#Starts out strangers to friends to lovers I suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wife-of-all-dilfs · 3 months

Text

what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?"

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

3K notes · View notes

ctrlhope · 24 days

Text

Butterfly (m)

synopsis: he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

j.jungkook x f.reader

୧ ‧₊˚┊: wc: 3.6k

୧ ‧₊˚┊: genre: yandere, serial killer au, college au, dark content

୧ ‧₊˚┊: content: yandere!killer!jk, dubcon, predator / prey, manipulation, fear play, mask kink, slight sub space, slight knife play, strangers to lovers, “public” sex, drug use (alcohol), mentions of blood / injury, threats, allusions to kidnapping, dom!jk, fingering, rough sex, he’s mean but still sweet, obsessed!soft!jk at the end <33

୧ ‧₊˚┊: notes: found this in my drafts back from halloween and i never posted it! so here you go, to hold you over until my long fics are done <33 halloween fic in april lmaooo

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Your heartbeat is in your ears, pulse racing. It was too loud. Everything is too loud. It’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about as your heels dig into the harsh forest floor. Your shoes long since been abandoned, mud caking your feet as you try to run. Tries to escape from the demon that had set his sights on you.

Him.

Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn’t. It was just supposed to be a fun halloween party! You didn’t really even know if you wanted to go to it or not. But your friends convinced you with the promise of free drinks and guys that were ‘cute enough’ for some random frat.

What they failed to mention? The simple fact that house was in the middle of nowhere. On one side a lake, the other a massive forest.

Like a pretty little trap meant to catch girls like you. Web tangled in the trees just watching for the prettiest butterfly to find its way into. To be caught in the den of monsters that lined every wall of the ancient house.

You were already disturbed when your friend's pretty jeep turned off the main roads, trailing through the woods. Realising just how distant from the rest of society you would be. How every bump of the car sent your little heart into a deeper flutter of anxiety.

Still, you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to ruin the night— for yourself or your friends. You trust them. They promised it would be fun. Plus! Their boyfriends were going to be there! So nothing would go wrong!

Yeah. It really wasn't their fault that a lunatic set his sights on you. Wasn’t their fault you started dancing with a man in a mask. Let him lead you to the backyard for a smoke, dumbly followed him deeper into the woods to see his favourite spot. Let him stuff his fingers into your little hole without even seeing his face, knowing his name.

Nah, you did all that on your own. Just a little kitten being led to the slaughter house.

“Okay babydoll…” He breathes into your ear, pumping two fingers deep inside of your cunt. Skirt that was barely covering anything pushed too far up your hips, showing the whole forest just how tight your walls cling to his fingers. How wet you are. How desperate you are for more.

“We’re gonna play a game, yeah?” You’re hardly able to respond, consciousness laced with toxins from earlier that night. Flush to your cheeks evidence enough of just how much you drank— the series of events that led you to this exact moment.

One he had been planning for awhile.

He smiles, throat letting out a low, almost nonexistent laugh. Slowly circling your clit with his thumb, almost mocking the way your back arches. Finding amusement in the way your fingers cling to his arm as his thrusts continue all to slow.

You’re needy, too needy. He knows that well enough. Can tell with the way your hips start to rock, start to squirm. The way your body starts to get bratty on him while your mind is too far in the clouds to realise the position you’ve found yourself in.

You’re cute. Too cute for him to take another second of this. Too cute for him to hold back anymore.

Wouldn’t want you getting too bratty on him anyway, would he? Then his personal treat, the slice of cake he's been waiting weeks to cut into will have to turn into a punishment. Ruin all the fun he’s worked so hard to prepare.

“‘Gonna need you to run into the woods. Fast and as far as you can…” He groans under his breath, the mere thought sending blood straight to his cock, filling his mind with nothing but pictures of you dirty on the forest floor, “And you gotta do your best to stay away from me yeah? Cause if I catch you… I gotta kill you and I wouldn't wanna have to do that… You’re too pretty to kill, you know?”

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? What is he even talking about?

You try to process– try to understand the words that run off his tongue. But it's unfair, everything is stacked against you as he slides the mask off his face. Gives you a first look at his deep brown eyes. Lets you see how gorgeous he is for the very first time.

He didn’t even give you a chance to recover before he started counting down from 30. Doesn’t even move his hand away from your dripping cunt until 20– the expression on your face just pathetic. So close yet so far from the finish line.

Your race was nowhere close to its end. He’d make sure of it.

It wasn’t until his hand found your hip, gently tapping against the skin that your brain even had the chance to attempt processing his words. Figure out the exact meaning behind them while his lips continued to count down with each syllable.

Such pretty pink lips. Maybe he would let you kiss them if you tried hard enough. If you lean up just right maybe he would–

Wait. Wait. What’s happening? What did he say to you?

Your eyes glance down to your thighs, vision dazed as you try to figure out the object that suddenly pokes at your flesh. The sharp tip grazing your soft skin as you take in the metal; polished to perfection. The deep black handle resting securely in his palm, holding himself back.

Your eyes widen, familiarity cresting your features.

Shit. Shit!

You don’t even think about grabbing your own knife until 15, hand quickly reaching for your hip where you keep it tucked away. Too bad he had already taken it, knew the tool you always carried with you well.

Shit, his own personal little Nancy, huh? Perfect for him.

Survival instincts had to take over for you, forcing your feet to the ground. Urging your skirt down as low as it could possibly go as your legs take off in a direction you hope is the house.

Everything is all too much, it’s not enough. Every little sound is getting to you, making you feel like you’re going crazy. Making you feel like none of your senses can be trusted. Like nothing can be trusted except for the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The woods– everything looks the same. You can't distinguish one thing from the next but you know you hear something getting closer. Too close.

If his words meant anything you need to keep fighting, keep trying to live. Even as pain stabs into your toes, sticks break under your feet. Even as you’re stabbed by bushes.

It was like the forest itself was out to get you. Like whatever beast behind it is your real enemy in all of this.

Maybe you can pretend it, maybe in your alcohol-addled brain that’s a little easier to manage than the man running behind you. The one with hunger in his heart that only your soul can satiate.

You try, you really do. But your legs can only move so fast. Can only take so much abuse before they start to slow. Lungs can only inhale so much air before they want to collapse.

Too bad he’s done this before. He can run.

And just as you start to be able to see the lights from the tree line, just as hope starts to fill your little heart, you’re forced into the dirt. Two arms wrap around you from behind, tackling your frame to the ground.

Your back presses against his chest as he keeps you there, his face right next to your ear as he pants. Breathe heavy in your ear, hearing the way it cracks every once and awhile as he tries to catch his breath. Lips almost on your ear while he keeps you there. Keeps you trapped under him.

Everything is starting to conflict in your pretty little head, body telling you to get away. Try to get him off. Wriggle your hand— anything out to try and fight back. Try and get away before he keeps his promise from before.

Yet, with every movement, every slight twist of your spine or kick of your legs under his heavy frame he only presses tighter, deeper against you. Presses his cock against your barely covered cunt. Makes you feel every inch of him that he plans to stuff inside. Make you unable to breathe while the rocks dig into your skin.

You put up a good fight, you really do. Better than anyone else. It’s too bad everything is going just a little bit haywire behind your eyes. The world starting to feel like a burden as you try to push away the arousal rushing to your gut.

Shit, you should be scared. Should be petrified of the psycho that took you into the woods, the psycho that threatened to kill you no more than ten minutes before. One that had a knife pressed to your skin and a scythe around your heart. But the chemicals in your brain are mixing into something that you can’t comprehend, can’t describe.

Everything feels like too much, he feels like too much and you have no clue what to do. Head completely gone to mush.

It’s almost easier that way.

“Almost got away, doll. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now.” His voice is rough, harsh as he tries to catch his breath. Teeth clamping against the crest of your ear, hips rolling against your cunt without a care in the world. Especially not for the state of your head. Not for the little world you find yourself slipping away into.

Too many extreme emotions happening will do that to you, won't they? Make you so confused that you’ll just take whatever you can manage. Even if that means plunging his blade into your pretty little heart or fucking you until your pussy wouldn’t even consider another filling it.

He prefers the latter. Too pretty for the former, huh?

He can feel the shift in your frame– one of extreme discomfort, entirely tense to one of a docile little pet put on display. The shift behind your eyes as everything becomes too much, little too difficult to understand. As you slip away just enough to make any feelings of pleasure elevate to new extremes. Let fear spur you on.

The only thoughts in your head are ones filled with him. The way it should be. Exactly should be.

Your hips move again, their last attempt to break free from his spell. Their last attempt to try and get away from the maniac. Yet it does nothing more than press his cock harder against your ass, the mock of a grind against the surface that leaves a pretty little mewl spilling from your lips. A grunt catching in his own.

Wow, you actually surprised him.

“Shit, not patient at all huh?” He smiles, lip quirking as he removes his body from you. Removes the only warmth provided in this hell.

You won't run. Not if you know what's good for you.

He doubts you do– led you right into his arms tonight. But that's okay. He can take over for you. Take over everything.

Hands grip your hips, pull you back against him. Let you imagine how sweet he could fuck you if you just behave. The soft rocking of hips against your own, the gentle way he moves compared to the way he holds you heavy on your mind.

You can’t help the moan that spills past your lips. The way your back arches to meet him better. No one could blame poor little you. No one could blame your mind turning off for just a little bit. Not when he has you. Not with the rough texture of his pants pushing against your cunt. Not with the ruined orgasm of before.

Arousal makes your panties stick uncomfortable to your skin. A disturbing wet patch forming against his own pants where you meet. A flutter erupting in your gut at the way he groans. Way he moves you with such ease.

He really could kill you if he wanted to.

You’re not sure if the realisation scares you or spurs you on.

It scares you more to know that it's the latter.

“I’m not either.” He huffs, air thick with fog, “Been too patient for you. Too fucking patient.”

He grunts, pushing your hips back. Back arching even farther against the forest floor. It almost hurts, it’s almost painful. Not that that really matters. Nothing matters when he grips the flesh of your ass, pulls the cheeks apart. Gets a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Can see clearly how wrecked his little girl is.

Pretty panties sticking against your cunt, thighs wobbly from all the effort of tonight. Shit, if he just hooks his finger under them, pulls them to the side he’ll get to see you all. Get to see your puffy lips, fluttering little hole. Get to fuck himself inside while you just lie there and take it. Get so drunk on his cock you might just fall in love.

Shit, maybe you already have, huh?

Good.

He forces your underwear to the side, stares in awe at the way your slick sticks to them. Imagines how pretty they’d look stuffed with his cum. How you’d tumble around the house, not letting a drop spill just for him.

Because you would know it’s what he wants.

“All of this for me?” He smiles, rubbing his thumb through your folds. Collecting your essence, spreading it around all messy just how he likes. How he knows you’ll like soon enough.

You can only whimper, clutch the ground as your head spins. Tries to catch up with every little minstration he makes. Tries to figure out what exactly is happening. What words he’s saying. How to get him to stop, if you want him to stop.

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t think you do.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. Only the sound of a zipper running down, the shuffle of pants forced off hips. The hard head of a cock running against your folds like it owns them. Like it was made for them.

The stretch as he forces himself inside. The way it burns, stings with effort. The short, forceful movements as he fucks himself inside. Makes home in your cunt for no one else but him. Makes you unable to think of a soul other than him. Ruin you for all other men that come after.

God he must be big– how fucking big? You have no clue. You wish you could see. Look into those pretty, crazed eyes. Focus on the little mole under his lip as the pain turns into pleasure. Morphs something dark in your brain to like it, to take it just like a good girl. Make you crave him more than anything else.

But instead you stare at the dirt. Hands clutching at the surface as he fucks himself inside. Deeper and deeper with each slow calculating thrust. Fucks you full of whatever twisted definition of love he possess. Makes you see the light, the exact shimmer in his eyes. See that this is the only way to truly live.

“Shit, baby,” His voice is low, deeper than before as his hips finally meet your own. Finally fills you with nothing else other than him. “Been waiting too fucking long for this. Had to make me wait, huh? Fuck.”

His voice harsh, grip bruising as he tries to hold himself back. One last measly reprise he’ll allow you. One last second he’ll give you before he makes you completely dumb. Makes you see what he knows you need to.

“I-I don’t~” You whimper, though the words fall on deaf ears. Not that it mattered anyway, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Didn’t know anything except for the way your walls clamp around his cock. Body begging for him, urging him to start and never stop.

He sighs, dramatic, “Little slut, huh baby?”

A harsh thrust punctuates his words, jolting your body forward as you cry. Impatience, ecstasy? He isn’t sure which. Only can notice the way your fingers clench and unclench in the dirt. The way your pussy flutters around him.

“Aww…” He soothes, hips dragging out of your cunt before slowly thrusting back in. The pace slow, antagonising, “Poor thing is having a hard time…” His hips quicken a hair, pretty sounds falling from your lips at the movement.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby. I can make it all happen then.” A low kiss is placed against your shoulder, the world crumbling around you.

You break.

“Please…” Your voice is soft, too soft, but he hears it. Feels himself cracking as you beg, feels himself lose his mind entirely.

Beg for him. Want him.

His hips suddenly snap, fucking himself into your cunt with force you never thought a human could possibly manage. Fast, hard. Pumping his cock into you to search for his own pleasure. His own release. Forcing you to take it, take all of him while you try to keep up. Try to find your own pleasure in the tangle of limbs.

You hate how easily you do. Or maybe you love it.

“God, fuck.” He can’t suppress his own moans, the feeling of your pussy wrapping so tight around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth is too much. Fills his head with even more nonsense about love. About destiny.

His hips would never even consider stopping. You feel too good. Feel too tight around his cock, feel like he should never stop fucking you. Keep you there forever.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” His breath is harsh, his heart racing as your little sounds only spur him on. Let him know just how good you feel. Just how far you’ve fallen. Just how much farther you’re willing to drown in all things Jungkook.

“P-Please!” You whine, hips arching further. Moving him into the perfect position to scrape against your g-spot with every rough pound of his hips. No clue what you’re pleading for. No clue what you want other than him.

Don’t even know his name. Nothing other than how incessantly you crave him.

“Fucking brat.” He cusses, eyes pinching into a glare as you somehow clamp down tighter. Walls pulling him back in on every thrust. Milking him for everything he’s worth. Making sure you both know your place in this. Know your place after it, too.

“God, been waiting for this haven’t you?” He groans, hips stuttering. He’s too close, “Been waiting for me to fuck you like the pretty doll you are? Make me take everything from you?”

You can only manage a whine in response, cunt fluttering around him. Obsessing in his praise.

Maybe his words are true. Maybe he’s known the exact type of person you are since the moment he first saw you. Maybe he’s right. This is where you’re meant to be. Meant to be with him.

“Shit, yeah. I fucking knew it.” His voice cracks, “Call you a minx but we both know that isn’t true. Just don’t know how to think until you’re stuck on the end of a cock.”

His thrusts somehow pick up speed. Fuck you harder, deeper. He’s sure he could place his hand over your tummy, feel himself fucking you. Shit.

“My cock.” He growls, voice heavy in your ears.

You can't take it anymore. Can’t take another second of it. Nerves tied tight into knots explode, white dotting the corner of your vision as you moan for no one else other than him. Pleasure courses through your veins, pussy pulling him as he falls apart alongside you. A tsunami pulling you under, making it hard to breathe. Making you feel dead and alive at the same time.

Maybe the forest gods were the ones tormenting you. Making you feel better than you had ever thought possible before. Allowing you to see the light of the stars dancing in the sky, so far above the clouds with his cock still pressed so deep inside. Floating through the air as your orgasm runs through you.

He’s no better. A shell of a man as he slowly fucks him cum deeper into your cunt. As deep as you’ll allow. Marking you. Claiming you. Making sure you know your place, even as you finally collapse onto the floor. Finally come back to reality. Poor body too spent to focus on anything else.

It’s okay though, you don’t have to worry. Not about a thing.

He’ll take care of you. Fix you up nice and pretty for your next lesson. Take you away to his apartment, make you fall in love for real. Keep you there, with him, just like you’re meant to be.

Make all of the sick sides you try to hide come out to play. Make you realise you’re just like him.

He wouldn’t kill you. Ever. Even if he had killed the others, none of them matter. He’s been waiting for someone like you for so long. Itching to bring you home. And finally, finally you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little butterfly, caught in the web. Ready to be corrupted by the vicious spider. Ready for your wings to be clipped.

“Mine.”

2K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months

Text

Life Lessons || CL16

Summary: After an embarrassing secret is shared Charles accepts some help to learn a few things about female pleasure.

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fem rec oral, sex ed

WC: 2.9k

Charles - The Lazy Lover - Leclerc. That was what the wag gossip pages all shared in their stories and Charles’ cheeks grew red with embarrassment as he read the latest caption. The supposed ‘inside source’ had recounted the disappointment his past girlfriends had found in Charles’ bedroom activities. They cited him as ‘vanilla’ and ‘a missionary man’, but none of those hurt more than the sentence that described his oral capabilities as ‘nonexistent’.

He didn’t think he was bad in bed, and he wouldn’t have called himself selfish, but he couldn’t help asking some of his exes for the truth. Each of them denied sharing the information to the gossip pages, but they all replied with the same consensus.

Charles chased his own pleasure and they didn’t feel comfortable telling him what they needed to reach their own high too. He felt guilty, wondering how many of the relationships would have ended differently or not ended at all if he had paid more attention - to their sex life as well as the rest. He certainly hadn’t been the most attentive in any aspect of his last relationship with Alexandra.

“Don’t laugh,” Pierre started the conversation seriously, something that immediately caused concern for Charles. “I know someone who knows someone that can help you. She’s a private tutor, of sorts.”

“Do you know how fucked I would be if news broke I went to a hooker?”

“She’s not a hooker,” Pierre assured him as he wrote an address down on a napkin and slid it across the table. “It's already taken care of, 8pm tomorrow.”

Charles looked at the address and sighed. “This is in Paris.”

“Of course, City of Love, my friend.” Pierre finished his coffee and rose from the table, pushing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Charles mumbled, still uncertain about the whole idea of having a stranger teach him how to be a better lover. “I guess.”

Later that afternoon, Charles received an email with a rather detailed questionnaire about his experiences in the bedroom as well as a small dining and drinks menu to select from. He figured he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was and took his time to honestly answer the questions.

—

Charles debated turning around at least three times as he climbed the stairs in a modern apartment building. He had caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from the stairwell window and paused as the lights danced along the metal, wondering if he was in the right place. He was still in half a mind that Pierre had sent him to a brothel, but this didn’t fit the stereotype he had in his head of a Parisian whorehouse. He definitely imagined more Moulin Rouge lighting and seedy alleys.

He reached the 3rd floor and found only one door on the landing, his finger barely able to aim for the doorbell with its shaking. He didn’t know what to expect when the handle started to turn, but it certainly wasn’t a bright welcoming smile and the delicious smell of fresh baking.

“Hi, you must be Charles,” you greeted your newest client. “Come in, please.”

You could tell he was nervous as he hesitantly stepped inside and his eyes scanned your home, taking in the artwork on the walls and the candlelit table with two place settings. You tried to ease his mind with a quick introduction about who you were while you poured him a glass of wine.

“Help yourself,” you said as you took a seat and waved a hand to the fresh bread and cheeses he had selected from the menu. He took a breath and sat down opposite you, the candlelight catching the sharp jawline and angular features of his handsome face. “So, Charles, what is your goal? What do you want to get out of this?”

“I, uh, to be able to please a woman?”

“You don’t sound sure,” you teased as you watched him spread an olive tapenade over the fresh toasted bread.

“No, no, I am,” he said a little more forcefully before sighing. “I didn’t realise I was…bad…in bed, until recently.”

“Well, rest assured, we will change that. But first, tell me a bit more about yourself, there’s only so much I can learn from the questionnaire.”

—

Charles began to relax the more he shared. He knew he was protected by the NDA you had sent with the rest of the paperwork and the anonymity that came with baring his ugly truths to a stranger helped to ease the discomfort of what he was doing. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but your encouraging smile kept his words flowing, like he was finally doing something right.

He hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed until the grandfather clock in the entrance chimed the hour and he saw he had eaten his fill of the meal he chose.

His overnight bag still waited on the hall table, the list of what to bring had been ticked off and double checked. His calendar had been cleared for the weekend and his phone turned off. Everything he needed to remember could be jotted down in the small journal that sat beside his used cutlery.

“So, um, what happens next?” he asked as his eyes darted to the bedroom door.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, Charles. Come,” you rose from the table and grabbed his bag, taking it to your bedroom as he trailed behind. His feet rushed before slowing down as he caught his own eagerness and frowned to himself. It was common. There was a blurred line between of uncertainty on whether they were here to get laid or here to learn.

You placed his bag beside the large desk that covered one wall of your room and pointed to the computer chair where he took a seat. “Every woman is different and there isn’t a universal button to make us come. But, by understanding the physiological functions and anatomy, I will teach you the tools to find the right spots to make her fall apart.”

“A-anatomy?” he stammered.

You took a step back and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor and bare your nakedness. His eyes widened and he swallowed deeply as he drank in your body. A soft breath fell from his parted lips when you climbed onto the desk and spread your legs either side of him. “I could show you a textbook, but I find this much more effective.”

His throat bobbed as he tried to keep eye contact and the act brought a little laugh from your chest, forcing him to look at your breasts bouncing with it. “You can look, in fact that is exactly what this first lesson is about. Look, Charles.”

His eyes closed but when they opened he was staring at your core, his chest inflating with his deep breath. “Do I just start?” he asked hesitantly, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Just look for now,” you said with a smile as you reached down your body. “Everyone has erogenous zones, places that feel good when stimulated, and these can be found all over your body, men and women. Thumbs, wrists, behind the knees, inner thighs, neck. Simply kissing and sucking these spots can feel just as good as foreplay.”

“Really?” he eyes widened in surprise and his eyes scanned all the places you had mentioned.

“Really, and I want you to find mine.” You bared your throat and relaxed back on your elbows. “You’ll watch for the physical reactions to confirm it. Deep breathing, moans, eyes closing, jaw slack, forehead pinched - they are some of the outward signs of pleasure.”

“Are you okay with this?” he asked as he found your bent knee the closest point to his lips and his tentative touch warmed your skin.

“I am, and I am pleased that you asked for consent.”

He smiled proudly at the praise before he lifted your leg and kissed the back of your knee, his eyes watching your face as he dragged his tongue along the tendon and crease. Your head fell back and he grinned. “There.”

“One,” you confirmed with a nod before he moved up to your thigh, trying the same thing with a kiss and a lap of his tongue. A giggle bubbled up and you squirmed away. “That’s just ticklish.”

“So not that one?” he double checked, and you shook your head. “Okay…”

The man was thorough and he made sure to find which ones were good for you and which ones weren’t. He paid attention to the signs and more than once he paused to jot down a note in the journal you had provided.

“You’re a good student,” you praised.

“I have a good teacher.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Would you like to explore lesson two tonight or rest? We have all weekend.”

His eyes gave away his answer before his lips did and you climbed off the desk. “Let’s start with the basics then. The first thing you want to do is make yourself comfortable. Craning your neck from where you lie between her legs isn’t comfortable and won’t encourage you to stay there if things take a little longer,” you explained as you moved into the bed and tossed him a pillow. “So, pop one of these under the small of her back.”

He looked at the pillow and shuffled forward. “Now?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, lifting your hips up so he could lay it in place. “Two things happen here, one, it lifts her hips higher for better access which your neck will be thankful for, and two, it tilts her pelvis down and makes it much easier to work her g spot.”

“I thought that was a myth.”

“Why don’t you find out?” you dared. “Did you clip your nails before you came?”

He looked at the short nails and wiggled his fingers with a nod. He had followed every instruction in the email.

“Good, the last thing you want is to accidentally cut a partner with a sharp nail. Now the technique most people find effective is palm up, one or two fingers, gently work your way inside - it’s all about timing, take it slow and build to begin. Once your fingers are inside, curl your fingers up and you’ll feel the tissue is softer, almost spongy. Massaging pressure over that stimulated the g-spot, and if you are good at multitasking you can then add pressure from the outside too. Just place a hand low on her abdomen, slightly above the pelvic bone - don’t press too hard though as it will push on her bladder. First though, you’d probably want to start with warming her up with some cunilingus, eating pussy.”

Charles hopped off the bed and grabbed the journal, quickly jotting down the instructions with quiet eagerness.

“You can practice if you feel comfortable,” you invited when he put the pen and page down.

“Uh, yeah, please,” he stammered as he knelt on the bed and shuffled closer.

You reached into the bedside drawer and grabbed a bottle of lube. “I don’t need this,” you said and he smirked as he saw the other outward sign you had explained - arousal - it already lubricated your slit with the thought of what Charles was going to do to you. “But you should always keep a bottle at home. All women are different, some are drier than others no matter how aroused they get. Or, it’s handy for other areas of play like anal, or even a sensual massage.”

You put the bottle back and settled among the pillows. “Use me, explore, feel the different textures and I’ll guide you if you need it. Remember to look and listen to the signs of pleasure.”

Charles nodded and settled between your legs, getting up close and personal with your pussy. His indecision held him frozen as he wondered where to begin so you offered some guidance. “Finding the clit is a good starting point and then exploring around it to find the sensitive spots. Lick, suck, kiss, try it all.”

Encouraged, he laid a tentative kiss on your slit, his eyes rolled up to watch for your reactions. Seeing nothing, he took aim and tried again, his lip brushing over your clit and a soft sigh reached his ears. More confident, his tongue flicked out and caught your clit making you jolt.

“Was that good or bad?” he asked with a frown.

“Both, that spot is very sensitive - think of the slit at the tip of your cock. When it’s primed and ready that feels amazing but straight off the bat it is a little shocking to the system. You’re in the right area though, so keep exploring.”

This time he circled his tongue around and your moan was louder. You could practically feel his smile on your skin.

“That feels good,” you hummed as warmth spread through your body and he reached up on his own initiative, massaging your breasts. “Oh, you’re a natural now.”

Inspired, he explored further, his tongue lashing along your slit, dipping into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp so he delved deeper, fucking you with his tongue as a familiar tightening grew in your core.

“Now would be the perfect time to try to find the g-spot,” you murmured as you fought the urge to succumb to the pleasure, but the lesson wasn’t over.

His rhythm faltered with a fresh wave of nervousness and he pulled back with shiny swollen lips to drag his fingertips through the mess he had made. The slick digits started gently, dipping inside your cunt a little deeper each time until it met the resistance of his palm.

“Feel around for the different textures and then curl your fingers a little.”

He did as instructed and his lips parted in surprise as he felt the spot. “Oh, wow, I’ve never noticed that…”

Your laugh made your pussy clench and he chuckled as your walls tightened around his fingers. “I like that feeling,” he commented with a flirty smirk.

“I thought you would,” you said with a wink. “I also do lessons on male stimulation if you’re ever interested.”

“Like…gay?” he asked quietly, a frown starting to form on his brows yet it wasn’t a look of distaste.

You were intimately aware that he still had two fingers curled in your cunt but it was good that he felt comfortable enough to hold a conversation at the same time. “It’s about learning the male anatomy, like what we did here. Whether that knowledge is used for self pleasure or with a partner, male or female, that is up to them.”

He contemplated the idea for a moment before he remembered what he was doing and began to work his wrist, curling his fingers in sync so they dragged over that delicious spot. He watched your sordid reaction with fascination before he grew bolder, his tongue finding your puffy clit.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you moaned loudly as your pussy tightened in anticipation. He had read your body perfectly and flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit but this time you were primed and ready. Your orgasm began with a tingle through your hair, leading to a fine tremor that danced down your spine, it raced down your legs and curled your toes. “Oh, Charles!”

He moaned against your clit as his wrist snapped forwards and back, the wet sounds of your body filling the room as his fingers fucked you through the explosion. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around the digits and stars spotted your vision. Your head fell back into the pillows with a cry and liquid gushed over his fingers with the release.

Disoriented and overstimulated, you reached between your legs and placed your hand over his. “Please, too much,” you whispered with a hoarse voice and rough aftershocks snapping at your thighs. “That was so fucking good, Charles. I, I just need a minute.”

You threw an arm over your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you waited for your heart rate to calm again. A small laugh bounced from your chest as you came down from the high and you finally had the strength to prop yourself back up on your elbows.

“That was perfect, Charles, you are a very quick learner.”

He was busy staring at his hand, your release coating his palm and running down his wrist. “So that’s what an orgasm feels like?” His brows pinched as he realised he had never felt that before.

“It’s what this one felt like. They can be different based on what areas are stimulated, the intensity, intimacy, lots of factors.” You could see he was still disappointed in himself for his previous ignorance and you sat up slowly, crossing your legs as you faced him. “Just because a woman doesn’t orgasm it doesn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the experience. Does a blow job feel good before you cum?”

He shrugged, still a little unconvinced. “Yeah.”

“See, forgive yourself and move on, now you know what to do for next time.” You carefully climbed off the bed on unsteady legs and offered your hand. “Last lesson of the night, aftercare.”

He stood up and froze, looking down at his pants. “Sorry, I kind of, uh, um…”

“Why are you sorry?” you laughed, drawing his attention away from the damp patch on his trousers. “You are meant to enjoy pleasuring your partner. Never apologise for that, Charles.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut

2K notes · View notes

jaylver · 5 months

Text

PINKY RING — S.JY

synopsis: setting up a deal with a frat boy you've just met at a party turned out to be a stupidly cute idea. who knew his drake reference and the deal involving his pinky ring would soon score him a date with you.

pairings: frat boy!jake x afab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, frat boy + football player jake, college au, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, party, alcohol

wc: 2.9k

a/n: a very late contribution to jakeday! this was much longer than planned so i hope you all enjoy it! apologies in advance if the writing sucks since i've been tired all week T-T please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Wandering into a frat party alone was quite literally the least sane thing you've done in a while.

Your best friend, Yunjin, had called you up to meet her at a frat party at the most random hour of the night. The temptation got to you for the worst as you caved in and placed aside your studies in order to get some free booze, even if they're low budget ones.

That only explained why you were there then. Looking between your phone and the sight before you as you walked, trying to get a hold of your friend. She was probably somewhere wasted and you wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

Once you sent her a text announcing your arrival and hoping for a text back, you slipped your phone away and wandered into the kitchen area, further from the crowded area filled with people dancing quite scandalously.

Whatever dodgy concoction they had prepared there, you took some and sniffed it before taking a sip, shrugging in half approval. You'd take what you have. Soon, you settled yourself in by leaning against the counter, pulling out your phone as it had started buzzing.

You were distracted by the chiming of your phone, realising Yunjin texted back and you immediately replied back. She was, in fact, somewhere in the house, except she was with a guy. Wait, a frat boy, Jay Park? Oh, you've heard of him.

You didn't want to say much and just texted her back to call you when it's time to leave, or if she's even leaving at all. Meanwhile, you were unaware of the additional presence who had wandered into the kitchen as you typed out your last text.

“Oh—hey,”

You glanced up from your phone the moment you pressed 'send', staring back at a guy that you swore you've seen somewhere before, he was too familiar. He wasn't just a guy though, he was a hot one. Backwards cap on, dressed in a casual black hoodie and ripped jeans, dyed blond hair peeking out from his cap.

That was a sight to see.

“Hey,” you could tell he wasn't expecting your presence in the kitchen just the same as you were.

The corner of his lips twitched, head tilted to one side. “New around here? I think this is the first time I've seen you at our party,”

Our? Was he a part of the frat?

“I don't usually wander into frat parties,” you shrugged, and he nodded, smiling.

“I'm Jake, by the way. Jake Sim. I'm a part of the frat, we usually have these types of parties on the weekend,” he extended his hand out for a handshake, to which you accepted, staring a little too longingly at his pretty hands and fingers. Don’t be a creep.

“Am I missing out? I'm Y/N L/N,”

“Well, Y/N, maybe you are,” an apparent accent flowed from his voice, and the way he said your name shouldn't have made you scream inside. “You should come by more often, I'd love to see more of you here,”

“We'll see. I wasn't even meant to be here, but my friend called and I thought ‘why not’ so here I am,”

“It's fated, then. We're meant to meet,” he clapped, lips stretched into a cheery smile that had you swooning.

“I suppose it is,” you let him join your side in leaning against the counter, feeling the fabric of his hoodie brushing against your bare skin. “You know, you look very familiar to me, I think I've seen you before,”

“Yeah?” His tongue swept across his bottom lip, eyebrow quirking with interest.

“Football team. It's you, isn't it? The striker,”

“How did you know?” He seemed genuinely surprised, and you were in disbelief as well. He was much different compared to what you remembered.

“My friend's on the team too, Kim Sunoo,”

“Him!"

“Yes, him! I went to one of the matches and you scored in it, it was a great match," you could still recall the faint memory of Jake scoring, his name blasting from the speakers, back when his hair was coloured black.

“Wow,” Jake stared in amazement, his smile never wavered, only widening. “We're much connected than I thought,”

“We are,” you couldn't help smiling as well, finding his energy contagious and severely intoxicating. You had to turn around and take a sip of your drink as a way to not become flustered around him, but only to notice the rings resting on his fingers.

“Nice rings,” you complimented, and it seemed to be his turn to become flustered. Immediately bringing his hands up for you to look closer and showcasing his rings.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding pleased.

“You have a pinky ring too?” You pointed at his pinky, noticing the silver ring gleaming under the light.

“Pinky ring till I get a wedding ring,”

It didn't hit you until a beat later. He was quoting Drake.

“Drake? Seriously?” A teasing grin travelled to your lips, nudging him slightly ever so naturally. He didn't complain, just reciprocated your smile, seemingly glad that you caught onto his reference.

“Hey, I'm a big fan. Sue me,”

“No judgement, I like Drake too,” you spoke your half truth, shrugging lightly.

Jake turned to look at you, a light sparkling in his eyes, telling you he had something in mind. “Hey, why don't I give you my pinky ring, and the next time we meet, you give it back to me?”

“What?”

“Let fate decide our next meeting. If we bump into each other again, you hand me back my ring, and I'll get your number. Deal?”

“Sounds good,” why were you doing this?

Even as your consciousness was telling you what stupid idea this was, you couldn’t help but feel confident. There was definitely a next time. You were sure of it. Even after Jake slipped his ring onto your pinky, feeling his skin graze against yours, you were confident that fate would bring you to him, or even him to you.

You bid him a small goodbye, watching his bright energy disappear through the door and be left with yourself, wanting him to come back. Did Yunjin and you somehow suddenly share the same taste in men? Frat boys?

Soon, you abandoned your drink and walked out of the kitchen into the party scene. To your relief, you spotted Yunjin waving at you, a tall boy with silver hair standing right beside her. That was probably Jay.

“Oh my God, I thought I lost you,” she engulfed you into one of her warm hugs while you didn't miss the lovesick smile she always had whenever she was around a crush.

“I would say the same for you,” you nudged her slightly, eyeing her romeo of the night.

“Oh—Jay, this is my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jay,” Yunjin introduced, and Jay gave you a friendly hug as a greeting. Off the bat, you could tell he was a decent guy despite being in a frat.

“You're not joining your friends for beer pong?” Yunjin pointed out to Jay and you took notice of said beer pong going on across the room.

There he was. Jake. Standing out amongst the bunch of guys that were most likely his friends, catching your attention in an instant. His baseball cap was no longer worn backwards, sleeves rolled up and showcasing the protruding veins decorating the expanse of his arm. He was holding onto a ping pong ball, aiming at one of the red shot cups and eventually shot it in successfully, letting out a loud laugh while throwing his arms up into a flexing pose and hitting his chest.

What a frat boy. But you think he's a cute frat boy. He was an exception.

“Should we leave soon?” Yunjin had to poke your shoulder to gain your attention back to her. At that realisation, you visibly flushed a tinge of pink, coughing and nodding rather stiffly. You could tell your best friend was suspicious of you, but didn’t press on and told you Jay was dropping you two off.

What you didn’t catch onto as you left the room was Jake’s lingering gaze on you.

He was going to get his ring back. He was confident about it.

“You’re telling me you’re missing Jay’s friend?”

“I am doing exactly that,”

He wasn’t just Jay’s friend, he was also his frat brother. Yet, Jay was oblivious you two knew each other, or at least that’s what you think in your perspective.

Telling Yunjin about your happenings from that party was both a good and bad decision. The good part was that she was happy for you. The bad part was realising how predictable you were. In her words, she knew you would fall for Jake especially since you had a weak spot for men with cute smiles. Dammit.

It has been a week since that night at the frat house. To be honest, you could be crazy and just go back to find Jake, but were you going to chase a man like that? No, wake up! But, you were also shamelessly missing him and mulling over the fact that the ring was still on your pinky.

“This is so stupid, why is he waiting on fate to act?”

“I think it’s cute,”

“You’re hopeless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes, but you just laughed, because you, too, knew it was dumb. A stupid game that tortured you but you enjoyed the anticipation as well. “Anyway, Jay’s going to a football match later in the evening, apparently the team is playing. Before you say no, consider this, he’s paying for dinner after,”

“I like him,” you gave her your seal of approval, and from the looks of her giddy smile, she was satisfied.

Yunjin was more than happy when she led you through the stands, locating where Jay was sitting. You threw a knowing glance at her, to which she noticed and only rolled her eyes. He greeted you with a friendly smile, saving an even brighter smile for your best friend. It was sickening, but in an affectionate way.

Realising how you were third wheeling, you took the queue and left, wandering down the stands to get a closer look at the field. You figured that'd be a better idea now that you realised the team was warming up there.

“Y/N!” you were barely halfway down the stairs when you heard your name being called, a familiar face running towards you.

“Jake!” You jogged a little, reaching the barrier that separated the stands and the field, essentially separating you and Jake as well.

“You're here! At a football game,” he breathed out in a daze, as if he couldn't believe you were standing in front of him.

“Jay brought me and Yunjin here,” you slyly pointed at the duo that sat further up the stands, meeting Jake's playful smirk. You two had the same thought in mind. “Oh right—pinky ring,”

You raised up your right hand, his ring still wrapped around your pinky. At that, Jake's eyes only lit up, flickering between your face and the ring, his smile growing wider.

“You wear it everywhere?”

A rush of heat spread across your cheeks, you found yourself shying away from his gaze. “I didn't know where I'd find you,”

“Guess you finally found me, and I found you too,”

“I'm glad,” you fidgeted the ring mindlessly, looking between it and Jake before you realised the deal. "Should I hand it back to you first?”

“No—wait—maybe after the game?” His indecisiveness was killing him, and having you standing in front of him, it made him extra jittery, he was grateful the barriers were there. “I have a feeling you wearing it will somehow pass on good luck to me,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a smile pulling at your lips. “Don't know how that works, but I'll do whatever you say,”

“It's true! It's called intuition. I'll win the game and score a goal,” he said ever so confidently, a grin that was challenging your doubts.

“I believe you,” you said in between giggles, unaware of Jake's smile growing wider as he watched you laugh. “Go and win this one like you always do,”

“I will! Meet me after the game! Get your number and the ring ready,” he casted a wink at you, waving a small momentary goodbye before joining his team back in warming up.

You eventually joined the two lovebirds and waited for the game to start, a certain feeling of giddiness bubbling in your abdomen. When it was finally time, you watched intently as the referee blew the whistle and the home team began the game. The number five on his back was easy to detect, your eyes followed it the whole time as he ran past defenders and scored a goal.

You and your friends jumped out of your seats in excitement. Yelling and cheering the moment you heard his name being blasted from the speakers. He did prove you right, he scored a goal. The next thing you knew before you could even process it was him pointing up at you. It was clearly directly at you, no mistake at all. As cliche it could get, he sent you a flying kiss, and you only matched his energy, catching it and laughing like some school girl.

He was soon tackled by his teammates and whisked away to resume the game. You were left in the stands smiling like a fool, unable to hide your happiness and blushing cheeks even though people around you had witnessed it whole, including your own friends. But who cares, right?

The game ended with the home team winning and obviously, everyone was in great spirits after. You told Yunjin that you’re finding Jake first, and as she left with Jay, you swore you heard him asking ‘since when did they know each other?’

Heading down the stands, you spotted Jake immediately. The team was still lingering around the field, but the second Jake’s eyes landed on you, he excused himself and ran towards you. The widest smile was present on his face, he was shining brightly under the dark skies.

“Hey!” he pulled you in a hug, reaching over the barrier for you. He was sweaty, but you didn’t mind it. It was his presence and tight hold that you focused on.

“Congrats on the win! You did great,” you said as you pulled away, reciprocating his smile.

“Thank you. It’s nothing,”

“Okay, you scoring a goal is not ‘nothing’,”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes at him, hating that he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Whatever,” you said dismissively, earning a light laugh from him. You took the chance to slip the ring off your pinky, taking his hand in yours, instantly surprising him since it was a totally unexpected move. “Your pinky ring, as promised,”

“Oh, almost forgot,” he let you slip the ring back to the original spot, feeling your touch on his skin and reeling from your close proximity.

“As for my number … I’ll give it to you once you’re done, I don’t have anything to write on,” you waved your phone in hand, casting him an apologetic smile.

“It’s totally fine. Will you be willing to wait?”

“I’m alright with it. I thought you’re joining us for dinner?”

“Right, Jay told me,” he snapped his fingers, recalling his friend’s text message. How could he have forgotten? He almost asked you out for dinner later as a date.

“He’s paying,”

“Sweet,” he basically hollered, punching the air stiffly and you laughed at his demeanour. He’s so weird, but in a cute way.

Jake was biting on his lips once a short silence settled between you two. You could tell he was pondering and thinking about his next words. That sweet smile returned back to his lips. “Can I take you out for dinner soon?”

How could you say no?

“I’m down. Definitely yes,”

Jake almost looked relieved, but there was also a sparkle that you saw in his eyes that shined brightly once you’ve given him your answer. You could feel your own heart swelling at the sight of him. His gaze held everything he needed to say. He stared at you with a kind of longing and pining that you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Great, fantastic,” Jake whispered under his breath, seemingly in disbelief and his dazed look only made you giggle. “I’ll catch up with you after I shower, give me some time and wait for me!”

“I will! The three of us will wait for you so go wash up,”

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in surrender, hesitant to walk away as he wished to talk to you more, but he stank and was covered with sweat, so he didn’t have much choice.

“Wait for me!” he said, slowly inching away with the silliest grin, eyes crinkling at the edges.

You responded by gesturing your thumbs up, watching as he turned his back on you, but not even a second later he turned his head back, a small smile still remained. He then started jogging towards the benches, and you definitely didn’t miss his excited jump.

How were you supposed to survive that dinner date with an endearing, sweet and cute guy like him?

The truth was, you weren’t.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @shinrjj @kgneptun

2K notes · View notes

yrbladie · 5 months

Text

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎HOW DO THEY MEET AND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU .ㅤPT 1ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ diluc, wriothesley

warnings ：fluff, implied marriage, gn!reader, a tad bit of humor, pining, slight mention of blood (diluc), enemies to lovers kinda situation and teasing (wriothesley), maybe ooc idk, non fluent writer

ㅤThe way you both met was still quite a sore spot for you to talk about. Not because it was in a bad way, of course, it was just a little bit embarrassing, to you at least.

ㅤYou, a new person in Mondstadt, just having moved recently to the City of Freedom, felt like the customs should be learned. And what better costume the people of Mondstadt had than dancing?

ㅤAt least that was what the bard in the tavern told you, as he gathered everyone around together for some dance practice classes.

ㅤLike he said, "there was nothing better than learning together with your friends".

ㅤThe only thing he seemed to have forgotten is the crucial fact that you didn't have any friends yet.

ㅤAt the end of the selection, you were by yourself, completely embarrassed to not have managed to find a partner yet.

ㅤThe bard instead quickly said he had forgotten about you and decided to partner you up with someone himself, stopping you from leaving the place altogether to hide in your house for the next week.

ㅤAnd it just so happened that at the same time, Diluc Ragnvindr, as you knew him, passed by. His red locks of hair swaying in the wind.

ㅤAnd in a second, somehow the bard had managed to drag the man out of his duties to your side, a boyish smirk on his lips. Diluc seemed to be complaining that he had no intention of being part of the event whatsoever, but unfortunately for him, he had no choice in the matter.

ㅤHis murderous glances towards the bard dressed in green did not pass unnoticed by your eyes but you couldn't say anything before that ruby gaze turned to you.

ㅤDespite feeling completely speechless before the man you so heard of, all you could think was how you've never seen such beautiful eyes before.

ㅤIt took a while to notice that he was also staring quietly at you. Just you both, standing awkwardly by each other's side with shy shared glances here and there.

ㅤBut as the bard started the dance practice, every partner having their own fun. Friends, lovers and strangers gathered around under the same music and happiness, the tension between you both finally eased a tad bit, just enough.

ㅤ"Well, since we're already here. Care to share this dance with me, master Diluc?"

ㅤYou asked, a grin dancing in your lips, as you extended one of your hands to him.

ㅤAnd contrary to all of your expectations, having heard only rumors about him, the man they called ruthless and cold, grinned back at you. It was just for a few seconds, but it was more than enough to steal your breath away.

ㅤ"I suppose we could try, yes." And you thought you caught some sort of quiet confidence in his tone. Like he had practiced years for this.

ㅤWell, dancing was never your forte but it was probably not that hard to learn in a few seconds, right?

ㅤThat was what you thought before the missteps started to happen, of course.

ㅤ"Do not mind me." He said, but you felt desperate each time he winced as you stepped on his feet in the middle of a dance step.

ㅤAnd you found yourself admiring him for how well and flawlessly he sometimes managed to dodge your fumbled steps. His composure never wavering as he kept guiding you through a steady dance.

ㅤYou felt like Diluc could as well be your savior. The savior to your already nonexistent reputation that is.

ㅤEven if you stepped on his feet one too many times, instead of being annoyed as he would have been were it anyone else, Diluc found it endearing.

ㅤHe had to lean over you so that you wouldn't see his own small smile as you fretted over him, asking if his feet hurt. It did, but there's no need to mention that.

ㅤAt the end of the dance, Diluc had held your hands one second longer than he should have, and you also didn't feel like ending this so quickly.

ㅤSo you called out for him.

ㅤ"Let's meet again. I think I still don't get this dance."

ㅤAnd he smiled. You had no idea if this was a good or bad thing for your poor heart.

ㅤEveryone knows that fire burns fast and ruthlessly, taking away what it needs before disappearing with the break of dawn. But Diluc's love was the opposite.

ㅤIt was slow, hesitant. Carefully blooming like a fragile Small Lamp Grass in the soft glow of first-time affection. Diluc carried these emotions like a delicate dance of vulnerability and anticipation.

ㅤLike a steady flame, casting a warm glow over the tapestry of you both interwoven destinies.

ㅤThe touch of hands became a silent agreement, a subtle acknowledgment of emotions too profound to articulate. In the gentle ebb and flow of your interactions, a slow crescendo of emotions built, resonating with the innocence of a love untouched by the scars of the past.

ㅤYou both were so oblivious, despite the greetings that turned to hugs that lasted longer each time and the shared glances at each other's eyes for a moment too long. Small things that all seemed to notice but the both of you.

ㅤSo much so, that even Venti, the bard you've grown to know and whose presence was always within the vicinity, one day commented that you should invite him to your wedding next time, and immediately in the next second he was kicked out of the tavern.

ㅤDiluc felt himself slowly learning about the intricate nuances of what love was. Of what it could be.

ㅤYou taught him that love didn't always end on a rainy day, and that your blood would never stain his hands.

ㅤHe grew under your touch, with a newfound confidence of a love well nurtured slowly with the pass of time.

ㅤEven if you stepped on his feet a million times and by the end of this dance you both called love his feet felt beyond salvation, Diluc still knew that his love for you would never waver.

ㅤAnd he would keep teaching you just as much as you do for him, so that one day, when the dawn comes and you're both by the kitchen, quietly sharing smiles and your bodies are once again intertwined in an unfaltering dance, in a time where none of you have to worry about duties anymore, you won't step on him again.

ㅤAs the warm morning dew cast its light over the shared rings on your hands, Diluc didn't want to believe in gods, but he still had to thank Barbatos for bringing you to him on that day. With all your giggles and bright eyed smiles.

ㅤYou were his savior and his redemption, just as much as he was yours.

ㅤWriothesley, the so famously known Duke of the Fortress of Meropide and also your worst declared enemy.

ㅤYour friends would always tell you that it was an exaggeration, that it wasn't that bad. You both seemed to actually work very well together. But you begged to differ from their opinions.

ㅤYou are the secretary in the Palais Mermonia, working directly under orders of the Judge, Monsieur Neuvillette himself. A quite noble position if you were to say so yourself, in fact.

ㅤBut Wriothesley seemed to somehow doubt your high position as he kept asking you to simply do favors for him, taking advantage of the fact that he was 'close friends' with the Iudex.

ㅤYou dreaded each time Monsieur Neuvillette asked you to bring some documents over from the Fortress, meaning you would have to talk with the Duke too.

ㅤAnd you knew, each time you went there, that man had something in store for you. Just like the first time you both met.

ㅤ"You must be the secretary, right? Can you do me a favor then, and bring me a cup of tea?"

ㅤHe had said back then, and there was nothing more you wished than to wipe that wolfish grin from his lips with your own two hands.

ㅤHe seemed to get off on the exact fact that you would snap at him and get angry, like he reveled in your disappointed expressions and bitter stares.

ㅤAnd it seemed that each time you visited, no matter how much you refused — and perhaps that was the exact reason the man decided to try even more— the requests became more and more unusual.

ㅤ"Let me take you out on dinner."

ㅤYou didn't even know how he could be so shameless while asking this, but you still blatantly refused his approaches each time with fierceness.

ㅤAnd you told yourself each time, oh how you hated him.

ㅤInstead, all you didn't know was that Wriothesley thought of you the exact opposite of what you imagined.

ㅤSince the first time the Duke saw you, your tight and serious expression and the bags under your eyes, he had decided that he needed to see you smile at least once, no matter what.

ㅤThat's why he kept sending multiple letters to Neuvillette, practically begging the Iudex to send you once more, telling him of how much of a good work you did unlike all the other secretaries and how he still had forgotten to send him just one more document.

ㅤAll lies of course, but you can't blame a man for trying at least a bit.

ㅤHe had been enamored by you since the first time you walked in his office. The tenacity and unyielding confidence in your steps and speech.

ㅤWriothesley, and perhaps you, hadn't even realized how intertwined you two were, being part of each other's daily lives.

ㅤHadn't even realized how, slowly and steadily, something new was being shaped.

ㅤWith each sharp gaze of yours that made Wriothesley's heart skip a beat, and each argument that would slowly turn into a playful banter that had you almost lose your facade of sternness and harshness, you both were becoming soft for each other.

ㅤUntil one day, you went to visit him yourself, outside of the duties you held so passionately to yourself.

ㅤYou were also surprised at how easy the path was, and how earnest your steps had become after all these months of endless back and forth.

ㅤBut nothing could top the astonished and dumbfounded look that the Duke of Meropide himself had given you when you entered his office, not wearing your usual confident expression and work clothes.

ㅤ"Are… you free right now?"

ㅤYou had asked him, your fingers trembling behind your back, hating how shy your voice sounded for some reason.

ㅤAgainst your expectations, as always, Wriothesley found a way to surprise you. He recovered quickly from the awed state, promptly getting up from his chair at once and making his way to you, a reassuring smile on his face.

ㅤHe had never looked so happy ever since you met him.

ㅤ"For you? Always."

ㅤSo the both of you left the cold office with warmness in your hearts. Together, side by side.

ㅤHe even gave a try to holding your hand once before you slapped it away.

ㅤWell… small, baby steps, he supposed.

ㅤAnd Wriothesley decided that it was always worth it to have to spend the entire night finishing the documents due tomorrow if it meant having you for the entire day.

💙 Part 2 will feature Neuvillette and Thoma.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #gn!reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #diluc x you #genshin fluff #genshin #diluc fluff #wriothesley fluff #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader

1K notes · View notes

hotgirlssupportlando · 2 months

Text

one day x lando norris

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of series: a series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and landos lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. of course some angst and fights along the way in this rollercoaster of emotions. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. summary of this part: the start of y/n and landos friendship/crush. y/n is bored at the eurocup where a stranger (lando) is suggesting a betting game to make her interested in the sport (and him). wc: 1,2k notes: im too obsessed with one day atm so just had to write a story inspired by it!! it’s very modified tho, and i haven’t decided yet if it will have the same ending, don’t know if i can handle that haha! also pls ignore the charles pic, couldn't find a better atm. hmu if you have any requests for any of the years x part two here

summer of 2016

Red Bull Ring, Austria

”please y/n, you’re 16 years old, can’t you go elsewhere and entertain yourself, you’re getting a bit annoying now” y/n’s dad told her whilst he was trying to fix the broken car.

”ugh, sure i’ll go for a walk then” y/n sighed and went to go for a walk around the paddock hoping to see something more interesting than broken cars. her friends were jealous that y/n could tag along her father around europe all summer watching the eurocup formula renault 2.0, but she wasn’t very impressed. despite having a father working as a mechanic and utterly interested in motorsport she hadn’t inherited any interested in the sport what so ever. but at least she could escape england and the rain for some time so it felt like a win although she sometimes felt like dying from boredom.

y/n walked around the paddock and decided to facetime her friend y/f/n.

”please come and save me, austria is so fucking boring and where the hell are all the cute guys i was waiting for??” y/n proclaimed.

”omg y/n stop it, you’re always nagging about everything, you should be happy!! nothing happens here either so might as well be in another country doing the same” y/f/n said as y/n entered a tent where they served drinks and snacks. while she was ordering she noticed a curly haired boy shaking his head whilst smiling her way but she just continued her conversation with y/f/n. after enough discussion about the lack of interest y/n had for the sport and talking about y/f/n new crush y/n ended the call, sat down and opened her pepsi in front of her. it took about five milliseconds before the curly haired boy reappeared, this time in the seat in front of her.

”hi” the boy squealed.

”…hi?” y/n said questioning what he wanted, she weren’t exactly in the bestest of moods so to say.

”i heard you hated the eurocup and that you think every guy is ugly here, so here i am to prove you otherwise” he said grinning. y/n chuckled at the way the boy seemed to have no time to waste in proving her wrong.

”and how are you supposed to do that? do you have a masterplan?” y/n asked looking amused.

”glad you asked! well first of all here i am so now you’ve at least seen one cute boy around the paddock so there’s one problem solved an-” the boy was interrupted with y/n’s laugh. she couldn’t help herself from laughing but tried to gesticulate with her hand that he could continue.

with a smile he proceeded to tell the girl about a betting game that could make her interested in watching the races. y/n was immediately down for the idea because honestly she could’ve done anything at this moment to have some fun. they had to come up with one condition each for the bet and agreed on saying them at the same time so no-one could back out. the curly haired boy betted that he would stand on the podium on today’s race and y/n betted that he wouldn’t, easy as that. now to the conditions. the boy apparently had his condition already planned out so y/n panicked trying to come up with one quickly too. she looked around her and went with the first random idea she got.

”okay so we’ll say them on three?” y/n asked getting a nod for an answer.

”one.. two.. three”

”you’ll buy me-” y/n started before getting interrupted.

”you’ll give me a kiss” the boy said with a cheeky smile.

”…a pepsi. WHOA! you’re wasting no time mister” y/n laughed out after finding out the big differences in the conditions given. she was followed by a laughter from the boy too who was unsurprisingly very pleased with the bet. y/n wasn’t disappointed either, the boy was indeed quite cute for being a driver but she couldn’t let him know that. imagine the hubris he would get then, in comparison what he already had.

the pair shook hands and locked in the bet. they decided to meet up after the race either at the podium or at his team, depending on how the race went. y/n was excited and almost felt a little butterfly in her stomach getting loose.

”see you later then…” the boy hesitated realizing he hadn’t asked her name.

”y/n l/n, and yours was?” she asked.

”lando norris, but there’s no need to remember that, you will see the name on the top of the podium later” he chuckled walking away to his team.

y/n could only smile and shake her head while walking away too.

—

”and lando norris takes his fourth victory in this seasons eurocup!!” the presenter shouts excitingly.

y/n was smiling so big her dad had to check up on her, how she immediately had watched a whole race after watching exactly zero of them up until now this summer. y/n had no time to explain to him what was going on and started to run along the paddock until she reached the podium. she was so excited and nervous that she was about to burst, it was hard to believe that she was developing some kind of a crush to this random driver.

because she had little to none sense of direction the celebration at the podium was already done and dusted when she reached it. a bit disappointed and confused she looked around to see if she could see lando somewhere. there was surprisingly many people running around here.

”looking for someone?” a familiar voice said and y/n turned around. there he was, a happy lando holding a trophy in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. she smiled and congratulated him partly for the victory and partly because he somehow got her interest in the sport for once.

”i know it’s not nearly as good as a pepsi but you can have my flowers as a consolation prize” he said handing them to her. she took the flowers and admired them with a smile feeling her butterflies about to let loose. she collected some courage and looked up at his eyes before quickly looking at his lips and crashing onto them. the kiss took lando a bit with surprise but he was quick to answer it. with the hand not holding the trophy lando gently grabbed the back of y/n’s head, slowly deepening the kiss. the butterflies were officially out and about in y/n’s stomach. she tried so hard to hide the excitement but at the end she couldn’t resist smiling and therefore accidentally ending the kiss. slowly they pulled away from each other, leaving them both with blushing smiles on their lips. they looked at each other in silence for a moment before abruptly getting interrupted.

”lando! we’re taking pictures! come here now!” a member of his team shouted.

”well i guess i have to go then.. hope i’ll see you around” lando shyly told the girl.

”i hope so too” y/n stated not knowing the rollercoaster of joys and troubles they’d share in the future as friends and lovers.

—

notes: feel free to give feedback and requests for future parts! x

707 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 6 days

Text

childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he'll call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

#sorry idk why tf this got sad all of a sudden #this was just supposed to be fluffy #lfmaooo??#help #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen #so heavily inspired by many ts songs w this one loool

586 notes · View notes

alltheirdamn · 1 month

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

626 notes · View notes

springtyme · 1 month

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?”

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment. The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time.

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea.

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter.

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this.

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely.

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against the counter on the opposite side of him.

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories.

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job, but I do miss it.”

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture.

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?”

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits, I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.”

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.”

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet.

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it.

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him.

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture.

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator.

The atmosphere hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach.

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off.

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you.

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette.

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you.

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.”

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes.

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose.

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up.

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing.

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here.

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned.

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink.

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult.

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays a hint of eagerness.

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now.

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff.

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on.

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels.

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman.

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest.

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter.

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.”

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration.

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.”

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed…

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman.

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod.

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request.

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest.

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively.

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant.

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office.

“Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused.

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains.

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.

“Suspended license.”

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out.

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business.

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!”

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening. “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here.

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased.

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains.

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes.

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head.

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat.

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!”

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving.

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well.

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step.

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion.

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses.

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance.

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head.

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low. His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling.

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over.

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.

· · · · ·

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing.

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it.

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night.

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know, and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come.

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-”

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone.

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through.

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.”

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.”

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow.

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you.

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

466 notes · View notes

thelittleliars · 2 months

Text

Surprise

Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: fighting, being drunk, mention of homophobia, mention of deceased parents, angst with a happy end

Words: 3.5k

Summary: You wanted to surprise your girlfriend but instead you were the one that got surprised.

A/N: Here it is: the Angst with a happy ending one shot as the majority of you voted for! Btw I did not proof read it so be aware.

Flying wasn't your thing; sitting for hours in a thing that is high in the air with nothing to do but to sleep, eat, watch or read something. And airplane was a capsule of boredom to you, that was why you'd never fly unless you had to. Unfortunately you had to fly for your job since it required you to fly overseas from time to time. This time you had a 15 hour flight back home, itching to not only to see your girlfriend Natasha but also to surprise her, your supposed flight was scheduled for only three days later and when you were given the go to fly back earlier you took the chance and told her nothing about it. You hadn't seen her in weeks so you were extra excited to see her again.

The uber stopped in front of your apartment complex, as you got your things out of the trunk you thanked them for the pleasant ride and wished them a good day. You were quick to arrive at your door, the apartment was one on the top floors, before unlocking it with the your key. The smile on your face vanished when you saw Natasha standing there with three people you had never met before. Your mood became a little sour as you didn't like that your surprise didn't go as you had planned. "Who are you?" You asked confused as nobody including your girlfriend made a move to introduce each other.

They stared at you with critical eyes, sizing you up and down as if you were a criminal or some other threat. The younger woman with blonde hair spoke up first. "Her family." Your heart stilled for a second thinking of meeting her family like this wasn't great but you dismissed everything quickly because you remembered that her family was dead. "No, that can't be. Her family died when she was young." You looked confused at Nat, then back at those strangers again. When nobody responded you got a bit anxious, Natasha wouldn't have lied about that right?

The man spoke up next, bringing you out of your head of spiraling thoughts. "Who are you?" But before you could answer that question happily, the other woman gave her thoughts to the situation. "She's most likely the roommate Natasha always talked about." Roommate. You whirled your head towards your red headed lover, looking baffled at her already guilty expression, pain appeared in your heart and you swore that nothing cut you as deep as the statement along with her silence and facial expression. You pursed your lips to hide how much she hurt you, it would be too embarrassing to throw a fit in front of her family. Natasha opened her mouth but before she got to speak you jumped in. "I just had a 15 hour flight and all I wanna do is take a shower and maybe a nap afterwards. I guess I see y'all later." You said to all of them before you fetched your suitcase and disappeared into the actual guest room that the two of you had for emergencies.

In the shower you sat down and let the water fall onto you. You overthought everything you thought you knew. It was obvious that it was her family, she lied about her parent dying. Why would she do that? And if she lied about that what else did she lie about? Evidently about your relationship. The roommate Natasha constantly talked about.. That statement hurt immensely. You couldn't understand why were a roommate, not even a very good friend no, just a fucking roommate. It made you angry, especially because you loved that woman deeply and it made you wonder if she actually loved you. You also deliberate about if you could ever forgive her about this betrayal.

After the long shower, your phone started ringing the second your t-shirt hit you body. It was strange for someone to call you at this hour but when you saw it was your friend Wanda you answered without a question. You couldn't get a hello out because she was talking fast. "Open your door, there's a surprise for you!" The excitement in her voice was refreshing after all the work talk you had done overseas for days. "Wands, I don't like surprises."

"I know and I'm sorry to do this to you but this one's really worth it. Please believe me and don't hang up!" You tried to put all the faith you had left in her and walked out of the guest room as held your phone against your ear. "I won't hang up don't worry." While you passed by the open kitchen-living room to get to the door, you felt the red head's and her family's intense eyes on you. You ignore them as you opened the door and there she stood, the great Wanda Maximoff with some tickets in her hands. She practically shoved them into your hands. Only then did you hang up the phone and looked at what the tickets were. Your eyes widen in shock before you threw yourself at Wanda, hugging her happily. Natasha jealously was seething so she decided to speak. "What is your ex doing here?"

You turned around smiling at her but not as bright as you had been a second before, you still waved the tickets with joy telling her what the tickets were for. "She got me tickets for a sold out Hayley Kiyoko show!!" Natasha knew how much that meant for you since you had never seen her live even though you had tickets for three concerts at one point. You hated it so much that your job always came in between the dates, making you sell your concert tickets of the singer that was your first crush and gay awakening. This whole situation gave Natasha another pang of jealousy, she should have been the one giving you the tickets, not your damn ex.

"The lesbian Jesus?" The blonde woman whose name you still don't know asked. You nodded and saw her face breaking into a proud expression. "Since when do you know that?" Natasha asked her sister in almost an insulting tone. "Kate Bishop, where else?" After Nat narrowed her eyes the blonde explained further with a shrug. "She told me that I need to widen my horizon in pop culture." At that you turned your attention back to Wanda, minding your own business while picking up your conversation again. "I- I'm.. thank you for the tickets Wands. I truly don't know how to thank you." She smiled at your overwhelmed but giddy state. "You could take me with you?" She joked as she also pointed to the tickets. You agreed to her idea incredibly fast, maybe a bit too fast considering that you had a girlfriend you usually asked and took with you to concerts. But in that split of a moment you didn't give a shit about asking her to go with you, going with your ex sounded way better. "It - it's tomorrow already. Wait, hold on. How'd you even know that I'd be back by then?"

"Oh yeah about that.. I might have talked with Josh." She smiled sheepishly. Josh was a mutual friend but also your co-worker. But you'd never have thought that Josh would talk about your (early) return. Especially since you told him you wanted to surprise everyone. "Are you lovebirds actually coming in or stay in the doorway all night?" Alexei teased you both, you didn't how how to feel about that. You were still together with his daughter and him teasing or shipping you with your ex was beyond something you thought you'd experience. The frown on Natasha face was something you didn't miss and you actually had to bite your tongue before saying something you'd regret. To your luck, because you knew biting your tongue wouldn't help for long, your lover pipped in. "They are ex-girlfriends and not lovebirds." She stated hard. Her father continued to reason with his daughter. "Doesn't have to mean anything Tasha bear. How often did your mother and I break up and got back together hmm?"

You ignored their conversation once again, turning to the red head that stood still in the doorway you told her to wait for you. "Let me switch pants and then we go get a drink somewhere yeah? That way we can catch up and they can continue having family time uninterrupted." Natasha wanted to interject, deny you going out with Wanda when she desperately wanted to explain herself but she feared that stopping you would dig her grave with you only deeper so she let you go. When you were about to leave, Yelena and Alexei teased you both a last time. You felt a bit bad for Natasha but it all were also a part of consequences of her actions. "Don't come home too late." Was the only thing she told you. You still heard Yelena's such a mom and Alexei's don't be a cockblocker Natasha through the door.

-----------------------------

You were passed out in Wanda's arms as she carried you bridal style towards your apartment. It wasn't planned that you drank this much alcohol, but once you got a taste of it you just couldn't stop, it numbed your feelings and problems that you badly wanted to forget. Natasha was at the door quick, relieved when she saw you in Wanda's arms, she lead you both towards your bedroom watching how your ex put you on the bed gently.

"Thank you for bringing her home." She commented. The other woman only nodded before leaving fairly quickly, not wanting to be there in case you woke up which she knew was unlikely but didn't want it risk it anyways. Hungover you was something she did not want to witness ever again.

The next morning was rather midday by the time you woke up. You walked into the bathroom first, quickly peeing and splashing some water on your face before wandering to the kitchen, there you saw Natasha sitting at her kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other hand. "Morning." You hummed grumpily, acknowledging her without actually talking to her. She huffed before she tried to talk to you again. "Y/N I-" Natasha started but you cut her off immediately. "I don't wanna talk."

"But I really-" Her next attempt to talk got quickly cut off by you again. "I SAID I DONT WANT TO TALK NATASHA!" You didn't yell, you simply rose your voice a bit to get your point across. She shut up afterwards. "Gosh just give me space before you ruin my day. I still have a concert to attend to." Your words and the situation cut her deep, it hurt to know this side of you - that she was the reason for bringing this out of you and inflicting (you) pain. She never wanted any of this.

-----------------------------

After the incredible amazing concert you dragged Wanda into a bar to get some well deserved fries and drinks. It didn't last long until you spilled your relationship problems and some evil thoughts you had in your head. The cruelest one was to text Nat asking her if she'd give you permission to kiss another girl during Hayley's performance of Girls Like Girls. You'd never cheat but the itch to get back at her in some way for betraying you was big.

"I know you want to hurt Natasha back a bit because of what she did but is it really worth it? Wouldn't that just truly ruin your relationship?" Wanda was concerned about your state of mind and what you might would do. She knew how rash you were in doing something when you got hurt by someone close to you. "It's hardly a relationship if it's build on lies." You stated without any emotion in your voice and expression. This only showed her that her worries were valid. "Maybe she had a good reason for it." The red head tried so hard to see the positive but of course with your mood, nothing was getting to you.

"I can't think of a single good reason of why she'd lie about her parents passing. I also came up short when I thought of a reason of her hiding our relationship. Like I'd have understood if it were the same situation as it was in our relationship, when you were a baby gay with parents who oftentimes said homophobic remarks and you being afraid to come out. But her father and sister teased us lovebirds and it seemed very genuine, they weren't homophobic." At the mention of Wanda's past, she felt the need to voice her thoughts. "I still feel like they stopped with the remarks after catching Pietro watching gay porn." You gave her a tiny sad smile. "Well either way, at least you had the decency to tell your family that we were not only very good but also very close friends. I'm just a roommate to them."

"I'm sorry." She said it genuine, without any pity or whatsoever. You nodded but also sighed at her apology. "Not your fault Wanda. Don't apologize for something that's out of reach." It was quiet between the two of you for a long moment, eating and drinking to make it less awkward before you asked her if you could crash at her place. "Of course, you're always welcome." Later, right before you went to sleep, you texted your girlfriend that you'd stay at Wanda's for the night.

-----------------------------------

When you got home the next day, Natasha was nowhere to be found, it gave you enough time to ponder if you should simply break up with her and get all your things with you, it would have been a coward move on your part and you were already cowardly enough by staging away from her the night before. You quickly changed into a new set of clothes the grabbing your headphones and went into the kitchen, getting out ingredients from the cabinets to bake something, you still needed to distract yourself before facing Natasha.

The second she entered the apartment and heard movements she knew were only yours, she stopped dead in her tracks as she wasn't expecting you to the apartment yet. She thought that you were staying at Wanda's for a while longer but since you weren't she took the chance to finally talk to you and explain herself. You were startled by the tap on your shoulder, you hadn't heard her come back with the headphones on yours ears blasting angry rock-metal music. Pausing the music and taking the headphones from your ears, you turned around to face Natasha, she had messy hair with dark circles and bags underneath her eyes. It told you that she had a sleepless night.

"I don't want to talk." You told her simply because it irritated you that she disrupted your baking time. She groaned in frustration. "But I need to talk. Y/N I want to fix my mistakes, I want to fix us." She was desperate, you heard it in her voice, but that still didn't change your mind. "Maybe the magnitude of your mistakes are too big to fix." The words you said left her stunned. With the little courage she had left she asked you the important question. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet." It came out weak, nearly matching the weak tone of the question Natasha asked second before. A bit of relieve flooded her system but she was still tense m, fearing your answer to her next question. "What's holding you back?" You weren't sure if you wanted to let her know your reasons but you ended up opening anyways. "My gut and my trust in you."

The silence that followed was nearly deafening, the redheaded woman simply was at loss of words because it felt wrong for you to still have trust in her. "I haven't shattered your trust yet?"

"Hard to believe right? Despite all your lies I still trust you.. even if it's on a thin thread." There was another couple of minutes of silence before she finally could apologize without you cutting her off. "Then let me apologize because I really have to apologize for how the other day went down. I'm sorry for lying about my parents and that I lied to them about our relationship. I didn't mean to hurt you but I did and now I have to own it up." She started before moving to sit down on a chair. "It's true that my parents died at a young age. Who you saw was my foster family, we didn't always get along which resulted in me distancing myself from them for a decade. It wasn't until we were a year deep into a relationship that we started to have contact again."

"But why lie to them about us? Your father and sister seemed pretty open about homosexuals." You asked, still confused about certain things that needed to be cleared up.

"My plan was to ease them in telling how I'm not only queer but more so a lesbian. Last time I really knew them they were homophobic so I was surprised by their remarks. I hadn't met them in person for so long, I guess they changed a lot during that time." You took your hands in hers. It was a small gesture of you supporting her in quietness. "I'm sorry detka. I should have told you a long time ago about my foster family. And also that I told them you were my roommate."

"I just don't get it. Why tell them we're roommates and not friends?" It was the question that plagued your mind. She bit her lips then shaking her head and looking everywhere but at you. "It wouldn't have been believable. I always ruined all my friendships." You squeezed her hands in hope she'd look at you again and she did even if it was only for a few seconds. "Is there anything else you lied about?"

Her eyes rose to yours, this time you could see her bare soul laying out for you. She removed her hands from yours before answered honest. "Uhh.. my job?" It was barely a second that passed by before you shrieked out her full name. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova!" She squeezed her eyes shut as her name fell from your lips like you called her satan, then she fumbled with her hands until they found yours again. With an honest look in her eyes she apologizes again. "Y/N I'm really sorry okay."

"Sorry doesn't make it better! Natasha you do realize how fucked up this is right? Especially because we talk about work at dinner every other day. Gosh." You felt sick to your stomach when you thought back at the countless of conversations you had. "If-if you're not a secretary then what exactly do you do?"

"I'm actually a SHIELD agent." She leaned closer to you when she noticed your lack of response. When you did reply it made Natasha even more nervous, anxious even, she feared that you decide to break up with her right then and there. "A SHIELD agent?" You repeated calmly, a bit too calm for your girlfriend's liking, a calm person is always one to fear during a fight, they most likely are already done with everything. "A SHIELD agent." Natasha confirmed.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"At some point." You nodded then removed your hands from hers all while you were telling her you needed to go back to baking, you turned around finished your cupcakes. Natasha stood there awkwardly, not knowing what else to tell you or where to go. When the first batch of cupcakes were done you held one in between your fingers, you walked straight up to the redhead with no expression on your face, her heart pounded so wildly that it felt like she was going to die. "As much as I hate you right now, I'm still completely and utterly in love with you." You offered her the cupcake that she gladly accepted with a small smile. "I might be an idiot for even attempting to forgive you but I can honestly see us having a great and long future together."

"I want that. The long and great future with you, I mean." She looked down and smiled shyly

"Good. But it can only happen if you won't lie to me anymore Nat. I'd rather be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She nodded. "Good. Now come here and give me a kiss."

"Can I eat my cupcake first?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes. You shook your heard, told her 'no' before you grabbed her head and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader

458 notes · View notes

mydearzero · 8 months

Text

Lisztomania | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Years after joining the BAU, you thought you'd gotten past your little celebrity-like infatuation with Spencer, the whole reason you applied for the BAU. A case involving the murder of several groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band is bound to prove you wrong.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

4.7K words

It wasn't an everyday occurrence that Spencer would be the one to deliver the profile to the public. He looked a lot more stoic on TV than in real life. You never failed to be amazed by how he could still surprise you over the years. He looked confident, and it was a good look on him.

"-The man we're looking for is between the ages of 25 and 40. He is of an average build. He's likely socially inept and doesn't mingle well with his peers. Please be on the lookout for anybody who fits this description and contact the FBI through the local Police Department. Thank you."

"Someone's gawking." Emily's words startled you out of your Spencer-induced trance. You crossed your arms and grumbled.

"No, I wasn't..." You bit the inside of your cheek as Emily pat your shoulder and scoffed a laugh.

"Sure, you weren't. I gotta give it to you. TV does Boy Wonder well." Emily said as she watched the head of the local Police Department take over the press conference as Spencer left the screen.

"I guess I'm just amazed at how different he looks while doing press. Compared to how he usually carries himself, I mean." You shrugged. Emily turned to look at you, no longer interested in the TV screen.

"Guess that's the profiler in all of us. You can't help but compare. But you're right. Reid does have a certain je ne sais quoi about him, I suppose."

_________

That was several months ago. It wasn't until you saw Spencer in front of a classroom that a familiar, uneasy feeling returned to your stomach. Emily was right. He did 'have a certain je ne sais quoi about him'. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"-Which is why it's crucial we always discuss the details of the COD with the coroner's office. COD being the Cause of Death, of course." Spencer spoke with an air of juvenile enthusiasm. You were glad he still had that part in him, despite everything that happened previous to his teaching.

He finished the class and was about to walk over to where you were leaning against the wall, waiting for him to finish. But when he was nearly done packing his satchel, a small group of college girls formed around his desk. The soft smile he'd directed at you was quickly cut short.

You stared in amazement at the girls' shameless flirting. Spencer had turned this group of brilliant and educated girls into giddy schoolgirls, all by just being himself. They all wanted a piece of him, and you started to have peace with the fact that you didn't blame them. You were in the same boat.

_________

The final straw was during a case concerning a string of murders involving groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band.

"I mean, I get the urge to throw your panties on stage at an attractive man. I do. Even I would've taken the bait with Nick Carter, given the chance. But to follow a random stranger down a dark alley in the hopes of meeting your idol? That seems a bit far-fetched. Girls this age are smarter than that, especially with the media frenzy." JJ flipped through the details described in the case file.

"There's been several cases of fangirls going to great lengths to get what they want from their idol. The earliest case would probably be with Hungarian composer Franz Liszt in 1841.

The term 'Lisztomania' came about in 1844, describing an intense level of hysteria demonstrated by fans, a bit like the treatment of celebrity musicians today – but in a time not known for such musical excitement.

A more recent example would be Beatlemania, or even the so-called 'Bieber Fever' or 'One Direction Infection'. There have been several studies that explain this behaviour, but I won't get into that." Spencer trailed off.

"I know someone else who had a case of that. But I think that was just called a hard-on." JJ joked, jabbing at Spencer's short-lived fling with Lila Archer over ten years ago. Spencer grumbled something along the lines of "Can we please let that go," but it fell on deaf ears.

"It's still strange they would follow someone down the alley unless the person they're following has been established in the girls' minds as someone with authority, like a crew member connected to the band," Rossi mentioned.

"Garcia, look into all the current members of the band's crew along with the people working at the venues. We're going to need you at the scene, too. There's a lot of social media involved. Thank you. Wheels up in 30." Hotch stood up, signalling the meeting was finished.

You walked with Emily back to the bullpen, Spencer following close behind.

"You know, I get it. There's something attractive about a man with a platform, even if you put him on that pedestal yourself, to begin with." Emily said as you leaned against her desk.

"Yeah, for sure. It doesn't have to be a pop star or actor. A celebrity, even. Could be anybody under the right circumstances." You agreed. You could see the appeal in having an unrelenting devotion to someone like that.

You put Spencer on a pedestal like that, in a way. You watched as he gathered his things into his go-bag. You knew he was a flawed person, like anybody. Yet, in your eyes, all his problems could be explained or ignored. You didn't notice the curious glance Emily sent your way.

While on the jet, you contemplated the case. Would you have fallen for the ruse? Maybe if you had been a bit younger? You'd had your own little celebrity obsessions. You wouldn't have ruled it out if free tickets and a meet & greet were in the picture.

It was a quick but convoluted catch once the profile was made. Thank you, Penelope. The UnSub was most likely one of the band's crew members who used to date the bassist. They'd broken up due to an increasing number of groupies getting in the way of their relationship. Go figure she'd go and murder them.

The catch happened right in time with the start of the show, the bustling crowd missing all of the mayhem that had gone down backstage due to the support act. How the gigs hadn't been cancelled yet was beyond you.

"You can stay and watch the show from the VIP area if you want. It's the least we can do, really. Though, maybe ditch the FBI gear." The lead singer had a charming smile. You could see how the crowd waiting for him could be captivated by his energy.

After Hotch checked with the hotel and pilot, the team decided to take the band up on their invitation. After a quick shower and change at the hotel, you drove back to the venue in groups.

You were escorted to a barricaded area near the front of the stage. The energy of the crowd was exhilarating. An electric tension hung in the air as the 30-minute change-over between the support was filled with soft music from a playlist.

JJ and Rossi came bearing gifts, both carrying several drinks to hand out to the team. You thanked them as you took one, taking a sip of the ice-cold drink. You deserved to relax and enjoy a night like this after the gruelling case.

You watched unabashedly at Spencer, red overhead lights casting down on his face. You'd like to see how he'd do on the stage, perhaps in an alternate universe, and with a different wardrobe. He was undoubtedly eclectic enough to pull off the whole rock star gig.

He felt your gaze and made eye contact, working his way past a wildly gesturing Emily as she told a story. He lightly grabbed your upper arm when he reached you.

"Hey." You saw his mouth move, but his words got lost under the chattering crowd. You smiled and leaned closer.

"Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" You shouted. Spencer winced as he laughed. You'd obviously overestimated the volume of the crowd. You mouthed a quick apology before taking another drink.

You nearly choked when Spencer leaned even closer, invading your personal bubble (that was already narrow), to talk directly in your ear.

"Did you know that typical movement behaviour at large events like these increases the risk of spreading infectious diseases?" You bit your lip as you stopped yourself from laughing. Leave it up to Spencer to break the tension like that.

"It makes sense, I guess. Lots of people, lots of bodily fluids. Kinda gross, now that I think about it," you replied.

Just as he was about to speak again, the lights dimmed, and screams filled the stadium. You gave him a small smile, which he returned, afterwards turning to look at the show. He stood behind you for the majority of the show, and while you would've loved to admire him in the gorgeous lighting a little longer, you couldn't have asked for a better person to have rubbed up against you for an hour and a half.

After the show, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ decided to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest ahead of their early flight the following day. The rest headed out to a bar just around the corner of the venue. You walked quickly, the cold of the outside being a jarring change from the heat at the concert.

You were a few drinks in when Penelope brought up a subject you'd somehow managed to avoid all these years.

"If I hadn't joined the FBI, I would've liked to be some sort of celebrity," She mentioned, taking another sip through her straw.

"Considering the type of psychos we encounter on a daily basis, I'd rather be less known, not more." Emily shuddered. You were quick to agree. Although fame was attractive on some level, you wouldn't want to risk situations like those you'd witnessed these last few days in exchange.

"What made you want to become an agent in the first place?" Penelope turned to you before continuing. "I didn't have much of a choice, to be honest. It was jail or the FBI, and I'm not jail material. I mean, look at me!" She gestured wildly to herself.

You chuckled and decided to pick an opt-out answer. "I just saw it as the right thing to do, you know? Make the world a better place, even if it's only little by little." You shrugged.

Spencer squinted as he ran his eyes over your face. "Bullshit." He determined. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his callout.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You questioned genuinely. Sure, you hadn't been entirely honest, but it wasn't a lie.

"You're lying, I can tell. You do that thing with your face. Besides, that's the most basic answer ever. Surely a person with as much integrity as you do would have a better reason than a moral superiority complex." Spencer stated matter-of-factly. You gaped at his accusation.

"He's right, though. You have no connection to the Bureau. Reid is a wunderkind, Garcia is basically an ex-con, and I'm a child of nepotism. What made you apply? And for the BAU of all places?" Emily wondered out loud.

You recoiled as you realised there was no getting out of this. If you were going to dance around the subject, Penelope would get too curious, anyways. She'd have your application and its details pulled up in no time. That, along with cross-referencing the BAU with your college, it wouldn't take a mastermind to figure out what happened.

"I actually followed a lecture on sexual sadism and the Mill Creek Killer back in college that made me wonder if I'd be cut out for it." You admitted, omitting some key details.

The one secret you'd sworn to take to your grave was that Spencer was the sole reason you were with the FBI in the first place, having followed one of his guest lectures a few years back.

He hadn't even left the room before you'd turned in your online application to the Academy.

"Why not mention that in the first place? God, no need to be so secretive about it." Penelope whined. You didn't answer as you tentatively sipped your drink, feeling busted for no reason.

You glanced up to look at an overly smug and amused Spencer. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised you were most definitely caught.

"You know, when Hotch first introduced us to you, I thought I recognised you from somewhere. But the memory I have of that lecture is actually overshadowed by this kid who was also there, Nathan Harris. He ended up killing some prostitutes. But now that you mention it, you did go to Georgetown, didn't you?" Spencer knew he was right. He just wanted to see how you were going to talk yourself out of this one.

"Oh, you gave that lecture? I never realised..." It was a pathetic lie, and there was no hiding it. Emily snorted out loud. She'd clocked your little 'thing' for Spencer long ago, you knew that much.

"Aww, you looked up to Spencer? That's so cute!" Penelope gushed. That sure was one way to put it. You made a face that must've said as much.

"What, you didn't look up to me? I'm offended. Here I thought I was your favourite professor." Spencer joked. He excused himself as he walked to the bathroom. Great timing, as it gave you time to rid your cheeks of the flush you were sporting.

"Be honest with me. And don't bother lying because we've all seen the heart eyes you throw at Pretty Boy. Were you genuinely interested in joining because of the subject matter? Or..." Emily encouraged you to answer.

You sighed as you brought a hand to your face. "Honestly? I wasn't sure if I wanted to be him or be with him. But at least I signed up for the class out of genuine interest! There were plenty of girls there that were there purely for the hour-long eye candy!" You defended yourself.

"And you applied for the Academy after the lecture? At least it must've been interesting." Penelope wondered out loud.

"Actually..." You winced. "He'd hardly even been done with his introduction before I'd filled in the online application. But I was very single, okay? And he'd already built up this celebrity status on campus." It felt nice to admit to it after years of harbouring it.

"Oh! You naughty little fangirl!" Penelope exclaimed.

"I'm not a fangirl! It's been years!" You groaned. You took it back. It didn't feel nice. You should've kept it to yourself.

"Who are you a fangirl of?" Spencer asked, putting a new glass in front of Emily and sitting back down by your side.

"You! She's a total groupie." Penelope betrayed you. You shot her a nasty look, but it went ignored by her drunken, self-satisfied glee.

"Is that so?" Spencer turned to you with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh yeah, total Reidiac. You should give her an autograph." Emily winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head at their antics.

The conversation moved on, but you felt the dynamic between Spencer and you had changed, even when unspoken. When Penelope and Emily were caught up discussing cats, Spencer leaned against your side, whispering in your ear once more. Unlike last time, he didn't break the tension, even when telling another fact.

"Garcia called you my groupie earlier. Do you know the textbook definition of the term 'groupie'?" His voice was huskier than usual, coated with the alcohol and late hour. You shook your head timidly, urging him to continue.

"A groupie is typically explained as a young woman who regularly follows a celebrity, especially in the hope of having a sexual relationship with them." His lip brushed against your ear as he whispered the words. A cold chill went down your spine at his insinuation.

"You're no celebrity, Spence." You answered apprehensively. He didn't move, still leaning into your side, out of sight. You couldn't gauge his expression.

"Maybe not in the classic sense of the word. But I have a Wikipedia page. Surely, that amounts to some celebrity status." He joked. You closed your eyes, tension slowly disappearing after the vibe of the conversation changed back to casual banter.

Was he insinuating what you thought he was?

You got your answer as soon as the four of you headed to the hotel. You bid your goodbyes to Emily and Penelope before turning to put the keycard in the door to your room. You heard a couple of doors close, and just when you turned the handle, there was a hand on your shoulder, pushing you inside and closing the door. You whipped around, only to be faced with Spencer.

"Spenc-"

"You deflected earlier." He interrupted.

"Deflected what?" Your heart was racing. Whether from the shock of his sudden intrusion or the proximity, you weren't sure.

"The definition of a groupie. And how Garcia is right, you totally are one."

You gaped at the insinuation.

"Don't look shocked now! You are totally one of those girls who audit my class." He grinned.

"You wish! I'll have you know you were scrawny at best when you gave that one lecture I attended." You huffed, crossing your arms.

"Were scrawny? Past tense?" Spencer egged you on.

"Shut up. You know you've built up some muscle since then. Hell, maybe you even grew a couple of inches." You rolled your eyes.

Spencer decided to ignore the comment and put his hand in his pocket, fishing for something. He finally pulled something out, looking way too smug for his own good. "I brought a Sharpie. You know, for your autograph."

Fine. If he wasn't going to stop this ridiculous teasing, you were going to cross the 'groupie' line.

"Oh my god! I like, totally want your autograph, Spency!" You started, looking him dead in the eyes as your hands made their way to the hem of your shirt.

"Will you sign my tits?" You challenged, lifting your top far enough to expose your bra to its fullest extent.

Spencer obviously hadn't expected that, struggling to come up with a quick-witted response. You shrugged as you took the shirt off.

"I see. You require a larger surface area. I get it. Big ego, bigger signature." Spencer finally broke when you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"Hey, hey. Stop. I can sign them like this just fine, sweetheart." You knew he was simply going along with the rockstar act, but the nickname sent blood rushing to your cheeks either way.

"Okay, hot shot." You smirked, pushing your chest out. He hadn't expected you to actually let him sign your chest. He scrambled to take the cap off. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

"Stand still. You want it to come out perfect, don't you?"

You held your breath when he brought the Sharpie up to your breasts. You looked at his face as he appeared laser-focused on giving you the best autograph of your life. Why was it that such a stupid joke felt like the most sensual experience of your life?

The tip of the Sharpie tickled as it danced across your chest. He finished the signature with a dot on the I in Reid.

"There, perfection." He whispered, but his eyes were no longer glued to your scantily clad upper body. You searched his face for hesitation but only found his determined gaze settled on your parted lips.

He made eye contact as if asking permission. You'd barely nodded before his hands cupped your face, and lips were on yours, sucking all the air out of your lungs. His body pressed up against your own, frantically shedding the layers keeping you separated. You kept kissing him while desperately reaching for his belt.

You hadn't noticed you'd slowly made your way to the bed in the back of the hotel room until Spencer pulled away to remove his tie. You let yourself fall onto the sheets, ridding yourself of your bottoms. They got stuck at your ankles as you forgot your shoes.

"I got it." Spencer's voice was unrecognisably hoarse. He kicked off his own shoes and made his way over to the bed in only his boxers. He tugged at your shoes after undoing the laces and discarded them somewhere in the room.

You'd never seen a sight quite like Spencer leaning over you as he rested one knee on the bed. He put his hand beside your face and you met his eyes. His head blocked the dim yellow ceiling light, lighting him perfectly from behind. It was ridiculous how angelic he could look, even in these stereotypically sinful circumstances.

"Are you sure about this?" Spencer asked. Always considerate. What a gentleman.

"I've been sure ever since that stupid lecture, dork." You joked. Spencer smiled and leaned down, placing a kiss under your ear. His breath was hot on your neck as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, down to his crudely placed signature.

You leaned on your elbows as Spencer reached behind your back to finally unclasp your bra. You let your back meet with the sheets again as he pulled the straps down your arms. You heard him take a deep breath as he took in the sight before him.

You pulled him down for another kiss, unsatiable now that you'd gotten a taste. His hands reached for your chest and experimentally pinched a nipple. You inhaled sharply through your nose. The combined sensation of his mouth and large hands on your body, as his hips sought more and more friction, was delectable.

His hands slowly reached further down, toying with the edge of your underwear.

"Don't tease." You whined, already too riled up.

"Patience is a virtue," Spencer murmured against the skin of your jaw, hooking his finger under the elastic band.

"Patience, my ass, Reid. I need you." It came out more desperate than you intended, but it seemed to do the trick. He yanked the underwear down your legs, followed by his own.

"Condom?" He asked. You shook your head.

"Don't care. I'm clean, and God knows you are. Wanna feel you." You answered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spencer laughed, taking his cock in his hand and running it through your folds.

"Have you met yourself? You won't even shake hands, Doct-oh, oh Jesus Christ." Spencer interrupted your banter by sliding inside in one go. You closed your eyes as you pulled him close, begging him to kiss you.

He slowly started moving as you regained your ragged breath. The low grunts falling from his lips against yours were magical, but you wanted more. Your fingers made their way up to his hair, tentatively tugging at the roots. Your grip tightened at a particularly harsh thrust, and Spencer's response was everything you were searching for.

"Holy fuck, oh my God- Uh-" His grunts slowly tuned whinier as you kept your grip on his hair. He brought a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Look at me, baby." He moaned in your ear. He leaned back, and your eyes fluttered open, though with difficulty. Your instinct was to squeeze them shut with pleasure. He looked ravenous, pupils blown wide, panting with the physical effort.

You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him even closer.

"Shit, Spencer," you moaned as the new angle reached a spot inside you you'd only ever dreamed of. Your eyes squeezed shut again, unable to keep them open. Spencer removed the hand rubbing your clit and moved it to your chin, placing a small kiss on your lips.

"Eyes on me, come on. I know you can do it." He encouraged. Something about his coercive tone let you know there was a side to Spencer you had yet to see. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of his eyebrows furrowed with effort.

The noises coming from Spencer sped up along with the desperate pace of his hips. The combination of his whines with yours and the sound of skin on skin was anything but serene. You felt yourself nearing the edge, clawing at his back in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Spencer! Fuck, oh my god," it was hardly distinguishable what you were saying, mumbles of pleasure stringing together into an unintelligible mess. His cock slid again and again and- you couldn't take it.

Your hands left his hair in favour of running your nails harshly over his back. Spencer was seemingly a glutton for pain, moaning at the sensation.

"I- Shit, I'm gonna cum. D'you want me to pull out?" Spencer's thrust faltered. You knew you had to answer fast. You tightened your grip on him with your legs.

"Please, Spencer. Please come inside me. Want to feel you cum." You begged.

"Fuck, okay. Okay. O-" His head dropped down to your shoulder as his unrelenting hips sped up one more time, bringing you both to your high. You felt his cock twitch as your walls tightened around him.

"Spencer!" You shouted as you came, feeling him spill inside you.

"So good for me. So gorgeous. Perfect." Spencer mumbled as he peppered you with kisses, hips slowing down as he came down from his high. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath.

Spencer carefully pulled out, making sure not to spill anything and soil the sheets. He stepped off the bed and spread your legs, before leaning back down and licking a drop of cum threatening to spill.

"Shit, Spencer! Too sensitive!" You pushed his head away. He laughed before heading to the bathroom, returning with a dampened towel.

The nighttime routine that followed felt domestic. You peed, brushed your teeth, ignored the sight of his signature and hickies on your boobs, and headed to bed.

"Can I borrow your toothbrush?" Spencer asked from the bedroom. He hadn't asked to stay. But then again, you hadn't asked him to leave. You didn't want him to.

"You just licked your own cum from my vagina, and you ask if you can borrow my toothbrush? Be my guest, Reid." You scoffed, lying down under the sheets.

"Hey, people have their preferences, okay? Didn't want to overstep." Spencer said as he returned from the bathroom, lying down beside you.

Against your better judgement, Spencer stayed. You knew the entire team would be up and around, bright and early. But you didn't care. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

He left early the following morning. You were sure he hadn't had nearly enough beauty sleep. He could nap on the plane, you shrugged. There were no regrets from either party over the loss of sleep.

You hadn't thought too much about your outfit before heading down to breakfast. An honest mistake one can make when staying up late and getting up early. You were exhausted, let alone hung over. You realized your mistake when the ever-stoic eyes of Aaron Hotchner immediately snapped down to the tank top you were wearing the second you stepped out of the elevator, the words 'Spencer Reid' still obscenely sprawled across your chest, accompanied by several suspicious bruises.

Your eyes went wide as you followed his gaze, quickly zipping up your hoodie. How could you possibly have forgotten that part? You met Hotch's eyes. Before you could try to babble yourself out of this one, he held up a hand to stop you. "I don't want to know."

You clenched your lips as you nodded. "Noted, bossman."

The small smile tugging at the corner of his lips didn't escape you, and neither did the exchange of money between him and Rossi not 5 minutes later.

2K notes · View notes

bgomtori · 3 months

Text

☆ falling behind - k.th

synopsis - where everyone around you falls in love but you.

-> taehyun x reader

-> strangers to potential lovers, college au!

-> warnings! talks about the inability to fall inlove, yn zones out a lot, mentions of almost dying and being suicidal, alcohol, slowburn

-> note! happy tyun day!! love this man so much :' + laufey is so theraputic, i love her songs sm

love, a complex and profound emotion, an emotion experienced by many at least once in their lifetime. many may find solace in the warmth of shared gazes and the gentleness of intertwined fingers. love is like a canvas painted with the hues of understanding and compassion, where every stroke tells a story of shared excitement, or even bitter arguements. however, not everything is perfect, love can be exhausting and scary. while people yearn for the feeling of affection, some individuals decide to isolate themselves and prevent hurting themselves in the future, and completely destroy the meaning of love.

you sighed at the thought of being attracted to someone romantically, as you listened to your friends' sappy love stories about their partners, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy in your heart. when someone confesses their feelings to you, you can't help but feel disgusted, why can't you feel any romantic feelings towards anyone, like a normal human being? were you a robot? why can everyone around you fall for each other but you? your best friends have been in and out of relationships for god knows how many times, but you could only watch that happen. while everyone was falling inlove, you were falling behind.

"the right one will come to you, maybe by then, you'll feel your heart racing faster." ningning reassured you. but how? how would you know how love would feel like? you looked down, feeling devastated about the thought that you may never get married in the future. "don't worry yn! they'll come to you, it may not be in college, but maybe when you start working? who knows, or maybe they're here right now?" giselle exclaimed, trying to be more positive after seeing your gloomy state.

"i've never fallen in love with anyone before, how am i supposed to know how that feels." you groaned, stirring your coffee even though the milk has already been mixed in. "don't worry! the both of us can help you." you looked up from your sad coffee, just to see your friends stare at you with hopeful looks, you couldn't help but chuckle at them.

"fine." you couldn't believe you agreed to something like that, how were you going to find someone to try, or force yourself to fall inlove with. you were an introvert, you barely knew anyone that was in your college, all you did was follow your friend group around campus and laugh along with their jokes. as you left the cafe, walking in the opposite direction of your friends, you couldn't help but wonder how it was like for you to openly like someone, hold hands, or even kiss. the thought made you cringe, hell no, you can't imagine yourself doing that. however, the sound of finally having a shoulder to cry on, and calling someone yours, made you smile to yourself, that must be nice.

you were completely lost in your own world, not even noticing the traffic light infront of you, it was still red. cars quickly zooming past before the green man appears, you were clueless enough to almost step foot onto the busy street, until someone yanked you away, making you shriek in fear. you came back to your senses, finally realising that you were infront of a traffic light, you looked over your shoulder to notice the man holding you back from almost killing yourself. he was quite attractive, despite his outfit being a graphic tee with some sweatpants on, he had a nice face with big eyes.

"are you blind, or suicidal? why would you walk onto a road with oncoming vehicles." his tone was harsh, you could feel him belittling you. "i was lost in my thoughts, sorry.." you spoke barely in a whisper, slightly embarrassed that a stranger had to save you from a tragedy. he finally let go of your bag, walking away into the distant, you stared at his disappearing figure, wondering why he looked so familiar.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"please yn, let's watch the football finals tonight. don't you wanna support our school." giselle whined, hugging onto your arm. "fine.." you grumbled, you were forced into this, you wanted to go home earlier today after your lecture and rest, but the universe has planned a different fate for you.

"yes! then you're gonna follow us to the after party too." your head turned towards ningning so fast, your head could fly off. "i didn't agree to that." you almost shouted, "nuh uh, you need to socialise, especially since you're in college." ningning gave you a smug look before walking off towards her classroom. you rubbed your head in annoyance, you couldn't believe that you were forced into this, but you were slightly excited, maybe you could find the someone you've been longing for. you quickly shook your head, why would you be thinking about stuff like that now. what are the chances that you would meet your future partner.

"i hate this so much." you mumbled to yourself, taking a seat near the back of the lecture theatre, trying to complete the last few questions of the homework assigned. you hoped that the day would go by faster, so that you could be in the comfort of your own home. yet again, you were occupied by your own thoughts, zoning in and out of lessons, only to be interrupted by the sudden movement at the front of the lecture hall.

"kang taehyun, how many times have you been late to class this month alone." the lecturer complained, taehyun apologised for his tardiness, completely ignoring the lecturers fussing as he made his way to the back of the class, where the only seat available was the one beside you. you stared at his face, trying to make out who he was, he felt familiar.

"oh it's you." he suddenly said, you looked at him with a puzzled expression on your face. that was the guy who saved you yesterday, you blushed at the sudden memory. how embarrassing.. "is this class the reason why you wanted to walk onto oncoming traffic? if it was, i understand." taehyun joked, taking out his laptop from his bag. you rolled your eyes at him, did he really think that you wanted to kill yourself?

"i already told you last night, i was just in my own world, i didn't notice the road infront of me." you retorted, taehyun chuckled at you, bringing his attention back to what the lecturer was teaching. you couldn't help but sneak glances at taehyun, he had to admit that he was fucking attractive, how have you not noticed him before. heck, you didn't even know that he was in your class to begin with. you quickly snapped yourself out of it, trying to focus in class.

"you really zone out a lot." a voice brought you back to reality, you didn't even realise that class had already ended, which part of lesson did you zone out at? "sorry, i think i'm just tired.." you rubbed your heavy lidded eyes, about to leave your seat.

"i'll send you my lecture notes, you gotta repay me though." taehyun stated, you stared at him in confusion, why was he acting so nicely to you? "what are you staring at me for? do you want to fail?" ouch, he was really straightforward. you gave taehyun your email in order for him to email you his notes. you briefly thanked him, walking out of the lecture theatre as fast as you could. you saw your friend group standing in the distance, probably waiting for you, you jogged up to them, giving them an apology for holding up their time.

"what took you so long?" ningning asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

"i zoned out in class, so i needed to get notes from my tablemate, sorry." you explained yourself. ningning gave you a slow nod before pulling you along with her, "well, let's go hang in your dorm before we head out for the match."

not long after, you've been lazing around with ningning and giselle, talking about basic things like what you did during the day, your classes, and obviously, their current partners. you sighed into the palm of your hand, looking down at your phone, scrolling aimlessly on tiktok, nodding your head occassionally at what they had to say.

"i'm so excited to support him later, hey yn, do you want me to introduce some players on the football team to you? i think there's some that may suit you." giselle suddenly questioned, you flinched at the sudden question, shit, you weren't listening at all up till that point.

"it's fine, i'm not looking for anyone right now." you mumbled out your answer, apparently that upsetted giselle, causing her to pout at your words. "you gotta have a look at them, seeing you all single and lonely hurts me too." she whined into your arm, making you cringe a little. you let out a nervous chuckle, pulling her away from your arm, "i'll try."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

this was definitely new to you, the loud screaming, along with the band blasting in the background felt foreign to you. the stadium was packed with students from your school and the opponent's school. the guys were already warming up on the sideline, getting in their stretches as quickly as possible, looking up at the bleachers time to time to spot their friends, family or partners. you looked at the players from the opposing school, you have to say they looked really tough to play against, hopefulky your school would be able to beat them.

now you scanned the players from your school, but to your luck, you accidentally made eye contact with a certain black haired male, kang taehyun? you really didn't know he was apart of your school's football team. you stared at him with widened eyes, shocked to find him there. he caught your gaze, returning the same surprised look you had before slowly waving at you. you looked around you, maybe he was waving at someone else? ah fuck it, you waved back at him, giving him an awkward smile.

"you know taehyun?" ningning teased, bumping your shoulder as if you successfully flirted with someone. you rolled your eyes, "yea, he's in my class. he was the one who gave me notes earlier today." you bluntly replied.

"ooo, he isn't the type who would help someone so easily." giselle smirked, giving you a knowing glance. you glared at her, no. you and taehyun would never be something like that, he was out of your league, and especially if you may not even feel any romantic attraction, you can never be with taehyun.

"that'll never happen." you whispered out, leaning onto the railings infront of you, staring at taehyun as he runs across the field, dribbling the ball with his foot before passing it over to his teammate. yea, he was kinda attractive, but he was off-limits. you hear chanting from your side of the stadium, before it turned to loud screams of delight. they scored, your school scored. you clapped your hands, smiling at the field infront of you. this was fun, something out of your comfort zone, yet so exhilarating.

the match was extremely close, it was currently a tie between your school and the opposing school, the win for your school was dependent on this singular penalty kick. the whistle was finally blowed, signalling for the penalty kick. the tension was high, the stadium was pin-drop silent, eyes fixated on the ball infront of taehyun. everyone was praying for either a good or bad outcome, taehyun took a deep breath in, backing up from the ball slightly, getting a few jogs in before kicking the ball towards the goal.

there was a brief silence before the referee called for the whistle. the game ended, the crowd roared in happiness, screaming their lungs off. the boys on the field jumped onto taehyun, hugging him.

"holy shit, you just helped us win the entire season, you sick bastard." yeonjun yelled, slightly tearing up. taehyun smiled widely at his teammates, if it weren't for them, he wouldn't be able to score that perfect goal at the end.

"they did so well!" ningning slapped you shoulder, along with giselle, making the two of you hiss in pain. "come on now, let's go to the after party before it gets too crowded." ningning exclaimed, hugging the two of you by the shoulder, pulling you guys towards the taxi stand.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"let's all get fucking wasted tonight, this win was ours, let's celebrate it." a tall, lean male shouted causing the whole room to burst in screams and cheers. this night was going to be a hectic one.

fuck, but now this was an awkward situation for you. you were sitting at the corner of the room, sipping on the alcoholic beverage you had in hand, snacking on the snacks infront of you. apparently, giselle and ningning left you to take care of their bags while they were off finding their partners, it's even worse that you barely knew anyone here, you only knew their names, but have you spoken to any of them? that was another thing.

you scrolled on your phone, tuning out the obnoxiously loud music that was blasting, you really wanted to leave. you were zoning out from time to time, either that or observing the people around you. pockets of couples dancing with one another, or making out with each other near where the toilets were, gross. you sighed to yourself, this was getting boring, how much longer into the night must you be here? giselle was supposed to introduce some of the football players to you, but guess that was scraped off her agenda.

"zoning off again?" a voice broke your trance, making you jolt in your seat. it was kang taehyun, again.

"you don't seem like the type who would go to parties." taehyun assumed, taking a seat next to you.

"i was forced here." you simply replied, not wanting to socialise with anyone right now. there was awkward silence between the two of you, allowing you to dive into your thoughts again. recently, you realise that you have been seeing taehyun more often than usual, why was that? was it because he saved you from not accidentally killing yourself.

"you wanna leave this place together?"

"excuse me, what?"

"you heard me, wanna ditch this place, i'm getting bored here." taehyun admitted, shrugging his shoulder while waiting for your response. you played around with your fingers, you were getting bored as well, but is it really worth it to leave this place with a guy you barely knew? furthermore, you have two designer bags that were entrusted to you. well fuck it, you're gonna leave with an attractive guy.

"you know what? sure." you stood up, looking down at the male who was staring at you with shocked eyes, taehyun could only chuckle at your actions, pulling you through the crowd. finally, the air didn't feel hot and sticky anymore. the cool breeze hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. you quietly followed behind taehyun to his car, hoping that he wouldn't knock you up in his car or something.

"where are we going?" you asked, your voice was soft, you weren't exactly comfortable with going into a vehicle with a male in it.

"i know a spot, i find you interesting, i wanna get to know you more." taehyun answered, unlocking his car door. you sat in the passenger seat, not knowing what to do. this was so new to you.

"don't feel too uncomfortable, i won't do anything bad." taehyun reassured, reading your exact thoughts. you nodded your head slowly, looking out of the window, taking in the views while softly humming to the music in the background.

"you're not a talker aren't you?" taehyun broke the silence, trying to brighten the tense atmosphere, only to be shot down by your quick, 'yea'. taehyun remained quiet for most of the ride, unable to find topics to talk about.

"what's your view on love?" you suddenly questioned, taehyun was taken aback, he didn't know how to respond to your inquiry. did you always start conversations like that?

"hmm, i think it's quite meaningful?" taehyun was deep in thought, what really was his view on love. he didn't know, it comes and goes for him, he has never experienced real love. "how about you? you must have had a horrible experience to ask me that question." taehyun shot back the question to you. you stared out of the window, unable to form any words, you barely knew this guy, but he seems reliable.

"it sucks."

"what?"

"i think love is hard to understand." you mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed, now you looked like a loser.

"wow, what made you think that." you pursed your lips, opening up to a new person was harder than you expected. "it's better if i don't tell you.."

"why not? don't trust me enough?" you groaned, rolling your eyes in the process, "i barely know who you are, i'm not telling you my personal feelings." he was getting on your nerves, even though he didn't do anything to harm you.

"yet you're sitting in my car, not knowing where i'm bringing you. wow your priorities are set." taehyun sarcastically said, he was right, you remained silent, unable to argue back. "cat got your tongue?" taehyun tease, you could hear the smirk that was adorned on his face.

"just shut up." you scoffed at him, bringing your attention back to the scenary outside. it was empty, too empty for your liking, at this point you felt like you were getting kidnapped. you recited multiple prayers in your head, you haven't even been able to live your cat lady dreams, but now you may be killed by a football player. how sad is that? you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that maybe a slight nap would be the solution to whatever was happening currently.

"we're here." you stirred from your nap, looking around to check your surroundings. an empty, secluded field, away from the vibrant and bustling city, away from the chaos happening at the party, this was theraputic. the way the wind blew gently into your face, the pretty view of the ocean, plus the night sky embellished with countless stars, the moon's soft glow adds a touch of silver to the tranquil scene.

"you always come here?" you sat next to taehyun, making yourself comfortable as you watched each wave crash onto the rocks below.

"yea, to relieve stress or when i wanna be alone. feels nice right?" taehyun took a deep breath in, the air felt so much cleaner here compared to the polluted air in the city centre. you nodded your head, humming in response, "so why'd you bring me here?"

"nothing in particular, you're quite interesting i guess." taehyun shrugged, his large brown eyes meeting yours, you felt yourself heat up under his intense gaze, what's this feeling? why does it feel so icky, yet so nice..

"so, about earlier, can you tell me why.. why you think love is so complicated." you let out a nervous chuckle after hearing his words, he's going to make fun of you, definitely. "it's kinda embarrassing." you whispered, rubbing your sweaty palms against your thighs.

"i won't judge." taehyun reassured, his eyes speaking to you that he can be trusted. you sighed, comtemplating on whether you should tell him or not, your head was telling you no, but your heart said otherwise.

"i, i don't think i can ever fall for someone romantically, and even if i did, i don't think i'll be able to commit into a relationship." you admitted, your voice was barely a whisper.

"have you tried it with the right person?" taehyun suggested, his eyes now fixated on the glimmering stars in the sky, you continued to gaze at the ocean, knees proped up to your chin, resting your gead on your knees.

"no."

"then that's the problem i guess." taehyun said non-chalantly. "no, but i've not felt any of those sensations you get when you're in love, like butterflies in your stomach, kicking your feet in bed when they reply you. i want to feel those as well, but it's so hard.. seeing all my friends fall in love is so wholesome and it makes me feel happy for them, but what about me? i'm always falling behind." you complained, plucking the grass beneath. you could feel him staring at you, your eyes darting around the empty field as if you were searching for something. his silence was killing you, you shouldn't have said that, the longer the silence was, the more you felt smaller under his piercing gaze.

"sorry–"

"what are you sorry for?" you smacked taehyun's shoulder for interrupting your apology, "let me finish, i'm sorry for suddenly ranting to you like that."

"you're apologising for that? you're cute." taehyun joked, laughing at you. your face started to heat up, how humiliating, you should have shut your mouth from the first place, but that wasn't the thing that bothered you, rather the fact that he called you cute. why was it that when it came out of his mouth, you feel flustered?

"you're just protecting yourself from hurting yourself, there's no wrong in that. even if it means you barely experience what love feels like, it's better to build up your walls than to go through a heartbreak." taehyun looked into your eyes, before looking at the ocean again.

"but experiencing love is better than never being able to have a shoulder to cry on, or rely on. i just want to find someone to love too." you groaned, hoping that it'll make him understand where you're coming from. as much as you supported your friends with their love lives, you've always wanted to have what they have, but your heart shuts this emotion out.

"then wanna try with me?" taehyun suddenly blurted out, his eyes gazing into your now widened eyes. is he insane, does he want to get heartbroken this badly?

"you're not gonna want to be with me." you mumbled, rubbing your fingers against one another.

"but this is my own decision, let's try it. you've not met the right person to love yet, maybe i can be the one." his hands on top of yours, as if he was reassuring you that it was fine to try out love with him. your heart skipped a beat, what is this? why are you feeling so giddy? your lips tugged upwards, "alright." you agreed to his proposal, making taehyun smile to himself, his thumb playing with your hand.

"you know i've noticed you for some time, i've always thought that you were quite cute and interesting." taehyun admitted, his cheeks flushing a light hue of pink that was barely visible under the moonlight.

"what." your jaw dropped, here you were thinking that no one was into you.

"crazy right?" you nodded your head.

"let's go now, it's getting late, i'll send you home." taehyun quickly stood up, pulling you up together with him, walking back to his car, this time hand in hand.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #kang taehyun #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagine #txt #taehyun imagines #txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun reactions #taehyun fanfic #taehyun

366 notes · View notes

aft3rhrs · 4 months

Text

— companionship ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: yandere, jimin says hi <3, allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, threats of murder (not towards the reader), corruption, a tiny bit of voyeurism (?), jealousy, possessiveness, hinted bdsm, rough sex, spanking, choking, degradation, praise, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie

How could someone be so cruel?

Frowning, Jimin picked up the crumpled sheet of paper and tried to smoothe it out with his thumbs. He should hang it back up. The weather was dreary, and he really doubted the tape stuck to it would hold with how the wind whistled, tugging at his hair.

The vibration in his pocket distracted him from his thoughts. He reached for his phone, barely glancing at the screen before answering the call.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted, "busy?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I need to get some stuff for Bam and his friend, but my car's still not fixed... Can you give me a ride? I won't be able to carry this shit home."

Jimin snorted.

"What the fuck are all these muscles for, then?"

"For girls to look at, hyung. What else?"

Rolling his eyes, he folded the damaged sheet and slipped it into his coat, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

"You're so full of shit. Are you planning on buying the entire store?"

Either way, he was already fiddling with his keys. Jungkook chuckled on the line, because he knew.

"See you there."

Jimin sighed, hanging up to spare his already rigid fingers from freezing any further.

Jungkook hardly ever had to worry about finances, despite being a full time student. He already had Bam to take care of — and he loved to spoil him with the best food, toys and treats that stores had to offer. Lately, he's been talking about getting a new pet.

He stated that Bam could use a friend while he was stuck in college all day; and while Jimin could see his point, he didn't understand how Jungkook could possibly find the time to do his work, keep his social life in check and take care of two dogs. He's already been going out less, too busy with homework and too tired for their usual clubbing sessions.

It didn't really matter though, Jimin supposed. Jungkook wasn't anything if responsible, and maybe he didn't mind the quiet nights in.

As long as he was happy.

Silence.

It's been three days, and Jungkook wasn't picking up his phone. They were supposed to meet for drinks tonight, unwind. Jimin waited for an hour before he downed another whiskey and left the pub.

They didn't talk every day, but getting completely ignored and stood up? That wasn't Jungkook's style.

Rather than frustration, it was concern that had Jimin driving up to his house. He has been getting so withdrawn lately. He did mention his assignments were taking a toll on him. Checking if he was okay was probably a good reason to use his emergency key, right?

That was what Jimin decided on anyway when he knocked and there was no answer.

He stepped in through the door uncertainly, scanning the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary. The light was on, too.

"Jungkook?"

Again, no answer.

Was he asleep?

Heaving a sigh, Jimin locked the door and started making his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, however, he paused promptly, a hushed voice reaching his ears.

Jungkook's voice, to be precise.

What the hell was he doing?

Annoyed, Jimin stalked towards his bedroom, the door before him opened no more than a few inches.

His hand almost grabbed the knob; his heart almost stopped.

The rest of his body followed, freezing. Cold spread throughout his ribs, his stomach, the frost webbing his bones.

He suddenly felt the weight of the folded sheet he found, abandoned and forgotten in the pocket of his coat; until this moment. Unconsciously, his fingers twitched, touching it.

There was Jungkook, crouched down on the floor, a leash in his hand, his nose almost brushing the one of his new pet.

His new pet... that looked exactly like the girl on the missing poster Jimin picked up on the street.

He eyed the opened cage he helped Jungkook bring in, the diamond collar around your neck.

He felt sick to his stomach, felt his palms start getting sweaty. The initial shock was slowly fading and alarms were going off inside his head. What the fuck.

"— you even understand when I'm talking to you?" Jungkook whispered, his jaw set as he tugged on your leash.

On all fours, like a tamed kitten, Jimin saw your body jerk forward and your lower lip quiver.

"What did I say about talking to Yoongi when he comes down? What did I say?" Jungkook snapped.

Yoongi? The dealer?

Jimin watched the scene in front of him unfold in horror. Jungkook was... some kind of disturbed creep. Did he ever really know him at all?

Finally it made sense why he stopped going out, why he was no longer interested in hook ups. Was he the one who ripped your poster off the pole...?

Jimin shivered. He had to help you. He had to make sure he remained unnoticed and get you out of there as soon as possible.

"It's not my fault he flirts with me," you suddenly whispered, meek.

He didn't miss the way Jungkook's thumb caressed your face, settling on your jaw.

"Do you want me to break his neck?" He breathed. "Do you want to spend another night in that fucking cage? Do you?"

Jimin took a careful step backwards. He needed some air. Needed to leave and throw up. Maybe calling the cops was a better idea than handling this alone.

"I'm sorry," you whined, nuzzling your captor's neck. "Please don't be mad at me, daddy. Please touch me."

Poor thing; you had to resort to complying with his depraved demands just to—

Wait a minute.

Jimin froze again, feeling his stomach twist and turn.

Did he hear you right?

He definitely heard Jungkook's breath hitch, and at that point he was moving intuitively, slowly backing out into the darkness of the corridor and losing sight of you. He couldn't bear to look anymore. There was something in your eyes that unsettled his soul.

"You want me to touch you?" He heard Jungkook ask, raspy. "Want me to fuck you?"

A moan.

Jimin took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure, cheeks hot and hands unsteady as he reached for the banister of the staircase.

Poor little thing, in love with the maniac who snatched her up one day and changed her life forever. He pretended he didn't hear the unbuckling of a belt, pretended the chills running down his back weren't making him dizzy.

Maybe your demeanor should have been a sign that you needed help more than he imagined. Somehow, though, he doubted you'd accept it. It looked like he discovered Jungkook's little secret too late; you couldn't be torn out from his claws now. Once the separation anxiety kicked in, you'd wither away.

No pet wanted to live without their owner.

The collar was tight; it closed around your throat like a fist, tighter the harder Jungkook pulled. He took in the curve of your back, greedy eyes tracing down to where you were connected.

His cock throbbed as he watched it split you open, glistening with your slick. An inked hand dug into the supple flesh of your ass. You were so perfect, your whines music to his ears; somehow that only made his anger flare up.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, a slap, then another resounding through the room, leaving your skin hot.

He loosened his hold on the leash, then abandoned it altogether, gripping your hips to fuck you harder.

You fell forward, oxygen rushing back in and pussy tightening. His pretty little mess, sweat beading your body like morning dew glimmering on a flower.

"You wanna let another man flirt with you? You wanna be a little bitch?" He groaned. "Then shut the fuck up and take it like a bitch. Agh."

He threw his head back, blocking out the image of your ass bouncing as he slammed against it, the way your little hole swallowed his fat cock. It was too much to handle. The filthy sounds and the feeling of your cunt alone were enough to make his stomach burn, and he couldn't think straight anymore.

He just wanted to fill you up.

Again and again, while you drooled and panted, begging for more. Insatiable, just like him.

"Fuck," he gasped, "good slut."

You were close. His knees always weakened as you keened and tightened at the degrading praise, and he swallowed, no better than an animal himself as his cock rammed into you.

"Mine," he whimpered, his voice almost breaking. "Mmhm, gonna come—gonna keep you full—agh—here you go, baby—"

A heated shudder went through him, unraveling deep in his abdomen. Jungkook was never the one to break a promise, pumping his cum as deep inside as it would go while he moaned, letting your orgasm soak his cock completely.

"Fucck..."

Mine mine mine mine.

The only thing he knew, pulsing as the last drops of his seed shot out, leaving him blissfully empty. Of everything, except thoughts of you.

He caressed your sides, leaning down to press kisses to your spine. The hot trail ended right below your ear.

"If you ever talk to him again," Jungkook murmured sweetly, "you'll be sleeping in that cage next to his corpse. Understood?"

The little shiver of fear that ran through you was delightful. Jungkook kissed your neck, smiling when you nodded your head.

"Mm, yes daddy," you sighed out.

"Good girl."

You still needed some training, it seemed. But Jungkook had more than enough time and patience, and most importantly, he loved to remind you who you belonged to. It didn't take long for you to get it.

Jungkook would always take care of you. He would kill and die for you. There was no breaking that bond, not now, not ever.

This kind of companionship was meant for life.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111

#yandere bts #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

787 notes · View notes

bravo4iscool · 4 months

Note

hey hun!! i had a request idea i thought you might like <3

i loveeeee the idea of simon flirting with chubby!reader at a bar and eventually bringing them home. they start to fool around, and he brings them to his bedroom. reader suddenly flicks the lights off and simon is like ‘pardon? you don’t want me to see how gorgeous you are?’ :(( Simon turns the lights back on and makes sure reader knows they never need to turn the lights off with someone who *really* wants to be with them <3

i fainted when i first read this. THIS IS AMZING AND SO HIM, OH MY GOD AHHHHWIAZVZAUJSZAWWD.

before y‘all read this i just wanna say that i‘ve never written smut or anything (only suggestive stuff), so i‘m sorry if this maybe doesn‘t hit as hard as it should😭 i‘m still tryna pass that threshold when writing anything dirty lol.

i changed the os a bit from what the requests said but the message is still the same (i hope), so i hope you’re not too mad at me😅

fem!reader or afab!reader, strangers to lovers, one night stands, chubby!reader, insecure!reader, flirting, confident as fuck!simon, light smut (?), definitely suggestive

i’m not really happy with this but i hope you like it anyways😭 also, english isn’t my first language and i’m a virgin so, please don’t expect too much lol :)

(masterlist)

taglist - @comeonatmebruh, @yazminetrahan

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

It was supposed to be a normal night out. You would accompany your friend and watch her get wasted, only being there to drive her home if needed. Most of the time however she found someone to go home to. You didn‘t. You just sat in the booth or at the bar, watching all the pretty girls shoot their shot.

But apparently today wasn‘t like usual. There was this man, fucking huge and build like a fridge, watching you. At first you thought he was watching your friend, like most man but even when she left he kept looking at you.

It made you uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. He probably was just making fun of you with his friend. You were the only plus size person in the whole bar, so of course there would be at least one person making fun of you. Looks like he was the one today.

You glance at him for a couple more seconds before you decide to shake your head and concentrate on watching your friend. She was throwing down shot after shot and you were starting to get worried. Yes, she occasionally drank but never to that extent.

„Ey,“ the bartender almost yells at you over the music, pushing a cocktail towards you. You frown, shaking your head.

„I didn’t order anything.“

„I know, but he did,“ he points his head in the direction of a table and when you turn to look which table you’re met with the eyes of the mysterious man. You slightly tilt your head when he smirks at you, raising his eyebrows. You blink at him before you turn around again and take the drink.

„Tell him thank you,“ you smile at the bartender but he just shakes his head.

„I think you can do that yourself.“ He looks behind you and you turn around once again, seeing the man walk towards you. And now that he was standing at his full height you could see how massive he really was. Holy fuck, you thought. What in the world do you need to do to become that broad.

“Evenin’” he greets you as he sits down beside you, his voice gruff and deep. You smile at him with a nod, a bit confused. “You alone ‘ere?” He looks at you and you feel like you’re drowning in those eyes.

“No,” you hesitatingly say, glancing at your friend who totally randomly made her way over to you now. “I’m with her,” you force a smile as she starts to cling to you, obviously trying to flirt with him but he keeps his eyes on you.

“Ya like the drink?” His eyes wander towards your hands, playing with the rim of the glass.

“I…haven’t tried it yet.”

“Well, then maybe ya should,” he smirks. You feel blood rushing into your cheeks and your hand lifts to taste the drink when you’re interrupted by a voice.

“Hey,” your friend slurs, latching herself onto the man’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him. “You free tonight?” she i’m wants to know and you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

This was supposed to be your moment, not hers. He bought you a drink, not her.

You start fiddling with your fingers, your gaze darting around anywhere but him. Of course she would destroy this moment. She wouldn’t let you have anything would she?

“Not free t’night,” he answers, carefully pushing her off. “Hopefully,” he adds and you raise your gaze. He stares at you.

Your friend chuckles and you grimace. “You shouldn’t let her wait any longer,” you force another smile. “You can take her home.”

He tilts his head. “I bought ya a drink. Not ‘er.” That surprised you. This would be the first time someone really was interested in you and not…her. Normally you were the plan b when they couldn’t reach her. They were going through you. You expected the same of him.

And that was exactly how you and that man, his name was Simon, ended up in his hallway, making out like an inexperienced teenager couple.

Your breath is heavy as he pushes you against your door; the one you two barely made it through.

“Been watchin’ ya all night long,” he mumbles against your lips, his hands wandering over your body and squeezing your hips and waist. “Ya too good lookin’ t’ just be left alone.”

A small moan escapes your lips and you let your head fall back against the door. This was almost too much for you. When was the last time someone took you home? Lord knows when…

“Gon’ make ya feel pretty good, yea?” You can feel him smirk against your skin as he places kiss after kiss on your neck.

“Simon,” you gasp when he finds your weak spot, your knees starting to wobble. Your hands reach out for him, trying to steady yourself. That makes him smirk even more.

Oh, the power he already had over you…

Your head is dizzy and your vision almost blurry when he drags you along into his bedroom, an unknown heat pooling in your lower stomach.

You fall onto his bed like you were always meant to and your eyes widen as he crawls over you, his lips finding your as if you’d known him for years.

Your hands make their way over his shoulder to his neck, pulling him closer to you and arching your back. You need something- him.

A breathy moan rolls over your lips when he starts to unbutton your blouse and you’re afraid your heart might jump out of your chest.

His eyes are glued to your body, taking in every single curve, every single stretch mark; anything he can manage to engrave into his brain.

“Lookin’ so pretty, all f’r me,” he whispers, starting to plant kisses all over your body, which only fuels the heat in your lower body. You arch your back again, shuddering against his hands.

“Simon,” you whimper, closing your eyes for a brief second.

“Yea Sweetheart?” he chuckles, glancing up at you. His hands start to travel over your body up to your shoulders to push off your blouse. And that was the moment you felt your insecurity washing over you.

Your breath gets caught in your throat and your start to squirm. Why were you doing this right now? He couldn’t possibly really be attracted to you, could he? Did he even really look at you?

“Simon,” you say his name again, looking at him, your eyes slightly blown.

“Yes, Love?” He stops what he’s doing immediately, carefully straightening up again. “Wha‘ is it? Ya want t’ stop?” He carefully cups your cheek, trying to read your face. Did he do something wrong?

You hesitate a second before you look at him. “Can we…turn the light off?” you carefully ask, feeling exposed under his harsh but at the same time soft gaze.

“Why’s that?” He tilts his head, clearly confused. He wants to look at and admire you. So, why turn the light off? “Ya not insecure, are ya?”

You feel yourself blush at that question, trying to hide your belly with your arms but he’s faster. He gently wraps his calloused hands around your wrists and pulls your arms away. “Non’ of that, Love. Wanna see ya,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you again.

“How long ‘as it been since ya been with someone?” he wants to know, once again making his way down your neck.

“I…don’t know,” you stutter, swallowing. “Maybe three or, or four years.” You feel ashamed of this confession, being afraid he might laugh at you and maybe think you were pathetic but he does nothing of that.

He only pulls back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. “These men around ya must be blind f’r sure,” he shakes his head. “They g’t a whole ass mean in front of ‘em but they be just lookin’ past it.”

He now fully pulls back until he’s resting on his knees and pulls his shirt off. “Y’know why I bought ya that drink?” he asks, a smirk back on his face, and you hesitantly shake your head.

He leans down, kissing down your collar bones towards your breasts. “Bought ya that damn thing because I couldn’t get me eyes off of ya.” His mouth is vibrating against you skin as he chuckles.

A moan gets stuck in your throat and you feel your body start to tremble when he starts to pull your upper body up to strip off your blouse and bra.

“These hips were almost hypnotising t’me.” His mouth starts to get dangerously close to your breasts when he gently lays you down again. “And ya curves are what I dream of at night.”

His tongue starts to circle one of your nipples and your hands grip the sheets. How were you supposed to think straight when he was playing with your body and mind like that?

“Wouldn’t ‘ave brought ya home if I didn’t want t’ see ya.” Simon’s hand wander down your body, ready to unbutton your jeans while he glances up at you, feasting on your lustful expression.

“Ya fucking gorgeous, Love. Ya don’t need t’ hide that.” His hand slips into your panties, a smirk playing on his lips when he feels how wet you are.

When your feel Simon’s fingers slip through your folds you can’t bite back that moan. You arch your back; your insecurities long forgotten. “Simon,” you stutter, your hands once again gripping the sheets. “Please,” you whine, not even knowing what you’re asking for.

He chuckles against your skin, carefully pushing one finger in. “Look a’ ya already fallin’ apart f’r me. Beggin’ f’r me.”

You feel like you’re officially in heaven, not even noticing how he pulls the rest of your clothes off, pushing your legs apart. “Gon’ show ya how a real man should treat ya,” he promises before he goes down on you.

And god, that man was eating you out like a man almost starved to death. He holds you down by your hips, chuckling when you try to squirm away from him, too overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that were crashing over you.

“Simon- Simon…” you feel tears glistening in your eyes. “Fu-fuck,” you cry out, your hand unconsciously reaching for his head, pulling on the dirty blond strands.

He moans against you clit, his grip around your thighs tightening. “Do that again Love. Do it again.” And you do. You pull his hair again fully unaware of the fact that his cock was throbbing in his pants, almost hurting.

But he wouldn’t focus on his pleasure, no. He would only focus on you; showing you how a real man should treat someone like you.

493 notes · View notes

skzstannie · 4 months

Text

"I'll take care of you"

SKZ-> Felix x Reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, stranger to lovers wc: ~3,100 cw: Abusive/toxic boyfriend, yelling, violence, Felix is literally the biggest sweetheart

summary: you'd never expect the coffee shop down the street to be your saving grace, but a certain sunshine had other ideas

A/N: Hellooooo! I reached 200 followers today, so THANK U AGAIN! Should I do something special for it?

Part 2 is now posted!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Baby, please," you sob, your cheek throbbing in pain.

"Don't 'baby' me, you know this is what happens when you don't do your chores." His smirk is villainous as he stands over you. "Don't be a bitch! Get up and go do what you were supposed to do," he seethes, making you flinch.

You slowly get up off the floor, brushing yourself off as you stand. You feel his eyes on you as you scramble into the kitchen.

You forgot to do the dishes again. You should've known better than to forget; you know he gets like this every time. You don't necessarily blame him, though. He does so much for you, and you can't even remember to do a simple household chore.

You scrub the plates clean, the hot water burning against your skin. His footsteps echo into the room, coming closer to you.

His hands wrap gently around your waist, holding you close. "You know I don't like to hit you, baby. Why can't you just listen?"

"I'm sorry. I'll be better for you," you tell him as you lean back into his touch.

"I know you will be."

~ ~ ~

"One medium Iced Americano!"

You stand from your seat in the coffee shop, making your way towards the counter to grab your drink.

The cafe is crowded, the queue at least 10 deep. You squeeze past people, muttering the occasional "Excuse me" as you pass.

You're disappointed when you get to the counter, seeing your drink nowhere to be found.

"Excuse me," you call out to the barista behind the counter, "What happened to my drink? The Iced Americano?"

"Oh, some guy just took it. It was yours?" she asks distractedly, another cup already in her hand as she pours coffee into it.

"Yea..." you trail off, your eyes scanning the shop for the drink-stealer.

"I'm sorry about that, I'll whip you up another one. What size would you like?"

"Medium, please." The barista nods her head and gets to work. "Thank you so much."

You sit down at a table near the counter to wait. Your mind starts to wander, thinking about all the work you have to catch up on this week. You're an editor for the local newspaper, and your boss decided to dump a bunch of stories on you last minute. While they weren't set to be published for another few weeks, you were incredibly meticulous with your work, so it usually took you longer than necessary to get through them.

You're brought of your thoughts by a boy walking up to your table. "I'm sorry, but I think I accidentally took your drink. My friend ordered a large iced Americano, and I think this is the medium." His cute face is twisted in an apologetic expression.

"That's ok, she's making me a new one. No worries," you reassure him, giving him a soft smile.

"Oh good, sorry again." You expect to him to walk off, your original drink in his hand, but he continues to stand in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. It's a little uncomfortable, and you're about to get up to avoid the awkward tension when he speaks again.

"Mind if I sit? You look like you could use some company."

You hesitate to answer. If your boyfriend found out you let some random man sit with you, he'd freak out.

"I was actually just about to head out. I have to get back to my boyfriend," you answer, deciding that rejecting his offer was for the best.

"Here you go miss, one medium Iced Americano," says the barista. Her arm is stretched over the counter, your drink in hand.

"Thank you so much," you immediately stand, stepping around the man to grab it.

As you go to step away, the man stops you, "My name's Felix by the way. I've seen you around here before." His eyes twinkle from the dingey lights overhead.

"I'm Y/N," your lips morph into a smile at his kindness.

"I'll see ya around?" there's a questioning twinge to his voice, a hint of hope peaking through.

"Sure. See ya around, Felix." With that, you walk towards the exit, heading back home.

~ ~ ~

"What took you so long?" your boyfriend's voice booms through the house as soon as you open the door.

"Someone else took my drink, so I had to wait for them to make me another," you explain, hopeful that you're calm energy will have the same affect on your boyfriend.

"You think that's a good enough excuse?! For all I know you could've been cheating on me! What am I supposed to think when you're gone for so long?!" he yells, his heavy footsteps approach you quickly from the living room.

"Babe, I promise it was nothing like that," you panic, your eyes darting around the foyer for an escape.

"Next time," he's in front of you now, his face red in anger, "tell me if you'll be longer." His rough hand reaches towards your face, roughly grabbing your jaw between his fingers. You wince, sure it'll leave yet another bruise. "Got it?"

"Yes," you mumble, your jaw stinging from his tight grasp.

"Good." He releases your face and wipes his hands on his pants, like he's disgusted by you.

You hurry off to your bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you.

~ ~ ~

It's been a couple weeks since you've been able to stop by the cafe. Your boyfriend's been stricter since the last coffee incident, not letting you leave the house without him.

"Hi Y/N!" your eyes glance above your computer screen, meeting the happy face of the man you met the last time you came here. What was his name again?

"Hi..." you say, hoping he'll fill in the blank.

"Felix!"

"Oh yea," you chuckle, embarrassed by your forgetfulness, "Sorry, it slipped my mind."

"That's ok!" You're heart warms, his bright and happy personality filling the emptiness of the coffee shop. "May I sit?" He gestures to the chair across from you.

You think on it for a moment. You really need to finish this article, but you guess a little break won't hurt. "Sure."

You didn't know it was possible, but his smile turns brighter at your answer. "Thanks!" He pulls the chair out and sits. It's silent between you for a minute, and you go back to typing away on your computer. "What are you working on?"

"I'm an editor for the newspaper, so I'm just finishing up this story," you reply.

"Oooh, that's cool? Do you like being an editor?"

You and Felix hit it off right away. He asks you more about your job, and you love the way he genuinely seems interested in what you have to say.

You ask him a few questions about himself, too, and you find out he's in a band with his friends.

"That's so cool!" You've finished you're article by this point, and you're nearing the end of your coffee, as well.

His eyes light up as he talks about his friends. They sound like an interesting bunch from all the stories he tells you.

"And then," he stops, letting out an adorable giggle, "he fell right on his ass, in front of everyone!" He laughs again and you join in. Something about Felix's aura just makes you feel so comfortable around him, like you've known him forever.

You both quiet down, and you become a little uncomfortable under his intense gaze. His eyes focus on your chin.

"What happened to your chin?" It's obvious he doesn't mean any harm with his question, pure curiosity taking over his features. However, the attention to your bruises makes you severely uncomfortable, and you instinctually look to flee.

"Oh, it was nothing," you think for a second, trying to come up with an excuse, "I'm just clumsy and hit my chin on my nightstand. No biggie," you tell him distractedly as you hurry to pack up your things.

His eyes widen at your panicked movements. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he apologizes, standing up as well.

"It's ok, I actually had to go anyway," you lie, swinging your bag over your shoulder. "I'll see you around." You quickly make your way out of the cafe, not even giving him a chance to say goodbye. He stands there with a slight tilt to his head, watching you rush out of the shop.

~ ~ ~

Weeks go by before Felix has the chance to talk to you again. He waits for you on your usual days at the cafe, hoping to see your familiar figure walk through the door, but you never do.

His eyes light up one particular Monday morning as you walk through the door, the little bell dinging, alerting the employees someone came in.

His smile falters a little upon seeing the man holding your hand. You're expression is stiffer than normal, your lips pursed in a tight line, replacing the bright smile you usually wear.

Felix watches as the man orders for both of you. "One medium iced Americano and a small Hazelnut latte," he says.

The man looks nothing like he thought your boyfriend would look. His eyes are cold and emotionless, practically burning holes in the side of the barista's face. Felix doesn't miss the way he rudely tosses the money onto the counter, not even gracious enough to hand it to the cashier.

Felix's gaze shifts down to your hands, your boyfriend's grip looking unnecessarily tight around your small hand. He notices the way your fingers are white from lack of circulation, and his blood boils.

Felix manages to catch your wandering gaze, your cheeks heated in embarrassment from the way your boyfriend was treating the staff.

He gives you a small wave, the corners of his lips upturned.

Your eyes widen at his show of friendliness, and you give him the smallest of head shakes. Your expression conveys, "Please don't say anything to me", and his heart clenches at this. Who does this guy think he is?

As much as Felix wants to go up to you and rip his hand from yours, it's clear you don't want him to acknowledge you right now. He knows it is because of the man next to you, and he begins to wonder if those bruises he saw on your chin weeks before weren't from your clumsiness after all.

~ ~ ~

"You never order anything when you're here. Why is that?"

It's a nice, sunny Monday morning, and you and Felix sit in the corner of the cafe.

"I don't actually like coffee much," he chuckles, his face flushing in embarrassment. You raise your eyebrows at that, waiting for him to continue. "I just like the atmosphere here, and now I come for you, too!"

Now it's your turn to blush, a pink shade creeping up your neck. "For me?"

"Yea, I figured we're friends now, and I like to spend time with you." his voice is deep and charming as he speaks, his eyes soft.

Friends aren't something that have come easy to you. Your boyfriend rarely lets you go places by yourself. Work is the main exception, and after some begging a few months prior, he allows you to come to the coffee shop by yourself, too.

Being friends with Felix sounds nice. It's been months since you first met, and most weeks you both sit at the same table, you working on your articles and him doing various other activities. Sometimes he'll bring a book to read, other times he'll just play on his phone until you're finished working.

The silence sits between the two of you as you think, and Felix worries he's made you uncomfortable. "I mean- we don't have to be, like friends, or anything. I just thought-"

You cut off his rambling, a smile gracing your lips, "I'd love to be friends with you Felix."

His shoulders slump in relief, and he gives you a relaxed smile. "Oh good, I was worried I'd scared you off."

"You're practically the nicest person I've ever met. How could you possible scare me off?" you laugh.

"I know I can come off a little strong sometimes, but I'm just a friendly guy, and I like your company," he explains to you, and you can't help but agree with everything he says.

That first day he talked to you he did seem a little overzealous. Now, after hanging out with him numerous times, you know that's just him, and you're ok with that. You love how Felix is able to bring a little sunshine into your life, even if it's only for a few hours every week.

"Well, don't worry about it. I wanna be your friend, too, and I like hanging out with you just as much," you assure him.

"Perfect! As my first duty of being your official friend, I have to ask you to stop lying to me," his voice goes serious, the light in his eyes dimming.

Your breath falters a little at this. "What do you mean?" you try to play it off, taking a swift drink of your coffee. You know he's not stupid; anyone with eyes can see the various bumps and bruises that litter your body.

"All these bruises... nobody's that clumsy, Y/N."

The familiar urge to escape fills your body, and panic bubbles in your throat.

"Felix," you choke out, your gaze lingering on your hands nervously rubbing against your pants. Tears gather in your eyes.

No one has ever confronted you about this. You pushed your family away long ago; it was upon your boyfriend's request, but who were you to tell him no? You've not been close with someone since then. You had friends before, but after so many unanswered texts, they just stopped texting. Stopped calling. Now their contacts sit in your phone as constant reminders of what used to be.

Felix's heart softens as your eyes well with tears, but he stands his ground. If he was going to be your friend, he couldn't let this slide any longer. "No more lies."

"Felix, I can't," the anxiety becomes too much, and you're quick to run out of the cafe, leaving your bag and coffee sitting on the table.

Felix quickly gathers your things and follows you out, earning a few curious glances from the people standing in line.

His eyes find your form, speed-walking down the sidewalk in the normal direction you leave in. "Y/N, please wait!" he calls after you, jogging to catch up.

He only has to run for a few seconds, catching up to you quickly. He reaches out to grab your elbow, and he immediately recoils upon seeing the way you flinch at his touch.

You stop walking, knowing there's no point in running anymore. Your head hangs low, your gaze permanently set on the ground in front of you. You allow Felix to guide you towards a secluded bench, sitting on the side of one of the buildings.

Felix's body immediately kicks into comfort mode upon seeing the tears flowing down your face. He softly sets his arm around your shoulders. You don't flinch, so he takes that as his sign to wrap you up into a hug, pulling you further into his body.

You continue to cry into his shoulder, not sure how else to deal with the emotions that overwhelm you.

"Y/N," he whispers as he rubs your back, "Can you look at me for a second?"

You raise your head from his shoulder, your eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"Please let me help you," he begs, his arms firm around your body.

"Felix, I can't," your sobs return, your arms leaving Felix to cover your face.

"Y/N, you've let him control you long enough."

Your lips wobble, and you don't know what to say. You've dated your boyfriend for years; he's all you know, all you have.

You've listened to his verbal abuse for so long, his words constantly swimming in your head:

"No one else will love you like I do."

"Nobody cares about you."

"Your family and friends left you, but not me. You can trust me."

His physical abuse marks your body. Old scars litter your arms and legs, bruises coloring your jaw and neck. You're always aching, different parts of your body always healing. You know your body needs a break.

"I know you probably feel stuck, like you have no one to go to," Felix continues, hoping that there's room in your cluttered mind for his words to get through to you, "But I'm here now. I'll help you. I won't let him touch you anymore."

Your mind is full of every emotion imaginable.

You know you can trust Felix. The problem isn't whether or not you can trust Felix. After all these months, he's proven to be one of the greatest people you've ever met. He's kind, loving, caring; everything you're boyfriend is not.

No, the problem isn't whether you can trust Felix; he's one of the most trustworthy people you've ever met. You just don't know how.

"Please, Y/N, I can't sit by and continue to watch you walk into the cafe with new bruises every week. I'll help you get out of this mess; you don't have to stay with him anymore."

Felix's pleas swirl around in your mind. The kindness he emits mixes with the words of your boyfriend like oil and water. If Felix was ice, your boyfriend would be fire; the two polar opposites in every way.

"That boyfriend of yours is no good for you," you remember your mom telling you. It was one of the last conversations you had with her before he made you cut all contact with her.

Maybe she was right. Maybe it is time for a change. Felix has always made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything. He could help you.

"It's your call, don't let him think he has power of you. All you have to do is tell me, and it'll be taken care of. I'll take care of you, Y/N."

You sit in silence for a few moments, nothing but the sounds of your sniffles filling the air.

The cold wind whips past your clouded head, bringing you back to reality. You finally gain the courage to look up at him, and his eyes have never looked softer.

"Please help me, Felix," you sob, your hands going to grip his hoodie as you lay your head against his chest. Your ear presses against his heart, the gentle beat soothing you better than words ever could.

"Oh, sweet girl," he whispers, running his hand through your hair. He's holding you so tight now, like he never wants to let you go. "You'll never have to see him again. I've got you now, nobody will hurt you anymore."

Part 2

404 notes · View notes