bed,” he says from behind you, face now at your ear, breathing into your hair.

He places his other palm to the center of your upper back and pushes you to bend over for him at the waist, palms flat on the bed. He takes in your form for a moment, admiring the way you’ve done what he wants. Reaching out again to your back, he runs the tip of his first finger down your spine slowly, skimming over the clasps of your bra, watching closely as your back arches and pushes your ass back into his hips. When his finger reaches your underwear, he draws it over the material lightly.

Your lingerie is a matching set, silky with lace trim. The only light in the room is coming from outside the door, left on in the hallway, but he tries to decipher the color. It’s dark, maybe a plum purple. No, aubergine. He likes the word, it scratches an itch in his brain.

“It’s interesting that you were hiding this pretty little set under jeans and a t-shirt, doll. Were you looking to get fucked tonight? Planning on going home with someone else?”

You don’t think he’s actually expecting a response, especially when he hooks his fingers under the lace at the sides of your panties and starts tugging them off of you.

“Mm maybe. Jealous?” you ask anyway as the material slips over the swell of your ass and slides down your thighs. He moves with them, crouching to kneel behind you, guiding them all the way down to your ankles and lifting each foot gently to free them. He lets them drop to the floor from his fingers, and when you shift your feet in anticipation you accidentally move them under the bed. You won’t know that until later, much later actually.

He runs his palms up the backs of your legs, from your calves to your thighs, and he squeezes the soft flesh there. The action spreads you open to him slightly, and he’s got a perfect view of your cunt, slick and almost dripping for him.

“What, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?”

You don’t realize he’s doing it until you feel his breath breeze over your sensitive skin, before he’s got his tongue on you. Your knees threaten to buckle in surprise but they’re pushed tight against the bed frame as he laps at you leisurely. It’s not enough to make you cum, and that’s not his goal. He just needed another taste. The feeling is pleasant though and you’re humming with it, he’s lost in it for a few moments as you’re pushing back against his mouth.

When he’s had his fill, he pulls away from you with a final lewd slurp as he sucks your arousal into his mouth. The sound should be offensive, but it has your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him, ready for him. As he stands, he doesn’t bother to wipe you from his lips.

Without a word he moves from behind you and crawls onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard, propped against the pillows. You haven’t moved from your bent pose and you make eye contact. He likes the way your hair has fallen forward over one shoulder, like a curtain or backdrop, putting your face on display for him.

“Well? Get over here.”

“Don’t command me, I’m not a dog,” you spit out, but your body is already answering his call, moving toward him without question. You find yourself crawling over him and straddling his lap. His still-covered dick pressed against your nakedness is almost overwhelming, a sigh slips from your lips in relief at the pressure of it. He’s hard and hot underneath you and you know he needs it as much as you do.

His hands have moved to grip the outsides of your thighs, and he leans up to capture your mouth with his. You kiss him back for a moment, tasting yourself on him again, and you can’t help but slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip. You move to trail kisses back, over his jaw, and down to the spot just below his ear. His grip gets tighter when you do so you stay there, pressing kisses and flicking your tongue over his skin. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on him before you move down his body with your lips and tongue, kisses littering his chest and lower as you crawl backwards, leaving them over his stomach as well. His muscles flex and his skin jumps at the attention, and you can’t resist sucking it into your mouth and biting down. He hisses through gritted teeth. When you reach the waist and of his underwear you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Keep going, for the love of God keep going.”

You comply easily, tucking your fingertips under the elastic and tugging as he shifts to help you get them off of him. Once they’re past his knees he pulls you back up to his lap by your arms, kicking the briefs away and off the bed.

Nothing between you now, you feel the heat rolling off of his body in waves as you drag your pussy over him, hot skin to hot skin. You reach behind your own back to unclasp your bra, needing to be completely bared to him. Once you tug it down your arms you toss it away, but he watches as it lands looped around the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. The cocky smirk has returned, he drags his eyes away from the guitar and they land on your breasts.

“Don’t get too full of yourself yet, you’ve gotta earn it,” you have to knock him down a peg or two. “You’ve got condoms, right?”

“Do I seem like a man who’s unprepared, babe?”

Your eyes roll but you smile to yourself as he reaches across his body to dig into the drawer of his nightstand. You watch his skin stretch over his ribs as he shifts.

Returning to position, foil packet in hand, he looks up into your eyes. “You still wanna do this, right?”

“Ugh, give me that,” you snatch the condom from his fingers, tear the packet open between your teeth, and toss the foil aside. His dick is resting against his stomach between you, mostly untouched but leaking at the tip. “Hold it for me, babe.”

He does as you ask, gripping it in one hand at the base, and watches like a hawk as you place the condom over the tip and deftly roll it down over his length.

“That was so fucking hot, Jesus Christ. Kiss me?”

Leaning forward with your hands on his chest to place a kiss to his lips, you lift yourself to hover over his dick, still held firmly in his hand. He pushes his hips up slightly and rubs his head through you, sliding easily through the slick moisture there.

Against your mouth he mumbles, “Fuck me, sugar.” He’s lined up and ready for you so you kiss him again, mouths pushed together tight as you sink down around him an inch or two, his hands finding your thighs once again.

“Fucking hell Jake.” He’s big, and you were beyond prepped and ready for him, but the stretch is more than you were expecting. You rock your hips a few times, easing yourself down slowly.

“I know you can take it baby, you’re doing so good for me.” He’d been watching closely, eyes glued to where your bodies are connecting, but he throws his head back to the headboard and moans, deep and low in his throat when your cunt sucks him all the way in, to the hilt. “Fuuuck.”

You’re still leaned over him as you both adjust to the feeling of being locked together like this, with his head back, neck stretched out and calling to you, sweat beading up there. You move in and catch a drop on your tongue as it starts to run down the column of his throat. He whimpers, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it until he raises his face to yours and moves his hands back to your ass.

“Need you to fuck me, doll. You ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, already a little breathless, and he begins for you, lifting you up and watching himself retreat from your body. Before you can slide off of him completely, he jerks you back down to his hips.

“JAKE!”

That’s exactly what he wants to hear. He doesn’t stop moving your body, lifting and pulling you back to him, eating up all the dirty words rolling off your tongue, until you take over and start bouncing on your own. Once you do, his hands don’t leave you but he slides them back down to grip handfuls of the soft flesh of your thighs.

“You’re so fucking good baby, feel so good wrapped around me holy shit.” You’re rolling your hips over his now, his cock buried deep and your clit slipping against his pelvis on every forward roll.

You’re both shining with sweat now, you from exerting your muscles and him from apparently running unnaturally hot. The air in the room is thick with the humidity you’re creating, the sounds and scent of sex filling the space.

You call his name softly, panting for fresh air in your lungs. “Jake, Jake… make me cum. Wanna cum again… please…”

He delivers a sharp thrust of his hips up into you before leaning forward and bringing his chest to yours. Wrapping one arm under yours and around your back, gripping your hip with the other, you’re not exactly sure how he does it so smoothly but he’s got your positions reversed in seconds. Your back hits the mattress, head almost hanging off the corner at the foot of the bed and he’s immediately found a rhythm, fucking into you with deep strokes.

His eyes are on your face, watching it shift and contort as every few pumps into you, he hits exactly the right spot inside. His gaze is interrupted by movement he catches in his periphery, and when he lifts his head to look closer he realizes he’s watching himself. Forgot about that. Interesting.

“Y/N,” he grunts out on a forward stroke, “eyes open and on me.” His voice is calm and coaxes you to obey. The pendant of his necklace is swinging over you. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod your head, feeling cock dumb and lost for words.

“You wanna watch?”

“Wha-?“

Your mouth doesn’t even form the entire word. He motions to you to lean your head back and look across the room. What you find there is an inverted reflection of your bodies in a full length floor mirror. Rolling your eyes back to him, you raise an eyebrow in question.

He chooses that moment to slam his hips into the back of your thighs.

“Seriously?!” It squeals out of you, high pitched and on one breath that he’s punched out of your lungs.

He pulls out of you and immediately you feel empty, emptier than you’ve ever felt, missing the fullness of him inside you. Before you can mourn the loss, he’s moving to roll you to your stomach. Okay we’re doing this. You finish the roll and shift to your hands and knees, your eyes finding each other’s in the mirror.

“Go ahead then, do it Jake.”

His grin is wild and devilish, and fuck if he doesn’t look absolutely sinful. His hair is damp, stuck to every inch of skin that it lays across. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours as he runs himself up through your folds and plunges back inside you, bottoming out and causing your body to lurch forward and a groan to push from your lips. Leaning over you, the skin of his chest hot and slick on your back, he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. You think that it’s kind of sweet, almost tender, until a hand slips up the front of your body and wraps around your throat.

Suddenly you’re both upright on your knees and he’s fucking up into you, pressed tight against your back. “Eyes on me babe, keep ‘em open,” he breathes directly into your ear as his other hand snakes down your stomach and tucks itself between your legs. He gathers wetness from where he’s moving inside you and brings his fingers up to press circles into your clit. Your hands fly back over your head, sink into his hair and hold tight.

“Yes yes yessssss Jake fuck, just like that, don’t stop!”

In the reflection of your bodies, moving together, all you can see is that cocky fucking smirk.

“Not stopping ‘til you’re falling apart all over my cock, not stopping after, never wanna leave this pussy.” His eye contact is intense, like it was earlier, at the bar. Before he even knew your name. And now he never wants to leave you? You know it’s his dick talking but it feels so so good.

“Keep talking, pretty boy, make me cum. I’m so close, keep talking!”

“I can feel you, sugar. Squeezing me, taking it all. You’re so good… So fucking good.” He punctuates the sentence by pulling his hand from your cunt, and bringing it back with a slap. Directly to your clit.

Your orgasm explodes, ripping through you from your core and spreading outward like wildfire.

Your body tries to double over on itself but Jake keeps you upright with the hand on your throat and fulfills his promise. He doesn’t stop fucking you, doesn’t even slow down, not until he feels your muscles relax and your body go limp.

“C’mere darlin’, I’ve got you.” He pulls out of you gently and shifts you both back to the top of the bed, laying you against his pillows. Your arms feel like jelly but you reach for him. He stays close, unsure if you want him to continue.

You’re smiling softly up at him, and he doesn’t really expect your next words.

“Would be a real waste if you didn’t finish what you started. Sir.”

That smile, the bright one, curling at the corners and showcasing all of his beautiful teeth, stretches across his lips.

“As you wish.”

He brings his body over yours, your legs open and he slides between them. He slips back inside you and you sigh in relief at the perfectly full feeling of it. You clench yourself around him, wrap your arms behind him and run your fingers over his back, encouraging him to move and reach his own ending.

“Kiss me. Cum for me.”

A hand finds itself cupping your cheek, his lips find their way to yours, and he moves inside you. It’s slow and saccharine, until it isn’t. He’s close, been close, and his body chases the release he needs quickly. You whisper words of motivation into his ear, the sound pushing him closer until he reaches that cliff, and with a final soft call of your name, he falls over it.

He lets his body come to rest on top of yours for a few moments and you trail your fingers up the sticky skin of his back, then twirl them through the damp strands of his hair. Once he’s able to move, he pushes off of you after a peck to your lips, and leaves the bed. You let your eyes close while he’s gone and when he returns, the condom has been disposed of and he’s carrying two bottles of water.

You sit up and he passes one to you. After a long drink, almost emptying the bottle, you cap it and set it on the bedside table.

He’s still standing at the side of the bed, eyeing you curiously. Smirk in place. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and get back in bed. I’m fucking tired.” Your eyes are alight with laughter behind them as he does what you command. He insists that you let him hold you and you comply, eyelids heavy and ready to sleep.

“Goodnight babe,” he mumbles into the hair at the crown of your head.

“Don’t call me that…”

He’s chuckling to himself as he closes his own eyes and begins to drift off.

This Morning

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

You feel your eyes roll and you try, for once, to stop them but he sees it.

“I don’t know why you’re still pretending you don’t like me, like you don’t remember anything. We had a good time, even before we made it back here. Then we had a really good time,” he laughs a little but there’s disappointment behind his words. “You didn’t feel it?”

A sigh huffs from your mouth, as you remain unmoving, standing near his dresser, pieces of your clothing still scattered among his belongings. In his space.

The disappointment is written on his face now, etched into his features as his eyebrows knit together and he purses his lips. Those lips. You can feel yourself backing down, about to give in to him yet again. You remember the night pretty clearly, remember the moments when the arrogant act slipped and he looked at you like he’s never needed anything or anyone as close to him as he did you.

“Don’t leave yet. At least have coffee with me, talk to me? Let me in a little.” Your defenses are dropping, the sad little puppy dog eyes are breaking you down.

“And you’re not gonna chop me up and hide me in your basement, right?”

Light returns to his eyes as he chuckles, the raspy sound hitting your ears and you find that you enjoy it this time. You’re both smiling nervously now.

“I have no intention of hurting you, ever really.”

It’s working, your grip on the sheet around you is loose and you feel the fabric slip from it and flutter to the floor. His eyebrows raise but before he can say something stupid, you drop your jeans back to the ground where you found them and move back toward the bed. Crawling onto the mattress and over to him, you stop on hands and knees when you’re nose to nose with him once again.

“Fine.” You let a full smile stretch across your lips and he soaks it in, basks in it, commits it to memory, as he lays you back across his pillows.

You know he’s already working out how he’s going to get you back here once you do leave, you can see his mind turning behind the eyes that are locked on yours.

You’re not sure that you’re going to resist him this time.

Part 2 🖤

#greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #gvf fan fiction #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt13

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I'm depressed, have barely eaten all day, and haven't taken my nightly meds yet. All this to say: this is not proofread. (I will be eating and taking my meds right after I post this)

Warnings: references to slavery, discussions about fears, self-doubt, references to abuse/torture, references to blood/gore/viscera, hurt/comfort, light angst

Word Count: 1,635

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You probably wouldn’t have agreed if Karlach hadn’t jeered you on. Tensions were high, the Absolute was hanging over your heads like an executioner’s ax - what could it really hurt?

“Close your eyes, little ones. Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe.”

Fidgeting uncertainly, you do as she asks, but you reach over and take Astarion’s hand. He’s quick to hold on, and soon it feels like your world has been tilted on its axis.

When you open your eyes, your hand is empty, and you’re no longer at the circus. You seem to be standing somewhere in nature, but it feels… off, somehow. A manufactured illusion. A waterfall, split by rocks, spills into a river. The river creates a divide between you and Astarion, with only a thick log bridging the gap. If the tadpoles weren’t protecting Astarion, one slip and he’d be reduced to nothing. You didn’t like thinking about it.

To your right, the druid stood. “Ah. Glorious. Your bond is sweeter than nature’s dew. I see you. Know you. But do you know one another?”

You share a look with Astarion. Something silent is communicated with just that one glance - don’t tell her anything true. Karlach may have egged you into this, but telling a random stranger your deepest selves didn’t sit right with either of you.

“A tumultuous past haunts you both - the same story with different tellers. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous.” She looks at Astarion with her glowing eyes. He feels as though she is looking straight through him into the very core of his being. “Astarion, when is your lover happiest?”

Your heart thuds as he contemplates his answer. His eyes study you, a slight crease between his brow. It’s… difficult to allow yourself to be seen. You’ve shown him so much already, allowed him to witness the horrors you faced, but seeing was far different than speaking it aloud. This question wasn’t something so simple as What is their favorite color? It requires an answer that can only be formed through observation. And, gods, you had no idea how he saw you.

He offers a slight grin, though his brow remains tight. He must sense your worry. “Any time they’re with me, of course,” he said haughtily.

You chuckle slightly. It’s not a lie, and from the glimmer in his eye, he knows it. “It’s hard not to be.”

He steps forward on the log when the druid prompts him to. She turns to look at you. “Now I ask you: when is he happiest?”

If he wishes to play this game of half-truths, you’re happy to indulge him. He smiles when he catches that same look shining in your eye. “When he’s elbow deep in gore.”

He chuckled. “Guilty as charged,” he agreed, before leaning in conspiratorially. “Sometimes literally…”

You stepped onto the log. Even if it was an illusion, you worried for a moment about slipping and falling in.

“Your bond beats in pleasure. It is an honor to behold,” the druid waxes. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what do they desire more than anything?”

A salacious grin tugs at his lips. You give him a pointed look. Whatever unholy thoughts crossed his mind are tempered, for now. “A glass of wine under the stars.”

“As long as it’s with you.”

He steps forward. Zethino poses the same question to you.

“Revenge.”

“Oh yes!” he exclaims, becoming giddy. “Yes, please.”

You step forward. You could touch him now if you wished, merely an arm’s length away.

“Our touch has been one of sunlight, but now we must ask the deep. The difficult. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. What do they fear most?”

He can see the answer in your eyes. Even just posing the question makes you uneasy. You frown, memories flickering within your irises. He wishes to reach out, touch your cheek, assure you he’s here. But something in the druid’s energy tells him he can’t. Instead, he does his best through his answer alone. “Gale’s cooking.”

It startles a laugh out of you, catapulting every horrible, real fear away in an instant. All you can do is nod as your giggles taper off. He takes a small step forward.

“Astarion - what is his deepest fear?”

With a new confidence, a new self-assurance, you grin as you say, “Breaking a nail.”

That, too, shocks a laugh out of him. He makes a show of checking his nails. “Well, when you look this good…”

You take your own small step forward, and you don’t hesitate to take his hand the moment you’re within reach. “Thank you,” you whisper. The words come spilling out before you can stop them, but you mean them so truly. Where he feared having his truth told to strangers, you feared giving your truth any voice. To speak your master’s name was as good as tying a noose ‘round your neck.

He leans his forehead against yours. “Of course, my love.”

The druid sighs, smiling brightly. “I press my finger to your bond and find a shield impenetrable. It is… beautiful. Your love is one few have - cherish it.”

The day is a staggering success, you think. Sure, you had to fight a few cultists, but the aura of contentment around everyone upon the return to camp was reward enough - a few cuts and scrapes weren’t going to dull that anytime soon.

But even as you go about your routine, lighting a new candle you got from a vendor and setting it in the metal pan, listening to Astarion scoff at a poorly thought out plan from a couple thieves he’d overheard, something uncertain clings to the back of your mind. You must not hide it as well as you think, because Astarion sighs and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingertips.

“What’s on your mind, dove?”

You sit down fully across from him, frowning as you watch him tenderly care for you. “I keep thinking about the druid,” you admit. “The love test.”

“Thank you again for not divulging everything. I trust you with that information, not a random carny.”

“That’s the problem, I think.” You meet his eyes and you look so utterly uncertain. You search for answers in him, trying to find them before you have to speak the questions aloud, but you come up empty. “She asked how well we knew each other, and- and I know it’s silly. I mean, we know each other well enough to skirt around the truth, but…”

He hums. “You’re worried we don’t really know each other as well as she thinks.”

You nod.

“Well, then, there’s only one thing for it. I don’t have a mystical waterfall, but I think we can make do.” He lowers your hand to his lap, and you subconsciously turn your hands over so you can play with his fingers. He smiles at the gesture. “When am I happiest?”

You study him. Your eyes flicker over his face, taking in every minute twitch, slowly but surely putting the truth together. “I don’t think you’ve been happy in a long time,” you whisper.

He grins, but it’s sad. His eyes betray it all. “I’m starting to learn how to,” he assures softly. “You haven’t been either, have you, love?”

You shake your head slightly. You couldn’t recall a time before your slavery where you were happy; all those memories lost to time and torture. But even now, out of arm’s reach from her, joy was fleeting. A moment here and there, stolen from time, but never consistent. “I am happy with you,” you add. “What do I desire most?”

He sighs. The answer is already one he’s familiar with. “Freedom.” He squeezes your hand, eyes sharpening with determination. “And we will be free. Soon, my dear. You can be sure of that.”

The difficult question, the druid was right about that. Neither of you wanted to ask, and neither of you really wanted to tell. But both of you stayed there, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Your deepest fear,” you begin, quietly, “is forever feeling like a slave to someone else.”

“Is that yours, too?”

You tear your eyes away to watch as you lightly thumb at the blunt edges of his nails, trailing from one finger to the next. His nails were always so well kept and tidy despite the dirt and viscera that haunted your daily lives. “It used to be. Now…” You inhale shakily. “I’ve made so many wonderful friends. And I’m terrified to go back to- to her. But losing all this - losing you - scares me more than anything.”

He frowns. He can’t say you won’t lose them. This mission you’ve found yourselves on is dangerous; you risk your lives every single day. And once it ends, it’s a terrible truth that everyone will go their own separate ways.

What he can do is bring your hand back to his lips and press a kiss to your palm. He can close your fingers around it and get you to hold that symbol of his love safely. And maybe that’s all he needs to do. Really, what could he possibly say? Any assurance would be like rubbing salve on an arrow still embedded in your side.

And perhaps it’s enough, because you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist, and he wraps his around your shoulders and back, pulling you close. He’s determined to find better answers to the questions, one day. You both will find consistent happiness, and desire something as simple as a good book. And you won’t be afraid of being alone again.

One day.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer

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angelshimaa · 2 years

Text

━━ 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 ;; 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

♡ cw :: fluff fluff fluff, gn!reader, soft shoto, three lines of actual dialogue 😭

♡ pet names :: none !

♡ a/n :: a repost, nothin’ but some soft flowery fluff tbh— thank you so very much to @softiefeli who sobbed over the idea with me and held me at gunpoint so i could write it. love you pretty ! <3

the sun must’ve felt as lazy as the entire day.

it’s a thought you barely entertain, settling for it as the reason for such pale light cast through your curtains. even the lighting up of the room feels half-hearted— barely an attempt to move from early morning into afternoon.

yet, as you lay across from shoto— away from all that actively exists beyond your borders, you can’t find yourself minding.

no. you much rather would have this. so content with the way the two of you love in your own world, sinking in the soft mattress of your bed. the little world you’ve made.

at this moment, shoto’s world isn’t much bigger than the sight in front of him.

and oh, how his world grounds him.

in no rush whatsoever, your thumb blesses his cheek with your touch, gifting it with gentle warmth. he feels your tenderness sink into his skin and he begs his heavy eyelids to stay open— to let him trace over the features of the one who’s blessed him so much already.

shoto’s never wanted much.

he was never a greedy person; his childhood had taught him fairly quickly that there was no room— no space for anything he wanted. every time he wanted— every single time he asked for something his heart desired so strongly— he was shown exactly why he shouldn’t want.

he was shown time and time again why he couldn’t— why he wasn’t allowed to ask. to desire. to yearn. nothing could’ve changed his mind and nothing could possibly give him any hope he’d lost.

nothing should’ve. nothing should’ve had that much power. nobody should’ve had that power.

yet, as you lay on your side within arm’s reach, slight smile etched onto your face, shoto realises that maybe he isn’t so sure.

yet, as you caress him, as you give him such warmth in your gaze, he realises just how faulted his thinking is.

for, if nothing was meant to make him want— make him need and beg and fold at its touch— then how had the universe placed you in his world?

how had the universe let him place you in his heart, then be so kind as to let you place him in yours?

you find your smile grow in the silence, watching how slowly the pretty boy in front of you blinked, fighting off sleep. so adorable, you’re amazed a little chuckle doesn’t bubble up and out of you. every blink of his is a battle, each one harder to win.

and as much as he loves it, your touch seals the end of the battle for him, sending him off to the land of dreams.

still awake, you find your heart swell at him— because of him. face calm and at rest, his soft and steady breaths barely noticeable— such vulnerability presents itself before you and your heart beats harder as a result, opening its doors for contentment to live in.

your movements stop and your hand pulls away to rest with you, satisfied with the sleeping figure finally, finally at rest.

long eyelashes flutter out of the premature sleep and shoto’s hand reaches for yours, slender fingers barely moving it back onto his face. you smile at the movement, heart swelling so big it could very much combust in your chest.

“don’t stop, please.”

it’s a hushed plea that holds the potential to melt you into a gooey puddle right on the spot, and you’re sure he doesn’t understand how soft he’s making you when he nuzzles into your touch.

you can’t help but provide, your hand finding its place on the side of his face again and your thumb getting back into its rhythm. skin meets skin in your caress and you don’t stray from his scar, grazing right below it if not on it at times.

such softness for something created when all softness was absent.

“i’m right here.”

no, shoto never wanted much.

in fact, for once he felt he had all he could ever want, beaming at him and providing the light the sun wasn’t able to. his eyelids begin to flutter to a close again, but not before he turns slightly to give your palm the softest kiss in gratitude.

his eyes find light right in front of him before they close, oh so grateful for the world he’s found solace in.

“thank you.”

— thank you for reading ! <3 please consider reblogging / feedback for a cookie ! 🍪✨

#— signed ⋆·ʚ⁺#shoto x reader #shoto x gn!reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x gn!reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x gn!reader #shoto fluff #todoroki fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x gn!reader #bnha x gn!reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha shoto #bnha shoto

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yoongis-property · 2 years

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JUNGKOOK FICS JULY 2022

└➤ sorted by 。。。 AU

MASTERLIST

(last update: 11.08.2022)

m- mature , f- fluff , a- angst , c- crack/humor, ☆- personal favorite

e2l- enemies to lovers, s2l- strangers to lovers, f2l- friends to lovers, bf2l- best friends to lovers, cf2l- childhood friends to lovers, fwb2l- friends with benefits to lovers, ex2l- exes to lovers, i2l- idiots to lovers

↑- already mentioned in this post (more than one AU)

FINISHED

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS

⇢ a rainy sunset by @filmcrystal (f, m, a, kinda unrequited love)

❝ your best friend would give you the world if he could, always sighing to you and staring at you with the most in-love look on his face, he’s devoted to you but you don’t see him the same way till your roommate dares to say something about it, then the way you see him starts to change faster than you thought. ❞

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND!AU

⇢ The BBF by @kookiecrumb (m)

❝ Your brother is home for the holidays. Your family has moved into a smaller home since he left for college, which results in you having to share a room with not only him, but his super hot best friend. ❞

⇢ milestone by @1kook (m, f, highschool!au kinda)

❝ Part of you is touched that Jungkook really has been there for every milestone in your life. The other part wishes he hadn’t shown up looking so ridiculously sexy. ❞

(I`m not sure about the genre, bc i read this almost a year ago)

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS

⇢ touch me wherever by @bangtangalicious (m, innocent!jk)

❝ jungkook needs to touch you and he just can’t hold back anymore ❞

COFFEESHOP!AU

⇢ chasing butterflies by @ddaenggtan (f, m, college!au, nerd!jk)

❝ you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it. ❞

COLLEGE!AU

⇢ lowkey by @xpeachesncream (f, a, m, fake dating!au, nerd!jk, f2l, ☆)

❝ in order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, jeon jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the ways of dating. ❞

⇢ How to Get a Guy by @taeshobipop (f, m, a, roommates!au, fuckboi!jk, e2l, ☆)

❝ Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He’s loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you’re absolutely bizarre. But there’s a silver lining — Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he’ll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungkook can continue perusing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to be the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you? ❞

⇢ Zipper. by @taeshobipop (m, fratboy!jk, kinda e2l, ☆)

❝ Jungkook isn’t your date to the annual BTS gala, but he’s the only one available to take you dress shopping. So when a zipper emergency arises in the boutique’s tiny dressing room, who’s there to help you? ❞

⇢ chasing butterflies by @ddaenggtan (f, m, coffee shop!au, nerd!jk) ↑

⇢ catharsis. by @junghelioseok (m, fwb!au, feat. jm)

❝ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there. ❞

⇢ fuck me better by @bangtangalicious (m, a, fwb, f2l, fuckboi!jk, feat. kth)

❝ jungkook isn't happy when he finds out he's eating someone else's cum out of you // taehyung is tired of seeing you fall for jungkook's games ❞

⇢ I Heard a Rumor. by @taeshobipop (f, m, campus crush!jk, f2l)

❝ One slip of a finger, and you realize you’ve liked an Insta photo of college hotshot Jeon Jungkook…from two years ago. You manage to unlike it within seconds, except it’s too late — Damn Kim Namjoon and his lightning-fast eyes. Do not tell a soul, you hiss. The man merely smirks. Next thing you know, a rumor is spread throughout campus. Y/n likes Jungkook…and now he knows. ❞

⇢ all that glitters by @aquagustd (fuckboi!jk, read warnings, ☆)

❝ when the sweet, innocent nerd asks for your help to woo all the girls, you didn’t think that you would be his first victim. ❞

⇢ here i come by @chateautae (m)

❝ tipsy hide-and-seek turns into more when you and jeon jungkook choose the same closet to hide in. ❞

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

⇢ How to Get a Guy by @taeshobipop (f, m, a, roommates!au, college!au, fuckboi!jk, ☆) ↑

⇢ no sweetness by @rosaetae (f, c, bobarista!reader, lacrosseplayer!jk, ☆)

❝ jungkook has a thing for pretty girls who work with tiny balls, especially the new fiery bobarista at his favorite boba shop, whom he finds absolutely adorable, but finds out later that she’s just as sweet as she made his milk tea order— not sweet. ❞

⇢ from home by @gyukult (f, m, a, richkid!jk, fakedating!au)

❝ jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? ❞

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!AU

⇢ Better be quiet, love by @dreamypjm (m, read warnings!)

❝ Going out on a movie date with your boyfriend after a busy week, in which you hardly had time for each other. But you both quicklly realize that you can't wait any longer to feel each other. ❞

⇢ may the best man win by @ughcore (f, m, a)

⇢ crazy by @mercurygguk (m, slight f)

❝ jungkook arrives back home after a busy schedule, sneaking into bed with you. something catches your eye though when you lay your eyes on him for the first time in a while. ❞

⇢ brain dead by @bts-bay-bee (m)

FAKE DATING!AU

⇢ lowkey by @xpeachesncream (f, a, m, college!au, nerd!jk, f2l, ☆) ↑

⇢ from home by @gyukult (richkid!jk, e2l) ↑

FRIENDS TO LOVERS

⇢ lowkey by @xpeachesncream (f, a, m, college!au, fake dating!au, nerd!jk, ☆) ↑

⇢ fuck me better by @bangtangalicious (m, a, fwb, fuckboi!jk, college!au, feat. kth) ↑

❝ jungkook isn't happy when he finds out he's eating someone else's cum out of you // taehyung is tired of seeing you fall for jungkook's games ❞

⇢ I Heard a Rumor. by @taeshobipop (f, m, college!au, campus crush!jk) ↑

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS!AU

⇢ DALLIANCE by @btssmutgalore (m)

❝ a casual romantic or sexual relationship ❞

⇢ catharsis. by @junghelioseok (m, college!au, feat. jm)

❝ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there. ❞

⇢ fuck me better by @bangtangalicious (m, a, f2l, fuckboi!jk, college!au, feat. kth) ↑

❝ jungkook isn't happy when he finds out he's eating someone else's cum out of you // taehyung is tired of seeing you fall for jungkook's games ❞

NERD!JK

⇢ lowkey by @xpeachesncream (f, a, m, college!au, fake dating!au, f2l, ☆) ↑

⇢ chasing butterflies by @ddaenggtan (f, m, college!au, coffee shop!au) ↑

ROOMMATE!AU

⇢ How to Get a Guy by @taeshobipop (f, m, a, college!au, fuckboi!jk, e2l, ☆) ↑

SKATERBOY!JK

⇢ concrete king by @bratkook (f, m, ☆)

❝ when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could ever say no to him ❞

OTHER

⇢ Trick or Treat. by @satnin-darling (m, feat. myg)

❝ The Joker, a Gray Pianist, and an Action-taker were supposed to walk into a bar on Halloween. Turns out they don't even make it past the front door because they were too busy fucking each other to partake in this year’s spooky season ❞

⇢ switch up! by @bratkook (f, m)

❝ you would have never expected your shy, innocent art partner to be the man on stage covered in tattoos ❞

⇢ The Bases by @pbandjk (f, m)

❝ You’re still a virgin, but lucky you have star baseball player Jeon Jungkook to show you the bases. ❞

UNFINISHED

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

⇢ paddle with me by @yoongsgguktae (m, campcounselor!au)

❝ when your camp leader forces you and jeongguk as partners in a team building activity. with frustrations and anger flaring during your journey down the river, how will all this pent-up emotion get released? ❞

MAGIC!AU

⇢ legend of the lamp by @opaljm (f, m, s2l)

❝ Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. ❞

STRANGERS TO LOVERS

⇢ legend of the lamp by @opaljm (f, m, fantasy!au, magic!au) ↑

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rushingheadlong · 2 years

Text

The Worst Best Friend in the World - A Roger x f!Reader fic

Summary: You and Roger have been calling each other the “worst best friend” for years now, but it’s only recently that it’s started to hit a little too close to home - because only the worst of people would fall in love with their best friend like you did.

Tags: ~8700 words, Roger x f!Reader, angst, h/c, friends-to-lovers, soft smut

Notes: Written for a request from a tumblr user who wishes to remain anonymous. Requests are technically closed so I’m not accepting anymore, but I loved this prompt and just couldn’t resist writing something for it!

Read on AO3 here!

1957

“I hate you Roger Taylor! You’re the worst best friend in the whole entire world!”

Years later, when you look back on that day, you won’t remember what Roger did that upset you so badly. You’ll remember running back home in tears but you won’t remember that you cried so hard that you got hiccups, or that you were nearly sick down the front of your mum’s skirt when she wrapped her arms around you and asked what was wrong. You won’t remember what you told her and you won’t remember crying yourself to sleep that night, hours after the fight actually happened.

What you do remember is seeing him waiting for you by the school gates the next morning. Even now, years after the fact, you remember how nervous he looked when he handed you a piece of paper, and you remember how small his voice sounded when he said, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean what I said. Will you still be my friend?”

You remember opening the piece of paper to see a crude drawing of two stick figures holding hands with your names inside a lopsided heart. At the top of the page, written in Roger’s childish script, are the words Best Friends Forever.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

15 years later…

Tonight’s venue is small, and by the time you finally arrive the place is already packed to the gills with people. You can’t see the makeshift stage setup on the far side of the room but you easily recognize the sound of Queen performing, and you’ve been to enough of their shows by now that you know they’re coming to the end of their set. Damnit. You wanted to get here earlier but your fucking boss held you back, and now it’s going to be a nightmare trying to get backstage to meet up with your friends.

So you don’t try to weasel your way behind the stage at all. You instead duck outside and around the back of the building towards where Queen’s old van is parked, figuring that they have to return to the vehicle at some point and you’ll just meet up with them then. Tonight must be your lucky night, though, because you find the rear door to the venue open and you’re able to slip back inside just in time to hear Freddie say goodnight to the crowd.

“Well look who finally decided to show up!” Roger calls out as the band makes their way down the back hallway. “Thought you decided to skip out on us tonight!”

“Nah, my fucking boss just decided to hold me late,” you explain as you follow him and the others into the dressing room.

“And you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself and leave anyway? Worst best friend ever,” Roger teases, and you laugh at the old inside joke.

The two of you have been slinging that ‘accusation’ at each other ever since that fight when you were ten, but apart from once or twice in the middle of heated arguments it’s never been meant with any sort of seriousness. On the contrary there’s a great deal of fondness captured in those three words that doesn’t seem like it should fit with being called someone’s “worst best friend” but it’s because you both keep the joke running that you know your friendship with Roger is still going strong after all this time.

“Hey now that’s not fair. A real worst best friend wouldn’t have shown up at all,” you say, slinging an arm around Roger’s shoulders. He worked up a sweat while drumming and it’s a bit gross to be touching him right now, but it doesn’t really bother you.

When it comes to Roger there are a lot of things that don’t really bother you, even if they probably should.

Roger laughs. “No, I think that’s just called being a bad friend.” He playfully elbows you and adds, “C’mon, get off me so I can get changed.”

You nod and let go of him, even though that’s the last thing you want to do. No one asks you to leave the room, neither Roger nor the rest of Queen, and you’ve long since stopped raising the subject yourself. You’re Roger’s old mate from school - practically one of the guys - and so none of them seem to think that maybe they should want you to step outside while they drop trou.

That means that you’re free to lean against the doorframe and ogle the boys as they change. Or at least that's what you'd be doing if you had the stomach for ogling your friends, but you don't. It just doesn't feel right for you to be eyeing up Roger like that when he's made it clear - through actions, if not words - that he doesn't feel the same.

There is one advantage to your position by the door, though. You’re the first to hear the sound of giggles and hushed whispers floating down the corridor, and when you glance in that direction you can see the two girls clearly trying to work up the courage to come talk to the band.

“Head’s up,” you tell the boys. It’s just enough of a warning for Roger to zip up his trousers and throw on a shirt, before the girls are hovering nervously at your shoulder.

“Um, hi there!” one of the girls says. “We saw your show and just wanted to tell you that it was fantastic! You guys were really brilliant out there.”

“Thank you,” Freddie says. “It’s always lovely to hear what the fans think of our music.”

The girls seem to take that as permission to move further into the small room, pushing past you without so much as a ‘pardon me’. You roll your eyes behind their backs and try to send Roger a Can you believe this? look, but he doesn’t see it.

Because while the brunette takes a seat by Freddie really does seem eager to talk about Queen’s music, her blonde friend has made a beeline for Roger - and judging by the look in her eyes and her hand on his arm, she has other things on her mind than the show she just watched.

And, even worse, Roger seems to be perfectly happy to entertain her advances.

This is a side of Roger that you’re still trying to get used to. He tried dating a few girls when the two of you first got to uni, but the relationships never really worked out and eventually he gave up on dating altogether. Or at least that’s all that you can assume happened, given that you’ve long since stopped seeing the same girls more than once or twice.

If you’re being honest with yourself - which you try not to be, at least not where Roger is concerned - it makes you uncomfortable to watch him with other girls. You know that the attention he receives is unavoidable, especially as Queen keeps gaining a proper following, but why does he have to respond so eagerly every time a pretty girl flirts with him? It’s not that you’re a prude, and god nows you’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you started spouting off against of pre-marital sex, but it’s just… it’s just…

The girls waltz past you with another flurry of giggles, pulling you from your thoughts. You hope this means that you can get back to the plans you had already made with Roger, but those hopes are immediately dashed when you see the lovestruck look on his face as he watches the blonde leave.

Then he glances your way, and immediately winces at the expression on your face. So much for trying to hide your annoyance.

Roger gives you an apologetic grin and tries to explain himself. “Ah, Y/N, I wasn’t- I mean I know we had plans, but-”

“Oh, go on then,” you say, jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the door behind you.

Roger perks up a bit. “You don’t mind?”

You do mind, but you’re not going to admit that to him now. “No, but you’re going to owe me one for this. You now that, right?”

“I’ll buy you dinner later this week to make it up to you,” Roger promises.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, though there’s a part of you that wishes that ‘dinner’ meant more than just a simple meal. Except Roger is grinning at you, that bright and beautiful grin that you love so much, and so it’s hard to really be disappointed with his offer. “But you’re still the worst best friend for leaving me like this!”

“I know,” Roger says. It’s an apology for leaving, and a thank-you for letting him, and because it’s Roger you don’t need anything more said than that.

Because you do know. You know that you’re only uncomfortable with his flirting and hookups because he’s never looked at you that way before.

And you know, beyond any doubt, that he never will.

XXXXX

When you were sixteen your mum had put her foot down and insisted that you go to at least one school dance that year. It wasn’t that you hated socializing with your peers or that you objected to getting a bit dolled-up (though you did object to the dress that your mum wanted to put you in); it’s just that school dances are always either boring or awkward, or more often than not a miserable combination of the two, and you had better things to do with your time than suffer through that.

You were in the middle of bemoaning that fact to Roger when he suggested, “Why don’t we just go together then?”

“Weren’t you listening to anything I was just saying?” you asked with a laugh. “Because I think us going to a dance together would definitely make things awkward!”

“I didn’t mean that we should go together-together,” Roger said. “Just as friends. That way when things get boring we can sneak away and find something better to do.”

"I'm pretty sure they don't let the students sneak out of the dance like that."

"And I'm pretty sure that as long as we're sneaky enough they'll never even notice!"

And in the end, they never did.

You and Roger put in enough of an appearance at the dance to make it seem like you were there. Just enough that, should your mums cross paths with one of the chaperones and get to chatting, no one would have anything to say to raise suspicions. But at the first opportunity the two of you snuck out the back door and disappeared into the Cornish night... which really meant that the two of you wandered down to the football pitch and sat on the damp grass, uncaring of the mess you were making of your nice clothes.

You and Roger spent the rest of the night just laughing and talking about whatever came into your heads: school, exams, your holiday plans and Roger’s band rehearsals… It was going to be a busy summer for the both of you and you were worried about how much time you’ll have to spend together, but Roger swiftly put those fears to rest.

“I’ll drop the band before I drift away from you,” he said firmly.

“No you won’t! You love the band!”

“I do, but I lo-” The rest of his sentence was cut off by Roger clearing his throat, but you knew him well enough to guess what he had been about to say.

At the time, you were happy that he didn’t say I love you more and instead rambled on about how your friendship was more important than any band would ever be. You were both sixteen, that age where you stop saying that you love your friends and start saying those words to the person you’re dating instead. Roger might have saved the conversation by steering it back towards safer topics but your burning hot cheeks and the flush on Roger’s face were a testament to the moment of awkwardness that almost was.

Now as you think back on that night, you wonder if your embarrassment wasn’t because the both of you were awkward teens - but rather because you were already a little in love with Roger. And not at all in a platonic way.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment that you fell in love with him, or even the first time you consciously realized that you had these feelings at all. Maybe they’ve just always been there, another constant in your life just like Roger has always been. You wonder if that means that you’ll always love him then, and whether you’re prepared to always feel as shitty as you do now every time that you have to watch Roger take home a girl who isn’t you.

Sometimes you think back to that night you spent out by the football pitch instead of inside dancing and you imagine what it could have been like if Roger had actually said the words, I love you. Would you have had the courage to respond as if it wasn’t meant platonically? Would that have changed anything between you, or would it only have ruined the best friendship with the worst best friend you’ve ever known?

Sometimes you imagine how things could be if Roger says I love you now. Sometimes you fantasize that his confession turns things a bit steamy, but you know that’s all you’re ever going to have: Just your fantasies, and nothing more.

XXXXX

The next time you see Roger is at Queen’s rehearsal a few days later. He told you to stop by when they were done so he could buy you the dinner he promised, but for once you had nothing else on your calendar so you decided to swing by at the start of practice so you could say hello to the rest of the guys as well.

You must have arrived just after Roger, though, because the first thing you see is him kissing another girl just outside the band’s practice space. It’s a blonde again, but not the same one from the other night. She’s taller than the last girl, or at least wearing higher heels, and wearing an outfit that makes her look like she just walked off the pages of a Biba advert. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, anyone with eyes can see that, and your stomach twists with a white-hot jealousy as you watch her blow Roger a kiss goodbye before she finally leaves.

“Hey, Y/N!” Roger calls out. You quickly pretend that you weren’t glaring daggers into the back of that girl’s head and turn to look at him instead. “You’re here early. Didn’t have anything better to do?”

“Just didn’t want you skipping out early when you owe me a dinner,” you say. Roger laughs, and his good mood gives you the courage to ask, “So who was that then? New girlfriend?”

“New girl, at least,” Roger answers.

“Is she going to be sticking around?”

“Dunno.” Roger is still grinning but there’s a growing look of confusion on his face as well and he asks, “What’s with the twenty questions? You don’t usually care this much about who I hang out with.”

You shrug, trying to feign an air of nonchalance that you don’t entirely feel. “Just curious, that’s all. What, am I not allowed to take an interest in my friend’s life anymore?”

“Ass,” Roger says, laughing. He elbows you playfully and adds, “C’mon, let’s get inside before they send Brian out to see what’s taking so long.”

Roger seems to have already brushed off your questions but you still feel rattled as you follow him into Queen’s rehearsal space. He has a point, after all; you don’t usually interrogate him like that and it worries you that just seeing him with another girl can get under your skin like that.

You know you can get a bit jealous of the girls that he takes home but you can’t let Roger know that. If he finds out about your jealousy - if he found out how you really feel about him - you really would become the worst best friend in the world. Except, it wouldn’t be much of a joke at that point at all.

Luckily Roger doesn’t seem to suspect anything. If he was ever suspicious about your one-too-many questions earlier, it’s faded by the time rehearsal is over and the two of you head out. One quick stop for takeaway later and you two end up back at his flat, where you bicker good-naturedly about what to put on the telly while you eat and try to steal bites of the other’s food behind their back.

You aren’t in any rush tonight to return to your own flat. You love being able to spend time with Roger like this, just the two of you, just like the old days. You finish eating, and you’re perfectly happy to stay on the cramped sofa with Roger’s knee digging into yours and let the hours of the evening tick by. By the time you finally, begrudgingly, make a comment about needing to head home it’s late enough that you almost regret waiting this long to leave, if only because you hate walking home in the dark.

“You know you can always stay the night,” Roger tells you.

“I know,” you say, but you also know that you never will. Not anymore, not when you know that you’d just be lying awake on the couch wishing you were in bed with Roger instead. “But I’ll sleep better without springs poking into my back.”

“You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch,” Roger offers.

Your heart skips a beat but you manage to hide it with a laugh and say, “A mattress spring digging into my spine isn’t much better than a couch spring, Rog! Now, do you remember where I put my wallet?”

“I hid it so you wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“Worst best friend.” You smack his shoulder playfully as you walk past and add, “You better return it by the time I get back from the toilet, or I’m taking your wallet home with me instead!”

You’re still chuckling to yourself as you finish up your business. You can hear Roger moving around in the living room and you’re certain that he’s grabbing your wallet from wherever he stashed it. Still, there’s a part of you that thinks it would be a little funny if you walked out with Roger’s wallet in your pocket instead.

You move over to the sink to wash your hands - but then you see something on the counter that makes you stop short.

There’s a hair there, a long, bright red one that definitely does not match the hair of anyone you’ve seen Roger with recently. In fact you can’t remember ever seeing Roger go home with a redhead before. You always knew that there were probably more girls around than you had actually met but you weren’t prepared to have the evidence of that thrown in your face at the end of an otherwise perfect night like this.

Suddenly you can picture her perfectly in your mind’s eye, checking her hair quickly in the mirror before joining Roger in the bedroom or redoing her makeup the morning after the fact. There’s a dark smear on the countertop that could be eyeliner and you furiously rub it away with your finger until the white porcelain gleams again. You take a petty joy in removing any evidence that there’s other women in Roger’s life, even if you know that won’t change anything about your relationship with him.

XXXXX

If you’re being honest with yourself, which you’re still trying not to do, you bought the makeup because of Roger. You just couldn’t stop thinking about all the girls that he takes home and comparing yourself to them, and even though you can’t afford a new wardrobe to look more stylish or larger heels to make yourself look taller you can afford to duck into Biba to pick up a few new items of makeup to try out.

You don’t think you can pull off some of the bolder looks popularized by today’s models, but you’ve always had a deft hand with eyeliner and it’s easy for you to copy the crisp cat-eye look in the magazine pages. The blue eyeshadow isn’t your usual color but it does make your eyes pop, and with the addition of lipstick and liner you think you could almost be mistaken for Twiggy. At least, from a distance. And at a night.

Still you have a spring in your step as you head out to meet Queen ahead of that night’s show. You don’t know if this will be enough to get Roger to see you in a different light or not, but the appreciative looks you get from others as you make your way towards the dressing room are a welcome boost to your confidence nonetheless.

“Look at you, Y/N!” Freddie says as you walk into the room. “What’s the special occasion, then?”

“No special occasion,” you tell him. “Just felt like getting dressed up tonight, that’s all.”

“Well you look very nice,” John says.

You beam at him. “Thank you!” You lean against the wall and ask, as casually as you can, “I take it Roger’s running late tonight?”

“Him and Brian both,” John says, with a slight roll of his eyes. “Hopefully they’ll be here soon…”

Freddie cocks his head and says, “Oh, I think they will be.”

Now that Freddie has pointed it out you can hear the faint, but steadily growing louder, sounds of Brian and Roger arguing drifting down the hall towards the dressing room. Judging by the looks on Freddie’s and John’s faces this is an old, recurring argument of theirs, but that doesn’t do much to tone down the passion in their voices as they bicker about some facet of one of their songs. Brian walks into the room first, gesticulating so wildly that he almost hits John with his guitar case, and Roger is right on his heels, talking over him and completely oblivious to his surroundings.

“Alright, alright, that’s quite enough for one night!” Freddie says. They don’t pay him any mind, though, and so he claps his hands and says, louder this time, “Hey! Cut it out!”

They both jump slightly. Brian mumbles an apology and starts getting his guitar ready, while Roger says, “Sorry, Freddie, but you know that the song needs- Holy shit, Y/N!”

Roger does a visible double-take at the sight of you. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in surprise, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“Something wrong?” you ask, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

Roger shakes his head, a gesture of someone trying to pull their thoughts back together rather than an answer to your question. “No, but what’s on your face?”

The question stings more than you want to let on, and your stomach sinks. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him.

“It’s makeup,” you snap and, before you can think better of it, you add, “Thought you would’ve been used to it from those girls you keep taking home.”

“I’m only used to girls who look good with their makeup on, not one who try to imitate a clown,” Roger says.

He’s grinning, like he just cracked a hilarious joke, but you don’t find it funny at all. It just hurts, more than anything you can remember Roger ever saying to you before. He looks at you, waiting for you to retort with a similar sort of jab, but as tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes all you want is to get as far away from him and this situation as possible.

“You know sometimes Roger you really are the worst fucking friend in the world,” you say, as you gather your coat and storm past him out of the room.

“Jesus christ, Rog! Do you ever think before you say something?” you hear John snap at him behind you, but you don’t stop or turn around.

You hurry out of the venue, needing to put as much distance between yourself and Roger as you can so he doesn’t see you crying. You don’t know what you were thinking, trying to get this sort of validation from him. That’s not the sort of friendship you two will ever have, so why did you even put yourself in this position in the first place? You wipe furiously at your eyes, not caring that the gesture will smear makeup all over your face. Why should you care about that anyway, when your original look apparently made you look like a clown to the only person whose opinion you cared about?

When you get home you wash your face and throw out the new makeup you bought, because you know you’ll never be able to stomach wearing it again. You don’t even know if you’ll be able to stomach seeing Roger again; the thought of losing him from your life still terrifies you, but it’s clear that your feelings for him are getting out of control. You can’t even begin to think of how you’re going to explain away this reaction when you see him again… and as the night drags on, you start to wonder if you even should see Roger again, or if you should take this as a sign that your friendship with him has finally reached an end.

XXXXX

You’re woken abruptly by the sound of loud, insistent knocking echoing through your flat. You blink against the bright lights, and it takes you a moment to realize that you must have dozed off on the couch. You don’t know what time it is, only that it’s still dark outside, and you’re sleepy enough that your spat with Roger is the last thing on your mind as you shuffle over to the door to see who’s bothering you at this late hour.

The answer - and you really should have seen this coming - is that it’s Roger standing there on your front steps. He’s sweating and breathing heavily and still in his stage clothes, and despite the hurt you still feel your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

“Y/N, hey, can I… Can I come in?” he asks hesitantly. “Can we talk?”

You grip the door a little harder. “It’s late. What are you even doing here?”

“Trying to apologize to you,” Roger says. “I wanted to come by earlier but there was the show, and Freddie said I should let you cool down first…” He sighs and gives you a remorseful half-smile. “Probably should’ve waited until the morning, I’ll accept that, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Apology accepted. You can leave now.”

You try to shut the door, but Roger quickly stops you. “Hey, c’mon now, Y/N. I’m really, really sorry. You looked great with the makeup on, honest.”

“Yeah, like a great clown.”

Roger winces at the reminder of what he said to you. “No, that was just me being an ass. I thought we were just teasing each other like we always do but I crossed a line there and I am so sorry for hurting you. You looked beautiful tonight. I promise you did.”

Somehow the compliment hurts worse than the earlier insult did. “Don’t say that,” you tell him.

“What? Compliment you?” Roger asks. “It’s true, though. You did look beautiful with the makeup on.”

“Stop it,” you say. “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”

“It’s not a lie,” Roger says. “You did look great with the makeup. But you always look gorgeous without it too.” You shake your head and Roger huffs, and asks, “Why don’t you believe me? Just because of what I said before?”

“No, because you don’t say things like that to me!” you snap. “I’m your friend, I’m one of the guys, and we don’t compliment each other like that! So if you’re going to start doing that now then you can fuck off and not come back, because I can’t-”

You cut yourself off before you can either say something that you’ll really regret, or start crying like a baby in front of Roger. You try to shut the door again but he sticks his foot in the way, and he doesn’t even flinch when you slam the door uselessly against the side of his shoe anyway.

“Y/N, what the hell’s going on?” he asks. “You’re not acting like yourself. Did something happen?”

He looks and sounds worried and that kills you inside. You hate being the cause of his concern, and you hate knowing that the two of you are just going to keep ending up here no matter what you do - maybe not in this same exact situation, but you know you’re only going to keep being hurt the longer you try to bottle up your feelings.

“What happened is that I fell in love with the worst best friend I could ever have,” you tell him tiredly. “And I know he doesn’t feel the same so I hate hearing him call me beautiful when I know he only means it platonically.” You sigh, and lean heavily against the door, and add, “So can you just leave me alone now? Please?”

Roger stares at you, mouth agape in open surprise, but with his foot still stuck in the door so you can’t even close it in his face.

“Please,” you repeat, a little quieter.

That seems to shake Roger out of his stupor. His gaze becomes a little more searching, like he’s trying to read your expression to make sense of everything you just admitted.

“Do you mean me?” he finally asks. You don’t respond, which is probably answer enough for him, because he huffs in frustration and says, “C’mon, Y/N, let me in. I think we need to talk.”

You don’t want to. You want Roger to go away and let you lick your wounds in private, so that the next time you see each other maybe you can pretend that none of this happened and you two can go back to the way things used to be. But you know nothing can ever be the same again, and trying to push back this conversation will only make things worse. So, despite the fact that your heart is in your stomach, you reluctantly nod and open the door to let Roger inside.

Normally you like having Roger in your flat. You like spending time with him and when they’re at yours you can at least guarantee that none of his bandmates will be unexpectedly interrupting you. Tonight, though, you can feel yourself tensing up as Roger walks into your living room and takes a seat on your couch.

He glances back at you, and offers you a crooked smile. “You going to stand there all night, or do you want to sit down too?”

You shake your head. Your place is small and the only place left to sit is next to Roger, and you don’t think you can stand to be that close to him while having this conversation. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Roger’s face falls, and you immediately feel guilty.

“However you think I’m going to react, I promise it’s not like that,” Roger tells you. “I’m not mad at you or anything.”

“But you should be!” There are tears pricking at your eyes again but you try to blink them back as you continue, saying, “God, Roger, I’m so sorry. I know we joke about it all the time but this really does make me a terrible friend, and I know that and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen and I never wanted it to change things between us-”

“But what if I want to change things between us?” Roger interrupts.

You flinch at the question and wrap your arms around yourself, as if the gesture can help you physically hold yourself together, but that’s not enough to stop a tear from slipping down your cheek. If that’s what Roger really wants then you don’t know that you’ll be able to change his mind, and your heart is already absolutely shattered at the prospect of losing him.

“No, no, Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that,” Roger says quickly. He stands up and takes a small, abortive step towards you before he realizes that that might make the situation worse and he slowly sinks back down on the couch.

“What I meant to say,” Roger says, soft and gentle, “is that I want things to change because I’m also in love with you.”

Time seems to freeze around you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your watery eyes widen in surprise and you wait for Roger to say something else, to say anything else, to give any explanation at all - but he doesn’t, and somehow you find your voice enough to croak out, “What?”

“I’m in love you with,” Roger repeats. “Have been, for a long time. That’s why I stopped dating, because how I felt about them couldn’t hold a candle to my feelings for you.”

“But… those girls you take home…”

Roger ducks his head in embarrassment. “I was trying to forget about you,” he admits. He glances back up at you and adds, sheepishly, “Didn’t really work too well, though. Even when I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why?”

He blinks at you. “Why… what?”

“Why would you think of me when you already had the prettiest girl in any room on your arm?” you ask bitterly. Despite what Roger’s saying now, you still remember all too well how it felt to compare yourself to those girls and always finding yourself coming up short.

“But I didn’t have the prettiest girl in the room. That’s why I had to settle for them instead.” Roger studies your face and, slowly, he asks, “Y/N, did you really think that I didn’t notice how beautiful you are?”

You can feel your own face starting to flush now and you point out, rather hotly, “Well you never said anything! I was right there and you never once seemed to notice me like that!”

“Guess I’m a better actor than I thought,” Roger tries to joke.

You’re far too upset for it to land properly. You’ve been making yourself miserable for ages now by comparing yourself for those other girls, and for no reason at all! You’re embarrassed that Roger seems to have picked up on your insecurities like that, and angry that all of this could have been avoided if you had been less of a coward and just said something-

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” Roger says. The apology, thankfully, interrupts your rapidly-spiraling thoughts before they can get much worse. “I was so worried about making you uncomfortable that I guess I went too far in the opposite direction, and I’m so sorry for that. I never meant for you to feel unnoticed. Believe me, I’ve always seen you and you’ve always been the best distraction in my life.”

Your face must be bright red by now with how hot it feels, and all you can think to say is, “You could have said something, you know!”

Roger laughs softly. “Yeah, alright. That’s fair enough. Guess the least I can do then is finally say something now.”

He stands up again and, though your heart is racing in your chest, you somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to meet his eyes.

“Y/N, I love you,” he says. “You’re gorgeous and funny and the worst best friend anyone could ever ask for, and I have wanted to kiss you for years.” He takes a step forward, this time with confidence, and asks, “Will you let me start making up for lost time now?”

XXXXX

Time seems to slow down at Roger holds out one hand towards you, waiting for you to make the next move. Waiting for you to confirm that, yes, you really do want to take this next step together with him.

It’s a question that he hardly needs to ask. You’re moving before you even find your voice again, uncurling from the ball of tension you had wound yourself into and reaching out to lace your fingers together with Roger’s, before finally answering, “Yes.”

You take a step towards him, or maybe Roger uses your clasped hands to pull you in. You don’t really know and it don’t really matters, because the end outcome is still the same: You, pressed close against Roger, one of his hands on your hip, as he leans down to kiss you.

It isn’t exactly the kiss of your dreams. Your heart is racing so quickly that you’re nearly trembling, and maybe that’s what makes the angle of the kiss just a bit awkward and off. Roger laughs nervously and tries to adjust but somehow that just makes things worse, and he finally ends up pulling away altogether after only the barest brush of his mouth near yours.

Roger’s face is red and he nearly trips over himself trying to apologize, but you don’t need him to do that. “Rog, it’s okay,” you assure him. “Guess we’re both just nervous, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Roger sighs and offers you a crooked smile, and asks, “Wanna give it another go?”

You nod, and this time you lean up to meet Roger halfway in a kiss that’s much more coordinated than before.

It still isn’t exactly perfect - but it is pretty damn close.

And when Roger pulls back, several long moments later, you can see a hunger in his eyes that makes it clear that this is only the beginning of everything he wants to do with you.

It’s that look that wipes away the last of your insecurities, because it’s a look that makes it clear that Roger really does want you. And suddenly it doesn’t matter what other girls he’s been with before or how you measure up against them. All that matters is that he’s with you now, and he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to let you go.

“I think I could spend the rest of the night kissing you, y’know,” Roger says. His voice is low, almost a purr, and the sound of it is nearly enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Then why don’t you?” you ask.

Roger’s hand tightens slightly on your hip. “Because there’s no reason to rush things. I want to do things properly here. I want to take you on dates and buy you flowers and-”

“And,” you cut in, “we’ve known each other for most of our lives. If anything we’ve been taking things slow up until now, so if you want to kiss me again…”

“I want to do more than just kiss you, though,” Roger admits, as if he actually thinks that’s going to make you pull the breaks now.

You let go of his hand, but only so you can shift even closer to Roger and drape your arms over his shoulders. “Then why don’t you?” you repeat, this time in a low murmur.

Roger inhales sharply. “Y/N… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you say, without any hesitation. “And if you leave me waiting now, you really will be the worst-”

Roger interrupts the rest of your sentence with another kiss, a bit more forceful this time, a little more heated. He pushes up the hem of your shirt a bit, his fingers just teasing along the skin of your stomach, but that’s enough to get you to whimper against his mouth. You’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re just in your pajamas, and definitely not wearing a bra anymore. If Roger moves his hand just a little bit higher…

“Bedroom?” Roger asks, his hand still resting just above the waistband of your sleep-shorts.

You nod, and despite the fact that this is your flat you let Roger lead the way into the bedroom. He obviously knows where it is since he’s been here before. He’s even slept in your bed before, when the two of you were two pissed for it to matter, but tonight you’re both clear-headed and sleep is the last thing on your minds.

Roger kisses you again, and this time when his hands toy with the hem of your shirt there’s a purpose there that makes you shiver.

“Can I?” he asks. You nod again, and lift your arms so Roger can carefully remove your top.

You have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself to hide your breasts, but Roger doesn’t give you any time to feel self-conscious.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. If it wasn’t already clear from his voice that he means it, you can see how his eyes darken in appreciation and when he presses close for another kiss you can feel his growing hardness against your hip. “Lie down on the bed for me?” he murmurs against your lips.

You pluck at the top that he’s still wearing and say, “Only if you take this off.”

You’ve seen Roger shirtless countless times before over the years but this time is different, because this time you don’t have to hide your staring. You watch with open appreciation as he joins you on the bed and settles between your spread legs, and all you can think to say is, “You’re gorgeous.”

Roger laughs. “Stealing my lines now, Y/N?” he teases. He slides one hand up your body, palming your breast and eliciting a quiet gasp from you which he quickly swallows down with another kiss, because apparently he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to spend the rest of the night doing that.

He trails kisses down your neck, across your collarbones and along the tops of your breasts. He swipes a thumb across your nipple as he kisses down your sternum, and you can feel yourself start to throb with anticipation as he moves down the planes of your stomach until his lips are just above your waistband. And it’s there that he lingers for a moment, pressing kisses into your navel but making no moves to keep things heading south.

You reach down and card a hand through Roger’s hair, pushing it back away from his face and making him glance back up at you with a questioning look.

“You don’t have to eat me out if you don’t want to,” you tell him. You know from experience that that can be a sticking point for some guys, and you would never push Roger to do something he didn’t want to do.

But Roger is quick to reassure you, “No, no I definitely want to. I was trying to think of a romantic way of asking, but since you said it first…” He plucks at your waistband and grins up at you. “Wanna take these off so I can eat your pussy and blow your mind?”

His phrasing of the question makes you laugh. You like that Roger can keep things light-hearted and humorous in bed. It helps keep your nerves and insecurities at bay as you lift your hips to allow Roger to remove your shorts and panties, leaving you fully bared beneath him.

“Beautiful,” Roger murmurs, appreciative, as he presses a soft kiss just below your navel. Then another even lower than that, and you spread your legs a bit wider in anticipation of him finally moving down between them. He does keep moving down your body but not where you want him to go. He kisses down one of your inner thighs, then up the other one, seemingly unaware of how wet you’re becoming.

“Rog- oh,” your complaint is cut-off before you can even say anything, as Roger suddenly licks a broad stroke over your core, ending with a small flick of his tongue against your clit.

You moan and grab at the blankets beneath you as Roger begins to eat you out in earnest. He’s so fucking good at this and the reality is so much better than your fantasies ever were. Roger holds your hips down and laps at your core like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. His clever tongue finds your clit and he alternates between teasing licks and light suckling, the combination driving you absolutely crazy with need.

You’re flushed and panting and absolutely incoherent with desperation. You want to come so badly… but you don’t want to come like this.

Somehow you manage to let go of the blankets so you can gently push Roger away - something that’s far easier said than done, when Roger’s mouth feels as good as it does.

He does stop but he gives you a confused and worried look and asks, "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, god no," you say quickly, and a look of relief immediately crosses Roger’s face. “But I don’t wanna come until you fuck me.”

Roger groans and unconsciously grinds his hips down against the mattress. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure? I’m, ah, I’m probably not going to last long this time-”

“I don’t care,” you reassure him. You card a hand through his hair, and shiver as he nuzzles against your inner thigh. “I’m already close. I just wanna feel you first."

"Well I'll never say no to that." Roger kisses the inside of your leg, before sitting up and asking, "Condoms?"

"In the drawer."

Roger nods and grabs one, along with the small bottle of lube that you had stashed in there. You're not sure that it'll be needed given how absolutely soaked you already are, but you can appreciate the care he shows in the gesture. Roger is clearly a thoughtful lover but almost to a fault; he somehow manages to shimmy out of his trousers and underwear before you can even offer to help undress him, and you have to pluck the condom out of his hand to stop him from putting that on himself too.

“Let me do something here,” you say, teasingly. You tear open the small packet, and any reply that Roger would have given is lost in another groan as you slowly roll the condom down over his cock.

You can’t resist giving Roger a few strokes, relishing the weight and feel of him in your hand. “How do you want me?” you ask him.

He stills your hand with a gentle touch and says, “Lie down on your back. I wanna see your face.”

Your heart is racing in nervous anticipation as you settle back down on the bed. Roger grins reassuringly as he braces himself above you. “Breathe, Y/N,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

And then he’s pushing inside you, slowly and carefully, and breathing is the last thing on your mind because all you can think about is how perfectly Roger fills you up. You cry out and rub your cheek against the pillow beneath you, trying so hard not to come as Roger finally comes to a stop, buried to the hilt inside you. He’s breathing heavily and trembling faintly, and you know that neither of you are going to last long once he starts moving again.

“Ready?” he asks after another minute.

You nod and barely manage to breathe out a needy, “Yes,” before Roger carefully pulls out, and thrusts back in. All you can do is moan and cling to him as he starts fucking you, slowly at first but quickly picking up pace. He’s not rough but there is a desperation to his movements, like he’s barely able to hold himself back this much. He groans and mouths at your neck, and you dig your fingers into his back so tightly that you just know they’re going to bruise, but right now neither of you care about that.

You only let go of Roger to try to touch your clit so you can finally, finally come, but Roger bats your hand away and replaces it with his own.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, panting, as his clever fingers rub over the head of your clit. “You gonna come for me, babydoll?”

“Roger,” you moan. You clench around his hard length and he groans above you, hips stuttering slightly, but he doesn’t stop his thrusting or the motion of his hand on your clit. “I’m gonna- fuck, Rog, I’m-”

You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. You clench down around Roger, setting him off only a few moments later as well. He grinds deep inside you as he comes and he ducks his head to muffle his groan in the crook of your neck. You’re breathing heavily and you shudder as Roger’s every movement sends sparks of overstimulated-pleasure racing down your spine. He finally pulls out when your sporadic clenching becomes too much for him to stand any longer, and once he disposes of the condom he collapses bonelessly next to you on the bed.

There’s a moment of near-panic where you wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You just slept with you best friend; there’s no coming back from that. Everything is going to change between you and Roger now - the one thing you were always trying to avoid - and there’s a part of you that is terrified about what happens next.

But then Roger laughs breathlessly and rolls over to face you, slinging one hand casually over your waist as he snuggles close to you, like it doesn’t even occur to him to be anything but affectionate with you. You breathe a small sigh of relief, and the smile you give him in return is bright and genuine.

“Would it be forward of me to say that I already want to do that again?” Roger asks. He’s smiling lazily at you, looking like the cat that got the cream, and it makes you want to kiss him breathless all over again.

“I don’t care if it’s forward or not, because I was thinking the same thing,” you say. You just came but with Roger pressed hot and naked against you all you can think about is getting your turn to worship him with your mouth and hands.

You lean up to kiss him and Roger meets you with the same passion and intensity that you’re feeling yourself. He drops his hand to cup your ass and encourages you to grind against him, which you do eagerly.

“Christ, Y/N, you drive me crazy,” Roger murmurs, the words nearly lost against your mouth. “What sort of friends are we, if we can’t keep our hands off each other for five minutes?”

“Oh the worst best friends, for sure,” you say, trying to suppress your giggle. Roger’s answering snort of laughter disrupts your angle and throws you off the rhythm of your grinding. You huff and add, “Of course, you’d be the best boyfriend ever if you moved your leg back to where it was…”

“Boyfriend?” Roger echoes, immediately perking up. He doesn’t move his leg back but before you can complain about that he rolls the two of you over, so you’re on your back and he’s on top of you once again.

“Yeah, boyfriend,” you say. “At least, I thought that’s where things were going.”

“They were,” Roger confirms, grinning down at you widely. “That wasn’t a complaint. I just liked hearing you call me your boyfriend.”

“Well you’re about to become the worst boyfriend again if you don’t do something-”

The rest of your complaint is lost to a moan as Roger moves his hand between your bodies, and starts you off on round two.

#long post //#my fic #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #text #roger

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natsarrownecklacx · 1 year

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I’ve got you

Yelena Belova x Reader

Word count- 790

Summary- You and Yelena have a late night talk. (I wrote this as platonic but can be read otherwise.)

Warning- Mention of neglect. Unedited writing.

Hurt (past) / comfort/ fluff

⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The question catches you off guard. Because well firstly, the conversation up until now had been light. The two of you asking each other about your favorite colors, animals, foods, books, movies, anything. Just silly little things that, admittedly, meant so much to you.

Secondly, you're already grown up. Well, you're grown in a sense that, legally, you're classed as an adult. But in all honesty you don’t always feel that way. Grown. Matured. Ready to take on the world around you. Not in a sense that you're a superhero taking on bad guys or anything. Just taking the world as it comes is enough for you. Big, busy and demanding. A little scary, if you’d be willing to admit it. But you're not.

You take a second to think it over. What do you want to be? You’d never really thought about it.

Silence settles over the two of you. Yelena allows you a moment to yourself to mull it over. You both look out at the stars that blanket the night sky around you.

“I want to be kind.” You say, breaking the silence.

Yelena looks at you then. Her gaze is soft as she does so. That’s exactly the kind of answer she’d expected to get from you when she’d asked.

You don’t move your gaze from the stars as you continue speaking. Instead, you trace constellations with your eyes.

“I want to be the comfort I never got when I needed it. I want to be able to look someone in the eye, when they need me, and tell them I’ve got them. And I want them to believe me. Not because I say it convincingly. But because I’ve shown them time and again that I do have them.”

Yelena hums beside you, moving her gaze back to the night sky.

“You're already kind, y/n/n.” She says quietly. Almost like she’s trying to ease you into the reality of her words.

You close your eyes. Taking in a deep breath and holding it.

“You are already my comfort. My best friend. My favorite person.”

You know you should release the breath you're holding. You can feel the need for air creeping into your lungs. But you just can’t bring yourself to. If you release it, if you move, if you make a single sound. That would mean this moment is real. And you're not entirely sure you want it to be. You're not ready for it to be. So you hold onto that breath, if only for a little longer.

“I already know you’ve got me when I need you. You don’t even need to say it. Because you always have. You’ve always been there for me when I need you, even when I’m too stubborn to admit that I do.”

You know her words are true. Subconsciously, you do. But you have this nagging feeling in your head that she’s lying. That she’s only saying this to appease you. To make you feel better about yourself.

Yelena realizes you haven’t moved an inch since she started speaking. She moves her gaze back to you, noticing the lack of rise and fall in your chest. She places a hand on yours, resting on your thing. “Y/n.” She says, but you don't look at her. “You are kind, y/n.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek at her words. You repeat them to yourself in your head. But you still haven’t released that breath. Yelena takes your face in her hands, gently turning your face toward her to look you in the eye.

“You are nothing like the people who neglected you, do you hear me? Nothing like them. You are kind and thoughtful and so, so caring. You take into consideration everyone’s feelings in any given situation because…”

Yelena’s own eyes fill with tears. The weight of her words settling on her own shoulders as she breathes out her last words to you.

“Because you don’t want to make them feel, even for a second, the way you did your entire childhood.”

You release the trapped breath then. Your previously occupied mouth being racked with sobs as Yelena pulls you closer to her and into her arms. She holds you and lets you cry. Rocking the two of you back and forth as you sit on the couch out on the compound's rooftop.

“I’ve got you.” She whispers into your hair as she places a kiss to the top of your head. You tighten your grip on her in response. You know she has you. Just as she always has. Just as you always will, for each other.

⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗

A/n- This is my first time actually writing for Yelena it’s a bit rusty but I hope you guys like it.

#yelena belova x platonic!reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova

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lvrmoons · 1 year

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Last Goodbyes

WARNING: suicide in last part- but like, no blood and does not go into too much detail

Genre: angst :(

characters: Kuroo, Osamu, Kenma (but can technically be any character you want)

gn reader

“Hey hey, don’t get up. You need to stay still.” Kuroo hurriedly held your arms and gently sets you back down.

You smile at his anxious self when you start violently coughing.

“It hurts Tetsu…” you say, staring at the blood on the white hospital sheets

“I know, I’m sorry baby. If only we could switch places, I would do anything to take away your pain. I’m so sorry.” He brought your hand to his forehead as if he were praying.

“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong. Instead, I should be thanking you. Thank you for being with me and making my days radiant. Thank you for showing me the light of the world when I thought there was only darkness. Thank you-“. *cough cough cough* you couldn’t finish your sentence as coughs filled the room instead.

“Don’t say anything, I already know.. You should sleep for now and we’ll talk more tomorrow ok?” He tried holding back his tears so you wouldn’t have to see his crying face. Instead, he smiled, hoping to make you feel better.

You knew he was trying to stay strong for you and it only hurt you more. So you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Yea… let’s talk tomorrow. Promise.” You say, smiling softly before falling asleep.

As soon as you said those words, he knew. He knew he would never be able to hear your voice again. He would never be able to run together with you in the rain or make jokes about everything in your life. He would someday forget the feel of your touch on his skin and your sincerest smiles only shown to him.

His tears dampened your clothes for the rest of the night before the dreaded morning came of you being taken away from him.

If only fate didn’t bring the two of you together, he wouldn’t have felt so broken.

_________

“Samu… can I be honest?” You ask hesitantly. His hand covered yours as he scooted his chair closer to your bed.

“Of course you can princess.” His comforting voice encouraged you to continue.

“I’m scared. I’m so so scared I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do actually. I’m just stuck here wondering every hour whether or not I’m gonna die.” the tears that were once threatening to come out were now coming in streams as it became harder for your to speak clearly. “I don’t want to leave my family and my friends and you. Why do I have to be the one to die? I still have so many things I want to do, so many things I want to experience with you. I never got to get married, or have kids, or go paragliding like I’ve always wanted.” You couldn’t say anything else as you sobbed, your one arm trying to get rid of the tears.

You couldn’t see Osamu’s face but his heart broke as you confessed your true feelings after pretending everything was fine in front of your family members.

“Princess, everything is going to be fine. You’re going to live, and you’re going to stay by my side until we’ve grown old together ok? And to make sure of that, I have something for you.” He said, he pulled his hand from yours as you tried to stop crying to see what he was doing.

He got down on one knee and pulled out a small velvet box. You gasped.

“Y/n L/n. I know I should have done this earlier but I’m doing it now. You’ve made my life so much brighter and I don’t know how I lived before you came into my life. You, just being as you are, has made me the happiest man alive. So. Will you, Y/n L/n, please marry me?” He said, his eyes glossing over with tears.

Your hands covered your mouth as the tears streamed down your face. You were speechless so all you could do was nod quickly.

He got up and gently hugged you, kissing your forehead.

“Thank you. So much Y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too Samu, let’s live our long life together.” You say smiling, knowing in the back of your mind, that your time was coming to an end that day.

He knew that too. But.

As long as it made your last moments happy, he was ok with the consequences that would come after.

_______

(Warning!!- Suicidal reader! Don’t read if uncomfortable)

The wind felt just right as it blew past your face, letting your hair fly in the wind.

How nice it felt, looking over the vast city of Tokyo, the thousands of tiny lights in the midst of darkness below you.

You’d been thinking about it for the longest time and the day was finally here. You would finally free yourself from the suffocating and cruel world. You let a foot dangle over the edge and you took a final breath, then you took the step.

“ugh.” You really thought you could do it, but here you were holding onto the ledge you were just on.

Because. Because maybe a part of your still wanted to live. A part of you that wanted to be a part of his world, his bright, beautiful world. But you knew you didn’t deserve it nor did it fit you. Slowly, finger by finger, you let go of the ledge.

“Y/N!!!” two hand grabbed yours before you finally let go. Your eyes widened in shock to see Kenma looking down at your eyes red and tears rolling down his face.

“Why!? Why are you doing this?!” His eyebrows furrowed, his voice breaking as he yelled for the first to you. “why…” His eyes closed tightly, trying to get rid of the tears.

“Kozume… Let go..” Your face stung as tears were threatening to come. “Please.”

He opened his eyes to look at you and you looked back with a small smile, as if you had finally accepted decision fully.

“No! Please y/n don’t- don’t do this. I can help, anything that’s been bothering you I’ll take it away. If it’s me, then I’ll even move far away from you if that’s what you want. Anything. Just don’t, leave.” He begged.

“Kenma.”

His eyes widened at the tone of your voice. He felt his hands slipping as his nervous sweat started forming.

“No.. no!” He desperately tried grabbing onto your arm to pull you up but it was too late. You freed yourself from his grasp and with a single tear left in the place you once were, you were gone.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq angst #hq kuroo #hq kenma #hq osamu #hq drabbles #hq

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lovincherries · 2 years

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I first wanna say that I love your writing! Also thank you for being one of the few Austin/Elvis writers on here lol. I saw on here you posted about requests, if you're taking them I have one lol. I was wondering if you could do something angsty with Elvis x reader? Idk why but I've just been itching for some angst here lately haha.

Love Yourself

a/n: love it babes!!!! I love a good angsty moment. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this!!!

summary: you and Elvis get into an argument over the lack of attention he’s shown you.

warnings: angst

“All you fucking do, is eat, sleep, and sing! Elvis, when the fuck is there time for me? Huh? Your own wife!” You screamed. You couldn’t take it anymore. Not this, he could just blatantly ignore you anymore. You were in his face now, the anger prominent in his eyes. Both of you breathing harshly.

“I put food on the table, I put this roof over your head, and I give you everything you need Y/N, but it’s never good enough, huh? I’m just a piece of shit husband,” he shouted back. You swallowed the lump in your throat and let your anger manifest.

“I don’t want all this shit, I married you because I wanted you. I would live with you in a shack, hell I married you when you had no money. I married you even though my daddy said you were never going to be anything, but I knew you would be. I married you because I loved you, I don’t care about the things you can give me. I care about you.” You whispered, just barely audible. You poked his chest to place an emphasis, stepping closer to him.

“You loved me, huh?” He scoffed, “so, you don’t love me anymore?” He questioned with a deep sadness in his voice.

“No, not who you’ve become. I miss that 20-year-old boy who had passion in his eyes, who wanted to give me the world and who would never hold it against me. For Christ’s sake, I’m pregnant with your child. I’ve been so lonely, I cry myself to sleep every night but you’re never there to comfort me, I’ve been alone this whole pregnancy,” the grief of your relationship shined through in your voice, tears falling from your eyes. You saw the stray tear fall down his face as well.

He just stood there and stared at you. You knew you were hurting him, but he hurt you for so long.

“I want this child to know you Elvis, the real Elvis. In order for that to happen, something has to change,” you wiped the tears falling from your eyes, taking a deep breath to control your emotions. You placed your hand on your 7-month bump, which was already huge. “I’m going back to my daddy’s house. Come to me when you’re ready to be a father and husband, not a rockstar.”

“Please Y/N, don’t leave,” he hugged you, “please don’t leave me.” It hurt you more than he knew to do this, but it had to happen. You had to show him that you weren’t going to stick around if he didn’t give you the attention you deserved.

“I’m not leaving you Elvis. I just think we both just need time to find who we really are. I’m still your wife and you’re still my husband, but we need to find a way to be together again. I’ll be ready for you when you’re ready,” you caressed his hair as you spoke. “I’ve always been ready for you baby, even when you weren’t ready for me,” you kissed his cheek.

“I’ve got to go now, you know where I’ll be,” you cried as you walked away. He was sobbing as he sat and watched you walk away.

Your bags were packed in your car, and you drove home...

*******

Your parents had money, that’s why they were so vehemently against you marrying Elvis, he was no good in their eyes. That never mattered to you, the money, or the fame, the cars, or the house. You missed your home in Tupelo with your parents, sure but it was nothing like the home you had made with Elvis. Although it had been lonely the past few months, it was officially your home.

Elvis had called multiple times and you cried listening to the messages he left, but you wouldn’t give in until he came to you and that day seemed like it would never come. You knew if he came back to his roots, back to who he truly was and left that California shit behind, he would get his head back on straight. And until that day, you were not going to go back. It had been two, going on three weeks.

Your parents saw how burdened you were, but they didn’t know with what. They figured your relationship with Elvis was perfect, you just wanted to see them before the baby was born. It was some lie you spewed to cover your marital distress.

It was another one of those nights that you laid in bed, singing Elvis’ song to your stomach, wishing he was there holding you. You wished that he could be the man that you need right now, in this very moment. That’s all you ever asked of him, to be good and true to you. To be kind and respectful, but he was none of this recently. Too focused on his career, he forgot about you. To leave him left a hole in your chest you don’t think you could ever repair on your own.

You know this distress wasn’t good for you or the baby, staying up late and night and sleeping throughout the day. You were depressed and had been for months, it was a miserable existence to be so lonely.

It was 3 am now, you were wide awake staring at the ceiling, wishing nothing more to be in his arms now. You hear a faint knock on the front door, leaving you with a nervousness in your gut. You weren’t quite sure if it was truly there or if you were just imagining it, but you walked down the stairs anyways.

You looked out of the peephole and he was there, you weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you till you opened the door. You just gasped in response, his eyes went straight to your stomach. You were now 8 months pregnant, about to burst it felt like.

“Elvis,” you spoke shakily, you needed to hear his voice. Needed to know it was truly him and not some figment of your imagination.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted you, a pained smile on his face. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red and puffy, you were sure you looked exactly the same. He opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to find the words to say to you. “There’s a lot I’ve wanted to tell you these past few weeks,” he tan his hands through his hair. “You mean everything to me Y/N, and I know I’ve been so caught up in my career but that’s done now. I’m about to be a father, I’m a husband to you and I need to act like it. I’ll be home more. I told the Colonel that California is done and I’m moving back to Graceland to be with you. I love you more than the music and the fans, i love you more than anything in this world and I will do anything to get you back. I’ll quit singing, get some desk job if you ask me to. But, I’ll reap what I sow if you don’t want me back, I’ll understand. I just needed to tell you, needed for you to listen to what I have to say,” he rushed out, trying to get all of what he’s been thinking about over the past few weeks.

You rushed to his arms, embracing him. You kissed him all over his face, just happy to be around him again. You so desperately missed him, it was truly unbearable. His arms held you back slightly, so your belly didn’t hit him so hard. You could tell he was more concerned about it now.

“I just want you, Elvis. That’s all I want,” you confirmed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You cried, with sadness and with joy. You hated that you spent so much time apart from him, but you needed it and he needed it as well. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” you pulled back to get a really good look at him, not really sure if you were dreaming or not.

“It’s me darling,” he spoke with such a deep rooted sadness that it broke you. “Your belly,” he said. His eyes longingly looked at your stomach. “You’ve grown since you’ve been away.”

He looked as though he wanted to touch you, but felt like he couldn’t. You guided his hand to your stomach, wanting him to feel you. “He/she is growing every day, doctor says the baby is on the track to be 9lbs,” you joked. Just then, the baby kicked, and Elvis felt it.

“He is his daddy’s boy,” he smiled.

“Or her momma’s girl,” you retorted. Smiling as wide as you could, you were just beyond happy to see him.

You guided Elvis into your parents home, sneaking him up to your childhood bedroom. You laid in the bed together, embracing each other like you’ve never done before.

You laid like this for an hour, just comforted in the other ones touch. No words, just the sound of your breaths.

“So, this means you’re taking me back?” He asked with a fear behind it, like you wouldn’t say yes.

“Yes, Elvis,” you kissed his lips. “Yes, i am.”

a/n: rushed out! But I loved the idea. Once again, I don’t edit my posts until much later. I like to get them out first. This is kind of short :/

click here to be tagged.

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#elvis imagine #Elvis Presley imagine #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #Austin butler x reader #Austin butler x reader smut

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nellyofthevalley · 6 months

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spawn, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav…

rating: explicit content: NON-CON, tragedy, violence, lots of cazador, dead dove, probably death at some point, i don’t know it’s a lot, fuck or die summary: cazador uses the one thing astarion cares about to exert control over his favorite spawn in the worst ways.

“My boy, you’ve not been paying attention. I never needed you to be my spawn to control you. Leave if you like,” says Cazador. “But first, tell me, what do you think I will do with her if you leave? And where will you go running off to?” Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy.

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

No. No no no. Anything but this.

When Astarion rises that morning from his nightly trance, Tav is gone without a trace. No sign of struggle, no note, nothing. Only an empty bed. He panics, pacing around the room, trying to think.

Maybe she’d had enough and left him. Maybe it was too much for her—he’d warned her of that, that he came with a lot of baggage, and he thinks that maybe she’s finally wisened up. Still, Tav was never one to be so cold, he’s certain she wouldn’t just leave, right? She’d have the decency to tell him.

Cazador still lives, perhaps she’s gone to take care of him herself. He’d hate that, but she’s always been pragmatic and the worry in her voice when they talked about facing him was evident. Tav had asked him so many times how he was feeling about the ritual, clearly hoping he’d changed his mind since the last she’d asked, and he’d gotten frustrated with her. She could have taken things into her own hands to prevent him from completing it.

No. No, he knows the truth, and he knew it from the start, much as he’d rather deny it. It was bound to happen, he’d given Petras and Dalyria an earful, and his siblings had come for him once already on Cazador’s orders. Cazador knew he’d taken a lover, he had to; he’d watch from the shadows and force every last minute detail out of the mouths of his brothers and sisters.

Cazador has her, he’s sure. He took her. Worse, Astarion’s sure this means they’d been watched for longer than they thought; it’s the first night they’ve stayed in separate beds for awhile, and now, only tonight, she’s gone?

It’s hard to believe; they’d already won the battle against the Absolute, and Cazador is nothing compared to that. And yet, he’d managed to whisk her away, right under his nose, having perfected the art of capturing people, by many means, over the centuries. Astarion blames himself—they’d put off facing Cazador for too long and now she paid the consequences for it.

He has to go alone. If he doesn’t, Cazador will surely kill her as soon as he dares to step foot in there with allies, and he can’t risk it.

For a brief moment, Astarion wishes she’d simply left; he thinks it and holds onto it with a little naive hope. She’d shown him how to feel again, and he could re-learn that, even if it took centuries. But he couldn’t re-learn it if her very essence had been stolen from this world. Not in a century, not in forever.

Cazador is waiting for him in the ballroom. There, with his six siblings, and by Cazador’s side, Tav; her hands and legs tied, her mouth covered with tape. He would give anything to trade places with her. Gods, just seeing her like this—she hardly looks like herself, bound and helpless, but those amber eyes and braided hair he’d recognize anywhere.

She looks, outside of the restraints, to be untouched. No blood, no bite marks. Still her.

“Welcome home,” Cazador announces with a smirk, tightening the grip of his hand resting on her shoulder. “Are you done with this… outburst of yours? Are you ready to take your place as my good little spawn again?”

Astarion disregards his words, trying to focus. He can’t get distracted, can’t let Cazador’s manipulation work on him. It’s not about him. It’s about Tav. He can’t be imperfect. Not now.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he says.

“Ah. You thought you could disobey me and go unpunished? You’re the same stupid boy you’ve always been,” Cazador mocks. “She has everything to do with this.”

“You can’t compel me anymore, you can’t order me!” The desperation in Astarion’s voice shows; already, he’s losing his composure as the walls close in around him. He’s wrong, and he’s aware of it the moment he speaks.

There’s no way out. The moment Cazador got his hands on Tav, it was sealed. It doesn’t matter if he can be compelled or not—he has no choice in the matter. The only variable now is how cruel it will be. If he can get Tav out alive.

Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy.

“This is your home, we are your family. The only ones you’ve known and will ever remember,” Cazador taunts him, reminding him of the old life long lost to his memories. Astarion is already his, malleable and ready to serve him, ready to bargain with his life.

“Fuck you! Just take me. Take me back,” he pleads, his lips burning with shame as he does it. “Let her go. Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Oh, I won’t lay a hand on her. Foolish child of mine,” Cazador says. “You will.”

“What—? No…”

“Can you imagine how much I loved to hear about your ego and boasting when Petras ran back to me? Spending all this time thinking you’re the master. You’re still nothing but a putrid, hopeless spawn. Look what you’ve done to her.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Come now, don’t be difficult. If you want to be a master so badly, take it. I’ve taught you how, now prove to me you’ve learned your lesson. Take the pleasure you crave from her body, make her yours,” Cazador commands, beckoning him forward. “Whisper little apologies into her ear while you defile her, tell her how sorry you are. We’re all dying to see your performance. Do it well enough and I’ll let her leave.”

How did they get here? How did they fall from grace so fast? It was mere days ago Astarion had fantasized about how he’d kill Cazador, how he’d take the ritual for himself. How sweet it would be to get his revenge and walk in the sun again.

Cazador leans over, ripping the tape off Tav’s mouth and leaving a streak of red behind. “Go on,” he says. “Talk. Put on a proper show for your audience.”

“Don’t you fucking listen to him,” she immediately insists; the words had been clawing at her mouth for release. “Leave me. Please! Go.”

“You don’t understand,” Astarion replies, his face resigned to anguish, any fight he had left gone. “You don’t know what he’ll do. I can’t leave you here.”

He approaches her—what else can he do?—and kneels. He can’t stand to look in her eyes anymore. He needs her to become any another victim to him, but it’s an impossible task. He turns her around and shoves her forward, putting her on her hands and knees, just how he’s done so many times before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her ear, how Cazador told him to. “Forgive me, my love.”

“This isn’t you,” Tav says. “It’s okay.”

Even now, she sees the good in him; he doesn’t deserve her, he never did. She doesn’t see the truth. This is him. This is what he was made to be.

Astarion places his hand on her back, shaking, still trying to find it within himself to be this person again. This monster. His hand slides up her neck, to her hair, grasping at the strands and craning her back. A little sparkle of tears welling at her eyes dampens his very soul.

With what small freedom he retains, he positions himself to drink from her. He inhales, taking in her sweet scent; Tav, by habit, leans to offer herself. Before the opportunity can pass, he breaks skin with his fangs, biting hard and indulging in her. Reaching for the only thing that can bring him any sort of relief.

Cazador doesn’t intervene; he watches, relishing in witnessing his favorite spawn’s barbaric display. Astarion’s messy, painting his lover’s skin red; his lack of care is reminiscent of a wild animal. It’s exactly the point. To turn him into a creature and to take away the last bit of his humanity. His siblings ache, the metallic smell of blood in the air intoxicating them, drawing them in. All they can do is watch their dear brother fall apart, piece by piece.

Tav utters a harsh groan as Astarion sinks his fangs deeper, drinking more; he’s aggressive, he’s taking too much and she can do nothing about it with her hands tied and her voice tired. He forces himself to separate from her, and the sight of blood trickling down her shoulder and collarbones rouses him in a visceral way he can’t control.

Astarion lets her hair go and violently pulls her pants down to her knees. He frees himself, moves her underwear aside and pushes into her. She cries out for him, in despair he’s sure, but he tosses the thought away; he must. Has to pretend every noise she makes is no different from the ones she made for him in the forest, so many months ago.

Tav whimpers beneath him as he takes her, burying himself as far in her as he can, each thrust fiercer than the last. Drops of blood seep from his death grip on her hips. He tries to remember a better time, but what better time was there? When he’d slept with her before, that wasn’t real—he was manipulating her, charming her as he’d done to so many others for Cazador. How their relationship blossomed later didn’t change that or make it any less of a tainted memory.

Now he’d missed the opportunity to touch her, to really touch her how he’d wanted to. Astarion had dreamt of the day he’d be ready to lay with her again. In his fantasies, he’d be reborn again with her, forgetting his countless experiences and learning everything anew with her as his lover. He’d imagined discovering what he liked together, how he’d awkwardly kiss and touch her all over, paying close attention to what made her warm, what made her heart accelerate, and the spots that made her melt to his touch.

“I love you, we’ll be okay,” Tav reassures, a quiet murmur under the sounds of him ruining her heart and body.

Cazador’s words echo in Astarion’s mind: ‘whisper little apologies into her ear while you defile her’. He can’t do it. An apology, like this, is meaningless. How do you tell someone—the person you care about most, the only person you care about—you’re sorry while you hurt them like this?

He always did love how patient she was with him, and how their sexless relationship didn’t seem to take up even a moment of her thoughts. She was just happy to be with him, showering him with kisses and affection he’d never known before. And this is how he’s repaying her.

His hand finds her hair again and he pushes her face down to meet the cold tile floor. Astarion can’t hear her, can’t face her, can’t see those tears he knows are there. He has to separate himself from her. His eyes close and he focuses on the feeling, the best he can.

In his mind, he pictures the forest. In spite of the pretense, they had fun, and he can still remember how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. She rolled and offered her neck to him, trusting him, something she never should’ve done. Drinking from her then was such a rush—it was still new, to drink from a thinking creature, and he could feel her body awaken and warm for him when he did it. She enjoyed it, and that made it all the better. There was satisfaction in knowing he was giving her something, too.

Astarion thinks of what he’d do to her now in better circumstances. How he’d fuck her slow, fast, in every position and every surface. He’d tease her and make her beg for it, denying her finish until she did. Her body would writhe beneath him, a silent plea, but he would take his sweet time with her until she was sweating and feisty and yelling at him to fuck her proper.

Then he’d finally let her come undone. He’s hardly aware of his own undoing when it arrives, lost in his thoughts of what could’ve been. When he looks down at her, he feels disgust, like when he’d turned away, his body had been taken over by another that moved and felt for him. It hurts to see her now, her lovely skin coated with disheveled trails of thick crimson, her face glued to the ground, and his own shame spilling out of her.

“No,” he says only, cursing himself again, spirit shattered. With what little pieces of his mind remain, he tries to redress the both of them and then sits there, wishing it all away in a futile effort; the Gods never answered his calls, and they wouldn’t today.

Cazador’s voice booms across the ballroom again, but the words go right through Astarion’s ears, his senses shut off to the world, and his soul a thousand planes away or more.

It’s not until one of his siblings comes to take Tav away that he’s back in his own body.

“No! You can’t,” he yells in disbelief; foolish for it, foolish to believe Cazador would do anything less than the worst. “I did what you asked!”

“Yes, and you did such a poor job of it. You’ve let yourself become too soft!” Cazador’s laugh echoes through the ballroom and shakes Astarion’s core as reality settles in. “Because I so kindly believe even someone as arrogant as you is worth teaching, I’ll show you how to be a real master. Godey will see you back to the kennel.”

“Fuck you,” Astarion cries, but his body is subservient, yielding to Godey’s grasp. “What will you do with her?”

“She will stay in my chambers,” Cazador answers, taunting him, flaunting his power. “At least you can do one thing right—this one is quite lovely. You picked well.”

Stripped of his weapons, armor, dignity. He has nothing. Nothing but her. Maybe, just maybe, together, they could get out… they could escape… Not now, another time. Though he doesn’t understand why, he still hasn’t felt the call of Cazador’s magical pull after ridding themselves of the tadpoles. It means all they need is a leg-up, some sort of advantage, and they can be free.

So long as Cazador doesn’t make her his spawn.

Astarion retches at the thought of it. If Cazador turned her and became her master, that would utterly and truly destroy him. It makes him sick, just thinking of her in Cazador’s chambers, in his bed, him touching her—what does he have planned for her? It was rare they ever saw Cazador taking a special interest in anyone, and the spawn had learned to never show love. He’s learning that again, now, the image of her after he’d finished is burned into his memory, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made her that way.

When he’d refused to bring his master that lovely boy he couldn’t stand to hurt, he’d been locked away for a year, alone, in silence and darkness. The worst year he could remember. But he’d never stopped to consider what had happened to that sweet boy.

#sorry this is a repost #i'm organizing my fic posts #non con #dead dove fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion fic #my fanfic

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rainbowstargazerlilies · 10 months

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Hi! It’s you, surprise!

Anyway, I’m so mentally ill over “the stars claim them” a d I love it I love it I love it. Ever now and then I’ll think to myself “hey, what’s a good fic to read?” And every time it’s yours.

It’s just like [image of cat eating a box] and just so good. It honestly might get printed out and bound into an irl book just so that I can actually bite it.

(I am working so hard not to get off topic)

I don’t think I’ve ever found it harder to explain my love for something with actual words. Your writing alone is incredible. I think I’ve already said this in a comment but I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting to see what you do next, and you write all of the character so well.

Never before have I wanted this much to reach into a fan-fictional world and scoop out an oc with my hands and just hold them like a tiny little kitten. (Technically accidentally did that with a character anyway but ah well)

Plot aside, because I’m already talking characters, I love the cast you’ve chosen so so so so so so much, I love the diversity and headcanons. And I especially love the dynamics and interactions with each other. And the parallels, oh my goo the parallels in character pairings that pop up occasionally. (Lyf and Micheal, Tim and Grifter’s Bone guy (his name evades me), even just the whole vampire Gerry thing)

Which reminds me, you’ve managed to have at least one reference to wtnv in every book so far, is this deliberate or just art?

Okay, I could talk characters all day so let’s move onto plot now and I’ll ramble about individuals later. 300+ (or something) chapter slow burn my beloved. And then everything just tumbling around around it is just wonderful.

Lyf was just out here trying to live their best life and then things just kept happening to them over and over and over and over again, first the prisoners, then the train, then the prisoners again, then the void, then space, then Nastya, then death, then earth, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the circus, then the mechs, then probably some more spooks, then [see last three lines].

Poor inspector is in the washing machine of happenings.

And of course, gotta adopt a family along the way because, as Batman has shown us, the best way to recover from your whole family dying is to just adopt more.

And the whole chaos avatar screwing with all the other fear’s shticks is an incredible concept and I adore it. I also find it beautifully hilarious. Do you think Lyf could just rainbow people like they did Gerry to help them escape their entity? Instead of like, eye stabbing?

And the fact Lyf sees the fears in colours and one of the first people they meet in Gerry, who originally referred to them as colours in the show, is just fabulous. And then Lyf being all the colours is also marvellous.

(I feel like I’ve been going too long, am I going too long?)

There’s just so many little plot points that I adore that I can’t remember them all at once let alone put them in words so maybe I’ll just doom spam ask you a live rereading so that I get all the bits.

This story is my soul, my life, I am empty without it. Anyway, off to go read it again probably.

Thank you for writing, I love it so much.

!!!!!!!

Thank you so much! I've really loved writing this story, and seeing other people enjoying it to similar levels is beautiful. And no worries about getting off topic or going too long-- I've written this story for over a year. If anyone's going too long here . . .

But anyway. Let's chat!

If you (or anyone else!) ever get this story printed out and bound, I would love to see it <3

I'm so glad you enjoy the writing and characters, too! I personally love my characters and try to let them guide the story as much as possible, so hearing that I write them well is fantastic. So. Thanks!

(And I get the feeling. I've literally made tiny knit dolls for some of my OCs along with my TMA and Mechs ones. Brenn and Juniper my darlings, for instance. And my Lyf, of course. That doll has now crossed so many state lines because I keep bringing them on road trips and the like with me. . .)

Character parallels too. . . yeah, there's a lot that can be said about the way characters parallel and interact and misunderstand each other, and I love writing them doing that. It's fun to consider, and I love it :)

The washing machine of happenings. . . yeah, that sounds about right :D

Heh, adopting a new family to cope with losing one is certainly a way to put it! Not sure how well that works, for Lyf or for Batman, particularly when said New Family also gets into danger, but. . . yep!

Could Lyf just rainbow people to help them escape from an entity? Likely! It would hurt a LOT, though, and it'd probably end up having consequences, you know? Whether it's that the person in question becomes a chaos magnet, or whether they'd be able to break reality too. . . yeah, that's an interesting one to ponder.

I love that, yep!

I'd love to see your thoughts if you do that, whether it's on here or on Ao3! Like I said, I've been writing this for more than a year now, and I really do love talking to people about it.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts like this, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! We've got some fun times ahead. . .

#hello hello to the ask box #luckybyrdrobyn #the stars claim them

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dalgikiss · 1 year

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i am unsure of how to mourn for you // k. akaashi

i’ll be right where you left me, come back soon please?

genre: angst

a/n: omg guys this is so haha funny bc actually !! i wrote this a rerally long time ago as well and it’s soooo hahaha funny bc this guy i was dating had actually broken up w me and somehow, in a haha funny not really way, the universe had turned my world upside down and i had uttered the same exact words i had written!!!! I didnt even realize it until i read it again recently but lmaoooo... haha funny.......

The waitress greets you, the same soft smile you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on her face stretching her lips.

“Miss, will you be seated where you always sit?”

You smooth out the white dress on your thighs -it looks really nice on you babe- and nod. “Yes, please”

The waitress hands you a menu as you’re shown to your usual table, the leather bound book laid out in front of you on the table. You think it’s funny they still give you one- you’ve been here so many times, you think you know all the servers working.

Your fingertips drag along the cover of the menu, tracing along the logo. There’s no reason to open it, you already know what you’ll get. Your answer has never changed from the first time he asked you-

“What are you getting?” Akaashi looked up from the menu, long fingers reaching over the table to rest across your hands. You admired the way his finger fit almost perfectly in between the spaces of your own.

You grinned, before returning your gaze back to the selection written out on the menu. Akaashi waited patiently, fingers tapping against yours to a rhythm only you could hear.

“I think I’ll get the-“

“Miss?”

You blink, startled as the waiter’s face came within view. She smiles, strands of hair falling out of a neat bun. Her black pen stands on the small notepad she’s holding, while you stare up at her, dazed.

“The usual for you, is that correct?”

You take a sip from your water glass and let the condensation wet the tips of your fingers.

“Yes, thank you”

The water swirls around in your glass while you gazed at the customers around you. You smile when someone laughs, and twist your lips with distaste when someone leaves a mess on their table for servers to clean up. The waiters dance around each other, giving each other fleeting grins when they can.

You twirl your fork around the pasta, ignoring the pitying stares the waiters cast at you when they can. You can always tell who the new ones are, how they pause at your table half a second longer than the ones used to your presence.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see two waiters in the corners converse, already knowing how their conversation is going.

(Don’t you know? She’s been coming here for almost a year now, every week at the same time

What? Why?

I heard her boyfriend broke up with her here and she can’t get over it

Breakups happen everyday, she doesn’t have to lose it)

I know, you want to yell at them every time they sneak a peek at you, I’m sick of being hung up over him still

Akaashi sighed, but the smile on his face never left even as you pushed your half finished plate of pasta towards him.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, “You think you can finish that for me though babe?”

“And if I say no?” Akaashi asked, voice low despite the rather noisy ambiance but it didn’t matter anyways, you already knew what he was going to say. You rested your cheek on the palm of your hand as he took a bite from your pasta, speaking with his mouth full, “what will you do then?”

You laughed, stars dancing in your eyes and Akaashi reached over to stroke a finger over the curve of your cheek. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about”

He twirled another bite of pasta around his fork, bringing it up to his mouth.

I love you, you want to say but you keep your lips pressed together instead. Akaashi glances up at you and smiles through a mouthful of pasta. You think he already knows what you want to say, but then again, he always does.

The waiter brings by a chocolate cake, piled high with whipped cream. You stare at her in confusion and she smiles in response.

“Don’t worry about it,” She answers your unspoken question, setting down a clean fork and taking away your pasta plate that was left unfinished, “It’s on the house tonight”

“Oh,” You pause, staring at the decadent slice. You can almost taste the deep chocolate flavor already. “Thank you,”

The waiter smiles, bright like the moon that hangs in the sky and you wish it didn’t remind you so much of Akaashi. “Do you want this in a to-go box again?”

You pick up the fork and scoop a piece of chocolate into your mouth. The rich flavor coats your tongue, sweet to cushion the fall as you think about how much she reminds you of Akaashi and you miss him, missyoumissyousomuchcomebackplease

“Yes please,” You push another forkful of cake into your mouth and hope she can’t see the way your throat tightens.

It felt like the entire restaurant was listening in to your conversation that night.

“I um-” you blinked, “what?”

“I said,” Akaashi lowered his gaze, “We need to break up”

The ringing in your ear grew louder, the pounding in your head grew stronger, am i breathing? I don’t feel like I’m breathing

“Oh,” You said breathlessly, wincing at your lack of words. Akaashi kept his face trained on the frozen position of your hands, still held in midair before he dropped the news.

“It’s just, I thought our spark was dying out” Akaashi fumbled over his words, “I’ve been really busy with the whole editorial job and you’ve been so worked up about your dissertation that I-”

You held up a hand, finally feeling the strain on your muscles from holding them in the air for so long. “Stop, I’ve heard enough”

You placed the napkin back onto the table, slowly standing up. There’s a barrage of words crowding your head, each one less coherent than the last, but you hold your tongue.

Ihatehimihateyouifuckinghateyou

Don’tbreakupwithmestayhereplease

Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

“I’ll return your things when I can. Just leave my stuff outside my door.” You praised yourself for not crying immediately, “Good night and thank you for the meal”

Perhaps it’s rather cruel of the universe to make you remember such a thing in the middle of a public area.

You sniff miserably, shoving another forkful of cake into your mouth. Seeing another couple at this restaurant shouldn’t turn you into a puddle of tears, and yet here you are- crying over a piece of chocolate cake.

You suppose it’s better than crying in front of your ex though. You let yourself smile a little in satisfaction to hide the growing ache in your stomach. Like hell were you going to let Akaashi see your tears.

(Oh, but… the pain’s still here, you know)

(Shut up, you tell your heart, just shut the fuck up)

Someone laughs in the background. You close your eyes and will the tears away so you can enjoy your cake in peace. When you open your eyes again, you freeze.

“A-akaashi?”

He sits in front of you - i’m actually fucking hallucinating - with the same stupid white shirt that he wore when he broke up with you.

You gape, mouth open like a fish searching for water. A waiter stops in front of your table to refill your wine glass, body leaning forward and through Akaashi?

Of fucking course. You laugh out loud, ignoring the strange look the waiter gives you. Of course he wasn’t here. On top of being hung up over a breakup, you were hallucinating too.

Could you just get a fucking-

“Hey,” Akaashi smiles like he never left you and you want to barf. He presses on anyways, voice still the same as you remembered it, “[name]”

You unconsciously hold the stem of the recently filled wine glass, and hate the way your heart still flutters at how his mouth forms the syllables in his mouth.

“[name]”, Akaashi says your name again but you think you already know what he’s going to say.

“You have to let me go,” His smile is sorrowful, “it’s time”

You squeeze your eyes shut and duck your head, “I can’t, I can’t, please, I-”

He shakes his head, his lips still sporting the same sorrowful smile. “You have to let me go,”

It’s time

Let me go

“I’m trying!” Your frustration bleeds into your words, “I’m trying so fucking hard but I can’t just- I can’t just forget the way you did! I loved you, I can’t believe that I still fucking love you. I thought we were doing fine”

Needles crawl up your legs and render them numb, before winding up towards your arms and neck, throat clenching as the words you had put off saying for so long finally see the light.

Your voice breaks, “I thought we were doing great. I thought we were going to be fine, I don’t know what to think anymore”

“You left me no choice but to stay here, you-” The wine glass you’re desperately holding onto breaks, glittering glass shards cutting into the delicate skin of your fingers. Your vision blurs, black streaks of mascara staining your cheeks as you shakily gasp for air.

Someone’s shaking your shoulder, “Miss? Miss!”

You shudder, staring wide eyed and confused at the waiter who was holding napkins along your wrist, where blood dripped down past your elbow. A red puddle stains the pure white tablecloth, forming a maroon stain. Where the cuts begin or end, you’re not sure but the dull ache is nothing compared to the violent turmoil in your heart.

“You’re bleeding so much,” The waiter holds your arm tighter, “Are you hurt anywhere else? Please be careful, there’s glass everywhere” True to her word, glass shards are scattered around the table and the floor, winking as the dim light catches onto them.

You swing your head around, finally taking in the mess around you. “I- I am so sorry,” You stammer, head spinning. Your heart constricts when you realize the chair in front of you was empty, void of Akaashi. “Please, let me pay for everything, are you alright?”

The waiter smiles, “Don’t worry about me, I’m perfectly fine. You’re still bleeding though, I think you should go to the hospital”

You thank her for the suggestion, standing up carefully as the waiter guides you away from the glass shards sparkling on the ground. Someone else rushes over with a dustpan and a broom, and you’re finally aware of all the eyes on you, some confused, others filled with pity.

“I should go,” You mumble awkwardly to the waiter who was still holding up the tissues onto your arm, “Please let me pay and help you clean up”

The waiter shakes her head, “You don’t have to. We know you’ve been having a hard time lately, sometimes these things just happen. Please, just go home and get those cuts looked at” You open your mouth to protest but she’s laughing, a sound that seems almost foreign in your ears. “Go, go! We’re alright here, we’re prepared for this. All of us just want you to be happy”

You’re stunned into silence, looking at the host standing at her podium, but she only smiles and nods her head like the waiter coaxing you out the door. “At least, let me give you this” You fumble with your wallet, bills of all kinds flying out as you dump them into the tip jar, and they all laugh like your mother did when she caught you dancing around the kitchen, too immersed in the song to notice the growing audience.

Luckily for you, they accept what you have given them and then you’re out the door with the cool night air kissing your burning cheeks and drying the salt from your tears.

#tell me you need me !#i need us to mean something #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi haikyuu #hq akaashi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu reader insert #hq fanfic #akaashi keiji #akaashi x y/n #BABAYYYY I AM BACK W SOME MOE RUPDATES

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