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notanactressyayy · 2 months

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—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—

pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.

warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.

notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!

divider credits: @cafekitsune ★

Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.

That changed when she met you.

You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.

But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.

Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.

Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."

When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.

This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.

Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.

As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".

"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."

You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.

"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"

"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."

You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have

"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."

You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—

"Back off."

"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."

Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.

"She said back off."

Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.

"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.

"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.

"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.

"I... followed you."

"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.

"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.

The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.

"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."

This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"

She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."

You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.

Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."

You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.

Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.

"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.

The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.

You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.

The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.

"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"

"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"

You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.

"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.

"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.

"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."

"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"

"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"

"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."

You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"

"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."

"...go on."

Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.

"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"

You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.

"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"

Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.

"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.

"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.

Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.

"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"

"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"

"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"

"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.

"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.

"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."

Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.

"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.

"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"

"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"

Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.

"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"

You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.

"Don't make me go away,"

"I could never."

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7ndipity · 5 months

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Better For You

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When Yoongi admits to feeling jealous about you spending so much time with Hobi, you end up making a slightly accidental confession.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: +18 Mdni, smut, oral(m. rec), marking, unprotected sex(don’t that pls), Yoongi being a big ol softie

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! As I mentioned yesterday, this was supposed to go up last night, but I got distracted with the ship game and didn’t get to finish editing it. Also, this ended up being waay longer than I intended cause I got carried away again(sorry not sorry?) Idk, they’re in love, your honor

Masterlist

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As you let yourself into your apartment, you stopped short at the sight of an extra, much larger pair of shoes by the door, confusion flickering through your mind for a second before relaxing, a smile creeping across your face as you set your things down, recognizing the shoes as belonging to your boyfriend.

You had given Yoongi a key to your place a few weeks back, deciding it was the easiest solution to his chronically late hours at the studio and his insistence on sleeping next to you most nights.

Now, he could let himself in whenever he got there, and you had quickly become used to his sudden appearances in your apartment, rolling over during the night and finding him sound asleep next to you never failed to bring a tiny smile to your face.

As you wandered through the house in search of him, you started to hear the faint sound of the shower running in the master bathroom, his bag and jacket on the chair by your bed.

While you waited for him to finish up in the shower, you decided to swap out of your town clothes and into something more comfortable, opting for some pajama shorts and one of Yoongi’s tshirts he’d ‘accidentally’ left for you to wear.

As you were pulling the shirt over your head, you heard the bathroom door open behind you, a pair of arms immediately snaking their way around your waist, his scent filling your senses instantly making all the tension in your body vanish as you leaned back into his hold.

“Hi.” Yoongi mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hey.” You chuckled, turning in his hold to face him. “I didn’t think you’d be here this early, I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Nah, I went to wash up as soon as I got here, missed you tho.” He mumbled, placing the faintest kiss on your lips, pulling you along in a tired hug as he walked backwards to the bed, settling you on his lap. “Where were you off to today? I thought it was your day off?”

“It is, I just went for lunch with Hobi, and then we ended up doing some shopping as well.” You said, leaning down to connect your lips with his. As you kissed him though, you noticed that his movements suddenly became a bit hesitant, following your lead almost automatically.

Pulling back, you could tell something was on his mind, Yoongi’s gaze avoiding your own as he pressed his lips together, an expression you’d seen enough to know something was definitely bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked gently.

“Nothing, ‘m fine.” He said unconvincingly.

“Yoongs?” You pressed, studying him carefully.

He sighed. “It’s nothing, seriously.”

“It’s clearly not nothing, not if it’s bothering you this much.” You shifted on his lap, looping your arms over his shoulders to rub the back of his neck soothingly. He instinctively leaned into your touch, but said nothing.

“Baby please, talk to me.” You encouraged, using the petname you knew he had a weak spot for.

He fiddled with the hem of your shorts as he thought for a long moment, still not meeting your eyes when he finally spoke.

“You’re always with Hobi.” He mumbled.

You frowned. “I thought you liked me being friends with him?”

“I do, it’s just,” He sighed. “I don’t know, it’s like you’re just always together, and you always seem so happy with him, and I know it’s stupid, but it makes me feel a little…” His voice trailed off.

“Jealous?” You offered.

He nodded, glancing up at you.

“Baby,” You leaned in, kissing over his face as you spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I do like spending time with Hobi, but it’s nothing compared to how much I love being with you.”

“I know, I just get those stupid thoughts sometimes that maybe someone like him would be better for you.” He said, voice growing quieter as he spoke.

“Yoongi,” You said seriously, cupping his face as you spoke. “There is not a single person in this world better suited for me than you, you hear? You don’t have anything to worry about, I love you far too much for anyone else to ever take your place.”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide as they flicked up to meet yours, fully meeting your gaze at last as you realized what you’d said.

Despite having been together as long as you had, neither of you had yet to say those three words out loud.

“You love me?” He asked, looking up at you softly.

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at your sudden admission, but you nodded, trying to ignore your feelings of self-consciousness. “Of course I do. You're everythi-”

Your words were cut off by Yoongi’s lips crashing against yours, kissing you hard enough to take your breath away.

Your hands flew back to his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip to elicit a surprised gasp from you and allowing him to delve into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours before you had to pull back for air. Even then though, his lips never left you, trailing down over your jaw and neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

“I love you too.” He breathed, laving over your skin with his tongue before sucking a mark below your ear. “God, I fucking love you so much.”

Your hips twitched forward involuntarily at his ministrations, making you aware of his growing bulge pressing against your core. You rolled your hips again, making him let out a soft grunt against your lips as his grip on your hips tightened and urged you on, the few layers of clothes between you creating just enough friction to make your mind go fuzzy with need.

You knew you could easily make yourself cum from this if you kept going, but you had other plans.

You pulled back, slipping your hand down between your bodies to palm at him over his shorts, making him let out a low growl against your lips, twitching against your hand before you pulled away again, sliding off his lap and settling between his knees.

Glancing up at him for permission, which he gave with a weak nod, you quickly tugged his shorts down enough to let his cock spring free, tip already flushed and dripping precum.

Wasting no time, you wrapped a hand around him tightly, pumping his length as you leaned down to give him a few kitten licks before sinking your mouth down on him, making his eyes roll back.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He groaned loudly, gripping the sheets beneath him tightly as you began to bob your head, setting a pace that quickly had him bucking up into your mouth.

You looked up at him again, watching closely as he lost himself in the feeling of you, the sight making you press your thighs together to try and ease the growing ache between them.

Just as you felt him beginning to tense, nearing his release, his hands suddenly gripped yours, tugging your hair to stop your movements as his dark eyes burned into yours. “I need to be inside you, please.”

Heat flooding your stomach at his words, you nodded, quickly climbing back to your feet.

You tried to straddle him again, but Yoongi flipped you over so he was now hovering over you, grinding his hips into yours teasingly and making you whine as your head fell back against the pillows.

“So pretty, always so pretty for me.” He mumbled, making his way down your front, leaving teasing kisses down your chest and tummy as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, yanking them and your underwear down in the same motion.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your mound, making you shudder at the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over where you needed him most. “And it’s all mine.”

He traced a finger between your folds, making your jolt at the sudden stimulation.

“Always so wet for me.” He smirked, spreading your arousal around as he toyed with your clit.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, feeling increasingly desperate. “Please.”

He only teased you for a moment before climbing back up and settling over you, bracing one hand by your head as he used the other to position himself at your entrance.

“Ready?” He asked in a breathless tone.

You nodded. “Yes, just please!”

In one swift motion, he slid inside you, making you both moan as he stretched you out. Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he paused to let you adjust, staring down at you with absolute adoration.

“I love you.” He breathed, slowly drawing his hips back and thrusting into you, making you cry out.

His words and kisses were soft, but there was an edge of desperation to his movements, thrusting deep and hard, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your back arching off the bed as you repeated his name like a mantra.

“Say it again.” He groaned, struggling to keep his pace as he neared his high.

“Wha-?” You whined, mind hazy with the feeling of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Say it again, please!” He gasped, the earlier hints of desperation bleeding into his voice and clearing your head just enough to understand, pulling him close so your lips were almost touching.

“I love you.” You whispered.

He pounded into you even harder, making you cry out from the almost overwhelming pleasure as the coil inside you wound tighter and tighter.

Feeling you start to twitch and clench around him, Yoongi quickly slipped a hand down between you to rub frantically at your clit, making your whole body shake as you teetered on the edge.

“Cum for me, please!” He begged.

At his words, the coil snapped, your vision going white as heat coursed through you, spasming in his hold, the only sound able to escape from you a choked whine.

Feeling you cum around him was all he needed to hit his high as well, thrusting messily into you a few more times before burying himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he painted your insides with his release.

Exhausted, he half-collapsed on top of you, catching himself on his elbows before fully falling on top of you.

“Are you okay?” You asked,

“Yeah, ’m fine.” He laughed, trying to catch his breath. “I’m great actually.”

He propped his chin on your chest, smiling up at you tiredly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You grinned, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling your heart twist as you looked at him. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve him.

You both lay quietly for a bit, basking in the peace of the moment as your breathing returned to normal. After a few minutes, he moved to pull out, but you stopped him, making him glance up at you in question.

“Stay,” You murmured sleepily. “I wanna stay close to you.”

Smiling softly at your half-sleeping state, he nodded. “I’ll stay as close as you want.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi oneshot #bts one shot #bts smut #bts drabble #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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avatar-anna · 3 months

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i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #hockeyrry #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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riaki · 6 months

Text

thrifted romance | megumi fushiguro x reader

synopsis: you’ve never really spoken with megumi before, so when your friends leave the two of you behind on a snowy night, you take the opportunity to get to know him.

wc: 6.2k... SO SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY cw: swearing, college au, noncurse au, i don’t thjnk there’s anything else ??

this got way longer than i intended it to be and i rushed to grind it out so it may not be coherent.. if so i apologize :’3 and this one’s late but i hope the content makes up for it ! enjoy meemow barely proofread!

it's a late winter evening when you meet up with megumi and your friends on the side of the street— cozied up in puffy layers and a long blazer stained with coffee splashes and a few hot chocolate smudges here and there.

fall had melted away with the slow gradient of leaves from the trees, sinking into fluffy piles on the sidewalk that soon became coated and replaced with light snowfall; the first of many problematic inches. midterms were just around the corner, and with it meant late hours spent pulling all-nighters that left you exhausted, eyes dark around the edges with a lack of sleep; breaths of minty hot chocolate and coffee from the amalgamation you'd concocted to at least pretend to get into the holiday spirit.

(a fruitless effort, though— if not for your failure that warned you to stay out of mixology, but the way your roommate's cat had knocked over your mug and ruined the flashcards you'd been wrestling with and looked completely smug with itself.)

really, though, there was absolutely nothing jolly about school, or exams. so when your favorite inefficient, sidetracking study buddy had offered to spend the weekend out, who were you to say no? nobara had offered to go find a club, but it was far too cold out to frolic around in skimpy clothing and your expensive winter coats were much too valuable to risk being stolen in the haze of drunken students and sweaty bodies. so, you'd decided to go shopping, because what else is there to do with her? besides the usual karaoke session with the upperclassmen she seems to like so much, of course.

turns out, it'd had been a group endeavor. or, more accurately— a group of four, unlike the duo you had previously thought you'd be going out in. yuji and megumi were there too— friends from separate majors; you'd heard that yuji was involved in the uprising surge of software engineers and computer science majors clambering for a shot in the world of big AI tech companies, even though he supposedly was about as computer-smart as your teetering old grandma ripe with age, permanently stuck in her rocking chair crocheting the days away.

megumi, on the other hand, was a mystery. you'd shared a few classes together; his chipped dark nails that shone the same blue as his esoteric eyes beneath the warmth of the glowing sun, and his inky black hair that spilled over the collars of his simple gray sweatshirts like effortlessly graceful calligraphy on paper had captured your attention as smooth and seamless as the daylight turned to darkness, days cut short by the onslaught of cold. even so, you'd never brought yourself to interact much— he seemed like he'd prefer to keep to himself, if the way he'd disdainfully scoot away from anyone who tried to approach him and turn up the volume of his headphones indicated anything. you had laughed to your friend and called it introversion to its finest, only to promptly shut up when his unmoving gaze landed on you, leaving you feeling like a clown on the stage, rimmed by rich dark red curtains and a wooden floorboard as the beaming spotlight shines upon you imaginary button nose, hot and glaring under his gaze.

even though you'd approved of his music taste once you snagged a few notes by the ear, you'd really thought his taste in fashion was too bland to be the type of person to shop with nobara— her meticulous style and image were much brighter and more flamboyant than megumi's jaded attempts at a splash of color through the occasional blue argyle or layered turtleneck. still, those were better than yuji's paltry attempts at fashion; at least the myriads of color on nobara's figure were coordinated. the pink-haired boy with funny scars on his face would probably have been better off learning graphic design or art, with the disasters of clashing colors on his person.

and he'd gotten the opportunity to demonstrate his questionable tastes on the chilly evening, when black ice had begun to form on the roads and the soft light of boutiques with slow jazz flowing from the speakers filled your frost-bitten red ears as you walked up to the shade of a nearby lamppost. once you'd all met up, nobara had hooked an arm around your elbow and dragged you off, leaving the boys to follow along like it was walking dogs.

honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you were— at least, with yuji. he carried nobara's bags like she was the next princess in line, without complaint and with the little fearful quivers that dogs get in their legs whenever their owners scold them for barking or misbehaving, much like how nobara would yell at yuji if he dropped a single cream linen sweater or ruffled pink cami.

megumi, on the other hand, was far too lethargic and quiet to be considered any kind of canine. although the weaved bracelet on his left wrist with a cute little puppy charm you caught sight of when he'd rolled his sleeve up implied otherwise. the only reason he'd even had to do that was to rub the sickeningly sweet orange blossom hand sanitizer nobara had spritzed on each of your palms after you took turns petting a stray cat, one that seemed to take a great liking to you and megumi in particular.

the night seemed to drag on forever; pale yellow lights and holiday decorations blurred into swathes and bubbles of color in your vision as the hours passed and the caffeine from the cute little coffeeshop you'd stopped at earlier began to wear off.

but there had just been something magical about that evening; spending time with friends (albeit, more like acquaintances) had granted you a much-needed break from cramming your mind with an overflow of information that was sure to spill out the moment you answered the last exam question. so, when it was almost midnight and it was time to retire to your bed, you'd insisted on staying out for just a little longer while nobara and the rest returned to their dorms to catch some sleep. yuji had complained something about his legs cramping, but you were feeling giddy, and the stars were twinkling just as bright as the light in nobara's eyes were when you told her you had to soak in the fresh air for as long as you could before being locked in to study again as she laughed and headed home with her pink dog-boy escort in tow.

megumi had mumbled something about staying with you since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. you didn't think too much about it, because if you did, you were sure you'd end up with a faced even more flushed than it was frostbitten from the cold.

so, here you were, strolling down the quieter side of town, a brooding boy with inky dark hair and hands pale with blue veins shoved into the pockets of his jacket trailing behind you. he had one airpod tucked into his pierced ear; you assumed he hadn't brought his headphones because yuji would be there to prattle and babble. even so, you were content not to say anything, so there was plenty of opportunity for him to wear both. but he wasn't. you decided not to linger on it.

you'd just finished writing a silly little note out of the crisp snow gathered on the windshield of some stranger's car; the flakes were cold and biting on your skin, leaving it feeling numb with little droplets of icy water when you pulled away to admire your handiwork.

"actually, maybe i shouldn't be doing that." you decided after a moment, mumbling under your breath. it was just a little message with a whiskered smiley face, but the headlights on the car and the bumper seemed to form a frown at you when you stepped back, shaking its motorized head at your vandalism.

"you think?"

megumi's voice sounded from behind you, a little weighed down by the cold with a wisp of warmth leaving his lips like a powdery exhale, curling into the prickly night air. he was standing on the sidewalk, observing you all prickly-like as if you were some flagrant toddler he was babysitting. you still had to get used to the way his voice sounded after rarely hearing it; the few crumbs you got when your professors forced obligatory presentations onto struggling students had sent this warm, fuzzy feeling collecting in your stomach at the rich tone of velvet it held. not rough or overly deep, but smooth and reassuring. the kind you could fall asleep to; like there was a lullaby just waiting to be poured from his tongue with little scratches in the indent of his tone.

of course, you hadn't heard enough of it to make such an assumption, so when you heard the little quip framed with irritation at the edges, it wasn't all sugary sweetness like you imagined.

"yeah, well, sorry i like to live a little," you huffed, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to resuscitate some warmth back into them with a small little sigh.

"you call that living?" he scoffs a little, cocking an eyebrow at the vandalized toyota behind you. now, it just looked a little sad; imaginary eyebrows over the red lights droopy in disappointment. you followed his gaze, before looking back at him and making a sour face as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

"maybe we just have different tastes, y'know? doesn't mean we don't have to get along like this," you mumbled, shaking your hands out a little to get the remaining snow droplets off before stuffing them back in your blazer pockets. "just like itadori and nobara. one has terrible taste in fashion and the other doesn't, but they both like their bright colors." you feel satisfied with yourself for that one, but clearly, megumi doesn't feel the same. but the corner of his pink lips seem to quirk up just a tiny bit, and you feel pride blooming in your chest.

there's just something about the way it looks— an almost implausible smile coaxed onto his lips by something particularly amusing, reaching his dull blue eyes in a way that made their usual tedious apathy morph into something like fondness, or appreciation. adding a shine to his navy irises the lamp light overhead could only hope to mimic. then again, you didn't let your mind linger on it for too long like usual— so instead you chalked it up to the one other thing that had caught your eye besides the sharpness of his jaw and the handsome slimness of his face: his jacket.

you take back what you said about his style and its blandness before— it would be unfair to what he was wearing right now. just a simple black turtleneck (one that you were sure he'd worn to the early morning wednesday lecture you had a few days ago, when the sun was still bright enough to catch on the condensation of the cup of lemonade your white-haired, oddly sweet-toothed professor had), and black jeans, but the vintage racing windbreaker hanging from his shoulders brought it together in a way that was unfairly seamless; all dark blues and stripes of checker; a neutral grayblue that reminded you of the sky on rainy afternoons, trudging about the shopping districts in tokyo. there were a few brand patches here and there, some red bubble lettering of names you didn't recognize in patches of color that brought out the shade of his eyes. maybe the labels of those energy drink brands you often caught him running on when the shadows beneath his long dark lashes seemed heavier than usual.

all that to say he looked good. like, seriously good. you didn't know how you hadn't noticed all night— but now that you had, it was hard to keep your eyes from his slim and tall silhouette (not that he minded). the jacket really complimented it.

"that's a neat jacket. where'd you get it?" you asked after a moment of chilling silence; he'd probably noticed you looking, and you prayed he didn't think you were checking him out. although, if that meant getting your hands on one of those windbreakers, you wouldn't really mind. he glanced up at you, tearing his attention from the sad snowy toyota camry that seemed worn past its years at the newfound attention on megumi's racing jacket. he blinked a little, and you didn't miss the little flake of frost on his eyelash; probably caught from brushing past a windowsill earlier. by now, most shops were closed; even so, the street still felt warm and safe. well, maybe it was to be credited to a person rather than the concrete— but like you had been all night, you ignored it.

"oh, this?" as if he was wearing more than one jacket (it was cute), "i thrifted it." and for some reason, you didn't expect to be surprised, but you were. him? thrifting? the few western-fashion tailored thrift stores you'd been to with nobara had been lacking— not like you'd been able to stay in them long; the artificial ginger had this... beef with reused clothes. she liked her clothes clean and fresh from the press, even if you reminded her they could just be fresh from someone else's press. megumi must be familiar with the antiquated racks of varied worn graphic tees and frayed pants if he could fish something that classy from a thrift store.

then again, it's not like you had any experience to go off of at all.

"really? y'know, i've always wanted to go thrifting," you sighed, stretching your arms out, watching the fabric of your blazer wrinkle and curve to follow the movement of your muscles. a light dusting of snow coated the surface, like powdered sugar on tiramisu. that makes the coffee stains fitting. "but i feel like i'm bad at it." you said, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, the rubber bottom of your sneakers brushing against a little clump of pine green weeds.

"bad at it?" megumi echoes, following you with a faint ruffle of smooth fabric, like the sound of a zipper sliding down. before, the world had been a cool shade of gray, like smoke rising from a cigarette or the blurry blue of the sky from the window of a speeding bullet train. but now, you let yourself soak in the sound of his voice, like grinded coffee beans and a smooth, soothing honey medicine for your throat on a sick day when you get to cozy up in your bunk bed and watch the clouds drift by.

it's nice.

"yeah. like, i wouldn't know where to go, or what to find, or what to look for..." you trailed off, rubbing your cold fingers together again as your breaths leave in little exhales of coagulating mist in the cold night air. now that it was late, it the temperature would only continue to drop.

you walked in silence for a little longer, listening to the scuffles of shoes against concrete, glassy with ice that had begun to creep up on the roads like a steady stream of seafoam from the tides.

"why don't we go thrifting now, then?" he asks out of the snowy blue.

you paused, and you almost smacked straight into a pole. "now?" you spluttered, turning around to face him. the look on his face was unreadable; a mix between exasperation, amusement, an attempt at stoicism, and something like affection in the corner of his lips as they curved upward. it was like a CPR compression; the smile that sent fuzzy electricity through your veins and reinvigorated your heart.

"yes, now." he said it like you were stupid, which you might just be, the way you stared dumbly at his face. "the place i got this jacket from is just over there," he said, jutting a ring-adorned thumb behind him. you had to lean up and peek around his shoulder to see it; you wouldn't've noticed if he didn't point it out. it was tucked between two buildings, a stairway downward into the store. the only thing indicating its status as a retail and thrifting store was the broken neon sign and painted red arrow that gestured towards the staircase.

"looks really shady. and it's late." you grumbled after you got over yourself, and he shot you an irritated look. that was all he really seemed to be doing tonight; that downward knit of his dark eyebrows and the slight pout weighing his lips down. not very suave, you think.

he swallows hard, and you aimlessly watch the bob of his adam's apple. "well?" he prompts, a hard edge to his voice despite the situation. you stand there for a little while, marinating in the growing cold until you cant feel the tips of your fingers.

"fine."

one accidental slip on the crosswalk and a few minutes later, you're stepping down the last wooden stair of the thrift store and into the building's basement; it's much bigger than you would've thought, with an expanse of layered clothing racks that obscure your vision, the corners of the walls clogged with cobwebs and years of dust build up. there's a faint lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cologne; something vanilla that you've caught clinging to megumi's wrists and neck on the rare occasion you brush past him. faint jazz spills from the speakers, something in a swing rhythm with the signature lilt of saxophone that makes you think you should be out enjoying a romantic fancy dinner instead of being cooped up between old wrinkly moth-bitten clothes. but you're here with megumi, so you convince yourself you don't mind either way.

"you sure this is the right place?" you asked, trying (and failing) to keep the obvious distain from your voice as you kick a folded 'floor-is-wet' sign from your path and step into the store. you can't even see the cash register from where you're standing.

"yes, i'm sure. can you stop complaining?" you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice, and you're sure you could see it too if you just turned around. "trust me. it's not all shit." his voice softens, and you freeze up a little as he brushes past you; the corridors and margins are tight, so he has to turn sideways to fit. even so, a tag on your coat manages to snag on his jacket, and you hasten to unhook it before he can notice. he almost disappears into the racks, and you have to follow him, pushing your way through thick coats and worn graphic tees that have cracked logos and balls of lints clinging to them.

you're no thrifting expert, but you're pretty sure the store's supposed to be in better condition than this.

"hey." megumi's voice soon snaps you back into reality, and you look up from the mustard yellow top you were eyeing warily to meet his sedate gaze. "the good stuff's in the back. c'mon." he doesn't give you much room to argue even though it sounds like you're here to do drugs rather than find clothing, and before you can react he's reached forward to grab your wrist and tug you along. a yelp of protest almost spills from your lips, but you bite your tongue and let him drag you along, trying to extinguish the hue of cherry you know is making a home on the tips of your ears.

you brush past patchwork coats and a few leather belts that've tangled with the lace from the silk shirts next to them, but nothing really catches your eye, until you realize that he's let go of you only because of the lack of warmth around your skin and you focus yourself on the current again. you glance up at him, but he already has his back turned to you, sifting through a rack of black shirts that all look the exact same. maybe you have an untrained eye, though.

still, you can't help it when your gaze lingers over the back of his neck; one strand of dark hair has caught itself beneath the collar of his turtleneck, and it irks you. and you decide to do something about it because you'll know it'll bother you if you don't.

time seems to move in a liquid slow; things are blurring and there's no mothballs or ugly recycled coats to get in your way as you reach over and swipe your hand across his neck, hooking a finger beneath the strand and pulling it out of his collar. it takes you a moment to realize what you just did, and when you do, it's like there's a permanent mark seared into your index finger just from the touch of his skin against your own. you think he might have whiplash because he turns his head around so fast to catch your gaze before you can slink away, eyes wide and eyebrows knit, and you notice his bottom lip is snagged between his teeth.

he raises an eyebrow, but before he can utter a shaming word that'll only make you feel more embarrassed you shake your head vigorously, apologetically.

"sorry— it was bothering me. i hope you don't mind." you managed to say, the words spilling out in a rush before you turned away and slipped past him, disappearing into an aisle of dresses. you can feel his gaze burning cold holes into your back as you distract yourself.

you don't let yourself linger on what you just did— you seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, especially with him as you go through a few batches of clothing. by now, it's far past midnight, and you're feeling much more sluggish than you'd like to admit. you haven't seen megumi in a good twenty minutes save for the few times you picked up a few shirts and a cute diner jacket you thought would look good on him. he just thanked you bluntly, taking the bundle of clothing from your arms before walking away to the fitting rooms. you wished he'd stay to let you see the jacket.

you'd tried on a few things, discarding your blazer in favor of a cute knitted cardigan you grabbed, but nothing seemed to stick the way you'd like them to. it would be a great help if you had nobara to assist, but you were sure she was snoring away at home right now, and at the thought of your warm, inviting bed, your knees wobbled a little and you balanced yourself on the wall.

"hey— oh, you alright?" it's an unfamiliar voice; you lift your head up, looking for the source. it's a young boy— he looks to be about your age, maybe a little younger. there's a blue lanyard around his neck, and he's got a spattering of freckles on his hands, which are curled around the collar of a white linen shirt. he must be the one who's tending to the store.

"yeah, i'm okay. sorry," you said hastily, pushing away and rubbing the back of your neck. how embarrassing— he didn't seem to mind, though. he just smiled, big and bright and toothy. cute. reminded you of how toddlers would grin up at parents with those huge red lollipops in hand.

"no worries. i just thought i'd let you know that we're closing soon, since it's almost 2am." he said, shifting his weight on his sneakers. you nodded, about to give a hum of confirmation before another voice cuts through the slow jazz filling the stifling air above, all familiar in its smoothness.

before you could respond, though— "[name]?" megumi's voice rang out in the quaint little store, calling for you, and so you give the employee an apologetic nod before you turn and start toward the noise. you pass a mirror with a coat draped over the top, peeking your head around a tall rack of long skirts to catch sight of the raven head, in all of his glory. you notice that he's taken off his windbreaker.

"what’s up? we have to go soon," you reminded him, yawning a little and rubbing your eyes as you straightened up and stepped over to his side. there was another mirror in front of him, you noticed, with fading stickers pale in the dim yellow light stuck to the wooden rim. even so, with the smudges and the bare sheen of the silver, he looked good. that black turtleneck really suits him.

"i know. i just wanted to ask for your opinion." he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. you tilted your head curiously, and he held up a deep mauve sweatshirt, with some varsity logo branded on the fabric. it had a nice touch to it; a warm color that reminded you of red wine and slow evenings. you were sure it had been one of the pieces you'd picked out for him, but you were too sleepy to recall. "you should try it on. i think it'd look good," you said, gesturing toward the mirror.

you think you must've said something wrong, because he looks at you for a moment too long before he seems to catch himself staring and he nods, a choked little sound leaving his throat which he hides by ducking his head down and covering his face with his long bangs. you think you're hallucinating the pink on his cheeks.

after a moment, he glances at you. "hold this," he shoves his jacket towards you, and you have no choice but to take it. doesn't seem like he's used to taking no for an answer, but you're certainly not the one complaining when he tugs the sweater over his head, ruffling his soft black hair as he steps a little closer to you, observing himself in the mirror while straightening out the folds and fixing his turtleneck. you were right— it does look good on him. almost unfairly so— you don't know how he manages to rock granny clothes so well, like he was born a retirement home's runway model.

unlike him, you're not a reticent shut in— and although you'd like to say you have no problem telling him how good he looks, it's still a little difficult when the words feel like they're lodged in your throat in order to prevent you from making a fool of yourself again. but you ignore it and push on.

"you look great. i think it really suits you," you breathed, shaking your head as your hands tighten around his jacket in your arms. he blinks, adjusting the collar before glancing down at you. you take a moment to really appreciate the sight— him, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the chipped lights overhead. despite the dilapidated store and the antiquated, worn clothing surrounding him, he still manages to look like some ethereal angel boy you'd stumble upon in a bookstore on a dreary winter's afternoon and never be able to get out of your mind again.

ink black eyelashes flutter when he blinks, framing his eyes like the bangs falling over his face when he turns around again to observe himself in the mirror once more before he takes the sweatshirt off. it catches on his turtleneck, which rides up when he slips the mauve sweater over his head, tussling his hair and exposing the dip of his pale hips, all muscle and flesh and bone, and you pray he chalks up the red on your face to the cold. the end of his belt dangles from the buckle as you hand his jacket back to him, fingers almost brushing— just barely out of reach.

a meager conversation flows between the two of you; you follow him through the endless maze of used clothing until you somehow stumble upon the cash register and he buys his sweater; the only thing he manages to buy after all this time spent milling about in a dusty, dinky little retail store. the boy from earlier helps check him out, and the icy glare he receives from megumi when he glances at you seems to fly straight past your head as you pick at your cuticles. the tips of your fingers are still red from messing with the frosty snow earlier. you wonder when the car owner will find your message.

it's almost freezing when you get out of the dusty shop, emerging from the smoke-stained alleyway stairs and into the cold night air. your breaths almost seem to form a precipitate, and the thought reminds you of the chemistry conversions waiting for you on your desk beneath the lamp, and you cringe internally. staying out for a few hours longer seems way better than succumbing to the never ending stream of worksheets and documents calling your name. you wonder if your charismatic professor will let you get away with a few assignments if you call in sick. are papercuts excuse enough?

the click of a lock behind you signifies the store's closing— the employee left through a back exit, it seems. and you realize too late that you left your blazer in the dressing room when you turn around and a sigh falls from your lips. megumi, paper bag in hand, glances over at you.

"you okay?"

you almost forgot he was there, in his brooding vintage racing jacket glory. you shake your head, before sighing forlornly again. he notices this, making a little face; his lips press together and his pretty eyes narrow. he thinks you sigh far too much. you'd look prettier if you smiled some more. he likes it when you do.

"i left my blazer in there, but he just closed it and it's so fucking cold out," you whined, bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes tiredly. you're cold and your fingers are going numb again, and there's light snowfall. so much for not losing your coat at a club. you can't tell which one's worse. "sorry to complain so much, but do you mind if we—"

you're promptly cut off; the words on your tongue left unsaid, burning with the taste of bitter black coffee. your gaze trails from megumi's hand, the clink of his silver ring against the zipper rail of his jacket as his fingers curl around the fabric, up his arm to the sleeves of his dark turtleneck, rounding the curve of his shoulders and up his neck to his face. he's not looking at you.

the words that leave his wet lips are so small and hurried that you think you're hallucinating them; when you inevitably looked back at this moment later, you'd realize that he was being shy. he mumbles something under his sweet breath, and you ask him to speak up.

"i said, you can use mine." he repeats, louder than necessary as he finally brings himself to look down at you from under his lashes, biting the inside of his cheek. his voice is a little strained, and a soft breeze carrying the smell of cinnamon and fresh ice rustles his hair. you blinked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights over a layer of thin ice, ready to shatter at a moment's notice.

"oh— okay. um, do you have anywhere else you need to go..?" you said tentatively, reaching forward to take his jacket again. it was exactly like how you'd done back in the thrift store, but the vague sense of deja vu you get is accompanied by an endless fluttering of warmth in your stomach that melts away the winters and tiring exams, and the night seems to become a soft warm orange, as if someone's drained the cool hues from the landscape.

megumi just shook his head, reaching into his bag and taking out the sweater he'd bought earlier. he slips it on again, adjusting it over his shoulders and refusing to meet your eyes as he crumples the paper bag in his hands. you notice they're slightly trembling as he does it, fingers digging into the material with much more force than is really needed. his hair follows each movement of his head; the strain of the muscles in his neck when he swallows again and gestures for you to follow him back down the empty street, past cars coated in melting snow and jaunty yellow lights twinkling over the awnings of closed store windows, shut down for the night. the sweater suits him really well, you think; not too loose, but tight enough in the right places to send your heart racing a mile a minute.

you pull his jacket over your arms, tucking your sleeves in and zipping it up. it's big on you— that's no surprise, and you can almost taste the vanilla on your tongue, his cologne lingering on every fold of the insulated fabric. it's warm, and it feels like being enveloped in a tight hug. in megumi's head, he hopes— prays its him you think of if you ever feel that way again.

you walk in a stiff silence; both of you want to say something, but you're dancing around it, letting your words linger unsaid until the other breaks the ice first. it's only ever cracked once you reach the dorms, where you part ways. there's light snowfall, and a thin layer of white has coated his hair when you turn to face him. you reach forward, learning onto the tips of your toes to brush off the ice. his hair feels unimaginably soft beneath your fingers, slightly damp from the snow. but he's the furthest from cold when you pull away; his face is burning up.

by now, you can't bring yourself to mind.

"thank you," you said softly, sighing contentedly. you move to take his jacket off your shoulders and return it, but he stops you, holding a hand up. the expression on his face is unreadable, but his lips are pursed together in a way that makes you think he's pouting.

"don't worry—" a pause. " you can, uh. keep it. i know you wanted one. just... give it back when you want, yeah?" he says, curt. almost prude, if it weren't for the way he was avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment. it was like trying to play the world's most difficult game of whack-a'mole, attempting to catch his eyes and see the iceberg that's melted into pools of warm glittering affection in his blue irises. at the thought, you wonder if he likes arcades, and you make a mental note to suggest an activity to nobara the next time she has the urge for an escapade.

you don't bother asking him whether he's sure, because you don't want him to take his words back. so you linger there in a moment of silence, letting it hang over your heads like a warm throw blanket, cozied in front of a fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. maybe a coffee mix like you'd attempted before.

angel boy clears his throat first to speak, all honey that links the syllables together like christmas ribbon; rich like orange flavored dark chocolate. "i'll see you later, then." it's short and sweet, but your heart is already flying so high on euphoria you can barely bring yourself to care, or suppress the giddy grin that's spreading across your lips.

yeah, you're tired. yeah, you're still a little cold and you think you need to thaw at your desk for a week until exams, but at least you've got his jacket to accompany you when your study buddy passes out first and you're alone on all nighters. frankly, you can't bring yourself to care— your head is spinning with the events of the chilly night, from crude messages in the snow to thrift store mothballs and lanyards, to one checkered racing jacket. but you don’t think it’s so bad when it threatens to stick to your memory, like chewed up gum under your professor’s desk. whether it’s from the students or the professor, that’s a mystery you’ll never solve.

"yeah. see you around, fushiguro." you can’t say the same about the mystery that megumi is, though. in fact, you think you’re already one step closer when you turn around and part ways, catching sight of him in the reflection of a frosted window. he’s slipping both of his airpods back into his ears, crimson at the tips.

the sound of your shoes against the rug stairway fills your ears as you clamber back up to your dorm, eyelids heavy with drowsiness and face flushed a pleasant warmth. even when you finally get to bed, you can't stop your eyes from drifting over to the bundle of lapis blue fabric sitting on your desk, and your mind from the soft spoken boy with eyes like the night sky and inky hair like calligraphy.

you decide you don't think his style is too bad, after all. and when you tell him that the next morning when he's still sleepy and his lashes fall slow when he blinks the weariness from his eyes, you get to enjoy the steady flush that stains his cheeks and prompts a hoarse cough from his throat when he ducks his head away and grumbles something under his breath, probably about being offended you even thought he was boring in the first place.

and if you ever ask, the only reason he lent you his windbreaker that night was to replace the scent of mothballs and dust with your sweet-smelling perfume.

so, as it turns out, you're able to get your hands on one of those pretty vintage racing jackets— except, it wasn't a new one; it was his. nobara hasn't stopped pestering you with questions since you showed up to class the next day; the only thing you hear for the next week is how much she regrets leaving early.

apparently, it's all yuji's fault.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

#ahhh im really sorry this is late;; got busy with life like those ao3 authors but much less impressive #i really like jazz i feel like not enough people do #just listen to persona music sometime. its worth #sometimes i make up words but thats ok as long as people buy it. i speak english first language trust 👨‍🔬#i feel like reader is kokomi or whatever her name is from saiki k #at that one ramen place but its a thrift store.. pretending it’s not all that bad except reader doesn’t rlly try LMFAO #for megumi!!! everything we do is for him 💐#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x y/n #billet-doux #and via thinks her titles r bad #I CAN FINALLMY. WORK ON MY CHRISTMAS EVENT

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sky-scribbles · 7 months

Text

(A draft of a latter found discarded in the Sword Coast Couriers’ office. Addressed to a Morena Dekarios, but apparently never sent.)

Dearest Mother,

I can only extend my most profound apologies for the unpardonable length of my silence. A true conspiracy of circumstances has kept me from sending word to you, but my filial duty shall be neglected no longer, now that I may at last avail myself of a courier service again (and have ensured that a certain tressym shall not consume the appointed pigeon.)

First of all, an explanation is both deserved and due. Be assured, before you read on, that I am perfectly well

I am not in any immediate danger

the statement ‘I was abducted by an illithid vessel, spirited far from home and deposited in the untamed wilderness of the Sword Coast’ is far less frightening in practice that it might appear on paper

I have simply been away from civilisation for a spell. But I now have the fortune to find myself in Baldur’s Gate, and able to avail myself of the exquisite pleasure of fresh parchment.

Your first question, I imagine – and a most justifiable one it is! – is when I shall return to my much-missed Waterdeep, and to you. Rest assured that I fully intend

I wish for nothing more than to do precisely that. The pain of being so far from home is an ever-expanding and insistent grief.

Yet, sorry to say, the situation in Baldur’s Gate is a delicate and complex one at present, and I mind myself obligated to remain until the city is at no longer at imminent risk of annihilation

until I’ve made a decision regarding an artefact I became aware of lately

I know where my path onward might lead, and what might be required of me. There is a possibility mere inches from my grasp, one that holds the promise of change, of rewriting so much for the better. But if my road should lead where I hope it might, I do not know if I will be able to

I will be changed

I wish I could promise

it may not be in my power to return for some time.

It breaks my heart to be so evasive with you. I am sure you are about ready to tear this page up with frustration by now, and my only pitiful excuse is that this has been the most difficult letter of my life. Every day, every hour, I ache to Teleport myself straight to your side and let all that I have concealed spill from me, like a sealing rune shattered, a wound torn open.

Once there was a time when a word from you, a single touch, could resettle the world on its axis and mend all the brokenness there was. Regrettably, I fear what eats at me now is beyond any power to heal, even that of your boundless love. Knowing that does not stop me from wishing I could go to you, and be small once more. All these years, and I fear your golden child has yet to grow up.

The histories say that Mystra was a mortal woman once. I wonder if she remembers her parents. I wonder if she ever longs for them.

I wonder if I will.

I have stayed away for so long, knowing that you were safer far from me. Now, when I consider how you may feel when I become something you can no longer hold, I wish distance were enough to protect you. I have no choice

I could do so much

I can think of no way to soften the pain of what is to come, other than weaving time itself anew so that you never had a son at all. Perhaps that would have been better for you, ultimately. For everyone.

I don’t know what to do

I love you

I know I’m going to break your heart

I’m sorry.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #just... having thoughts about where his head might have been at #before tav talks him down from the godhood thing (or where his head might've stayed at if they don't)#sky's writing #bg3 spoilers

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cakeboxie · 8 months

Text

Mark me as yours

Kinktober day no. 4

“Are you okay..?” “Yes- well… No, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to help me.”

Pairing: Dan Heng il/cis fem sub reader

CWs: inhuman genitals, breeding, tiny amount of hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff)

AN: Reader is explicitly referred to as a girl, and I reference afab anatomy more than once, PLEASE keep this in mind. For @starrry-angel

Kinktober masterlist

Prior to the whole affair on the Luofu Dan Heng often swung between not needing affection and clinging to you like his life depended on it. He explained it as him occasionally realizing that he no longer has to just cope with his loneliness since he began dating you.

Since his return though, he’s been considerably more distant. For the first week or so you wrote it off as him recovering from an extremely stressful event. But as the days passed by and he became more and more distant, you found yourself worrying more.

That’s what led you to your current position, standing in front of the door to the archives. You speak softly as you start to open the door.

“… Dan Heng?”

The door to the archives was locked, and the light was off. Which was strange in its own right, as much as Dan Heng preferred people avoid hanging around in the archives; he never locked the door.

“Looking for Dan Heng? I saw him run off to his room a while back, his horns were all glowy too. It was really weird.”

Caelus’ voice knocked you out of your thoughts, only to confuse you even further.

“I didn’t know he had a room?”

“March said she’s only seen him go in there once since she’s been on the express. If you hear from him let me know he’s ok. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m mad at him? It’s the end of the hall on the 3rd train car.”

Caelus sighed and continued to wherever he was originally headed. It was hard not to sprint down the halls of the express as you made your way to his room. Worry for his well being seeping into you.

It was strange, listening to him pace around the room through the door. Its a noise you’d gotten accustomed to hearing late at night after he’d called you to his room hoping for company following one of many nightmares.

You raise your hand to knock, but before you can he locks it.

“Leave… please.”

The intended strength behind the words comes across more as a painful admittance then a command.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on, we don’t have to talk about it right now but… I just need to know that you’re okay.”

There’s an agonizingly long pause before you hear him sigh and unlock the door. Hesitating for a moment before pulling it open. He’s in his vidyadhara form, his tail flicking anxiously behind him as he watches you, his moments stiff.

“I’m… sorry.”

His voice is uncharacteristically shaky as he steps to the side, his room is barren of any identifying features. He hesitates after closing the door.

“Can I lock the door?”

You nod slowly and he does as he asked. Standing stock still in front of the now locked door, stepping back into it as you approach him slowly.

“Are you okay..?”

“Yes- well… No, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to help me.”

He tries to sink further into the wall as you step closer

“Please, Dan Heng. I just want to know what’s going on, I’m worried about you.”

He sighs and seems to look through you for a moment, before attempting to collect himself, though his voice continues its uneven tone.

“I’m a vidyadhara, you know that at this point… Despite not being physically able to reproduce we still have a… heat cycle. Mine is inconsistent because of my distance from the Luofu but…”

He squirms in place and looks away from you.

“My instincts are convinced you’re my mate, and with my heat cycle starting I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable...”

“What if I want to be your mate?”

He looks nothing short of appalled, and you watch a series of micro expressions flicker across his face in quick succession before he’s clinging to you. Mumbling an apology into your chest as he picks you up.

You feel his chest rumble as you return the hug, piecing together that he was purring as he set you gingerly on his bed. Situation himself between your legs as he looks at you for any signs of resistance once more. The corners of his mouth pulling into a small smile when there is none.

The weight of his tail wrapping itself around your waist is a comforting pressure as he nuzzles into your neck. Purring as he bites your shoulder gently. His sharp canines digging into the soft flesh just enough to leave a mark.

“I’m sorry for my impatience I… I’ve missed you and I…”

He hesitates and buries his face back into your neck for a moment.

“I need to feel you. I’ve been waiting so long to claim you as mine and now that you’re here I can’t wait anymore.”

He shudders and kisses you as his movements become less restrained, quickly pulling off your loose shirt along with his own. Every action drips with desperation as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Can I touch you..?”

Your voice seems to pull him out of his haze and he leans back far enough for you to be able to admire him. His lithe frame speckled with small scales.

Pulling his underwear down you were met with an interesting sight.

You hadn’t thought very hard about the draconic features of the Vidyadhara, and in hindsight you kinda wish you had. Watching the pair of slick, semi translucent dicks slide out of the scaled slit on Dan Heng’s body as he squirmed under your gaze was certainly an interesting experience.

He didn’t give you long to think about it though as he gently pushed you back down onto the bed. Moving your underwear to the side enough to push his fingers past your slick folds. His thumb toying with your clit as he worked you open for him.

After he decided you were prepared enough he pulled his fingers out of you, licking your slick off of his fingers with his long, forked tongue. As you watched him clean his digits your brain provided you with the lovely image that was said tongue licking eagerly at your drooling slit.

All coherent thought was pushed from your brain as Dan Heng pressed the tip of one of his cocks against your eager hole, purring into your shoulder as he sunk into you inch by inch. His other cock bumping your clit as he bottomed out, his entire body tense above you as he waited for you to adjust.

He groaned into your chest as he began to move, mumbling into soft flesh as he rolled his hips against yours.

“I can’t wait to fuck you full of my kin, you’ll be good and take it right?”

Taglist: @yarnnerdally • @yeonpm

Wanna be added? Send me an ask off anon and lmk if you want to be on the sfw only list!

#pvbbysmut #pvbbywrites #dan heng #dan heng smut #honkai dan heng #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae smut #pvbbyevents { kinktober 2023 }

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gorgeys · 9 months

Note

Do you still make fanfics? If you do please do Carla smut

PORNSTAR ★ carla roson

Carla Roson x fem!reader

Part 2 of So Naive

You still don't understand that you belong to Carla, she intends to prove it to you and Guzman...

Warnings: SMUT - top!Carla, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, dub-con, shoving, grabbing, hair-pulling, hickeys, biting, brat taming??, pet names, mentions of murder/mutilation, degradation/praise, choking, finger sucking, non-con pictures/filming, begging, fingering

Word Count: 4750

Note: i'm so sorry this took so long! i lost motivation for writing for a while but i'm temporarily back!

also i literally changed tenses in the middle of writing but i was too lazy to fix it and the ending is a little rushed bc i didn't want it to get any longer than it already was, hope you enjoy!!

Carla checks her phone as she enters Guzman’s house. She’s definitely late. Too late as she notices the last text from you was sent over an hour ago when you had arrived at the party. In one hour you could have been anywhere doing anything. She hates the thought of it.

The horiffic image of you and him had been replaying in her mind all day. His hands all over your body, his lips against your skin, the way you would sound for him. It was like a constant nightmare that she couldn’t put to bed. She was hoping you could help silence her thoughts.

She headed for the kitchen to pour herself a drink, craving a light buzz. She only downed half of it when she noticed Samuel approaching her.

She turned her back toward him, hoping he would get the hint, but he quickly tapped on her shoulder. Carla obnoxiously rolled her eyes before turning around to greet him.

It was more than obvious he had developed a hearty crush on her since Marina. He always ran his hands in his hair, trying to perfect it before he went to approach her. He’d be too smiley while talking to her, and he’d take a step too close which always resulted in Carla escaping the situation as quickly as possible. She couldn't understand how Samuel never noticed her grimaces or eyerolls or the hundreds of signs she sent him to give it up. Carla hated everything about it.

But you seemed to love it. You’d always tease her about him, calling Samuel her boyfriend and pushing her to go talk to him. She was pretty sure this whole thing had even started because of you, that you had mentioned to Samuel that Carla was interested in him in the first place. You always loved a little white lie.

For some reason you just loved to be a nuisance. You loved to watch Carla squirm when you flirted with the guys. You loved watching her become so irritated and red, grinding her teeth so hard she could start a fire. You loved flustering her in the middle of class by sending her some dirty pictures, watching her eyes go wide as she quickly hid her phone in her skirt. She’d always give you the craziest look, wondering if your antics would ever end. And you loved forcing her onto Samuel, watching her struggle to get away from him just to spend another moment with you. Of course, you never let her, always ditching her with the pretty boy and leaving her wanting more.

You were such a brat. Everyone knew it. Your parents were unbelievably rich, valued much higher than the regular Las Encinas family, so you always got want you want. Of course you used that to your advantage more times than not. It became your entire reputation.

Carla was your perfect match. Everyone was always willing to give her everything she wanted, from her father to her ex-boyfriend. Everyone but you. Carla hated it sometimes, but all those other times, she loved taking what she wanted from you.

“Hi, Carla,” Samuel said with a big, dorky smile.

“Hi, Samu,” she dryly said, placing her drink on the counter. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Yeah, I just saw her out there,” Samuel said, pointing to the the door he had just entered through. “But-”

“Thanks,” she quickly said, giving him a grateful pat on the shoulder before walking past him in that direction. She paid no mind to how he called after her as she walked through the doorframe.

Her eyes scanned the large living room where most of the students had gathered to talk and drink. It was quite crowded and she almost didn’t see you. Almost.

But there you were sitting in one of those fancy leather chairs, a drink in one hand. But you weren’t alone, not even close. Carla could already feel her face burn up, her neutral expression turning completely sour.

You were sitting in Guzman’s lap so comfortably. You were perched on one of his legs, facing the side. Your own legs were over his and hanging over his lap. Your free arm was draped loosely over his shoulder, your nails digging into the soft skin of his neck. His hands were all over you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other reaching to squeeze your thigh.

Maybe Carla wasn’t the murderer but in a few seconds she thought she’d become one.

She wanted to pull all of his teeth out just to wipe away his smug smile. You leaned in toward his face as you spoke, tightening your grip on his neck, and when he laughed, Carla felt he was already gloating his victory.

She wanted to slice all his fingers off when his hand began to travel downward from your waist to palm your ass. She nearly groaned when she noticed the skirt you were wearing. She knew that one very well. She knew it was the shortest one you owned from the amount of times her hand had wandered beneath it. You were basically sitting on him with your bare ass out.

And then, for the finale, she would make sure to cut his dick off. She saw the way he adjusted in the seat, slightly moving his hips up into your body. It would have been a miracle if he didn’t have the largest hard-on known to man. But the part that really made her swell with rage was that you could feel it and you weren’t doing anything about it. You were sitting on his dick like you were his girl. She hated to think about what could have happened if she hadn’t arrived at that exact time.

You raised your glass to your lips to take a long sip of expensive liquor. It was the perfect opportunity for Guzman to turn his head and find Carla standing stiffly in the doorway. He almost laughed out loud. The feeling of you sitting in his lap and her jealous glare was so triumphant. His smile doubled in size and doubled in arrogance.

Her eyes narrowed at him, a silent promise that he wouldn’t get the last laugh. If Carla’s blood was boiling before, it was on fire now.

But then, noticing Guzman’s attention had been stolen, you turned as well, instantly finding Carla’s eyes. You could feel her wrath even from across the room and you only fed off it. You were drunk off the feeling of power knowing you had La Marquesa tucked snuggly in your back pocket. It felt so good that you couldn’t help yourself.

Instead of being a simple tease like usual, you gave her a ladylike wave. And then you sent her a polite, friendly smile. It was innocent to the naked eye.

But friendly? She couldn’t bear you. You looked so fake and well-mannered. Two things you definitely weren’t. Especially when you were alone with her.

Carla couldn’t stand you acting like she was just one of your bitchy friends, like there was nothing more between you. No, she was everything for you. She owned you in every which way and she was determined for not only Guzman to see, but for you to accept it as well.

You and Guzman both directed your attention back onto one another although you were very aware of a seething Carla charging toward you. But only when she was at arms length did Guzman see her. He didn’t have enough time to react before she reached out and violently grabbed you by the arm.

“What the fuck, Carla?” Guzman shouted, outrage painting his face.

She was squeezing so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming, but you refused to go without a fight. You tugged your arm back and gave her a condescending glare.

She was done with your bullshit. She pulled your arm, twisting it in such a way that you spilled your drink all over the white rug.

“Carla!” You scolded. Her aggression surprised you a little. She always kept it classy in public, not a hair out of place. It seemed you had pushed her over the edge this time and you were enjoying it a little too much.

Carla didn’t speak but gave you the coldest look you had ever received from her hazel eyes. She looked ready to kill and you silently wondered if you would be Las Encinas’ next victim. You didn’t really mind as long as she fucked you first.

Deciding you had been difficult enough, you allowed her to take the glass from your hand and place it on the table. With another tug of your arm you were letting go of Guzman and sliding off his lap. He protested but you didn’t acknowledge him. He had finished his duty of keeping you warm until Carla rescued you.

In a blur you were weaving through the crowd, wobbling on your heels at the pace Carla was dragging you at, and then climbing the stairs. Carla opened the first door on your right and pushed you inside. You immediately recognized it as Guzman’s room.

You stumbled into the large room from the force of Carla’s shove, eventually losing your footing and falling onto the soft carpet. On all fours, you peeked over your shoulder to see Carla slam the door behind her.

But she didn’t move toward you. She just watched you, one hand still on the door knob and the other moving to sit on her hip. Now that you were alone, the look in her eyes was a bit less violent but still intense. She looked hungrier than ever.

“God, you look so much better on your knees,” she said, her eyes shamelessly devouring you. “Looking up at me.” Her lips twitched upward, reminiscent of a smile. These were the moments she enjoyed the most.

You pushed your hands off the ground and sat back on your knees. You gathered your hair on your far shoulder, giving Carla a better view of your long neck and devilish eyes.

“But I leave you for one second and you’re out there riding his dick in front of everyone like his little slut,” Carla hissed. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth a couple times and shook her head disapprovingly, scolding you like a child.

You mocked her attempts to chastise you with a condescending laugh.

“Don’t be jealous that his dick is bigger than yours,” you said, looking over your shoulder to show your shit-eating grin.

She didn’t seem to take your comment lightly as her jaw noticeably clenched and her grip on the door knob tightened.

“I would watch what you say, princesa,” she said, tilting her head. Even if she was the Marchioness’ daughter, she had always called you royalty. The title fit you too well. “Things will only get worse for you later.”

She took a confident stride toward you, enjoying the way your smile slowly diminished. Images flashed behind your eyes of what “later” could possibly be.

The feeling in your stomach was so strange. You hated being dominated by anyone, but for some reason, when it was Carla, you felt an uncontrollable pulse between your legs. You were practically begging her to shut you up.

“I don’t care how big his dick is. I know he can’t fuck you how you like it,” she said, taking another teasingly slow step.

“That’s not what I was saying last night,” you said, that aggravating smirk returning. “Actually, it was right here, on his bed. You should have seen it, Carla. I was just begging for him to go faster, deeper.”

You imitated yourself, letting your head fall back and rolling your eyes into the back of your skull. You balled your fists at your sides, gripping onto imaginary sheets.

Carla’s next two strides were quick and put her right behind you. She dug her nails into your scalp and fisted at your hair, violently pulling your head back even further so you were looking directly up at her looming figure. You released an involuntary moan at the sudden pain, stretching your hands out behind you to brace yourself.

“I fucking warned you,” she said, her other hand cupping your chin to angle your face even further back. Your mouth slightly hung open at the sight of her. “But that mouth of yours gets you into all kinds of trouble.”

“And this mouth,” you started, voice strained by the way your neck was bending backward, “took his whole fucking dick,” you said with a sadistic smile. "Every inch."

That was the final nail in the coffin, her expression morphing into one of red hot rage

Your hand instinctively flew to the back of your head and a shriek left your lips when she pulled you up by your hair. She dragged you once more, this time to the bed, and tossed you toward it face first.

You quickly turned onto your back, leaning back on your elbows while Carla stood over you. She placed her hand on your bare midriff, the skin between your top and waistband, before she climbed onto you, straddling you with her thighs.

Both of her hands quickly moved to wrap around your throat, instantly crushing your windpipe and causing you to drop flat on your back. Her slender fingers felt comfortable there as you wheezed pathetically for air, her nails digging into the skin for good measure.

“Not so tough now, are we?” She hunched over you, ass up, as she brought her face so close to yours. She grinned like a maniac. If someone had walked in right then, they would have thought Carla was trying to kill you.

“You know he showed me all those fucking pictures you sent him,” Carla said, steadying the pressure on your neck. “The pictures meant for me. And in that fucking red set.” She scoffed at you, shaking her head. “You wanna be his cam girl? His pornstar?”

You threw your head back as your eyes began to roll into your head for real this time. Pain never felt so good as you felt yourself pooling under your skirt.

“Fine. Then I’ll treat you like it,” she said, one of her hands leaving your throat to grope your tit through your shirt. She moved her face downward, leaving a trail of warm breath against your neck, eventually finding your collar bone. She looked up at your twisted expression as she roughly bit down on your skin, earning a strangled noise from your throat. She smiled into your flesh before sucking on the spot mercilessly.

It was like torture as she made it a routine, moving her lips downward each time she bit and sucked your skin raw. You felt the blood rushing to where her teeth gnawed your skin, forming pigmented bruises. She never tired of hearing the shaky breath you released each time.

When her lips had chased your skin all the way down to the neckline of your top, she was quick to grab the hem with both hands. She pulled the top over your head with your cooperation, leaving you braless and bare beneath her. She exhaled a long, satisfied sigh.

“All for me, huh?” Her eyes shifted from your face to your chest and back up again. Still trying to catch your breath, you couldn’t give her a response. She sinfully laughed, basking in the sound of muffled music and your relentless heaving, before her lips wrapped around your nipple.

You groaned low when her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, your hands molding into the back of her thighs. Her other hand mimicked her mouth on your unattended nipple. You knew she always loved twisting, yanking, and rubbing your tits until you squealed and squirmed.

Eventually her mouth moved onto the smooth skin of your breast, marking you up yet again. You rolled your eyes, wondering where this sudden obsession had come from. She always liked to keep you clean and free of noticeable hickeys. You didn’t mind the change but you were beginning to grow impatient with the foreplay. She had given so much attention to your top half you just wished she would give something to your bottom half.

“My god, Carla, could you be any slower? At least he fucked me in the end,” you said in a raspier voice, pulling on the skin of Carla’s thighs.

Carla rolled her eyes back at you, momentarily detaching her mouth from your chest.

“So fucking loud,” she mumbled, speaking more to herself than you.

She wasted no time stripping her hand from your tit and pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth. She was content when her fingers slid in with ease and pushed down your throat. You didn’t mind sucking on her like a popsicle as she pulled them out and then pushed them a little deeper. Her lips quirked upward as she absorbed the sight before her. Each time her fingers disappeared into your head she could feel the spot between her legs heating up.

“Good girl,” she said, gently holding your cheek with her other hand. She leaned down to give your chin an appreciative kiss. “Bet he couldn’t go that deep,” she said following a particularly rough thrust. She chuckled lowly, not breaking eye contact.

She returned to your tits only for a few more seconds before pulling her head back to view the entire, perfect sight of you. The hickeys were already beginning to darken on your skin leaving you perfectly bruised and battered. That plus you bobbing on her fingers was a beautiful scene. One that had to be shared.

She pulled her hand from your mouth tantalizingly slow, allowing the saliva to create sticky strings between your lips and her fingers. She eyed them curiously, slowing her movements to prolong the strings before they broke. Then she carelessly rubbed her fingers across your chest and down the valley of your breasts, leaving a visible trail of spit in her wake.

“What a pretty slut,” she said, her eyes devouring you like a piece of meat, enjoying the slightly tired look in your eyes. She made you feel unusually small. “I wonder what Guzman would think.”

Without missing a beat, Carla reaches for her back pocket and pulls out her phone.

“Carla,” you whined like a child, turning your head to the side, and burying your cheek into the sheets. You were never camera shy but this moment of vulnerability was different. If you had known this was her intention all along then maybe you wouldn’t have let her fuck you up so badly. No one was ever meant to see you like this. No one but her.

“Come on, you didn’t have a problem sending him those pictures. What’s a few more?” she said while petting your cheek. She held the phone above you, just out of reach, where she could capture the entirety of your bare top half.

She hums in satisfaction watching your sweaty body under the lens. Your hair is cinematically sprawled across the sheets while the saliva coating your lips, chin, and chest shines under the dim lighting. Your neck is slightly red from Carla’s ironclad grip and your chest is adorned with darker shades from the excellent work of Carla’s teeth and lips.

“He’s gonna cream his pants when he sees this,” she says, sucking her lips into her mouth. She was getting a little too anxious looking at you. “Smile, cariño,” she says, her own grin decorating her face. She grabs your chin and forces you to look up at her and the camera. Your eyes are barely open but it doesn’t matter.

She snaps the picture before you can even react.

“Gorgeous,” she says, letting her free hand trail gently down your neck. She intentionally presses her fingers into a particularly sensitive spot, eliciting a groan from your lips. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Carla,” you whine once more, throwing your head back in frustration and further imprinting your nails into her thighs. You hated how much she was ruining your plans. Guzman was just meant to be a distraction while Carla was supposed to make you cum all over her fingers. Instead, Carla was slutting you out to Guzman and you were nowhere near cumming.

“Shut up. You did this to yourself,” she said, her hand gliding past your chest and scratching your stomach. “You should have never sent him those pictures.”

Both of her hands move to the waistband of your skirt while still clutching the phone. She’s harsh in the way she rips the skirt down your thighs, creating some friction between the clothing and your skin. She slightly adjusts herself and bends your knees to fully remove it, leaving you in just a pair of lace panties.

She presses her palm against your clothed pussy and only laughs in yet another mockery of your state.

“Good god, you’re just dying to be fucked dumb, huh?” she says, beginning to palm the wetness that seeped through your panties. She situates herself in between your legs, allowing you to push your knees further outward, helping to aid the aching feeling inside you. Her sly smile widens, glad to have broken your hard exterior. “Already spreading your legs? You’re too easy.”

Her fingers push your panties aside and dip into your soaking pussy. She refuses to give your clit any attention as she swipes her fingers against your slit. A throaty sigh pushes its way past your lips, your hands finding solace cupping your tits.

“D’you want me to take this off for you?” she says, tugging at the waistband of your panties.

You hum in agreement, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

“Then ask nicely,” she demands, her eyes straying from your pussy to stare at you expectantly.

You can’t help but groan irritatedly. She knows how much it hurts your ego to ask nicely for anything, let alone this. She thrives off making you feel the worst before making you feel your best. You push away your pride in hopes of feeling that sweet release.

“Please, Carla,” you plead rather dully, breaking eye contact in a forced attempt to get what you want.

“I think you can do better. Look at me and tell me what you want,” she says, leaning her face down toward yours, forcing you to meet her eyes. She brushes her thumb against your clit for some encouragement. It seems to work as you let go of any last bit of dignity and look straight into her.

“Please, Carla, just fuck me. Take it off and fuck me with your fingers.”

The hidden desperation in your voice clicks something into place. You swear you see her eyes light up as she instantly obeys, removing your panties in a flash, leaving you completely naked beneath her. She moans loudly at the sight of your bare pussy, pushing her hair back so she has the perfect view. You spread your legs a little further, enticing her to reach out and feel you.

She does, now pressing her thumb roughly into your clit, and reveling in the starved noise you make. She watches the muscles in your face tense as she rubs consistent circles against your clit, enjoying each element of your expression. All the sucking and biting and teasing had already made you a swollen, soaked mess. It only made toying with you even more fun.

Carla gradually sped up her slow movements, earning increasingly louder squelches from your pussy and increasingly louder moans from your wet lips. She could feel her own panties dampening from your distraught noises.

“You even sound like a pornstar. Fucking whore,” she says, as your hips slightly buck up in pleasure. “You want me inside of you?”

“Please, please, Carla,” you beg, every sign of the brat you once embodied having faded into oblivion the second she laid fingers on your pussy. “Fuck, I need you inside of me so bad,” you say in one breath, practically moaning your words.

“Fine,” she says, slowing the rotations on your clit. You watch her rub your pussy with one hand and hold the phone above you with the other. She points it directly at your entrance. “Be a good girl for the camera, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for your response as she slowly begins pushing her finger into your hole. You can only assume she’s recording as your back arches off the mattress, feeling her slender finger dig so deep inside of you. The pleasure is almost instant when your pussy consumes her entire finger and you release a guttural moan.

“You say he fucked you but you’re still so god damn tight,” she says, her eyes darting between your pussy and the phone screen, making sure she’s capturing the perfect angle. Her exaggerated laugh rubs salt in Guzman’s wound. “Hold your legs up, baby. I want to see all of you,” she says. You immediately obey, grabbing under both your thighs and pulling your knees up to your chest. “That’s better.”

Another moan leaves your lips, feeling the stretch more intensely with your legs spread even wider. She takes it as a sign to pull her finger halfway out and then push it back in, slightly deeper. She does it agonizingly slow, building a steady wave of pleasure. She repeats herself, once, twice, three times, pushing in and out of you at a deliberate pace, leaving you a whining mess. You lose count as you grow impatient, wishing she’d thrust into you like a mad man as she had done many times before.

“Please, Carla, faster,” you beg, opening your eyes to look down at her. She moves the camera up your body, capturing your raised legs, bouncy tits, and blissed out expression.

“Sorry, what was that?” she teases, smirking behind the phone, forcing you to be louder for the video. Her attempts to soothe you with her thumb on your clit are futile.

“Faster, fuck me faster, please,” you whine, throwing your head back, hopefully out of view of the camera.

She doesn’t necessarily oblige but she does add a second finger when she pushes into your pussy again. You moan louder at the slight stretch, your insides twisting into a tight knot. She curls her fingers delightfully at the end of the thrust, only making the feeling even stronger.

She puts the camera directly over your face.

“Open your eyes, cariño,” she says. You listen, looking up at the camera, hoping she’ll reward you for following her command. “Who’s fucking you so good?”

When you don’t respond immediately, she prompts you by driving into you a little harder.

“You,” you instantly moan out, your hips chasing her hand. You fight the urge to shut your eyes

“Who?”

“You, Carla,” you moan when she curls her fingers sharply, staring into the lens. When you notice her pick up speed with her thrusts, you begin repeating her name like a prayer, hoping it’s the key word.

“Who makes you feel good inside?”

“Who makes you squirt all over the sheets?”

“Who do you belong to?”

The answer is always “Carla.”

She’s still not fucking you nearly hard enough but it’s faster than how she started. You feel your pussy throb and her fingers hit the right spot each time. Your tits are slightly shaking as she increases speed while your spine forms a permanent arch. You allow yourself to be as loud as possible in hopes of pleasing her, in hopes that she’ll let you cum. All the while she captures each godly move of your body and her fingers.

But eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, she ends the video. She throws her phone across the room and smiles down at you.

“The only thing that will be as good as fucking you is seeing his face when he opens this video,” she says, her hands leaving your pussy to cup your face. She leans down and attacks your lips with a devastatingly smooth and wet kiss, her starved lips moving intensely against yours You can barely reciprocate with the delicate state that you're in.

You almost start to complain about the emptiness of your pussy, but she suddenly ducks down, hooking her arms under your thighs and burying her face between your legs.

“If I were you, I’d start praying. Pray to God that I’ll let you cum.”

why am i lowkey feeling guzman and carla threesome??

@hauntedfictionland @mjl877 @underratedax @androgynouscloudenemy @justyourwritter69 @blondetxxz @nessyishere

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wildemaven · 1 year

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Three

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 3605

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; swearing, mentioning of drugs, abandonment, arguing, food and alcohol, angst, feelings, mention of recovery/rehabilitating, absent parents, nail picking, Diem having to be a mother hen, one line from ‘The Bubble’— I think that’s it, as usual please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything.

A/N: This chapter totally became something I didn’t intend on, but in a good way. There’s a lot of feelings from everyone being thrown around and some hurt, but I think it was needed to be able to move forward— especially from that initial awareness in the kitchen. I’m excited to now get everyone in a somewhat good place with each other, so they can quit being knuckleheads. Thanks so much for all the love on the first two chapters, I am so excited to share more! Big thanks again to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me— she’s been my wingwoman through this and I so appreciate her time and thoughts with each chapter!

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

This is literally one of those worst case scenario situations, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever come back from it.

You feel sick, the pit in your stomach heavy with regret. A destructive aftershock hits your chest, rolling tremors of guilt crashing through every inch of you.

“Dieter, I— I’m s-so sorry.” Your voice cracks as you force yourself to break the agonizing silence.

“Sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

You’re not even sure which one is a better option, either way it doesn’t resolve the hurt you’ve caused him.

His eyes lack that sparkle you saw earlier in the day, dimple no longer visible—his expression now reserved and opaque.

“I-I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that— I.”

“Oh, so you meant it then?”

“No, I-“

“Like when we first met, a year ago. What was it you said? Ah, I think it was something to the effect of ‘a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag’. The memory is a bit hazy, but those words stuck with me this whole time, just didn’t have a face to put with them until now.”

“Dieter, I’m so—“

“Yeah, sorry. You mentioned that.”

Tears well up in your eyes, stinging as they threaten to burn trails of remorse down your face. You blink them away, keeping them at bay for the now. Right now is not their time, it’s not your moment to center yourself in misery— this catastrophe of a situation is at the fault of your own actions.

The click of the front door grabs your attention— Diem’s home.

Both you and Dieter are still standing in the kitchen, eyes locked onto each other, neither making the first move as you wait for Diem’s arrival into this botched run in.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, Wren’s appointment ran later than expected.” Diem’s arms full with take out boxes, completely oblivious to the gloom looming around in her kitchen. “Oh shit! I forgot we were getting together tonight.”

“Mama said a bad word!” Wren already settling herself on a barstool at the counter.

“Sorry, baby. I should have text you! Wren had a doctors appointment and her booster was in Dieter’s car from this morning— it was a hot fuc— hot mess! But I’m glad you are getting to know each other without me!”

So much is happening around you, your body frozen as you watch Diem arrange the white foam containers about on the kitchen island, a small hand grabbing at the mound of salty rosemary seasoned fries. Dieter settling back against the nearest counter watching as his sister moves about with ease, something he hasn’t been witness to in a while.

“I grabbed tacos from The Nest downtown. Since I screwed up our night, stay and eat with us.” She says to you as she’s putting plates and silverware out.

“It’s okay, I can go. I don’t want to intrude on your time together.” Your throat dry, pulse racing, you need to leave immediately.

“Oh stop! You’re not intruding on us, I insist— the more the merrier, right Dieter.”

His name slices through you like a jagged knife, each syllable a tiny knick, the slow drag of its blade adding to your own downfall.

“As long as she’s comfortable with it, the more the merrier.” His gaze bores intensely at you, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Yeah— okay.” Your own words betraying you.

“Perfect! I was hoping for all of us to have dinner together at some point anyways— no better time than now I guess. Everyone grab a plate and we can sit at the table. Wren, go wash your hands baby.”

“‘Kay, mama!”

“I also played on the swings— I showed my friends that trick Uncle Dude taught me!”

“What trick?!” Diem, unaware of any ‘swing tricks’, glances at Dieter with furrowed brows in a panic at the thought of Wren sharing something dangerous with her friends— he seems to be equally confused, shrugging as he waits for Wren to explain further.

“I swing as higher and higher as I can, then jump so I can fly!” Her little arms stretched out in a flying motion and she continues to munch away at her fries.

“Oh! Well, let’s save that for when we’re together and not at school where we can get hurt if we fly too high.”

“Okay mama!”

You’ve barely touched the tacos in front of you, let alone heard much of the conversations being shared around the table. Your brain is so busy running through a list of excuses to leave, you don’t hear your name being called.

“Hmm?” Refocusing back to the present moment.

“I asked how things have been at school? We didn’t get our usual catch-up chat at drop off this morning since Dieter took Wren.”

“Oh— good! Things are g-good!” You force a fake and hopefully believable smile, keeping your response minimal and to the point.

“Have you made any progress on your upcoming art exhibition at the gallery?”

“Umm, yeah— I mean kind of. Still trying to nail down a theme right now. Then paint everything before it’s time to prep for the install. Just haven’t found any inspiration just yet, typical artist procrastination.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out and get it all done in time.” Diem ever the optimist. “And, if you need any ideas, Dieter is well knowledgeable in the field, I already told you he’s an artist. I’m sure he can help you with any questions you might have. Right, Dieter?”

“Yeah— sure.” His response is flat, not even making an attempt to look up from his plate.

“Thanks.” I think.

“You okay? You’ve barely eaten.” Diem’s motherly concern not reserved to only Wren tonight.

“Yeah— sorry, I’m good. Just been a long day, some— umm, things kind of came out of nowhere. A lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Hmmph.” Dieter lets out a brief huff of annoyance at your response as he settles back into his chair, pursed lips and arms crossed on his chest— he wants this to be over just as much as you do.

“What was that Dieter?”

“Mama, I’m full.” Wren’s sweet little voice breaks through the awkward tension that made itself comfortable at the table for the evening.

“Wren, you barely ate your tacos— how can you be full?”

“I’m full of French fries mama! May I be excused?”

“Sure. Go wash up and brush your teeth. Then you can play for a bit before bath time.”

Wren doesn’t even wait for the end of Diem’s directions before she’s launching her body out of her chair and heading for the bathroom. Maybe you could borrow a page from her book, you’d rather be full of fries instead of the uneasiness that has settled in your gut.

Diem lets out a heavy sigh, face resting in her hands as her elbows support her on the table. “I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s testing me.”

“She’s a kid, it’s her job to keep you on your toes and not eat anything you want her to.” Dieter reaches over and gives Diem’s arm a light squeeze.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Sneaking a glance towards Dieter as you agree with him, there’s a quick flick of his eyes over to you then back to Diem. “It’s developmentally on track for her to be picky or hate something she once enjoyed. It’s nothing you’re doing wrong at all. And if it makes you feel better, she ate all her lunch today— said she loves when you make those special circle cut sandwiches.”

You catch the momentary smile on her face, hoping your words were enough to give her some relief. While you don’t know the weight that comes with being a parent, it’s your job to know the ins and outs of kid’s behaviors and how they react to a multitude of situations.

“Thank you. I’m so grateful— for both of you. This summer is going to be busy, but knowing I have the two of you in my life it seems less stressful. Speaking of which, I’m doing a re-grand opening for the Capri soon, it’s really a glorified pool party— music, drinks, hot guys, and a sweet little girl who might need some looking after while I make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.” You agree immediately, you love helping Diem whenever she needs it.

“Yeah. I already told you, any way I can help with Birdie, I’m there.”

Even with the prospect of being around Dieter regularly, you would rather see your friend happy and endure the already strained relationship you and Dieter have.

It seems like the awkwardness has dissipated and you’re hoping to ease into a peaceful parting for the evening.

“You both are the best! Gosh, to think it was roughly a year ago you were screaming at Dieter—“

So much for the peaceful part.

You see Dieter’s shoulders tense as Diem starts to recount the incident you’ve already re-lived earlier this evening.

“Diem, no—“ Your attempt to get her to stop talking goes unheeded.

“Calling him a washed up actor, or whatever it was you said—“

“Diem, please don’t—“ Your heart-rate quickening, if you didn’t already feel like shit from your foot-in-mouth event earlier, you definitely do now.

Dieter’s jaw ticking to the side, as Diem continues the retelling of the story.

“And then you tried to convince me to not have him stay with me— to think we wouldn’t be able to hang out like this if that were the case!”

There’s that proverbial bomb you were waiting to explode, a nuclear wave that was bound to destroy everything in its path.

“You what?! You told my sister to not allow me here?”

“Dieter, I just— I thought you were the type of guy who—“ The tears have made their way back, this time there’s nothing you can do to stop them from falling.

“What type is that? The annoying movie star whose ego has to be stroked on the regular so he can continue playing the role of ‘look how glamorous I am’? Or is it the washed up-deadbeat-douchebag type that you think so little of?”

“I’m sorry…” Your lungs are filled with the weight of his words, drowning in the thick air of your own words being thrown back at you.

“Listen— I'm sorry. I'm trying to care, but it's hard— Fuck! I need some goddamn air!”

“Dieter?!”

Dieter stands hastily, his chair scooting back with the force of his movements, not saying another word as he makes his way out the back door.

There’s a beat of silence, save for the occasional sound of Wren playing as she was told to do.

“Okay, what the fuck just happened?!” Diem looking back in the direction of where he had gone, then back to you.

“I fucked up Diem— I-I fucked up really bad.”

“What do you mean you fucked up? What did you do?”

Diem looking at you with desperation, eyes pleading to clue her in on the reason for Dieter’s agitation.

You let out a heavy sigh before you begin to recount the events that had unfolded between you and Dieter.

“I was heading over for our usual weekly get together, saw your car in the driveway and figured it was just you home— “ You can’t bear to look at Diem, your nervous tick of picking at your nails keeping your focus. “I let myself in, like I always do— started talking about Dieter and how I thought he was attractive and healthy looking— But then I just kept going and started talking about what I said when I found him in the bathroom at Wren’s party— I thought I was talking to you, until I realized it wasn’t you, it was Dieter.”

Your gaze slowly lifts to meet Diem’s, her expression solemn as she takes in everything you’ve shared.

“I’m so sorry, Diem. I know we chat and share things openly with each other, but I didn’t— I didn’t mean for him to ever hear that.”

She takes a deep breath. You don’t get the sense that she’s upset, she’s always been able to keep herself pretty calm even when she’s angry.

“Look, Dieter will get over it— It might take a minute, but I promise it will blow over in time. But you gotta stop with your constant need to prejudge and criticize people based on their past. Was your first impression of Dieter the greatest? No, it wasn’t ideal— but you can’t keep bashing him forever. He’s put in the work, you’ve got to give him a chance to at least prove it.”

She’s right. Hearing her call you out on your flaws stings more than you thought, but you know she’s right and you accept her unyielding words.

“You’re my best friend, and I’ve already told you how much I appreciate your loyalty— but he’s also my brother and I can’t just assume he’s going to fail without reason. I’m going to support him and love him through this next chapter of his life, until he shows me otherwise.”

You wipe the last few tears that have started to dry, nodding in agreement.

“I mean— I love you, but you gotta quit doing this shit. I know your past has hurt you in so many ways, but you got to stop it from letting you move forward with the life you’re living now.”

“Yeah, you’re right— I’ve got to make peace with things. I’m sorry, for how I acted and for the way things went tonight. I’ll make a better effort moving forward.”

“It’s okay. I mean it’s not, but it is. Come on.” She stands and motions for you to follow her, grabbing your things, you both make your way to the front door. “I think we need to let things settle a bit, give everyone time to cool off. Go home, take a bath, relax— don’t let it eat you up though. I’ll talk to Dieter, smooth things over with him.”

“Mama!! I need you!” Wren’s timing always seems to be right on point.

“That’s my cue— mom mode engaged! I love you! We’ll chat more soon.”

“I love you too.” She pulls you into a tight embrace, it feels like a warm blanket of love. You hug her back, hoping she can feel just how much you love her too.

“Mama!”

“Coming! Night!”

“Night Diem!”

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting, letting the irritation of the evening quiet down, enjoying the chilly air on the back patio.

The moon starts to crest the evening sky and the stars slowly appear, blinking from their respective peaks.

The sound of the sliding door opening catches Dieter’s attention from where he’s sitting at the outdoor dining table.

“Hey, you okay?” Diem placing a glass of ice water for him on the table, then taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Although, a heads up that you and Wren’s teacher were besties would have been nice.”

“If I’d known you’d both be at each other's throats after your first meeting, I would have.”

He doesn’t really know what any warning would have done, but he wasn’t expecting to be front row to a vent session he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Her and I talked— I let her know that what she said was not the nicest way of expressing her opinion—“

“Ya think?!”

“Dieter let me finish. I told her she can’t let her past dictate her life or how she meets certain people.”

“Certain people? You mean people like me, you can say it— a former drug addicted, an actor. What kind of history is so bad that she’s put off by the idea of you letting your own brother live with you?”

“It’s not my place to share that with you. If and when she does decide to, that’s her choice.”

“But it was her place to talk freely about me with you? I’m assuming regularly too, being that you two have these little gossip nights every week.”

“That’s not fair, Dieter.”

“How so?”

“Look, I already told her that she was out of line with her comments. She needs to give you a chance and I’m going to ask you to do the same for her.”

He can feel his frustration bubbling up in his chest.

“Fuck that! If she’s allowed to voice her opinion about me not coming around, then I’m going to have to do the same— I don’t want her here while I’m staying with you.”

“Well, that’s not an option Dieter, so you can just forget that!”

“Why? Because her friendship is more important than your own brother?”

“First of all, I never said that. Secondly, she’s all I had for a long time— she was here when I needed someone to talk to late at night when I couldn’t sleep, helped me with Wren when I needed it. She stepped up when I didn’t even ask her to.”

He hears the tremble in Diem’s voice, her usual level headed tone shifting towards anger the more she talks.

“You could have just called and said you needed help, I would have been here.” The moment it leaves his mouth he knows how ridiculous it sounds, and knows whatever Diem is about to unleash on him is more than justified.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! Called you? When could I have called you for your help?? Hmm?? When you were across the country shooting your big time movies for months on end?? How about when you and what’s his face were off gallivanting across Europe for a year? I should have called you then, right? Oh! I know— I should have called you every time you were strung out from doing fuck knows how many lines of Coke or whatever drug of the week it was.”

He feels gutted, every bit of him fileted open as Diem pours salt into every crevice of his undeserving body.

This is all part of it though— the healing process. While there is bound to be plenty of excitement and joy around his recovery, there is an equal amount of uncertainty and ugliness that comes along with it. Raw, heavy emotions and animosity all have just as much of a place as the elated ones.

“I didn’t have mom and dad— and I didn’t have you either.” She uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her tears as she brings her feet up onto the edge of the chair, arms pulling her legs close to her chest as she rests her head on her knees.

“Diem, I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I wasn’t available and I’m sorry for not being the brother you needed.”

Reaching over he grabs the arm of her chair pulling it closer to his own, the metal of the legs scraping against the ground.

He leans against Diem, head resting on hers

as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m not asking you to be best friends, just to give her a chance, for me. Heck, you can even fake that you like her if you want to.” He laughs, but knows an actual effort is what Diem deserves. “I need you both more than you know. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me, Dieter?”

Her body shifts a bit, he leans back to allow her to bring her arm out from where it was tucked away.

It’s as if they were transported back to their childhood, her pinky awaiting his to fully seal the agreement.

“Promise.”

The rest of your evening went as Diem suggested— a warm bath with your favorite bath bomb and a small glass of wine to help relax even more.

You hated how much you were the cause of the evening’s chaos, replaying every word of it on your walk home, as you soaked and now as you situate yourself in bed.

The only remedy for your lackluster mood was a phone call away. Grabbing for your cellphone and scrolling through the recent call log until your thumb finds the contact you’re seeking.

It’s ringing, the silence between each ring feels like minutes, but by the fifth ring you can hear the click of the call being accepted.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, it’s me.”

“Well hello there, this is a surprise!”

The way her voice is always soothing and warm, it feels as if she’s snuggled in bed next to you.

“Sorry it’s so late, I just— needed to hear your voice.”

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” Her motherly senses already firing off.

“How did you move on?”

“What do you mean?”

“With how dad was, is— how did you move on and feel okay to trust again?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question.”

Propping a few of your pillows behind you, nestling into them as you prepare to listen to what she has to say.

“Time was a big factor. You were my main focus too. But eventually I had to realize that I can’t automatically assume that every guy I meet is going to be like your father, unless they show me otherwise. Once I figured that out, the fear of being let down was no longer keeping me from moving on. I hope that answers your question.”

“It does. Thank you mom.”

“So, who’s the guy?”

“I-I didn’t mention any guy.”

“You didn’t have to. But, he must be worth it though if you’re humble enough to seek out the opinion of your little ole mother.”

“Yeah— we’ll see.”

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

Text

Maybe We'll Be Happy

Summary: You're a private in the Imperial Army - less than a private, really - and you're stationed on the same place as Crosshair. You start off as strangers, and then grow to more. But when you hear that the Clones are being decommissioned, you decide that something has to change.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!reader

Word Count: 985

Warnings: The Imperial Army Sucks

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I started writing this on my phone, and it was supposed to be a short little thing, but it got longer, so I'm sorry.

When the Republic Fell and the Empire rose, you were a recent enlistee in the GAR. So low ranking that the only people who knew your name were the ones directly responsible for you.

And when the GAR became the Imperial Army, nothing changed. You still had to do drills and PT and attend lessons to learn your career.

But the Imperial Army was nothing like the GAR. Promotions were no longer based on merit so much as how much ass kissing you were willing to do.

And so you, an honest person whose sense of honor would have worked well in the GAR, get passed over time and time and time again.

At this point, you're barely a private. If there was a rank lower than private then that's the one you would have. You're stuck with the most thankless jobs, and get minimal pay.

And you hate it. You hate the Imperial Army. You hate your commanding officers. You hate the Emperor.

On the other hand, your low rank and the fact that you're generally unimportant to the Imperial Army as a whole, means that no one notices when you slack off.

And it was while you were slacking off that you met Crosshair.

Tall and slender and with very pretty silver hair, you honestly didn't peg him for a clone until he turned to look at you.

That first time you met, he didn't say anything to you. But he also didn't rat you out to your CO when he came looking for you, so you mentally slotted him in the “friend” pile in your brain and carried on.

After that day you saw him everytime you slacked off. Sometimes he would just look at you with a raised brow, and other times he would ignore you. And though you didn't know his name, you enjoyed his quiet.

Quiet meant that no one was scolding you for not doing your job…or not sucking up as some old guy who thinks he's important.

And then, one day, he started talking to you. It surprised you so much that you nearly fell over, but you eagerly latched on to the offer of friendship, though that's probably not what he intended at the time.

And, as time went on, and you learned more about him, the more you liked him. And you think he liked you just as much, after all he never pushed you away when you leaned against him or traced the plates of his armor.

And then, late one evening, when you were skipping your late night shift, he kissed you. It was hard and rough and needy…and it was exactly what you both needed.

That was three months ago, and the last three months have been a dream come true for you. Every day you get an hour or more just to be with Crosshair, and sure most of the time the chats devolve into heated make-out sessions, but you're totally fine with it. You even instigate it sometimes.

But as of now, you're concerned.

No, you're afraid. For Crosshair.

You've heard the rumors, about how Clones are being experimented on, or just killed, to make room for the Imperial Stormtroopers, and you're terrified.

You don't want Crosshair to die. Or disappear.

So here you are, late one evening, pacing in your normal hidey-hole, trying to come up with a way to convince Crosshair to run away with you.

So far you're not having any luck.

“Kitten? What's wrong?” You jump when you hear his voice coming from the otherside of the room, and while you try to smile reassuringly, your smile just drops.

Concern flickers across his face, “Did someone hurt you? I saw you were playing nice with Admiral whatshisface.” Crosshair continues as he walks over to you and sets his hands on your shoulders.

“I'm fine. I mean, he said some pretty nasty things to me about ways I could get promoted,” You make a face at the memory, “but he didn't touch me.”

Crosshair scowls, able to guess what kind of things the Admiral said to you, but he drops it, “So what's wrong?”

Nervously, you twist the hem of your dark gray uniform. “Cross-”

His grip tightens, “Talk to me, Kitten. What’s wrong?”

“They’re decommissioning all of the Clones.” You say quickly, and Crosshair falters, “And you-”

A muscle works in his jaw, “I suppose I knew this was going to happen eventually.” His grip is so tight that it’s almost painful, “So what’s this then, you saying goodbye?”

“No!” You yelp, “No. I…I was trying to think of a way to save you-” You admit.

His grip loosens slightly, and he gently rubs your shoulder as a silent apology, “Okay, so what have you come up with?”

“Uh…steal an escape pod and hope we don’t get shot out of the sky?”

“That’s a terrible idea, kitten.”

“I know, I know. I’m just…panicking a little.”

Crosshair pauses, “Wait, we?”

“Well, yes. I thought I’d go with you…unless you’d rather I didn’t?” You ask, your eyes wide.

“I’m not going to say no,” Crosshair replies, as he gently caresses your cheek, “It’s a hard life you’re signing up for, Kitten. We’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”

“If you’re trying to talk me out of it, it’s not going to work.” You say stubbornly.

He chuckles, and kisses you quickly, “You love me so much it makes you stupid.” There’s no heat in his words though, just soft affection.

“I know,”

Crosshair presses his forehead against yours, his dark gaze locked with yours, “I think I have an idea.” He murmurs, “Can you get to the hanger?”

You nod.

“Good.” He kisses you one more time, “Get to the hanger, and wait for me there.”

“Cross-”

“It’s going to be okay, Kitten. Nothing is going to happen.” And you can’t help but to believe him.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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masejpg · 3 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 - 𝐑𝐋𝐂

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚..

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, just pure fluff

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: my first, and hopefully not last, fic is here. i have been working on this for a few months now and finally got the inspo to finish it today. feedback is always appreciated ♡

just wanna say thank you to @yungbludz for being the most supportive and amazing friend, i love you so much ♡

You and Ruben had been friends for as long as you could remember, but it wasn't until your late teens that you became very close. you spent almost everyday together, you would even go with him to away games, and when you couldn't you would always facetime or text. he was always there for you whenever you needed it.

So when you were told that your new apartment had some minor issues that needed to be fixed before you could move in you panicked. You didn't know what to do and you knew there was no chance of you staying in your current apartment until the new one was fixed. With so much going on in your head you didn't hear the doorbell ring, it wasn't until you saw 5 messages and 2 missed calls on your phone from Ruben that you realised that he had been standing out in the cold for almost 10 minutes ringing the doorbell. You put on your soft cardigan and hurried downstairs, opening the door for him and letting him in.

”I am so sorry rubes, I didn't hear it.” you said as you quickly turned around and started to walk away from him, Hoping he hadn't noticed that something was bothering you but he did. He always did. You felt his hand on your wrist and with a firm grip he turned you around, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Your favorite place to be, the only place where you felt safe and you wished you could stay like this forever but that was impossible so you just stood there daydreaming.

It wasn't until you felt two of his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up, that you noticed he had removed his right arm from your shoulder.

As Ruben tilted your chin up, you found yourself lost in his deep, comforting gaze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you were caught in the intensity of his eyes. You could feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ruben's voice broke through your reverie, concern lacing his words.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts as you realized you'd been staring at him for longer than you intended. "Oh, it's nothing, just... the apartment stuff," you mumbled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Ruben's brows furrowed in understanding, and he squeezed your shoulder gently. "Don't worry about it, we'll figure it out together, okay?"

His reassurance was like a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your worries. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Rubes. I don't know what I'd do without you."

His smile in return was like sunshine breaking through the clouds, lighting up the room and warming your heart. "You'll never have to find out," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it stole your breath away.

In that moment, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you, begging to be released. You felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach, the realization dawning on you with startling clarity.

You were in love with your best friend.

But the fear of ruining what you had kept the words trapped behind the barrier of your lips, suffocating you with its silent agony. How could you risk everything for the chance of something more?

Yet as you stood there, caught in the warmth of Ruben's embrace, you couldn't ignore the undeniable truth that pulsed through your veins like a heartbeat.

You had to tell him.

Taking a deep breath, you met his gaze with determination, steeling yourself for the leap of faith you were about to take. "Ruben, there's something I need to tell you..."

Before you could muster the courage to voice the words trembling on the tip of your tongue, Ruben's expression softened, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions you couldn't quite decipher. And then, in a move that caught you completely off guard, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as anticipation crackled in the air between you, thick with unspoken desires and uncharted territory.

And then, in the next heartbeat, his lips met yours in a tender, electrifying kiss that stole your breath away. It was as if the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting.

For a moment, you were lost in the sweet ecstasy of his touch, the taste of him like a balm to your soul. Every nerve in your body tingled with newfound sensations, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

But as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. Ruben pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of uncertainty and longing.

"I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't have done that," he murmured, his voice laced with regret.

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of unspoken confessions still lingering between you like an unspoken truth. But then, something inside you stirred with a newfound resolve, urging you to cast aside your fears and seize the moment before it slipped away.

"No, Ruben, don't be sorry," you whispered, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. "Because... I love you."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid prayers. And then, in the silence that followed, something shifted, a spark igniting in Ruben's eyes as he met your gaze with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

"You... you love me?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as tears of relief pricked at the corners of your eyes. "Yes, Ruben. I love you."

And then, without another word, he pulled you into his arms once more, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, as the weight of unspoken fears and uncharted desires melted away, you knew that you had finally found where you belonged.

In each other's arms, where love had been waiting for you all along.

#.⋆ 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐮𝐬-𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟.#ruben loftus cheek x reader #ruben loftus cheek fluff #ruben loftus cheek imagine #ruben loftus cheek imagines #ruben loftus cheek #football imagine #football fanfic #ruben loftus cheek fanfic #ruben loftus cheek one shot #ruben loftus cheek drabble #footballer imagine #footballer fanfic #footballer one shot

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i-politely-disagree · 2 months

Text

Sprace- Don't forget it

Canon era

(I dont like this one too much)

Race didn’t know where he stood with Spot. If being everything to someone only when their door locked was a recognised relationship status then he would be slightly more fine, almost passing as stable. Spot barely ever raised an eyebrow or even looked at him in public. He would never do anything more than vague eye contact inside the Brooklyn lodging house on the rare occasion Race had an excuse to stay. But as soon his bedroom door clicked shut and his not-quite-lover climbed through his window from the fire escape, Spot became the man Race had fallen into… something with.

Maybe love, maybe disaster, maybe both.

Race couldn't exactly tell. All he could tell was that he was going to have to get his papers in Brooklyn tomorrow because it was way too late to walk three or so hours just to come back again. Plus, Manhattan meant organizing a bunch of small kids who shouldn’t be on the streets and Race would’ve far preferred tired kisses and warm embraces, even if he had to forget about them the minute he walked out of Spot's room.

Everything was going to plan. That is until Race tried to get sleep. The room was painfully still but his mind became a tempest of whirling thoughts, images and words he didn’t even know he knew and he couldn't take lying around in silence any longer.

“What is it?” Spot groaned, half opening his eyes as he felt the boy next to him sit up

“Go back to sleep… Spot.” Race’s fingers carded through Spot's hair as he whispered, “I can’t imagine calling you one of those sappy pet names. Sorry.”

He laughed softly because it was true. He didn’t see Spot in any other name but his own. It was weird to be ignored by someone and then call them ‘Honey’ almost every other night. Maybe one day when they were comfortable and legal in whatever they had. Race thought about it a lot; being able to hold hands in public, go on proper dates, talk about each other openly or have even the possibility of a future. But for now, it was a waiting game.

They stayed in silence for a bit until Spot spoke

“You can call me anything. As soon as I walk out that door, neither of us is allowed to remember.”

He wanted to remember but he also knew he couldn’t. He was so full of emotions surrounding Race that he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he only faced them part-time. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but any commitment felt like an enticing trap.

“Nicknames are kind of weird though,” Race began. Spot sighed, watching him speak, too tired to be annoyed.

“Think about it. The term ‘baby’? Isn't it weird to just call your lover a child?”

“Race go t-”

“And sweetheart? Low-key cannibal-like.”

They sat with a slightly disturbed air between them. Spot showing a rare, exasperated smile in the dark

“Sweetheart, It’s gonna get cannibal-like if you don't go the fuck to sleep.”

It was gonna take a drug far more sedating than slight affection to get Race to rest but, he lay down. Spot’s eyes were a deep, stark contrast to the rest of his face at this time of night, Race noticed. His gaze lingered longer than he intended, just now processing what people meant when they said ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’, even in the dark, lost in the strangely intimate act of staring.

“You called me sweetheart.” Race said it as almost an accusation, more accusing himself for not picking that up sooner

“That I did,” Spot laughed “And that’s yours to forget.”

Race scoffed, “Yeah, don't remember I love you.”

They'd never said it before. The words were too heavy for people who couldn’t even touch when a door was open.

“Racer-”

“Don't. We both know we can't keep this up.”

He's reached for Spot's hand under the thin blanket

“Can this please just be something real? I don’t mean acting like it’s legal, cause, yeah, it’s not. But no one’s gonna lock you up for admitting maybe you can stand me.”

“It’s just- It’s risky” Spot softly rubbed Race’s hand with his thumb. He laughed dryly in return, snatching his hand away,

“I pickpocket and cheat rich guys out of money on the regular. I’ve seen you steal, soak plenty of people and may I remind you we went on strike to take one of the biggest steps in ending child labor this city has seen in a while. Is that not risky?”

Watching Race turn to face away, Spot let his words sink in. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to act like he barely knew one of the most important people in his life. He knew he could easily fake a friendship, like Jack Kelly and New Kid, but being around Race meant drowning in things he wasn’t comfortable feeling 24/7.

‘Don't remember I love you.”

That was really how he faced it. A whole relationship built on what felt like no-strings-attached hookups minus the sex. Something had to change. And Spot knew that change had to come from him.

He Breathed in.

Out.

“I’ll take that risk.”

Race almost turned as Spot’s fingers brushed over his shoulder, but stopped himself.

“You won’t forget it?”

Spot had to disregard all the ‘sense’ his mind tried to talk into him, but letting go of fear disguised as reason was the only way any of this could continue.

“Don’t forget I love you.”

#sprace #newsies #spot x race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #newsies fanfiction #newsies broadway #my fic #cringe

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loserdiaz · 11 months

Text

seven sentences sunday! 🪐

tagged by the lovelies @transbuck @transboybuckley @hippolotamus @cowboy-buddie @prince-buck-diaz @honestlydarkprincess @spotsandsocks @alyxmastershipper @wildlife4life @911onabc 💗💗

it's still sunday for me so... here's a snippet from buddie at dispatch <33

Eddie is useless, still like a doll and letting Bobby do all the work as the man carefully and delicately cleans his hands, holding them above the sink. Eddie watches as the water turns red and gray and his vision blurries with more tears. "Has Buck ever told you about the time we went to a concert together?" Eddie's gaze jumps up. "N-no?" Bobby sighs, finishing cleaning Eddie's hands and looks at him with a sad smile. "It was back when he was a probie. He once barged into my office and listened to me blast 'Backstreets' on my phone while I was filling out some incident reports." Bobby chuckles. "He didn't have a clue who I was listening to but he liked it and then he just… sat there and listened to the song with me. The next day he came into work knowing Bruce's whole life and every single song." "That sounds like Buck." Eddie nods and smiles fondly at the image forming in his brain. "So, the next weekend I took him to a Springsteen concert. And then we went to see Coldplay and it just kinda became a thing from there, you know?" "Why are you telling me this?" Eddie asks and it comes out harsher than intended. He swallows hard and shakes his head, guilty and ashamed. "Sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean—" "I'm telling you this because… I don't know, Eddie. When I went to that concert with Buck, I remember thinking 'maybe I've lost my family but I can make a new one for myself. I can choose to live and let people in." He shrugs. "Buck gave me no other choice, you know? The kid made me love him and— He's family to me. And I know he's family to you, right?" "Yeah, of course." "So that makes you my family too. And I just want you to know, you're not alone. I'm worried sick right now, just the same as you.You don't have to go through this alone, okay?" "I'm scared." "I know." Bobby sighs. "Me too. But we'll be scared together." Eddie lets out a stuttering breath and his shoulders relax, no longer feeling as heavy as they did a few minutes ago. "Thanks, Bobby."

tagging no one bc it is kinda late but if anyone wants to share something, consider this your tag! 💗

#seven sentence sunday #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #911 on abc #my writing #my wips #buddie at dispatch fic

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inkybloom-luv · 10 months

Text

Words Unsaid 11, Stay

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Alright!! Part 11 is finally here! Fluffy times ahead but first you must pass a little hurdle in this one, good luck! And also this chapter is Krennie's motivation <3

It's a bit shorter tha I would've liked but I hope everyone enjoys it! <3333

Tw: vague mention of death, ch.4 spoilers (?)

1k+ words.

Part 10 Masterpost Part 12

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It had been a few days since the fireworks festival. A few days since Jamil's oh so shocking revelation. Since he realised he was crushing on the prefect, on Inky. Honestly, he never expected to fall for anyone, which was why he was slightly at a loss when speaking to her. He just doesn't know what to say to her sometimes, and he's been spacing out during his tasks. Nothing major of course, and only luckily in moments where his body had the movements down well enough that he could do them subconsciously. Even right now when he should be sleeping he was thinking about her. He really couldn't help it. But. He had to. He was not a free man. He'd surely have to surrender her to Kalim, but surely he couldn't take her, right? Well. He could, all Kalim would have to do is say the word. And Jamil was not ready to risk that, if anything he'd want her all to himself, by that he meant no risk of having to give her up and lose her to someone else.

Jamil should sleep, he really should, it's getting rather late. How much time did he spend thinking instead of sleeping? Though if he slept now he'd probably dream of her. How they'd dance together, how he'd hold her and perhaps even kiss her, from her knuckles up to her lips only to rest his head on hers and keep her by his side. The thought alone made his heart flutter, so much so that he could no longer try to sleep. Well.. it was late and no one should be awake.. alright. He picked up his phone off the charger and took his headphones with him. He pulled a hoodie over his head, he'd leave his sweatpants on. Speaking of, wasn't that the pair he'd lent Inky a while back? She must've put it in the laundry for him.

He began walking, out of the main building through the desert, it was chilly out, but warm enough. Just warm enough that he could go without a jacket or similar. A little bit away from the building he stopped, taking in his surroundings before nodding to himself and picking a song. Jamil had to get his feelings out, so dance it was.

Unsurprisingly this became a more regular occurrence, getting more frequent the more he learned about the prefect, her love for things and her dreams. Her wishes and her quirks. When he couldn't sleep because his heart ached and longed for her love, he'd go dance, if all was quiet of course. One night however, after just arriving back in his room and getting situated a knock sounded from his door again. Who was knocking? At this hour?

With more than reluctance he opened his door, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply.

"Who wants some-", he stopped speaking mid sentence as he saw who it was. Inky. And she looked shaken.. no pun intended, as she was actually shaking. She looked at Jamil with tears in her eyes, others rolling down her cheeks. She could barely croak out a sorry for him. At least that ruled out the meltdown, but still. Jamil felt his chest tighten as he let her into his room. She sniffled and sobbed, trying her best to not cry as much.

"Inky, قیمتی, what happened? Are you in pain?" Jamil asked her, not even realising what he'd just called her, precious. He'd thank the language barrier later, he was relieved that there was nothing painful making Inky cry first, as she shook her head.

"'m sor-ry..! 's stu- stupid.." She muttered weekly, before Jamil patted her head, stepping closer and taking one of her hands for a moment.

"Nothing is stupid. Not when it has you crying. Now please, tell me what brought you to tears.." He told her as she raised her head to look at him. She sniffled, taking him in her arms instead at first and squeezing very gently, listening to his heartbeat.

"I.. I had.." She started but got interrupted by her shaking breathing. "I had a dream..! A-and- and you.. I didn't save you.. you d-died in my ar-.. arms.." Inky stuttered. Jamil's eyes widened thanks to that, putting his arms around her properly, brushing a hand in circles gently on her back. She appreciated it, that she could hold him.

"Luckily it was a dream. I'm here. And I'm alive. My heart, can you hear it?" He whispered gently, a rhetorical question. He knew she could hear it, if the harsh pounding in his chest was any indication. Still she nodded against his torso, holding onto him tighter as she felt her knees buckling. He noticed and he held her up, his one hand going down to her thigh, a silent signal for her, so that he knew he'd pick her up. She understood, luckily, as he moved her to his bed and sat her down. He moved behind her after giving her a juice pack he'd started keeping in his room. While she drank and tried to calm herself, he treaded his fingers through her curly hair. It helped massively. A little while later she finally stopped crying.

"Jamil..?" Inky said, barely whispering. She was lucky it was this quiet. "Thank you.. again.. you're a wonderful guy.."

It was quiet before Jamil spoke up. He may have nodded in acknowledgement of her previous statement but as she moved to get up his hand moved quicker than his mind could process, holding onto her shirt for a moment.

"Stay," he muttered, which caused her to look back. "Stay here.. until tomorrow.. please..?" He asked her as she simply looked at him for a moment, surprised by his boldness, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks now. But she didn't say no. In fact, after putting the joice box that she emptied on the floor temporarily, she nodded.

"Can I? Because I'd like to.."

"Yes.", he confirmed one last time, "please, stay." Because for tonight he could hold her. He could keep her close as he wished. And not have to let go til morning.

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Translation is in the story,, but! قیمتی means precious!

@krenenbaker

@az-flaming-sword

@escaaaaaanyeh

@dove-da-birb

@leonistic

@cy-inky

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thefirstlioveyou · 4 months

Note

What are your headcanons for byler

i had to think about this for a while cause i don’t typically think about hcs im so sorry 😭

tw for #4 // eating disorder, body dysmorphia

1) I do imagine mike would be obsessed with kissing will after they get together officially. like, they’re still in the closet, so they keep their relationship private, but mike will still find any way to kiss him no matter where they are. he’s held back for so long, so it only makes sense. like - at the movies with friends? mike would just kick will’s foot a little to get his attention and then asks for will to come with him to go get a refill for his popcorn.. less than 2 minutes later they’re kissing in a bathroom stall for longer than mike intended. i can also see mike getting will to be a little late to his next class just for them to make out under the bleachers. will doesn’t mind at all, he loves how obsessed mike is, plus the sneaky neck kisses.

in an alternative universe, he pulled will in the closet at rink o mania, and made out, of course, telling him how much he missed him.

2) easily jealous mike!! when he’s jealous, he gets a big attitude and says some out of pocket shit about anyone who tries to get with will or flirt with him.

3) will made some promise rings since he’s so artsy and crafty. he began making them right after they became official and surprised mike with them.

4) i do see the vision of mike having some sort of an ed or a poor relationship with food. i feel like he may face dysmorphia a lot and has a difficult time learning to feel comfortable in his body. will understands this and lets mike come to him whenever he needs to to talk about it. will always makes sure mike knows how beautiful he is to him. eventually, mike’s relationship with food gets a bit better down the line with all the support.

5) post s3/pres4, will would sob in his bedroom because of how much he missed mike and how hard it is to get a hold of him, while el easily gets his attention. he knows they’re together, it makes sense. but, will feels a sense of jealousy no matter how hard he tries to push it away. he’s known him for 9 years at that point, and el only really had that one summer with him, yet still, it’s like he’s gone. there was one time in which el heard him cry, but he lied and said he’d just miss his friends. i mean, it’s not technically lying if that is part true - but he was crying for mike specifically that one time. all he wanted was just a phone call or to at least know he wasn’t crazy for missing him this much.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #asks #tw ed

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imagintheworldaway · 1 year

Text

Assistant

A/N this is a little longer than i intended and a bit of a roller coaster but i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless.

Warnings: Nah, stressed reader a bit??

Requests: Open :)

It was mid morning and I was late as hell. I was balancing my bag, a folder full of notes, legal documents and potential lyrics as well as a bag of food and coffees whilst trying to navigate my way down the busy streets of London. I glanced at my reflection in a window as I stood and waited for the traffic to clear and cross the road. “Fuck” i whispered to myself. My clothes were already dishevelled and my hair looked like I had been head banging for the past four hours.

I finally got to the studio, sending a weary smile to the receptionists, who looked at me sympathetically before calling the lift. “Don’t worry they’ve only just got here” one of the girls shouted after me as i entered the lift. “Thank you '' I called over my shoulder, her statement doing nothing to reassure me. I waited impatiently as the lift shot up, tapping my foot, my knuckles turning white from holding the array of clutter in my arms for so long. “Here she is!” the studio manager announced to everyone, causing all eyes to fall on me. Freddie was messing around on the decks, Brian was furiously scribbling on a notepad, John was watching meticulously over Brian's shoulder muttering notes and humming tunes and Roger, well he was laying on the sofa smoking a cigarette and just observing the others.

“I am so sorry” I breathed out, throwing the folders down. I walked around the room handing out the drinks, thankfully I had the hindsight to write their initials on each one, probably the only smart thing I had done this morning. “It’s ok darling, we were just dying of thirst” Freddie quipped with a smirk as I shot him an apologetic look. “Don't mind him, he's in one of his moods” Brian whispered as I handed him his cup. I mouthed a thank you before sitting on the stool in the corner and sifting through the different sections, un-clipping different notes to have them ready for when Freddie demanded them.

I took a deep breath as I settled into the seat and everyone concentrated on whatever they were doing before I got there. “Hey Y/N can i have the notes from last Thursday?” Brian said nonchalantly, chewing on his pen with his brow furrowed. “Yh here” I smiled handing over the sheets, him instantly flicking through them as I sat back down. “You look tired” Roger whispered, lifting his head so he could look at me from his position on the sofa. “Is it that obvious?” I whispered back with a faint smile. “Yh, when you’re tired you always gaze off into space” Roger shrugged, sitting up so that he was now at my eye level. “Neighbours again?” he asked, sipping his coffee. “Yh, i know it's nice having a baby and everything, but the screaming at four in the morning is really getting old” i said tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, thankful someone would let me vent about the situation.

I loved where I lived and my life, but my new neighbours had just had a new baby, which is amazing, and she is the cutest thing ever, but this girl has mental lungs. “Sucks, this is why you need an actual house” Roger said, we had had this conversation a million times. Him asking about my neighbours, me telling him about the noise, him saying i needed to move, me explaining i could only move if his band paid me more, him laughing it off and that's the end of it.

“I’m not having this conversation again Rog” I smiled sadly, turning to distract myself with the notes. “You cannot keep living like this” he muttered, worry lacing his voice. I was about to respond until Freddie beckoned Roger. He placed a hand on my shoulder before walking over to the singer.

I watched band practice for about three hours before I started becoming irritable, as fun as it was that the room was so small and listening to the same three notes over and over again became very overwhelming. I caught Roger's gaze and he subtly nodded his head towards the door. I just smiled, grabbing my jacket and slipping out of the room and down the corridor to the fire escape. The crisp London air blew past me as i lean on the railing. I waited a minute or so before I heard the door go again. “Hey” I sighed, as I heard the click of a lighter. “You look even more miserable than this morning,” Roger commented as he sat on the steel steps and looked up at me, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I love how nice you are to me” I smirked, casting my gaze to meet him. “Hey someone has to keep you humble” he said with a goofy grin. I just rolled my eyes and chuckled to myself. “Well you’re definitely doing a good job of it” I sighed, sitting on the metal platform, leaning my back against the bars which held up the railing. “Wanna go early? I can tell the guys you're ill?” Roger suggested as I played with my hands. “Kind of counterproductive” I shrugged, biting my lip as I chipped away at my nail polish.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the only noise coming from the streets of London alongside the crackling of the cigarette every time Roger took a drag. “You know Y/N, if you need help..” Roger started to insinuate. I snapped my head up and sent him a death glare. “Rog, i love you guys, but i don't need any help, you guys are my bosses, i cater to your needs, not the other way around” i rambled on nor folding my arms across my chest. Roger just sighed as stubbed out his cigarette and threw it over the edge. “You’re so stubborn” Roger huffed, standing up, holding his hand out to me. “Once again, you're so lovely” I smirked, taking his hand as he pulled me up. I watched as Roger went to speak again. “I’m fine, I promise” I said quickly, opening the door, beckoning him to follow me.

The rest of practice went slowly. I kept catching Roger shooting worried glances over to me, which I just returned with a mundane look before looking away. It was nice that he cared. It was nice that they all cared. But they were big rock stars and I was just their little assistant in the background. It was sweet that he wanted to help but then I would be in his debt, which didn't sound too bad but the guilt would follow me every time we were in the same room.

I was jotting down some notes, mainly about some upcoming meetings so I didn't forget when I noticed the time. Shit it was 4:30, I had to go and pick up the album prints at five and it was all the way across town. I started shuffling everything together, stuffing it back in the folders before slipping my jacket on. “I have to go and pick up the album cover designs, i will see you guys tomorrow” i said hurriedly sending a quick smile and wave before hurrying out the door.

Rogers POV -

“Ok Rog, she's gone, you can stop staring” John huffed as he nudged my rips. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about '' I mumbled, not even looking at my band mate, instead casting my eyes down to the notepad in front of the two of us. “Maybe she should stop coming to practise,” John huffed, his irritation evident in his tone. I looked up at him and furrowed my brows. Why would he say that? I went to go and speak before Brian decided to join the conversation. “I think you’re right, Roger, whenever she's here you can't seem to concentrate for more than five minutes, maybe we should give her the rest of the week off, we do have a deadline to meet.” he shrugged, sitting on the stool Y/N had previously occupied. I instantly shook my head, ready to argue on her behalf. “She needs the money, you have no idea what she's going through” I huffed, crossing my arms and standing up, not wanting to be near the two men. “Oh we do, it's all you talk about” Freddie now chimed in, getting annoyed with our arguing. “Oh fuck off do i” i said my own anger bubbling now, my tone a lot harsher than i realised, looking at each of the guys. “Roger, you either talk about how good she is or what issues she's facing, and as much as i sympathise, i really do, we also have shit we need to get done” Freddie lectured me for a moment. Was it really that obvious? Did i really talk about her that much, did she ever notice this?

“Maybe just ask her out mate” Brian stated, taking me out of my thoughts. I just scoffed at this. “Maybe just ruin our friendship if she says no and then she would never want to talk to me again?” I spat back at him. There was no way she liked me, she just saw me as her boss and that was it. “Let's just finish this song” I said as the silence became unbearable. “Mate, just talk to her,” John said before I went into the booth. I just ignored him, signalling that I never wanted this conversation to happen ever again.

As I was at my stool I just thought about what the guys had said. Maybe they were right. But what if they weren’t? What if she just saw me as a friend and nothing more, I couldn't bear not seeing her everyday.

Readers POV -

I was actually on time today. I had pre packed my bag last night, the prints had come out amazing and I couldn't wait to show the boys. The coffee shop was dead, and the barista had remembered the day before's order so the coffees were quick, it was an outrageously sunny day and everything was falling in place. I was one street away from the studio when I heard my name being called. I looked over my shoulder and saw a blonde bush bound towards me. “Hey let me help you” Roger smiled at me, slinging my bag over his shoulder before I could protest. “Shit you carry this every day? Its fucking heavy” he laughed as he walked next to me towards the studio. “Yeah, it sucks, but I never know what you will need” I giggled as he opened the door for me. I mouthed a thankyou as I turned and smiled at the girls at reception.

“How come you’re so late?” I asked as we both stepped into the lift. “Nice morning i wanted to enjoy it before being cooped up in here all day” Roger shrugged as he looked down at me. “That's sweet,” I sighed, looking back at him, meeting his gaze. I felt a warmth start to bubble in my stomach, turning away quickly before he had the chance to notice the slight pink that had crept onto my cheeks. Roger cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the small room. “Sleep well then?” he said out of nowhere. “Oh yeah, i think they are away, best night i have had in so long, i feel so good” i said shyly, daring myself to look back and see that Roger had never averted his gaze. “I can tell, you look good, not that you don't always look good, but today you just look, well amazing” he stumbled over his words. The ding of the lift took us out of the moment as the doors opened and we could hear the boys down the other end of the corridor. “Best get to work” Roger sighed, stepping away first. I followed him like a lost puppy into the studio.

“Hello you two” Freddie acknowledged our presence as Roger put my bag down and I handed out the drinks. “Starting to wonder what you were getting up to” He added, causing a light blush to stain my cheeks, not daring to look back at Roger. “Oh i have the prints” i diverted the attention as i handed out the papers to the boys, which luckily caused a welcome distraction.

Today felt different. I caught myself stealing glances of the drummer, and whenever I looked he was returning the gesture. I knew it was a dangerous game I was playing, Roger was known to be a heartbreaker, but it was easy to see why the groupies loved him so much. He was attractive, funny, caring, and he listened to me and all my silly little complaints. Shit i think I fancied Roger. “Y/N” someone shouted, breaking me from my thoughts. I hummed a response and looked at the studio manager who was beckoning me.

“Are you going to go and get us lunch or not?” he said through gritted teeth. Oh god I need to really work on my time keeping skills. “Yes I'm sorry” I whispered, grabbing my spare bag and a note with everyone's orders on it. I went to press the lift when I heard footsteps behind me. “I’ll come with” Rogers unmistakable voice said, now standing next to me. “Oh no no, honestly, it's fine,” I said awkwardly, waving the little piece of paper. “Honestly I need a break” Roger shrugged stepping into the lift. I just rolled my eyes following him.

We walked in a comfortable silence all the way to the little sandwich shop I went to almost every day for the boys. Once I had placed the order I joined Roger at a table in the corner. “You really didn't have to come” I smiled sitting down opposite him. “Thought you could use the company” he said with a goofy grin making me giggle. “Also i wanted to talk to you, alone” he said, leaning his arms on the table, fidgeting with his fingers. “Oh god you’re not firing me are you?” I joked, meeting his eyes and realised he wasn't joking at all. “You’re not are you?” I whispered, a pang in my stomach causing nerves to encase me. The silence seemed to last forever. “Oh god no, sorry” Roger said suddenly, causing my nerves to subside momentarily. “Then what is it?” I asked, searching his eyes for answers. “I worry about you Y/N” he started. “Roger, I've told you we aren't having this conversation again” I said, slightly irritated. “Please let me finish” he almost asked as he reached a hand out, placing it on top of my own. I took my own shaky breath, as the simple touch made me feel nervous all over again. “I worry because I care about you Y/N” his words spun around my head as my breath hitched in my throat. “I care about you so fucking much, i want you to be so happy, and i want to be the one who makes he happy” he confessed almost sheepishly. “I don't want to be that womaniser they write about in the magazines, i want you to know that everyday, just seeing you makes me so happy, and i only want you” the confession continued. I felt the butterflies in my stomach start going off in a frenzy, i didn't know what to say, this is the most sincere and rawest i had seen the drummer ever. “Please say something” Roger asked me, his grip on my hand never faltering. I blinked myself out of the trance, praying this isn't some silly daydream, but no it was all real. “You’re so goofy” I giggled, leaning forward, making the first move and crashing my lips against his own. I could have stayed in the moment forever. His soft lips melding perfectly with mine, his spare hand cupping my cheek as I lean across the table. “Order 34” a shriek said, pulling us from our own personal bliss.

“So wanna get a drink sometime?” Roger smirked as I picked up the order. “Haha yes you idiot” I giggled as he wrapped an arm around me and we made our way back to the studio in our own personal bliss.

#roger taylor #roger queen #roger taylor imagine #Queen #queen band #roger taylor x reader

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