#angst to fluf
Text
Glances Unnoticed
Parings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader
Summary: Dustin drags you out into the woods with none other than Steve Harrington to look for the creature that had eaten your cat. You get roped into a lot more than you bargained for and old wounds are reopened and realizations are made at the end of the night. You just wouldn’t expect to end the night with Steve Harrington spending the night.
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of injury. angst to fluff!!
Word Count: 6.8K
A/N: This fic has taken me the longest out of all I’ve written and it’s also my favorite. I love a good angst to fluff. ALSO, let’s pretend that Steve wasn’t on his way to Nancy’s house to apologize and that he and Nancy broke up after season one!!!! Okay thanks :) Feedback is always apreciated!!!
“Y/N! Y/N, come on! It’s an emergency!” You groaned and put the pencil in your hand down as Dustin attempted to knock down your door. You opened your door and Dustin stumbled a bit, smiling sheepishly.
“What Dustin? I’m trying to get homework done.” You sassed as he walked into your room. He looked frazzled.
“I sent mom to go look for Mews.” He started and you shrugged.
“Okay? Did someone see her?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he telling you this?
“Mews is dead.”
“What?” You blinked.
“Mews is dead and I really need your help! Do you remember all of the demogorgon shit that went down with Eleven last year? Well I may have accidentally raised a baby demogorgon and it ate our cat and now he’s on the loose.” You stared at Dustin, mouth agape. “Oh, and Steve is here.” Dustin motioned to your doorway and you turned to see none other than Steve Harrington.
“What the fuck, Dustin? Your little pet ate Mews? Do you know how much mom loves that cat?” You scolded, running your hands down your face. “And how are you even gonna catch this thing? It could be miles away by now!”
“We have a plan.” You turned back to Steve who looked incredibly out of place in your house.
“Of course. Enlighten me,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket from your bed, slipping it on. You followed Dustin and Steve outside to his car.
“We have bait. We just gotta lead Dart to the junkyard and capture him–”
“Kill him.” Dustin and Steve said at the same time. You raised an eyebrow at the two as you all got into the car. You let Dustin have the front seat as he continued his conversation with Steve.
“We’re not killing Dart, we’re trapping him and putting him somewhere he can't escape.” Dustin argued.
“You literally just said it was a mini demogorgon. We’re killing it, Henderson.” Steve deadpanned, pulling out of your driveway.
“I second that,” you piped up, raising your hand. Steve gave Dustin a pointed look and Dustin crossed his arms, sinking in his seat. The car ride to the railroad tracks was filled with Dustin and Steve’s bickering and you tried to think back to why you even agreed to help the two.
You knew Steve from school. He was a year older than you and you had heard all the infamous rumors of ‘King Steve’ throughout your high school years. Somehow you had gotten mixed up with him, Nancy, and Jonathan last year and had all fought a monster from another dimension together. Steve was a senior now and the last you had heard about him was that he and Nancy had called it quits. You had talked to Steve maybe a handful of times after your shared near death experience, but you had kept yourself busy with school and extracurriculars like band and being head of the yearbook design. You thought he was attractive, sure. The guy was well dressed and had a pretty face. You wouldn’t complain if you had to look at him. And it turns out he isn’t as big of an asshole as you had thought.
You all reached the train tracks and Steve stopped the car. You all piled out and stood at the trunk as Steve and Dustin pulled out buckets of raw meat and gloves. Steve shoved a bucket into your hand and you scrunched up your face. He pulled the familiar bat with nails sticking out of it out of his trunk next and then shut it.
“I’ll trade ya,” Steve put on the gloves and took the bucket from you, handing you the bat. You smirked as you tossed it between each hand.
“Yeah, this is much more of my speed.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice as the three of you set off. You walked in front of the two, avoiding the raw meat they were throwing onto the tracks behind them.
“So… about that girl you like.” You heard Steve start. You raised your eyebrows but kept walking in front of them, eavesdropping.
“What do you do when you like a girl, Steve? What did you do with Nancy?” Your eyes widened at the mention of Nancy Wheeler.
“Oh well, you just gotta act like you don’t care. It pulls them in quick, man.” Steve stumbled over his words and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.
“That’s how you treated Nancy?” Dustin continued to bring up Nancy. Not very cool of you, little brother.
“No, Nancy was– she was different. And it doesn’t even matter. We broke up over half a year ago!” Your head tilted just a bit at his words, mulling them over in your mind.
“Well this girl is different!” Dustin argued, sounding exasperated.
“Woah woah, you’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s tone shifted, resent seeping through them.
“No, no.” Your brother replied softly. There was a brief pause before–
“Good. She’s only gonna break your heart and you’re too young for that shit.” You frowned. Nancy Wheeler had really done a number on him, huh? You kept walking as the silence between them lingered.
Steve’s gaze lingered on your back, watching the slight sway of your hips and how your white sneakers kicked at the railroad ties. “Farrah Fawcett spray.”
“What?”
“Use the shampoo and conditioner and when your hair’s damp, not wet, okay? When it’s damp, you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”
“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin echoed and you smiled.
“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass.” You pursed your lips. “You too, Y/N.” You finally turned to look at the two.
“Oh yeah, because I’m just dying to give away Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s biggest secret.” You joked, twirling the bat in your hand. “Some of us have real things to worry about.” You jabbed, turning back around. You were almost to the junkyard.
“Y/N, you have zero social life, you do realize that, right?” Steve argued, clearly you had struck a nerve with him.
“But I do have a 4.0. It looks great on my college applications,” you called over your shoulder, smiling to yourself. Dustin smirked up at Steve, appreciating his sister’s wittiness.
“So that’s where you get it from,” Steve muttered to Dustin, rolling his eyes and continuing to throw out bait. Dustin grinned up at him.
…
“How come the only person helping me is Y/N and this random girl?” Steve yelled at Lucas and Dustin. The boys grumbled out insults to each other and reluctantly started helping Steve.
“I’m Y/N, by the way. Dustin’s older sister.” You introduced yourself as you and ‘random girl’ carried scraps of sheet metal to the bus.
“I’m Max. You and Steve an item?” You choked on air at her question, your face heating up. You dropped your sheet metal and braced yourself with your hands on your knees, choking on nothing. You recovered after a second and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the blush covering your face.
“No way, he’s still hung up on Nancy Wheeler.” You picked up the sheet metal and continued walking beside Max.
“His longing stares towards you every minute would say otherwise.” Max scoffed, placing the sheet metal next to the bus. She picked up a hammer and nails and started nailing the metal to the side of the bus. You joined her, trying to shake off her words.
“Longing stares, my ass.” You mumbled, lining up the nail and getting ready to hit it.
“Yeah, sometimes at your ass.”
“Max!” You missed the nail, a loud clang sounding out. “Uncalled for.” You turned your focus back to the task at hand.
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. But seriously. I’ve been here for half an hour and the amount of pining I’ve witnessed from him is insane.” She continued, working on another piece of metal.
“What’s insane?” You jumped, missing the nail again. You groaned.
“Nothing, Steve. You all set up on the other side of the bus?” You finally hit the nail on the head.
“Yeah, we’re good to go. Sun’s setting as we speak.” Steve clicked his tongue, helping you and Max nail the last pieces of metal to the bus.
“Her name is Max,” You spoke up, tilting your head towards Max. Steve looked at you, then to Max.
“Steve Harrington. You’re Hargrove’s younger sister.” He knew he recognized the redhead from somewhere.
“The one and only, unfortunately.” She muttered, finishing up her piece and stepping inside the bus where Lucas and Dustin were.
“Was it something I said?” Steve frowned, hitting in the last nail for that piece of metal. You had finished yours now too and you shrugged.
“Come on, it’s about to get dark.” You suggested, picking up your supplies and stepping into the bus, Steve behind you. You were self conscious of Steve behind you now after the conversation you and Max had shared. Your face felt hot as you quickly moved to sit down against the rusted side of the bus. Steve sat down a bit farther from you, leaning against one of the old seats by the emergency exit on the roof where Lucas was.
You frowned at Dustin’s rudeness towards Max as the two got into it. Their quarrel ended and Max huffed, turning to climb up the ladder to the roof with Lucas.
“Good. Show her you don’t care,” Steve flicked open his lighter again and snapped it closed, extinguishing the flame.
“I don’t.” Dustin snapped. Steve turned to your brother and winked at him. “Why are you winking, Steve?” Steve quickly averted his gaze, hurt flashing across his features for a moment as he tried to brush off Dustin’s harshness.
“Dustin, don’t be like that. And that is horrible advice, Harrington.” You called him out from across the bus and your brother scowled at you. You could tell Dustin was down bad for Max. You stood up and walked over to the two, leaning against another discarded seat.
“Guys! 10 o’clock!” Your head snapped up to Lucas and you rushed to a window, Steve finding the one next to you as you both looked where Lucas had seen the monster.
“It’s not taking the bait.” Dustin knitted his brows together. The monster was just standing there, sniffing the bait but not actually eating it.
“Maybe it’s tired of cow.” Steve shrugged and picked up his baseball bat, walking towards the doors of the bus.
“I’m coming with you,” you spoke up, finding an old crowbar next to one of the pried up seats. You grabbed it and followed behind Steve.
“No way, Henderson–” You cut Steve off by shoving him out the doors.
“Shut up and just go.” You whispered, walking beside him to where the baby demogorgon was sniffing around. You raised the crowbar ready to swing when Lucas called out to you both again.
“Watch out! 4 o’clock!” You snapped your head in that direction and felt your stomach sink. There was more than one of these things. Steve stayed where he was. You and Steve were now back to back, weapons raised and ready for a fight.
“You ever fought before?” Steve spoke over your shoulder. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.
“Yeah, remember the Byers’ house last year? Freshman year was also interesting,” you squeezed the crowbar in your hand as the monster started towards you. As it was about to jump onto you, you swung as hard as you could, sending it into a nearby car. You continued to swing as more pooled out from the ruins of the scrap yard.
As you were swinging at a dog running at you, another was jumping onto you from the other side. It bit down on your arm and you yelled, ripping the creature off. It fell to the ground and you brought your crowbar down onto it, smashing its head.
You could hear Steve grunt and the smack of his bat behind you. You were both outnumbered.
“Henderson, run!” He yelled, turning to face you. You took one last swing at one, earning a whimper from the dog-like creature as it flew back and then Steve was pulling you by the arm back towards the bus. You cried out as his fingers dug into the fresh wound you had received. He shot you an apologetic look and pushed you inside the bus. He ended up with his back flush against your front as he closed the doors. You stumbled back, acutely aware of how close he was and fell into the driver’s seat. He jumped back as the dogs started attacking the door and landed in your lap. If your face wasn’t red earlier, it sure as hell was now.
“Shit! Sorry, Y/N.” He cursed, scrambling off of you and pulling you to the middle of the bus away from the door, this time by your good arm. You looked behind you to see a wide-eyed Dustin. He tackled you in a hug as the scratching from the outside of the door died down. He pulled away after a moment and then punched you in the arm.
“What the hell, Dustin?” You yelled at him, rubbing your arm where you had just been assaulted.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” He scolded.
“Oh yeah, like I wanted to almost get mauled by a gaggle of baby demogorgons!” You threw your hands in the air. Dustin glared at you for a moment longer before Max and Lucas were dropping down with the rest of you.
“They’re going somewhere,” Lucas supplied. You and Steve shared a look. You didn’t like where this was going.
…
You walked out of the bathroom, having cleaned and wrapped your wound and went to find Steve and the kids. You had been assigned babysitting duty along with Steve, the two of you were in the kitchen as the kids discussed getting involved.
“No! We are on the bench! And we will stay on the bench until we are needed to play. Does everybody understand?” Steve threw a towel over his shoulder and jutted his hip out, hand resting on it.
“This isn’t some stupid sports games!” Mike argued. You couldn’t help but have sympathy for the boy. His best friend was being puppeteered by some monster from the Upside Down and he had just learned that his girlfriend was alive and had been with Chief Hopper this whole time. It had to be a lot to take in for him.
“I said, does everybody understand?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. A quiet chorus of agreements sounded from the kids and that satisfied him. You froze as a car revved into the driveway of the Byers.
“That’s Billy. He’ll kill me– kill us if he finds us here.” Max panicked, looking to Lucas specifically. All the kids shared anxious looks.
“I’ll go and talk to him. You all stay here– and keep an eye on them.” Steve directed the last part towards you. You nodded back at him and stepped back further into the house so Billy wouldn’t catch sight of you. You mentally face palmed as the kids piled up on the couch to peek out the window.
“Stand back here, he’ll see you guys.” You hissed, paranoid. You knew Billy was a tough guy. He was most certainly a douche, but you knew the guy was jacked and that you might not put up a good fight against him. The kids didn’t budge and you swallowed. You heard them all gasp and you found yourself thinking the worst. All the kids ducked out of sight away from the window.
“Do you think he saw us?” Dustin whispered. The door getting slammed open answered his question and the kids got up quickly, piling behind you as you stepped away from the door.
“Do my eyes deceive me? Y/N Henderson and Steve Harrington all in one night! What the hell are you doing with my sister,” Billy spat. He strode towards you and the kids retreated further. You stood up taller, putting on a facade of fearlessness.
“Where is Steve?” You grit through your teeth. Billy was in your face now and your chests were almost pressed together.
“You with Harrington, now? Little miss 4.0, band nerd and the dethroned ‘King of Hawkin’s High’, huh? You could do so much better.” Billy whispered in your ear before he pushed you back. You were thankful for the Byers’ dining room table behind you as you stumbled back, catching yourself on it. He turned his attention towards the kids and before you could stop him, he was grabbing Lucas by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the china cabinet.
“I told you to stay away from my sister!” Lucas kneed him in the crotch and Billy let go of him, allowing him to scramble back to his friends. “You’re so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roared, but a hand was on his shoulder, turning him away from you and the kids.
“No, you are!” Steve. You stood in front of the kids again, acting as a shield as Steve landed punches on Billy. Billy started laughing, making your blood run cold.
“Turns out you got some fire in you after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone has been telling me so much about.” Steve’s chest heaved, high on adrenaline. He pushed Billy against the counter, punching him in the face. You watched Billy’s hand creep along the counter, grasping a ceramic plate.
“Steve!” You called out, but he had already smashed the dish against the side of Steve’s head. Your feet were moving before you could process and you were ripping Billy by the back of his shirt away from Steve. He whipped around to face you, hand flying up to grip your throat. His other hand wrapped around your bandaged injury, digging his fingers into it. Your eyes filled with tears and you tried to scream, but only a choked whimper sounded out.
“Look, Harrington. Your princess is here to rescue you!” Billy laughed, hand tightening around your throat. Steve came up behind Billy, sweeping his legs from beneath him and he fell, but you had been brought down with him. Steve pulled him off of you and you sucked in a breath of air, coughing in the process as tears rolled down your cheeks.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Steve flipped Billy beneath him and raised his fist. He had gotten a few good hits in before Billy was flipping them around. He punched Steve in the face over and over again and you watched as Steve’s head lolled to the side limply with each hit.
“Stop!” You begged, trying to push him off of Steve. “You’re gonna kill him!” Billy was off of Steve and on you before you could even blink. He backhanded you, your head hitting the wooden floor with so much force you swore you saw stars.
“What’s it matter to you, Henderson?” He scoffed, punching you one last time before another dish was sacrificed for your own well-being. Billy fell back from you and Max jabbed one of the syringes filled with the medicine that had knocked out Will into his neck.
“What did you do, you little shit?” Billy fell onto his back away from you and you scooted backwards as Max crept towards Billy.
“You are going to leave and you will never bother me or my friends again.” You crawled over to Steve on the other side of the room as Max threatened Billy.
“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you sat beside him, hands smacking his face ever so lightly. His face was a bruised and bloody mess. His eyebrow and lip was split open, his hairline matted with dry and fresh blood, left eye swollen. He didn’t budge.
“Y/N, come on. We gotta go,” Dustin was tugging on your hand and you looked up at him. “You look like shit,” he added quietly, taking in the discoloration of your face.
“He’s not waking up, Dustin.” You said dumbly, ignoring his last remark. Your brain was still trying to catch up with what had just happened and your throat hurt.
“We’ll bring him with us, but we have to go. A party member needs assistance.” Dustin helped you to your feet and you stood there for a second, blinking away the dizziness. You helped Mike and Dustin carry Steve to Billy’s car.
“Can you drive?” You turned around to face Max, squinting so you could only see one of her instead of three.
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to right now. My visions fucked.” You rasped out, blinking and willing the dizziness away.
“Looks like I’m getting some practice in,” Max huffed, opening the driver's door. You got in the back with your brother, Mike and an unconscious Steve. Lucas sat up front with Max as she started the car, jerking it out of park and stepping on the gas, jerking all of you backwards. God help you stay sane through the rest of the night.
…
You sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, Dustin in the back and Steve driving just like you had started earlier that day. You were all silent, mulling over what had happened that night. Your head was killing you, Billy’s hits still having a lingering effect on you. You were sure Steve was fairing way worse, but he was doing well enough that he could drive you and Dustin home. Your vision still wasn’t faring too well. Billy must’ve hit your head in just the right spot to where he screwed up your eyesight.
Steve pulled into your driveway, silence still drowning you out. Dustin got out without a word, clearly exhausted from today’s events. Your heart hurt with the fact that he had already gone through so much shit and he wasn’t even in high school. You went to leave, but a thought stopped you, your hand resting on the door handle.
Steve Harrington’s parents were never around. It was obvious with all of the parties he used to throw and how he could basically do whatever he wanted at any time. You felt your stomach sink at the thought of Steve going home to be by himself when he was still obviously hurting– mentally and physically. You knew how long the night had been for him. It was late into the night and all of the lights in your house were off, you knew for a fact that your mom was asleep. She wouldn’t see Steve come into the house and he could easily leave out the window in the morning since your room was on ground level.
“Hey, Steve?” You spoke up, voice still strained. He looked at you, still silent. Your lips formed a thin line. You couldn’t let him go home alone. “Do you maybe wanna come in? I can help you take care of your… face.” You smiled awkwardly, shoulders raising in a bit of a shrug. He stared at you for a moment.
“Yeah, yeah that sounds nice.” He finally said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. You gave him a real smile this time, finally getting out of his car. He followed you to the front door and you opened it for him, letting him inside. You led him to the bathroom that was in between you and Dustin’s room. You flicked on the light, opening the door more, letting him in. You opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some gauze, disinfectant and some bandaids, to which you almost missed because of your poor eyesight. You ducked down, opening the cabinet under the sink. You pulled out a washcloth and closed the door back up, standing up straight. You looked at Steve behind you in the mirror and saw his gaze tracing up your figure. You coughed, bowing your head and turning on the faucet as your face heated up for the millionth time that night. You wet the washcloth and turned off the faucet stepping to the side.
“Sit,” you instructed, pointing to the edge of the sink. He hopped up without a word and you stepped in between his knees, reaching up to dab the washcloth on his split eyebrow. You squinted as you worked, vision becoming clearer when you did so. You didn’t want to mess up Steve’s face anymore than it already was.
You were so focused on cleaning the right place on his face that you didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his cut lips. Steve watched you, eyes scanning your face with a soft gaze. He thought the concentrated look on your face was adorable.
You moved onto wiping his hairline, then his nose, then finally his lips. You stepped back from him, satisfied with your work and grabbed the disinfectant, dabbing it on the clean side of the cloth and wiping at his eyebrow. He winced, flinching back as the cloth made contact with his cut.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling the cloth away quickly.
“It’s okay,” he grabbed your wrist gently and led it back to the cut on his eyebrow. He held it there for a moment before he was letting go, hand falling to rest in his lap. You dabbed at it a bit more and then set the cloth down.
“You should probably shower, then you can put a bandaid on it. I’ll see if I can find some clean clothes for you.” You started to open the door, but he grabbed your hand, twisting you back around to him.
“Sweetheart, I’m not the only one who’s worse for wear.” Steve tsked, pulling you back. He hopped off the counter and grabbed a washcloth from the same place you had. Mimicking your process and wetting the cloth. He brought it up to your temple, wiping the blood away. You tried not to cringe as your headache flared up again and your vision became fuzzier. He finished in that spot and moved on to your nose. “Oh, your nose is definitely broken. That shithead,” Steve cursed, dabbing extremely light so he wouldn’t hurt it more.
“I was the one who intervened.” You shrugged, suddenly finding the floor more interesting.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know? I had it all under control.” He furrowed his eyebrows, tongue poking out as he continued cleaning your face.
“Yes, because being pummeled while unconscious just screams ‘I have it under control’.” You raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe not, but you didn’t need to do any of that. I mean shit, Y/N look at your neck.” You turned to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the line of blue and purple that circled your neck.
“My mom’s gonna kill me.” You breathed, fingers reaching up to trace it.
“You could just say you got a hickey.” Steve shrugged, discarding the bloody cloth with his own on the edge of the sink.
“In the shape of a hand? Yeah, very believable. I think she would die and go to heaven if I got a hickey in the first place,” you mumbled, turning back to face him. “Thank you.”
“Only returning the favor, Henderson.” He smiled back at you. You bent down to pick up the dirtied washcloths, fully intending to throw them out so your mother wouldn’t see and opened the door.
“I’ll go find you some clothes. Be back in ten,” with that, you closed the door. You walked to your kitchen, throwing the cloths in the trash and covering them up with other garbage. You then went into the coat closet, knowing that your mom kept some of your dad’s old clothes in the closet. You weren’t sure why she was still holding onto his things, but for the first time it came in handy. You pulled a t-shirt down, sweatpants, and some socks. You piled the clothes in your arms and made your way back down the hall, being as quiet as you could to not wake up your mom.
“Y/N?” You jumped out of your skin and you turned around to see Dustin standing in an old baggy science shirt and some pj pants. He rubbed his eyes. “Who’s in our shower?”
“Uh, Steve.” You offered, smiling tight lipped.
“Steve?”
“Yeah, uh. Steve Harrington. You know, the one with the hair–”
“Y/N, I know who Steve is. Why is he in our house?” Dustin stared at you, mouth slightly agape.
“Because I invited him in.” You shrugged, the clothes in your hands rustling against your shirt as your arms moved.
“You invited him in? To like– stay the night?” Dustin pried. Dustin obviously wasn’t convinced. Or he was convinced of a completely different idea unknownst to you. He knew that you liked Steve, even if you hadn’t really realized it yet. Dustin was witness to the prolonged stares and touches and it seemed tremendously obvious to everyone except for you two that you liked each other.
“Yeah. I felt bad just leaving him alone at his house. You saw what happened to him tonight,” you tried to argue.
“Or maybe you just didn’t want him to leave you alone?” Dustin smirked, raising his eyebrows. Your jaw dropped at his insinuation.
“Don’t be stupid, Dustin. Go to bed. It’s literally almost four in the morning.” You shooed him to his room. He laughed to himself as he walked towards his room. “Goodnight, Dusty.” You spoke before he closed his door. He popped his head back out, curls a mess on his head.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled, genuinely this time. He closed his door and you continued to the bathroom, clothes for Steve in hand. You tapped your knuckles against the door.
“Come in!” Steve called and you opened the door. You froze in place, almost dropping the clothes in your hands as your eyes fell upon a shirtless Steve. You stood there for a moment before a hand snapped in front of your face. “Henderson?”
“Shit, sorry. These are for you. My room is to the right of this one, just when you’re done, come to my room and knock before you come in so, you know, you don’t walk in on me naked or something like that–”
“Y/N, thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve grinned at you, taking the clothes from your hands. You snapped your mouth shut and spun on your heel, quickly leaving the bathroom and rushing to your room. You closed the door and cringed.
“Why do I open my mouth?” You groaned, striding across your room to your closet. You pulled out your oversized band tee and your sleeping shorts, laying them out on your bed. You pulled your shirt over your head and undid your bra, chucking them into the laundry basket in the corner. You unzipped your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and tossing them as well. You slipped on the t-shirt and shorts and breathed out, feeling better now that your dirty, grimey clothes weren’t on you.
You sat down on your bed and looked over to your desk. The light was still on and your half-completed homework sat where you had left it. You thought about completing it and you walked over, looking down at the desk but frowning when the words blurred into each other. No chance you were getting that done anytime soon. You jumped when you heard a knock at your door.
You opened it and there stood Steve. He was in the sweatpants and socks you had given him, but the shirt was nowhere to be found. Moles dotted his torso like constellations. His hair was damp, but still had some volume to it. You thought back to earlier that day when you had found him standing in your doorway, looking incredibly out of place. He didn’t look so out of place anymore. You could get used to it, in fact.
“Sorry, I usually sleep with no shirt, if that’s okay with you?” His voice became timid, eyes searching your face for any dispute. You closed the door behind him as he walked in.
“No, that’s fine. I-I don’t mind. You can have the bed,” you pointed to the bed over your shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have Farrah Fawcett spray.” You joked, moving to throw a pillow and a blanket down on the floor for yourself but Steve spoke up.
“Haha,” he said flatly, “and no way, this is your house. You’re letting me stay over too,” he disagreed, moving to sit on the floor where you had thrown the blanket and pillow. You couldn’t find the energy to fight with him on it, so you sat on the bed, shuffling under the comforter and pulling a pillow under your head. You listened as Steve shuffled around on your floor and got comfortable. Silence filled the room.
You stared at your ceiling, replaying the night events in your head. You looked down at your arm that had been bitten by one of the demodogs, the bandage soaked through in a few small places. You should probably look at it, but you didn’t budge. Your vision remained blurry and your throat hurt like hell. You felt tears spring to your eyes. You bit your lip, holding back whimpers and sniffing.
“Y/N?” A head of hair was popping up from beside your bed. “You okay?” You sucked in a breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“Can’t sleep,” you managed. “I think he messed up my eyesight. Everything’s been so damn fuzzy since he backhanded me.” You confessed. Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed by you in a second.
“I thought it was weird you were squinting so damn much. That fucker.” You were scared that Billy had taken a part of your life away. You knew he had taken your peace of mind already, and you resented him for that, but he had also taken your good eyesight which was permanent as well as the demodog’s bite on your arm; a physical reminder of the hellish night you had lived through.
“Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again? Like even after last year and the demogorgon; I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’ve been paranoid constantly. I never really healed from that, and tonight? It’s like it reopened old wounds and now I have this god-awful reminder twenty four-seven of what happened tonight.” You whispered, eyes still on the ceiling.
“I know what you mean, trust me,” you turned to face him. His eyes were on you, deep brown boring into your soul. “We can only try our best. But I can tell you that this time you don’t have to do it alone.” He offered a small smile.
“Can you come up here?” Your voice was small, afraid of rejection but also desperate for him to be by your side.
“Of course,” he breathed, and you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He bent down and grabbed the blanket and the pillow on the floor. He put the pillow beside your own and slid under the covers with you, draping the blanket over the both of you.
You made sure there was a space in between the two of you, but you were both facing each other. The once suffocating, awkward silences you had shared were now comfortable.
Steve looked at you– really looked at you for the first time since the car ride to the railroad tracks. You looked exhausted to your core, your once bright eyes now dull and unfocused. Your nose was still at a crooked angle and your lips were parted ever so slightly. Despite all of it, you were one of the most beautiful– if not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Steve almost kicked himself for never realizing just how breathtaking you were. You were also impossibly smart, witty, funny, caring, honest, and tough. It all clicked for Steve at that moment. He liked you. And he wasn’t mad about it. He didn’t get the sinking feeling he did when talking to other girls after Nancy. You just felt so… right. Everything about you was perfect.
“Do I have something on my face?” You questioned after he had been staring at you for a couple of silent minutes now. Your face grew hot under his gaze.
“No, no. I just kinda realized something. Even though it’s been practically staring at me in the face all day.” He laughed, tucking his arm under his head.
“I don’t think I could pick up on anything if it was staring at me in the face in the midst of the chaos today.” You smiled at his laugh. You liked it when he laughed because his eyes crinkled at the edges and his nose scrunched up ever so slightly. It was cute. “What is it?”
“You’re incredibly beautiful. It’s unfair.” He breathed, tongue poking out to lick his lips. A light smile grazed his face. You stared at him a moment longer before you started laughing.
“Oh my gosh, good one, Harrington.” You said in between giggles, shoving him in the chest playfully. Your laughter died down and Steve’s stare never left you. “Wait, you’re not joking?” You blinked, wide-eyed.
“Okay we need to work on your self esteem issues… but no, I’m not joking, Y/N.” You felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You stared at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with your mouth agape.
“What?” Your voice was so quiet that it was barely heard by Steve. “You think I’m pretty? What about Nancy?”
“I prefer beautiful– drop dead gorgeous even,” he grinned at you, propping himself up on one of his elbows. “I loved Nancy, but I’ve moved on. Stuff wasn’t working between us and I don’t think it ever would’ve. It’s been like over half a year.”
“So you’re not in love with Nancy anymore?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Nope. I’ve found someone way better,” his eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes for a moment before– “Can I kiss you?”
You nodded dumbly, unable to form words and Steve snaked the hand he wasn't propped up with to your back, pulling you closer towards him. You looked up at him and he leaned down, lips meeting your own. His hand that was on your back moved to your side, finger brushing along your ribcage. You held his face in your hands, pulling him down farther into the kiss. He shifted to where his body was over your own, the hand that he was using to prop himself up moving to the side of your face. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you opened your mouth a bit, allowing him further access. You trailed your hands further down, hands running down his shoulders and gripping his forearms. The muscles in his arms twitched beneath your touch. The hand he had on your side moved down, going underneath your shirt and trailing upwards, fingers softly skimming your stomach. You gasped and Steve smirked into the kiss.
You pulled away, out of breath and rested your foreheads together, eyes still closed. His hand under your shirt continued to run up and down your body, retracing your form. Your hands squeezed his biceps and you finally opened your eyes. Steve was staring back at you, eyes crinkled at the edges and a dopey grin on his face.
“You are gorgeous, Y/N Henderson. You’re smart, witty, funny, brutally honest, kind hearted and so beautiful.” His breath tickled your nose and you smiled up at him.
“You are beautiful too, Steve Harrington. You’re brave, level-headed, compassionate, loyal, stubborn, goofy, and so beautiful.” You kissed him again, wishing you could relay the honesty in your words. The both of you pulled away and Steve laid back down beside you, hands still lingering on your skin. He pulled your back flush against his front and wrapped his arms around you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's presence. A thought occurred to you.
“Max said something at the scrap yard earlier,” you turned your face just a bit towards Steve. He hummed, encouraging you to keep going. “She said she had noticed you staring longingly at me.” You chuckled as Steve scoffed.
“Okay I may have found myself staring at you once or twice.” He admitted, arms pulling you closer to him. He moved his face to the crook of your neck.
“She said you were staring longingly at my ass.” Steve shot up from the crook of your neck and cleared his throat, coughing a bit. You waited for his response.
“Yeah…” he paused, “maybe once or twice.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x henderson!reader#stranger things#stranger things season two#steve#steve harrington fic#steve fic#angst#steve harrington angst#angst to fluf#steve harrington fluff#mutual pining#henderson!reader
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hii again i want a fluffy ending thank you!
Original ask: hii can you do the reader being needy in public and austin gets kind of annoyed but doesn’t show it and she tries to kiss and but he doesn’t kiss back and then she just starts tearing up being she thinks he doesn’t like her anymore
It all started when you two were at the store, Austin was trying to push the cart and you kept trying to pull his hand off of it to hold yours, he seemed a bit agitated but nothing bad, then it was while you were waiting in line at the checkout, you had wrapped your arms around his right arm, as a way to be close to him, and he pulled his arm out from you, you glanced down at your shoes, feeling the burning sensation in your nose, telling you that the tears were coming but you held it back.
But what really hurt was whenever you went to the dinner with the cast, as you were leaving the car to enter the restaurant, you leaned in to kiss him, but you weren’t met by the warm lips but instead his cold lips, and a pissed off look.
“Babe, will you stop, you don’t need to be all over me all the time.” Austin would, huff, sticking his hands into his pockets and walking into the restaurant, leaving you with tears pricking in your eyes.
“It’s fine. I’m- fine .” You said to yourself, walking into the restaurant, and glancing at Austin who still had a pissed-off look on his face. You escorted yourself to the bathroom, biting down on your bottom lip.
You closed the stall door behind you, sliding down the door, God why were you so dramatic sometimes, you put your face in your hands and cried. All the thoughts went through your head, the comments from social media that deemed you not good enough for THE Austin Butler. You let yourself become consumed by your sadnesses only to be broken away from it by a knock on the door.
“Love, are you in here?”
You tried to stop your crying- which soon turned to hiccups. “G-Go away” You choked out
“Oh love, c’mere.” Austin opened the door and squatted down to your level. “What’s got you crying on the floor?”
“Y-You don’t want me anymore.. you don’t- I’m not-“ You couldn’t get the words out of your mouth, Austin helped you stand up, got a wet paper towel, and helped you wipe your face.
“Darling, no no, I love you so so much, you are my world, just sometimes it can be a bit much don’t like to be touched a whole lot. Now would you like to go home and put on your pj's and watch some movies we can even go pick up your favorite food and snacks, or love if you want to stay here we can. “
You smiled softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “Home”
You two ended up snuggling up in the bed together watching reruns of your favorite movies.
“I absolutely adore you, you are my everything you know that? “ he said placing a kiss on your head. You smiled softly
#austin butler fic#emmy mae talks#emmymaewrites💜#austin butler#austin butler x you#austin butler fluff#austin butler x reader#straight fluff#angst to fluf#angst to fluff
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Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.
Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 7.2K
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.
You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.
You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.
“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.
“Vodka so early?”
You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.
“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.
He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.
God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.
“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!
“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.
“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.
“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”
“Huh?” You choke.
“Vodka lovers.”
Alright, time to get out of here!
You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?
And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.
“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.
You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.
“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern. “Do you feel okay?”
“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.
“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”
His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.
He must be looking for a ring.
God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.
You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.
Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”
You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.
You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.
And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.
“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”
“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”
He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”
“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”
“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”
Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”
“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”
You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”
“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”
“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”
“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.
You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”
He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”
You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.
You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.
“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”
“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.
“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”
You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”
You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.
“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.
“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.
“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”
He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”
His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.
“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.
“Aww, what happened?”
It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”
“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”
“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!
“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”
“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”
“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.
“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”
“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”
“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”
“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”
“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”
“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”
“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.
“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”
“Stop. It.”
“Why? You didn’t stop!”
He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”
You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.
“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”
“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”
“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”
“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”
“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.
His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.
“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”
You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.
“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”
“With my small dick?”
You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”
He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.
“Why would I let go of my wife?”
You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”
He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?
“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”
“What are you, a fucking stalker?”
“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”
“W-what?”
He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.
“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”
“How?”
He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”
You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”
“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”
You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.
“Why would I notice, James?”
“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”
Fair point...
“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!
You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.
Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.
“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.
“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”
“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...
“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”
He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.
“What?”
“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.
“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”
You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...
“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”
You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.
“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”
You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.
When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...
“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”
That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.
“But the wedding… They would kill us.”
“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”
You can’t hold back your laughter.
“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”
“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”
You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”
Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”
“I know.”
*
You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.
“Hurry up!”
“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.
“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.
“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.
“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”
You snort. “My boobs?”
“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.
“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”
“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”
As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”
He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”
You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”
“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”
“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”
“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”
“Then why does it keep coming back?”
He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”
“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”
“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”
“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”
“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”
“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.
“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”
You take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”
“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.
“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”
Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”
“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”
He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.
“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”
The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.
“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”
“Dick!”
“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”
“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.
Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!
“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”
“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”
He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”
“Eww, what the fuck.”
He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”
Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.
“Shut the fuck up and eat!”
His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.
You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.
So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.
When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.
There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.
Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…
You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.
As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.
“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”
You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”
“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”
“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”
You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...
“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”
“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”
“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.
“Out of love.”
You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.
“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”
“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”
He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.
The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.
He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”
“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”
“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.
“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.
“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”
You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.
“Good.”
“What about you?”
“No one for me, either.”
You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.
“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”
You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.
Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.
He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.
“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”
You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.
“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”
“I told you I never gave up on us.”
“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”
He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”
“Even when you were with other girls?”
Your heart is racing.
“Never took it off.”
You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.
“No wonder why nothing worked.”
“I had no intention to make it work.”
You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.
“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”
You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.
“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”
He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.
“I hate you so much!’
He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”
“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”
“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”
“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”
“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.
You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.
“Ass in the air, come on.”
You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.
The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.
You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.
“Mine.”
You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”
And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.
“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”
You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”
“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”
He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.
“Bucky.”
“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”
“James...”
He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.
“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”
“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”
He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.
You smirk.
“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”
“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”
“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”
His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.
“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.
“We’re getting married tomorrow.”
You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”
“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.
“We... we have to apply first.”
He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.
“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”
“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.
You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.
“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”
You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.
“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”
He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.
“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”
He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.
“I love you.”
You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.
“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”
Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”
“I’m not your wife yet.”
“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.
“Bucky!”
“What? We need new rings.”
You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”
“We need...”
“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”
“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”
He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”
“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”
You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.
“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”
“Don’t want to or can’t?”
You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.
“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”
“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”
“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”
“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”
Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”
“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.
“Table. God... Do you think they know?”
“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pills?”
You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”
“I assume you are still on the pills, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.
Ass...
“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”
“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”
“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.
“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”
“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”
He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”
You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.
“I know. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”
“Do you plan on staying there?”
He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”
“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”
“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.
“Why? Is this all you could give me?”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.
“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”
“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”
“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”
You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”
“What snack?”
“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”
“I told you she is not-”
“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.
“You’re so jealous.”
“Lock the door!”
You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#ex-husband!bucky barnes#divorced!bucky barnes#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fluf#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#my fanfics#my stories
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Jealousy, Jealousy (Gavi)
Summary: You realize that Gavi never gets jealous when other guys are around you and it makes you question if he still likes you.
Warning(s): None
A/N: Hey! I had some inspiration to write so here I am! I’m trying to release shorter fics while I work on my longer ones. Requests are open!
Word Count: 2.5k+
Masterlist
The first time it happened, you felt relieved that Gavi had decided not to make a scene and instead chose to calmly defuse the situation.
The two of you had been at a club late one night, the high from Barcelona winning hours before pumping through your veins. He had his arms wrapped around you as you both danced to whatever Spanish song the DJ was mixing.
You laughed as he spun you around before pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he moved a strand of hair out of your face.
"I'm going to grab another drink. Want to come?"
His breath was hot against your ear, and even though it felt like a million degrees in the club, and you were sweating through your dress, you still shivered, his voice sending shockwaves through your system no matter how many times you heard it.
You looked up, locking eyes, "I'm good, I'll save our spot."
He kissed the top of your head before letting go, "Ok I'll be back in a second. Try and find the others if you can."
You gave him an awkward thumbs up as he walked away and he chuckled before disappearing into the crowd.
The two of you had been dating for just shy of three weeks.
You had been friends for months before dating, with you initially being introduced to him through his hometown friends. Then there was a three-month period where you both liked each other but were too scared to admit it and ruin the friendship. Finally, Gavi caved after spending two weeks away from you without contact while he playing in the U.S.
Since he admitted his feelings for you that night on the steps of your shitty college house, he had jumped straight into the relationship, inviting you to his games, to hang out with his friends, and private dinners. You on the other hand still felt like an awkward pre-teen girl every time you were with him, he just made you feel giddy inside, and you reacted to things he said so intensely that the only way to cover it up was with strange humor and stupid jokes.
That led you to now. Sometimes being around him was so overwhelming because you were always scared you would say something to embarrass yourself, and although he never made you feel any less worthy you couldn't help but feel like he could be with someone much better than you.
As you stood there contemplating, you felt a body collide with yours, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.
You stumbled, feeling hands come up to grip your elbows, stabilizing you.
"Shit- my bad."
You looked up seeing the guy holding you sporting a white button-down and an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, those guys just pushed me. Some friends." He said referring to the group of five or so extremely drunk boys behind you.
You shook your head, "No worries, I wasn't paying attention either."
He smiled, leaning a bit closer, hands still on your elbows, "Hey do I know you? You look really familiar.”
You squinted your eyes as you gazed at him, trying to figure out if you knew him.
"Eh I go to Universitat de Barcelona if that helps."
His eyes lit up at your words, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's totally how I know you. I think you're in my biology class."
You groaned, "No way the one at 8 a.m.?", he nodded, "I'm barely awake for that lecture." you muttered.
"Mean either but it's hard not to notice you."
You only heard half his sentence and looked at him confused, "Sorry what?"
His lips tugged up in a smile as he bent down, shifting closer to you, "I said it's hard not to notice you."
You felt your breath stop as you realized what you had gotten yourself into. You made a move to shy away when you heard Gavi call your name.
You lifted your head seeing him approaching as he carried your drink, "Hey who's this?"
You went to interject and tell him it was no one but the guy next to you interrupted, "Hey man, I got to school with her.”
Gavi nodded, accepting his answer as he handed you your drink, "Oh class friend?"
You went to speak but were again cut off by the guy next to you, who had still to let go of your elbow.
"Something like that."
You saw Gavi's posture slightly straighten at his words but he relaxed a second later, "Alright."
The guy turned to you saying something about seeing you in class and then proceeded to give you a hug, his arms wrapping around your lower back.
You noticed Gavi watching the exchange but he made no comment.
You approached him timidly, unsure of if he was going to say anything about the situation, but he paid it no mind, going back to casual conversation with you.
At the time you let out a breath, thankful that he seemed intent on letting you handle your own situation.
That thankfulness soon turned to annoyance and then confusion when similar situations happened time and time again and he made no effort to speak up.
You supposed it was good he never got jealous because you knew it could get very overbearing very fast, and yet, you couldn't help the twinge of defeat you felt every time someone tried to make a move on you and he did nothing to stop them or even show a ounce of emotion.
Slowly it was making you start to question your relationship with Gavi.
Why did he not get jealous? Was it because he didn't see others as a threat? Or didn't feel the need to because you weren't as pretty as the other girls he was seen with? Maybe he simply didn't care? Or perhaps he wasn't the type?
You knew the last one couldn't possibly be true because he was absolutely the type. His entire career was based on his passion, determination, and aggression to get where he wanted. His aggression is what made him so competitive and a loyal player. So if he was so driven and passionate on the field, why was that not carrying over into your relationship?
It wasn't until almost two months later that things came to a boiling point.
It was the last game of the pre-season for Barcelona and spirits were high, everyone hoping they could seal off a great season, and enter a new one, with a win.
The stadium was filled to the brim with fans and reporters. The family section was also full with player's partners and families coming to support them in the final game of the summer.
You were sitting next to Anna, the two of you talking about school, work, and life.
Eventually, the game started and you went into full-on fan mode - cheering along when Barca made impressive plays and booing when they were tackled.
The stadium was abuzz with energy, and you basked in everyone's excitement.
You gripped Anna's hand as you saw Gavi running up the sidelines towards the other team's defense, Joao running parallel to him.
You saw him sidestep, dodging the defender, and suddenly the ball was soaring, perfectly landing at Joao's feet as he placed it into the back of the net.
The two of you jumped up, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed like Barcelona would have its victory after all.
After the game, you stayed in the family section for a while chatting with Pedri's parents as you waited for the players to make a re-emerge.
You bid goodbye to them when you got a text from Gavi telling you to come down.
You made your way down to the field, waiting behind the barricades for him to appear.
The other team's players appeared first, signing fans t-shirts and taking photos.
"Need something signed?"
You saw a player from the other team approach you, waving a sharpie in his hand.
You pointed at your jersey playfully, "No thanks. I'm a Barca girl if you couldn't tell."
He grinned, "Ahh c'mon what will it take for me to convince you?"
You shrugged your shoulders, "Ride or die sorry."
He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense, "Ouch. I'm hurt, but I'm not giving up."
You gave him a smile, remaining polite, as you looked over his shoulder for Gavi.
"Oh I know!" he exclaimed, directing your attention back to him.
He wiggled his eyebrows before taking off his shirt, "Here, new jersey for you."
He held it out to you, and you gave him an unimpressed look.
He rolled his eyes playfully, "Alright fine. I'll sign it, but only cause you asked so nicely."
You watched amused as he signed the jersey before offering it to you.
You squinted your eyes at him.
He dangled the jersey in his hands, "C'mon take it. You know a lot of people would pay good money for this."
You reached out to grab it, "Fine, but only because I'm going to sell it later."
He held up his hands in surrender, "It's yours now. Do whatever."
You thought the conversation would end there but he made no effort to leave, "Who are you here with anyway? Someone in Barca?"
You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off.
"Me."
You whipped your head to see that Gavi had silently approached the two of you.
Besides yourself, you felt a tiny part of you waiting with bated breath for him to do something, to finally dig his boots in the ground and say something, but he remained impassive.
"Hey."
"Hey, you ready to go?" Gavi asked.
You nodded your head, unsure of how to leave the situation.
"I can lift you over the barricade if you need." The other player spoke up, and your eyes immediately flitted over to Gavi's to gauge his reaction.
His eyebrows furrowed but he didn't say anything.
You debated for a second, just to get Gavi to react, but quickly decided against it, opting to just walk around the barricade.
You approached the two of them quickly and with a hasty goodbye followed Gavi as he left the pitch. You heard the other player shout a 'see you around', and you waved in response.
You broke the silence first as you walked the empty tunnel, "Great game baby. You did amazing."
"Thanks."
His reply was clipped.
He went to hold your hand and you shifted the jersey last second to your other hand, catching his attention.
"What's that?"
"Oh, that guy gave me his jersey. I'm going to sell it." You explained, telling him how you were expecting to make hundreds.
He listened along till you finished.
"Can I see the jersey?"
You nodded handing it to him.
You swung your joint hands as you walked, talking to him about the game as he examined the jersey.
Abruptly he dropped your hand, mouth set in a firm line.
Your eyebrows stitched together, "What's wrong?"
He cleared his throat before handing you the jersey.
"I think there's something for you on it."
"I forgot something in the locker room, I'll be right back." He continued.
You looked down confused, eyes scanning the text before it clicked.
The jersey had the player's phone number on it.
You lifted your head seeing him already walking away, "Gavi wait. Can you stop for a minute?"
He turned around but continued moving, "Yeah what?"
"Stop moving!” You exclaimed, your frustration building as he continued to not express any interest in the situation.
He finally halted and you closed the distance between the two of you.
"Is there something wrong with me? Do you not like me anymore or something?"
He seemed taken aback by your words and several emotions flitted across his face, "What are you talking about?"
You took a breath, it was now or never.
"I'm not trying to sound conceited, but I'm pretty sure that guy was hitting on me-"
"He was." Gavi confirmed.
You continued, "So then why don't you care? I'm your girlfriend, so why aren't you getting jealous when other guys hit on me?"
"You want me to get jealous?" He asked incredulously.
"I mean I don't want you to become super overprotective or anything, but it would be nice if you at least acknowledged when someone is trying to get with me right in front of you. I know I would get jealous if someone was saying that to you."
"You don't think I get jealous?" His voice had a hard edge to it, and suddenly you felt like you might have read between the lines wrong.
You shrugged your shoulders, unsure, "I mean you don't show it."
"Of course I'm going to notice when some guy is eye fucking my girl one foot away from me, I'm not fucking blind."
"Then why don't you say anything?" You pressed.
“Shit y/n that's cause I don't want to scare you away!"
His admission only confused you further, and you lowered your voice acutely aware that your shouts were probably carrying far in the quiet tunnel,
"Scare me away? Why would that scare me?"
He shook his head, "The press is always making me out to be this bad guy. This kid that doesn't know how to get his temper in check and - mierda y/n - I don't want to get into this right now."
You relented, unwilling to give in, biting the bullet, "Alright so next time someone asks to lift me up, their just being friendly right? Trying to be helpful?"
His eyes blazed, "That's not what I meant and you know it."
You lifted your hands in frustration, "No Gavi actually I don't know that. You act like you don't even care."
"I care! Trust me y/n I care!" He argued.
"Then show me."
His lips were on yours before you had even finished processing what you were saying. His skin felt hot against yours as his fingers sank into your hipbone, crowding you against the wall.
You lost your train of thought as you got lost in the sensation he provided you. One hand went to tangle in his hair, as the other draped around his neck bringing him impossibly closer.
One of his hands slipped under your shirt, as he kissed you senseless. You finally pulled away for a breath but he didn't stop, moving to lay a trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear, down your neck, and onto your collarbone.
You left out a soft moan underneath him, the feeling causing tingles in your spine, and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.
"We should really sto- fuck gavi - so-someone could walk in any moment." You reminded him.
"Just gotta leave a mark." He replied.
You nodded before his words caught up to you and you pushed him off, "What? No marks! I have to meet your parents tonight." You whined.
He grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic, "At least people will know you're mine now."
#pablo gavi#pablogavi#pablo gavi imagine#footballer imagine#football imagine#football#footballer#football player#Gavi#gavi imagine#gavi imagines#gavi x reader#gavi fluff#gavi angst#gavi fluf#gavi blurb#gavi one shot#FC Barcelona#FC Barca#FC Barça
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Virgin as you can be | Lee Taeyong (TEASER)
✦ Taeyong x Female Reader
✦ Smut, filthy, fluff and Angst. Mature College AU
✦ 1/2 Taeyong Smut Series: I found you
Summary: More than friends but less than lovers. Taeyong meets you, a virgin, through an online dating app and offered you a once in a lifetime opportunity. An opportunity to have fun and enjoy your last year in college differently. Knowing that you’re a virgin, Taeyong plans on keeping it that way for as long as he wanted to. He’s taking his sweet time until he finally takes your virginity.
Warnings: This is pure fiction, this is the filthiest most smuttiest fic I’ve ever written, foreplay galore, use of sex toys like vibrator and dildo, mentions of pills, the reader will someday use pills in the story, oral sex, nipple play, oil massage, mentions of alcohol.
A/N: if you enjoyed the story, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel. Also please support ‘TAP’, Taeyong’s masterpiece 🥹 I’m super proud of him!!!
Let me know if u want to be tagged!
He has been counting the days until he can see you again and spend time with you again. You are the only person in his mind, thinking about what you’re doing every second of the day. He misses you, but he can’t put it into words. He tries to compose a message, but ends up deleting it until he’s already busy again… and he never got the chance to send the text.
“Dude, just finish the fashion week then spend time with her again” Johnny says, as someone who’s been in a long distance relationship.
“So this is what long distance—“ Taeyong did not finish his sentence.
“you two are in a relationship?” Johnny confirms, surprised at what Taeyong said. Jaehyun was all ears too while he’s on the chair for his hair and makeup.
“No” Taeyong defends. His voice automatically surrounded the room. “Were not in a relationship— were just having fun” Taeyong explains while he fixes his Loewe outfit that’s perfect already.
The fashion week is the busiest for Taeyong, you know this because Taeyong is a famous Loewe ambassador outside school… but oh you wish he could tell you that he’s busy, that he’s not available, that he’d call you back… but he never did. What do you expect?
You’re not his, and he’s not yours.
“So are you coming tonight?” Your friend asks you with a smirk. She doesn’t know about Taeyong, no one does. “Let’s go meet some boys???” She asks again.
This is a good opportunity to help yourself. Help yourself to forget the person who made you feel good in all the right places with just a single touch. An opportunity to forget someone who’s beyond perfect.
And you can’t have him.
Reality hits you.
“Yeah. I’ll come with you guys” you answered your friend with the most uninterested tone.
The night continued to be loud and wild, a perfect setting to forget about Taeyong even just for a few hours. You just wanted to stop missing him and his touch because you’re about to get crazy about him. It’s not that you’ve fallen in love with him already, it’s the feeling that he made you experience. Every secret. Every kiss, every touch. Everything in between… you became addicted to receiving it.
Shot by shot you drink everything until you blacked out and dozed off on the bar table. Your friends are clueless with how to bring you home because they’re drunk and wasted too. But suddenly you received a call.
A call that you’ve been waiting for weeks.
A call that will rescue you in your drunken state.
“Hi! This is not Y/n… but whoever you are. Can you pick her up at 127 bar? She’s drunk and so am I byeee….”
Taeyong was speechless over the phone while listening to your friend. But even so, he hurried himself and drove straight to 127 bar. Even though he’s tired, even though all he wanted to do is sleep… he chose to pick you up. Blushing on his way, excited to finally see you.
When he arrived you were the only one left sleeping at the bar, Taeyong was quick to cover you with his jacket and carefully walked you towards his car. Holding you close to him, not giving a fuck about anyone who sees him holding you. ‘Let them talk’ he thought. Right now he just wanted to keep you safe and drive you home.
It’s not that you weren’t aware that Taeyong is the one holding you right now, in fact, your embrace tightened when you smelled his expensive perfume. You knew it was Taeyong. But you were just so drunk that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. All you could say is ‘I want to be with you’ and slept through the entire car ride.
The next day, the familiar broad shoulders of Taeyong is the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes. He was sleeping soundly, while holding your hand. You have the most space of his bed, while he was the one squeezing himself on the side. You felt sorry and pulled him gently, careful not to wake him up but you failed. He greeted you with sweet smile. The one that makes every girl in school crazy for him. But this time, you’re the only one seeing this beautiful smile first thing in the morning.
“Hi,” he started and pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead and feeling his heartbeat against his bare chest. This is the first time you see him bare like this even though you’ve done crazy things already. And you can’t help yourself to look at every tattoo he has, tracing it with your fingertips, leaving you speechless.
“Did you have a good time last night?” he added.
You feel like you needed to apologize so you told him the truth, about what you felt when he was away. About the things that keeps you awake at night, the worries you keep on thinking, “I just thought I lost you and… I will never see you again just because you didn’t like…what I did, the last time we spent together” you were talking about the blowjob that you gave him. You faintly remember how he looked so frustrated that time.
Taeyong let out a cute laugh, looking so angelic under this morning light. His hand is perfectly wrapped around you. “I can’t believe you’re stressing yourself with the things that aren’t true. I was just busy at work but during those times, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you… I miss you” he explains.
You were once again speechless because of his honesty and feelings.
“Let’s just forget the time that we weren’t together and pick up where we left off? What do you say?” He says as if he’s suggesting to do something.
Of course he is.
And you’re up for it.
“What do you have in mind?” You said, smiling.
“It involves my tongue… on your cunt,” he whispered seductively beside your ear. Feeling his lips on your neck, trailing kisses until he reaches your lips, “and your legs getting weaker by the second” he added and showed you how much he misses you through his kisses and you see Taeyong’s smile clear as the day, a sign that you didn’t lose him at all.
You feel his hands roam on your body, putting his hand inside your sweat pants, his fingers were cold but you didn’t care. You still remember the first time his hand was inside your panties for the first time and how his fingers felt so good against your wet cunt. It felt like yesterday you thought to yourself… And today, he will once again become your first time.
“Can you go in all fours?” He requests while he kisses you deeply. Of course you comply to his request, you love how every time you feel his presence behind you and in between your legs, you have no idea what’s coming next. You’re always clueless about his next move. He did mentioned that there will be oral sex again, but knowing Taeyong… he will not go right into it… he likes to take his sweet time and play.
He started with something you’re familiar with. His touch and kisses. He spreads kisses on your back, hands gently massage you from behind. Removing your sleepwear and making you moan from time to time with every teasing and touch he does. It’s relaxing but a different kind of relaxing, you feel tingles in between your legs, you feel wetter by the second and his very touch turns you on.
Slowly you feel his hands trail up from your waist, until he reaches the sides of your boobs which are damn sensitive. It makes you weak whenever he touches you on these parts, swirling his fingers on the sides of your boobs and cupping it both hands in the softest way possible to make your nipples hard and sensitive.
“Do you like it?” Taeyong asks then left a kiss on your lower back. You can only answer with a soft moan.
He did the same things again and again and again until your whole body is sensitive and your nipples are hard as fuck from his teasing. Until he proceeds to the main event without a warning. From behind, he licked your wet panties and teased your wet pussy with his tongue and fingers. Moving up and down slowly, tickling your cunt with his fingertips softly.
Even that thin barrier between Taeyong’s tongue and your cunt feels good you thought. And when Taeyong was done playing, he removed your panties in swift move, spreading your legs good for your own benefit. Without any warning he started with a few good licks that took your breath away. So this is what it feels like being licked by the cunt. It made you nervous, it gave you a tingly effect, it made you want to close your legs, at made you want more.
“Good?” He asked, you nod.
For the second time, you’re now on your back, enjoying the comfort of Taeyong’s soft bed. But now it wasn’t just Taeyong’s tongue making you feel good, his lips were involved this time. It was like he was kissing your cunt with tongue, a wet kiss that felt like your pussy juices won’t stop flowing because Taeyong is doing such a great job. Licking you up and down, licking your clit while reaching for your hard nipples and pinching it. By that, you earned your first orgasm through Taeyong’s tongue.
But he was not yet done.
Using his fingers, he spread your pussy lips and started licking aggressively. Pushing his head towards you more, feeling his nose on your pussy. This time you really couldn’t stop yourself and try to close your legs, calling Taeyong’s name as you moan how good he’s making you feel. Soon you hit another high. He was right, it will make your legs weak.
Others girls would last long, but you don’t. And that’s what Taeyong love about you.
He crawled up to you, comfortable in the position in between your legs while waiting for you to come down from your high. He loves seeing you like this. Horny and ruined all because of him. “Calm down, breathe” he giggles and started kissing your boobs. Sucking and kneading them as he waits for you.
“How can I breathe if you constantly take my breath away?” You asked with a flirty look, the man in front of you couldn’t resist himself and kissed you hard. Asking for another round in an instant. You feel his hard cock inside his sweat pants and you instantly feel bad because you can’t do something in return for him.
Of course Taeyong can see right through you, so he reached for your hand, kissed it before he puts it inside his sweat pants, your eyes went big with what he did. Clearly remembering the last time you touched him and gave him head for the first time.
“I wasn’t frustrated that time,” he moans as he enjoys every stroke you give on his clothed hard cock. “I was frustrated at myself because I couldn’t fuck you that time… but I loved everything you did last time. That pretty mouth if yours sure do know how to make me crazy for more” he says and kissed you to prove what he was saying.
Now that everything is clear and you worried for nothing, you wanted to make it up to him. With bravery, you put your hand inside his boxer briefs and tightened the grip around his hard cock, he already knew what to do of course. He closed is eyes and thrusted hard, moving his hips and fucking your hand. Pretending and imagining that its your hole. You spread kisses in Taeyong’s neck, licking his hard nipples while his imagination runs wild until he cums on your hand and making a mess. Nobody cared. You were both really horny and craving for more.
After a few rounds of fooling around, you and Taeyong spent the whole day kissing, giggling and watching movies in his room. Never leaving each other’s touch.
“When will you take me home?” You asked softly while your eyes were both closed. Enjoying his dimmed room and just basking in each other’s presence.
“I really hate watching you leave” he says, pulling you closer to him and tightening his embrace.
“Have you ever been in love?”
You suddenly asked. The words just came out of your mouth.
You knew a lot of things about him but you’ve never asked him something so personal. You feel like you’ve done something wrong again…
“I’m sorry—“ you apologize.
“Don’t be. It’s just that… I don’t know the answer. But I do know that love is complicated and I don’t like complicated things. Complications ruins things”
You nod and changed the subject.
“How about, first sex?”
“It’s boring. The third one was better” he smirked.
#nct smut#taeyong smut#nct taeyong smut#nct taeyong x reader#lee taeyong smut#nct taeyong fluf#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct fluff#nct#nct angst#nct 127 smut#nct 127#bssays#nct x reader smut#nct taeyong
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mornings spent well - cl16
pairing: charles leclerc x reader (basically gn, just one mention as bride)
summary: You woke up in a bed, where the sheets felt like a bad night out with your friends. And that’s exactly what happened the night before.
pt. 2 / pt. 3
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none, maybe a bit angst, generally fluff, google translated french
note: it’s weird writing about existing people, so just ignore the awkwardness plus it’s not proofread
masterlist / taglist
Your head was spinning, and you felt like you would throw up any second if you moved your body more. You closed your eyes in hopes the world would stop spinning. Breath in, breathe out. You tried to remember what happened last night, but all that came to your mind, or more your mouth, was that awful taste of tequila.
You didn’t like tequila, its taste is weird, you don’t understand the salt and lime thing and it makes you do questionable choices. Like waking up in someone’s bed. That’s exactly what happened, because those sheets weren’t itching like crazy, and they actually felt cozy.
You lifted those cozy sheets to discover nothing. You weren’t naked, you were wearing shirt and underpants? And your socks are still on? Who undressed you last night and they were too polite to actually undress you? Not that you complained, you’d rather wear this than nothing.
With a sigh you wanted to get up without puking. But the moment you were ready to take the first step of sitting up the door opened.
You looked to your left and there was an empty bedside. The covers were pulled back and you saw the crease in the pillow, obviously from someone sleeping on it. You still weren’t sure where you were. This wasn’t the bedroom of your best friend nor was it of someone you knew and had been at their home.
The person standing in the doorway watched your every move, from looking at the bedside to wandering your gaze over the bedroom and finally landing on him. He saw you looking at him and locking eyes. A familiar feeling overtook both of your bodies, and you just couldn’t place what that feeling was.
The handsome man was still looking at you and you couldn’t lift your gaze from him as well. His hand reached his neck where he scratched it. As he took his hand back down you saw it, a silver wedding band. You slept in a married mans bed?! You lifted both your hands to your face to rub your eyes and that’s when your silver wedding band sprung in your eyes.
You had a wedding band? And the same one as the man standing in the doorway?
He cleared his throat and you looked at him. “This is awkward”, he said as he was scratching his neck once again, this time with his right hand. You cleared your throat too, nut trusting your voice after too much tequila from last night.
“Qu’est-ce qu’on va faire, merde. What are we gonna do, shit.” So, he spoke French. But you still didn’t know his name. “I guess, I mean looking at the evidence on our hands, I guess we are married?” Your voice went quieter the more you spoke. You were still hoping it wasn’t true or a dream, but his answer let those hopes disappear in a second.
“Oui, I guess we are married. You woke up in my bed and we both have a ring on our ring finger, that counts as something right?”
You let your body hit the mattress. Your head still hurting, not spinning as much, but still hurting like a bitch. And it made processing the new information very hard. “Okay, so let me get it straight; we don’t know each other, but we got married last night?” Your questionable look made him scoff.
“I know you, what are you talking about?” Now it was you who was scoffing. What did he mean by ‘I know you’? You were thinking hard, where could you have seen this man before. “Charles, Charles Leclerc, we met last week in that coffee shop where you work, and you gave me your number on the coffee cup? Do you recall?”
It hit you like a brick, of course you remember! You couldn’t believe you forgot that gorgeous face. You gave him your number, but he never texted you.
“You never texted me”, you stated. His face twisted into an apologetic look. “I texted you last night?” He was shrugging and you could see his whole upper body tense under the action. This man was built like a Greek statue. “I was in this club with my friends, and I was feeling lonely, that’s when I remembered I had put your number into my phone, so I texted you.”
“And what happened next?”, you had to ask, how did they go form texting to marrying? “You showed up and we took some tequila shots and that’s all I can remember.” His face said it all, the look of confusion and sorrowness. He didn’t know how they got from shots to this.
This was a disaster. All of this is not how you like to spend your mornings. And he didn’t like it that much as well.
He lifted his body from the doorframe and started to walk towards you. He was just a breathtaking view. “Au moins j’ai épousé une belle mariée. At least I married a beautiful bride.”
He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing on this planet. And he thought you were, he thought it the moment he saw you behind the coffee machine. He was so glad he discovered your number on his cup, because he was too afraid to ask for it. Though he was confident in most of his tasks, especially girls, he just couldn’t seem to find his confidence when he first looked at you.
He has no clue how he ended up marrying you a week later. He asked himself where the hell you two could’ve gotten married. You were in Monaco and not Las Vegas. Did you just go to the registry office and asked to be married? You were drunk as hell; how would any civil servant legally marry you? Were you even legally married? You were just wearing rings, that doesn’t mean you two actually got married.
His body hit the bed as he sat down, and you felt the mattress dip down on his side. And as he took his phone form the bedside table you admired his back. His muscles flexing under his every move. Fascinated by his back you didn’t notice how he had sighed multiple times after another.
“We are legally married; I just found the certificate in my emails.” His head now turned to look at you. His eyes staring into yours. Realization hit, you were no longer single and are actually married to this man in front of you. You blinked, once, twice, a hundred times maybe, you didn’t know.
You couldn’t believe it, you were married. “Do you think we should like, get a divorce?”, your voice was shy, you didn’t want to insult him. You didn’t want him to feel like you wouldn’t be married to him. Because you would.
Would you not have married him if you weren't drunk? Because he would have. He would marry you again in heartbeat. “If you want to, we have to be married for at least 12 months until we can get a divorce. I say we at least try to live a life as a married couple?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes. And you couldn’t say no to those eyes, it would be cruel.
“12 months? How do you know that?” - “ I just googled it”, he shrugged his shoulders again. “I guess we could try, I don’t think I would mind it”, your voice once more shy, not sure if he heard what you just said. His eyes lit up; “Really? You would try?” You smiled at him and just nodded your head.
“Can I kiss you?”, he asked with hopeful eyes. You nodded again and before you even closed your eyes, his body was turned towards you and his lips on yours. His lips as soft as a cloud and the kiss so sweet like sugar. You couldn’t believe it, kissing you husband, what a weird sentence going through your brain.
“I guess I have to put your new name into my contacts”, you laugh at him as he removed his lips from yours. He smiled and said: “And what would that be?” As you typed in his new contact name he tried to sneak a glance but he didn’t succeed. Husband was now gracing the top of they're messenger chat.
He smiled as soon as he saw it. And he couldn’t stop smiling. He was smiling like a little boy who just got ice cream. His face even started hurting a bit after smiling so much. He was sure he’d have muscle ache the next day. But you were smiling too. He was making you happy and you didn’t know how or why. He just did and you were content with that. You didn’t question why your heart fluttered every time you looked at him or how he made you smile with just a short glance. Everything just felt normal and right, like it had been that way for ages.
°°°
next part
#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#charles lecrelc#f1#genderneutral#charles leclerc x you#imagine#wedding#accidental#angst#fluf#x reader#f1 smut#ferrari
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One for the Money
summary - When it comes to relationships, Jake Seresin is hardly conventional. He exchanges money for company and stress relief. He clears out a Tiffany's just because he can. He gives you everything you want like it's his job. But the one thing Jake Seresin doesn't do is fall in love - no matter how badly you wish he did.
warnings - sugar daddy au, ceo au, grumpy x sunshine, language, brief mention of drugs, mentions of drinking, themes around sex work and objectification, not edited I'm sorry I'm tired, Jake is 6'7" because I said so
word count - 5.3k
million dollar man masterlist
Company.
That’s what Natasha had called it.
“You could use the company, Jake.”
Jake’s finger taps absentmindedly against his desk table, following a rhythm he only vaguely recognizes as a song he heard playing on the radio on his drive to work. It was something catchy, the kind of pop he’s sure some of the temps listen to. Jake hadn’t cared for it when he heard it and he doesn’t care for it now, but it’s stuck in his head and he taps along to it anyway.
He lets his eyes travel over the smooth business card on his desk. The numbers on it, in their crisp, clean font, almost seem to mock him. (619) 458-2764. They stand out against the cream colored card, printed boldly in a charcoal gray. It’s a well put together business card, Jake thinks, better than some of the ones he’s seen from establishments far more professional than this one.
Again his finger taps against the table and he pinches the inside of his cheek between his teeth. It’s a habit he needs to break, he knows. But Jake always reasons that he could have worse vices. He could smoke. He could fall into drinking and drugs like many of his compatriots. Though he supposes prostitution isn’t far off, and here he is debating it. Despite it all, he’s winded up just like all the men he likes to think he’s better than. Just with a few more canker sores.
“You could use the company.”
Did Jake really need that? He likes to think not. He’s got a successful and fulfilling career, genuine friendships, and more money than he knows what to do with. What use did he have for company? He has company. Natasha didn’t know what she was talking about and even if Jake did need a deeper level of companionship, he knows that surely an escort agency isn’t the place that he’ll find it.
No. No, he doesn’t need this.
And yet he can’t bring himself to lift the business card from his desk and throw it away.
Jake’s finger stills against the mahogany wood of his desk and his eyes dart quickly to his phone. Maybe he’s just curious. In his mind, Natasha is the last person he’d expect to hire an escort and, though he can’t even picture it, she seems happy in that arrangement. And Natasha’s just as much of a workaholic as Jake is, having little time for much else and not wanting to spend it on much else either. Maybe there’s some level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs that this filled in her life—and that Jake’s life is distinctly lacking.
That little, cream colored business card is still mocking him, and now Jake’s been staring at it so long that he can still see its imprint even when he closes his eyes. He’s sure he has the numbers memorized by this point. (619) 458-2764. Jake clicks his tongue. He’s wasting time with this.
He moves suddenly, fingers curling around the handset of his office phone, his other hand punching in numbers on the dialer with perhaps more force than necessary. The phone begins ringing as Jake holds it to his ear and he lets out a small breath, his finger resuming its tapping on his desk. That shitty pop song is still stuck in his head.
“Hello?”
The voice startles him slightly and Jake straightens, clearing his throat and wetting his lips quickly. “Hi, Laura. Has the architect arrived yet?”
“No, Mr. Seresin.”
Jake’s jaw ticks and he glances down at his watch. Almost as if it’s trying to aggravate him, the minute hand ticks another minute later. Typical. Jake closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“Mr. Seresin?”
“Just—” Jake lets out a deep breath. “Please call him and ask when I should expect him.”
“Of course, Mr. Seresin. I’ll do that right away.”
The phone hangs up promptly and Jake sets it back down on its rest. That’s something he likes about Laura—she always knows when to end a phone call. Jake can think of five of his employees that have to audibly hear him say the word “goodbye” before they even attempt hanging up the phone, and that’s just off the top of his head. Jake doesn’t like that.
He runs his business like he runs his life, precise and clean, there’s no room for pleasantries or “Have a good day!”s. Why waste time with something both parties actually care nothing about? Jake doesn’t do feelings, he doesn’t cater to people or make space for them. You have to fight for what you want, earn it. The world is cutthroat and, to be the best, you have to be entirely merciless.
Jake Seresin is the best.
It’s how he pulled his father’s company out of the pits. It’s why he’s number one on Forbes 40 under 40 list. Jake will do anything to succeed and he expects the same from all his competitors. And the reason all of them have stepped up to the plate and failed is because they aren’t as good as Jake.
He knows what people call him. Hangman. That, if you cross his path or get in his way, you're as good as dead. He comes off cold and manipulative—ruthless. And despite that stellar personality review, Jake still has everything he could ever want. Because business doesn’t care about feelings, and neither does he.
He catches the business card in his peripheral.
“You could use the company.”
Jake doesn’t know why he’s still so hung up on this. It’s something he’d never consider, so why is it so hard for him to stop thinking about it? Paying someone to have sex with him? Jake doesn’t need to do that, he just needs to walk into any club in San Diego and give it five minutes.
It would be nice to have someone to take to all his business events though. The jokes at his expense about still being a bachelor are getting predictable and annoying. And having someone with him would discourage all the up-and-comers from trying to network with him. You don’t network with a man like Jake Seresin. He’s the top of the network.
But he wouldn’t have to think about any of that if someone else was occupying his attention. The thought of not coming home to an empty penthouse doesn’t sound awful either. Maybe Natasha was right—not that he’d ever tell her—if he did it on his terms, he could possibly see it working. Jake picks up the business card between his fingers.
“Mr. Seresin?” There’s a short knock on his door. “The architect is here to see you.”
Jake drops the card back onto his desk. “Send him in.”
The business card—and all its meanings—drift to the back of Jake’s head as the oak door of his office opens. Large, muddied Carhartt boots dirty his floor as they step inside, connected to the long, stocky legs of a mustached man already grinning with no regard for the flecks of dried mud he’s littering the carpet with. He plays with the cap on top of his head, his unruly curls only just stuffed behind the brim. All and all, he does not appear to be acting like the kind of man who is 15 minutes late to a meeting. Jake expected as much.
“By all means,” Jake gestures to the chair that Bradley still has yet to sit in. “Please, continue to waste more of my time.”
Bradley laughs off the jab—which makes Jake’s jaw tick—still walking leisurely to Jake’s office desk. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Seresin. I never waste your time.” Finally, he plops down in the upholstered leather, that stupid, smug grin still on his face.
Jake trains his features to not reveal his agitation. He clears his throat, folding his hands on the desk. “Did you bring the blueprints?”
As a response, Bradley pulls the rolled up paper from his bag. “I think you’re gonna like this,” he turns to Jake excitedly, smoothing out the blueprint as he unrolls them. “I finally found a workaround for the land issue.”
He moves to lay his papers out on Jake’s desk, but pauses when a slip of paper catches his eye. Jake clocks it quickly, hand snapping out to swipe the business card from the mahogany wood, but it’s too late, as Bradley’s eyes light up mischievously. His lips stretch out into a grin, blueprints now forgotten as he flicks his gaze to Jake’s already unamused expression.
“Is someone feeling lonely?” And Jake wants to roll his eyes because this is now the second time someone has assumed he’s needed company and the fact that Bradley thinks that he has any sway in Jake’s life is downright insulting.
He flips the card over in his fingers. “It was Natasha’s idea.” He could bring up the point that Bradley had not looked at that card nearly long enough to read it and the fact that he recognized it instantly means he’s probably spent more time looking at it than Jake has, but he doesn’t because ultimately he doesn’t care that much about Bradley’s personal life.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Bradley holds his hands up teasingly, the blueprint between his fingers making the sound plastic makes when you wiggle it as he lifts them. “If I had your money, I’d be interested too.”
Jake wrinkles his nose. “You’d be interested in having an escort?” Jake can hardly reason what need he’d have for that kind of companion, let alone someone like the mustached man in front of him. He’s also not quite sure what to make of everyone’s oh so casual admittance of seemingly needing to pay for sexual and romantic affection.
“Not just an escort, but one of Penny’s girls? Fuck yeah.”
Jake’s eye twitches at Bradley’s lack of professionalism and normally he’d spend the next several minutes chewing the inside of his cheek as he tries not to roll his eyes at everything Bradley says after, but his words catch him off guard and Jake pauses. “What do you mean?”
“I swear to God, they’ve got to have, like, cocaine running through their veins or something,” Bradley hardly elaborates. “I’ve seen the stingiest assholes in the business just about hand those girls their life savings on a silver platter. One of my buddies even heard that Penny had to put something in their contracts because all the guys kept trying to propose.”
Jake furrows his brows. Maybe it was his immense distaste for socialization—especially with the kinds of people in his circle—but when Natasha had first suggested Penny Benjamin's Escort Agency, it hardly sparked any recognition in Jake. He certainly didn’t know that it was renowned enough for his architect to have heard of it.
The cream colored card suddenly feels heavier between his fingers, as if to draw attention to itself once more. (619) 458-2764. At this point it’s embarrassing. And it’s not a conversation he should be having with Bradley Bradshaw of all people.
Clearing his throat, Jake wordlessly put the card away in one of his desk drawers. “What was your workaround to the land issue?”
Unsurprisingly, Bradley scoffs with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Right.” He stresses the word. “If you don’t want to talk about how lonely you are, I guess we can move on.”
This time Jake can’t suppress his irritation as Bradley moves to once again unroll his blueprints on Jake’s desk. Why does everyone keep saying that he’s lonely?
Your shoulders feel stiff, almost dangling from your ears like earrings as Beau’s hand gets comfortable on your hip. He hadn’t touched you in the car—he barely even looked up from his phone—but now you’re in the lobby of a hotel as he leads you towards whatever outrageous ballroom is being used as a venue for tonight’s party. You’re not entirely sure what the party is for, but you’re not surprised about that. Beau doesn’t like talking business. Not with you anyway.
All you know is that you’re wearing a dress that probably made its debut on a runway in Paris and that Beau’s hand is now comfortably on your hip.
You fiddle with the pendant on your necklace, being mindful not to gnaw on your lip like you usually do when you’re feeling this anxious. You don’t want to ruin the nude stain on your lips before you even say your first hello. One of your hands reaches down to gently lift the trail of your dress, the sheer yellow fabric brushing dangerously close to your Prada heels.
Beau glances at you, and maybe he notices the strain in your breathing because he squeezes your hip with a gentle firmness. “You look fine. Don’t worry about it.”
You nod, trying to muster up a reassuring “mh-hm” but it doesn’t come out audibly. You look fine. Your cuticles itch and your eyes dart down to the painted acrylics on your fingernails as you try to ignore the urge to pick at them. Fine.
You suck in a deep breath, giving the clutch in your right hand a quick drumming of your fingers before Beau pushes open the doors of the hotel ballroom you’re walking into, ushering you inside with that hand on your hip. You’re almost too overwhelmed with the chatter, and outfits, and decor to be nervous anymore, and Beau doesn’t give you the chance to either as he catches eye of someone who must be important—if the length of Beau’s stride is any indication. You fumble a bit on your heels to keep with him.
“Mr. Reynolds.” Even Beau’s smile is serious and he holds out his hand to give the older man a firm handshake.
Mr. Reynolds looks like exactly the kind of man to belong where he is, you think. An appearance of importance so powerful that you don't even have to know his name to respect him. Looking at him—his clothes, and his hair, and the way he stands in front of you—you realize that Beau almost looks like an imitation in comparison. Everything Mr. Reynolds is, but less refined. You didn’t know that Beau could be less refined than anyone.
“Beau Simpson,” Mr. Reynolds shakes his hand before turning his gaze to you. His icy blue eyes have you itching to pull the top of your dress up, but you force your hands to stay where they are. “And this must be?”
Beau introduces you before you can open your mouth.
Mr. Reynolds is also accompanied by a woman—Scarlet, Mr. Reynolds informs you—and you try to smile at her warmly. She looks younger than you. Her dress is prettier too. Probably better than fine. Much like you, she doesn’t say anything either, only smiling politely at Beau and locking eyes with you occasionally as if speaking some silent language.
“—And this hotel,” Mr Reynolds’ laugh pulls you from Scarlet’s eyes as he gestures around the extravagant ballroom. “Can you believe Seresin’s built another one?”
“It’s quite impressive.” Beau clenches his jaw, his words coming out somewhat strained, and you manage to piece together that this new hotel must be the reason for this party.
The small talk lasts just a minute longer before Mr Reynolds excuses himself, taking Scarlet with him, and Beau leads you on to the next group of guests. It’s like a song and dance—accompanied by the quartet in the background—of greeting people, and smiling politely, and listening as Beau talks before he’s managed to introduce you to nearly everyone in the room. Your feet are starting to ache slightly, but you know your night is far from over so you grin and bear it when you feel Beau’s hand on the small of your back.
“Why don’t you get yourself something to drink,” he suggests, not even looking at you as he juts his head up to try and catch where Mr. Reynolds had wandered off to. Even though he’s not paying attention to you, you still nod, shifting your clutch to your left hand before carefully making your way over to the bar.
You nod politely to the people you only vaguely recognize as you pass them, lifting your fingers up for a wave once or twice. You don’t stop to say hi though, that’s not really your job right now. Your lips are pulled into a small smile because your mother always said that happiness looked good on you. In a way, you think she was right, you could see it in practice anytime you looked at her—the way she would glow, that effortless twinkle in her eyes. Your mother said that happiness looked good on you.
Pete Mitchell said that you’re a pretty crier.
Pete came into your life at a time where it felt like all you did was cry. And something about that was comforting - that he still found you pretty at your absolute lowest. He took care of you when no one else would, introducing you to a lifestyle that you only ever used to dream about. You needed Pete and he knew that. He told you that he needed you too, that you came into his life and gave him purpose.
He cared about you in his own way, you suppose. He bought you pretty things and he always let you have the window seat whenever you traveled in his private jet. He cared about you, but he didn’t care if you were happy. You still think about Pete sometimes, though it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, you just can’t help yourself. Unlike Beau, he always wanted to keep you talking. He wanted you to talk about your mom… your dad - all the sad things. He didn’t seem to care much about the mundane though, like the pretty dress you found at the mall or the fun brunch you had with a friend. It was only ever the stuff that made you cry.
You’re a pretty crier.
Pete ended up finding a woman he could see himself marrying—a woman he could see as an equal. (Though he didn’t use those words, you knew it was true.) And he decided that he didn’t want you anymore. So you said goodbye to Pete Mitchell and his pretty things and private jet and said hello to Beau Simpson.
Beau was rougher than Pete had been. He really only wanted you around for appearances and, when you weren’t hanging off his arm at a party, he had little use for you otherwise. He’s nice enough to you—he gives you his black card and your own driver so you don’t spend your days pent up in his house. Sometimes he takes you out somewhere nice for dinner. Unlike your mother and Pete, Beau doesn’t really think that anything looks good on you. You always look fine.
You try not to let it bother you, Beau Simpson is impressed by very little. But you want him to be impressed by you and your pretty dress and the fact that you can always smile at parties even if you don’t always want to. You want to be better than fine.
The bartender greets you warmly—albeit quickly—responding to your drink order with a simple nod before walking to the other side of the bar to tend to someone who looks far more important than you ever could. To his credit, the bartender makes your drink first, setting the glass down in front of you with another nod in response to your quiet “thank you”.
For a moment you make no move for the drink, simply watching the condensation roll off the glass. You watch a droplet of water roll all the way down to the dark granite bar below. At Beau’s house you always use coasters. Beau Simpson values very little, but he does value the usefulness of a coaster. Part of you wants to ask for one, just out of habit, but that’s silly and you’re sure Beau wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.
You only watch the water roll down your drink for a couple more seconds, before you can no longer stop yourself from snatching the glass into your hand. There’s a ring of water where your cup once was that reflects off the soft light of the chandelier hanging above and you wipe it away with your bare forearm quickly.
“Excuse me.” A gruff voice speaks up suddenly, causing you to jolt. It all happens so quickly that it almost feels like it didn’t happen at all, but you stumble back in your surprise, knocking into the large chest of another person and tangling your legs with their own. More importantly though, your hand jerks and you manage to spill your drink all over yourself.
You look down at the dark splotch on your bodice and chest, the smell of alcohol playing at your nostrils. “My dress,” you say simply.
Calloused hands come to your bare biceps, holding onto them to stabilize you while they gently turn you around to face the body they belong to. Already your skin feels sticky, but that thought is only fleeting when you lock eyes with the man in front of you.
His piercing, green eyes are looking down at you almost analytically, scanning over your facial expression as his hands continue to hold you by your arms. He’s dressed in a simple dress shirt and slacks—that almost appear to be a size too small for him with how his biceps and thighs bulge through the fabric—with a fitted suit jacket that must have been unbuttoned slowly but surely throughout the course of the night. Your eyes travel to his hair that’s slicked back against his head, but only enough to keep it out of his face, and he wears an expensive watch on his left wrist. It’s silver you note—you’re not really sure what to make of it, but you’ve learned that a man’s preference between silver and gold tells you a lot more about him than it should.
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t entirely sound sorry, but he hardly seems like the kind of man that ever feels apologetic. His eyes trail down to the spill and you feel your skin crawl a bit, but for whatever reason this man has a way of making his intentions clear with his eyes alone. He’s not looking at you, just the spill on your dress. “There’s a bathroom somewhere outside if you want to clean up.”
You can only muster up a small nod, watching owlishly as the man releases your biceps and begins to effortlessly weave his way through the crowd. He doesn’t look back to check if you’re following him and you wonder if you should leave without telling Beau, but then you realize that you probably look absolutely ridiculous just standing there in an alcohol soaked dress and you follow after the stranger hastily.
It’s silent as he leads you out of the crowded ballroom and into the quiet hall, navigating his way towards the bathroom with a certainty that would make you think that he’s been here before. You want to say something, the silence making you uncomfortable, but he’s also quite an intimidating man. He looks like he doesn’t like talking.
“Um—”
“Here it is.”
And then the stranger blinks in mild surprise at the sight of your open mouth, like he hadn’t expected you to start talking. The sharpness of his features soften just a bit at the sight of you—something akin to a scared, rain soaked kitten you’re sure. You think he might just ignore the fact that you’ve spoken at all and just gesture to the bathroom, but he instead looks at you expectantly.
“I, uh.” You really don’t know what to say and the last thing you want to do is fumble through your words to a man who hardly looks like he cares. “Do you… think it will come out?”
The man’s eyes flick down, genuinely inspecting the fabric of your dress. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and your gaze lingers on it for a moment before the slight cock of his head pulls you away. “Not with just water. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.”
“Oh, that’s not—” Your eyes widen and you hold your hands out hastily. “That’s not necessary. You don’t have to— I can, uh… get another one.”
The stranger’s eyebrows raise just slightly and you wince once you register the way your words sound. Instead of responding, he sniffs, wiping at his nose with his thumb as he does a quick look around the empty hall. “Does Simpson always leave you like that?”
“Sorry?”
“I saw you come in with him,” he clarifies. For some reason, the man doesn’t seem the least bit sheepish asking something relatively personal. “Why let him take you to these things if he always ditches you?”
“He doesn’t ditch me,” you bristle slightly, crossing your arms over yourself though they almost stick to the soiled fabric of your dress. “And I don’t mind anyway.”
The man lets out a breath of a laugh. “You sure seem to like him, huh?”
“He’s nice to me,” you defend.
“Is that all it takes?” The stranger shoves his hands in his pockets, straightening slightly like he’s challenging you. “Someone’s just gotta be nice to you for you to like them?”
You know he’s trying to be condescending, but you don’t see anything wrong in his claims. Why shouldn’t you like someone who’s nice to you? Still, he’s making you feel silly so you only give him a small nod of your head.
To your surprise, the man only quirks his lips up at your admittance. It’s not a smile—more like the edge of a smirk. “Well then,” he leans his weight against the cream colored wallpaper. “You think if I insist on paying for your drycleaning, you’ll like me?”
You wet your lips, shifting on your heels as your fingers curl around each of your elbows. “It’s a possibility.”
The man seems amusedly impressed at your response. He stares at you for a moment, letting his eyes trail over the goosebumps littering your bare arms from the cold air conditioning in the hotel hall. He removes his hand from his pockets, letting them trail up to his lapels.
“I guess I’ll have to try harder then,” he shoots you a look that has your face heating, thighs clenching, saliva thickening. “Because I really want you to like me.”
Before you can muster up a feeble response, his jacket is sliding off his arms and he’s wrapping it around your shoulders. The charcoal fabric falls to your mid thigh, causing your stomach to stir at the realization. His hands find your biceps again and he looks at you with a lopsided smirk.
“How’m I doin’ now?”
There’s chills on your skin for an entirely different reason and you blink up at the man with a whispered “Good.”
He nods, looking at you for a moment longer before taking a step back. His jacket stays around your shoulders, shielding your only somewhat drying chest from the harsh A/C. The empty arms of it stay limp at your sides and your fingers tighten the fabric around you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you need to get back to Beau, but you can’t seem to pull away from this stranger.
“What’s your name?” You ask feebly and then spit out your own name when you realize that you should probably introduce yourself first.
The man licks his lips almost thoughtfully. “Jake Seresin.”
In your head you see the glowing lights outside the hotel, the impressive font that catches your attention as Beau’s driver pulls the car into the valet, the numerous people tonight that have referred to him in your conversations. “This is—”
“My hotel?” Jake nods, his eyes still somewhat unreadable. “Yes, it is.”
“Oh, I’m… sorry.”
Jake’s nose wrinkles slightly. “Why are you sorry?”
“This is your party, I mean, don’t you want to be inside with everyone?” You gesture hesitantly to the way the two of you came.
“If I wanted to be inside with everyone, I would be,” Jake says like it’s simple. And maybe it should be that simple, but you’ve been around this lifestyle long enough to know that it isn’t. His face morphs into a somewhat blunt expression. “And don’t apologize if you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Sor— I mean, okay,” you amend hastily. Jake nods in approval, making no move to continue the conversation. You shift on your heels. Your ankle almost buckles before you catch yourself.
“Why— Why don’t you want to be inside with everyone? Aren’t we all celebrating the opening of this hotel?”
You’re worried you might have overstepped, said something you shouldn’t have—maybe you shouldn’t have spoken at all. You’ve learned that lesson fairly quickly with these types of men. You’re almost positive you’ve messed up when Jake turns his watch to look at the face.
“This hotel took three years to build,” he says suddenly when he looks up. He’s not looking at you though, turning so his back is leaning against one of the hall walls and he’s staring at the other one. “And you know what I did as soon as I finished it? I started plans to build another one.” He wipes a tired hand over his jaw. “I guess I just don’t really care about this kind of thing anymore.”
You look up at him hesitantly. “Well… What do you care about?”
Jake lets out a huff of a laugh. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”
“I don’t normally meet someone who answers them,” you say softly.
There’s a beat of silence where you know that both you and Jake can feel the weight of your words. “Tell you what,” he pushes off the wall to face you again. “I’ll tell you, but you have to admit that Beau Simpson isn’t nice.”
Your mouth falls open slightly. “I’m not saying that!”
“Why not?” Jake grins at your fluster. “Just say he’s mean. Come on, sweetheart, I know you don’t actually think he treats you right.”
“I do!” You protest, shaking your head to physically refute his words. “And I don’t think Beau’s mean!”
Jake ignores what you’re saying, gesturing around the empty hall. “No one else will hear you, I’m the only one here. Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he teases.
Your lips pull into an uncontrollable pout and you tighten your crossed arms. “Why do you even care if I like Beau or not?”
For the smallest of seconds you feel like you’ve cornered the man, but Jake takes on your question with the ease that only a man like him would have. “I guess I just can’t believe that Beau Simpson could be liked by such a beautiful woman as yourself.”
Beautiful.
“So just humor me,” Jake continues and you seem to realize suddenly that you're standing in an empty hallway, with a stranger, in an alcohol stained dress and his jacket around your shoulders, and he thinks you’re beautiful. “What did he do to get you to come with him here tonight?”
And in this empty hallway, with a stranger who thinks you’re beautiful, in an alcohol stained dress and his jacket around your shoulders, you find yourself admitting something you hadn’t once told anyone the entire time you’ve been with Beau.
“He paid me.”
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Bloodied Stars - Part 4 - Velvet Hairpins and Plush Pillows
Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion
Masterlist
Art commissions
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Comment here to be tagged in chapter updates
Word count - 6.3K
Warnings - (Series contains - Angst, “enemies” to lovers, pregnancy, disagreements, slow character growth, smut, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death - This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident )
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“Yours always.”
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Chapter List
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“What’s his name?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even register them as thoughts.
“Astarion,” the pale man whispered, his voice more tense than before. He slipped past the door and shut it before you could ask anything else, leaving you in the dark dusty room.
You fell back against the bed, too tired to cry any more than you had. You stared at the gold and red stitching on the duvet below you, trying your best to ignore the shade’s dead match to the Vampire’s eyes.
Astarion, you thought, rolling the name around in your head.
Sleep pulled you close faster than you could realize, the chaos of the day already fading. Images of Astarion danced in your mind, his sharp features softening the same way they did when you caught his mask slipping. The way his eyes held a stormy complexity that both intrigued and terrified you.
Before your eyes fluttered shut for the day, your naive heart couldn’t help but remember his all too pretty lie.
“We could be a family.”
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The next morning, you awoke to a soft rustling sound in the room. Slowly opening your eyes, you blinked in surprise to see a small figure hovering at the foot of your bed. It was a pale wiry woman, her features much softer than the spawns you’d seen thus far. Thin wrinkles creased her eyes and her smile lines, making you wonder how someone who looked so happy could be in a place like this. She hummed softly, her melody winding through the air beautifully.
“Good morning, Miss,” she chortled, giving you a warm smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, her comforting aura shining brightly through the dusty room.
In her hands, the spawn held a tray filled with an assortment of breakfast items. There were delicate pastries dusted with powdered sugar, fresh fruits arranged in an artistic display. There even sat a cup of fragrant tea in the corner, steam rising in tendrils. The spread looked like something out of a lavish banquet, not a meal found in the home of a vampire.
“Where did you get all of this?” you questioned shyly, your voice still thick with sleep.
“Well I made it,” the woman replied with a grin, setting the tray down next to you.
“You cooked all of this?” you asked incredulously.
The woman chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your disbelief. “Yes, indeed, I did,” she confirmed, her voice carrying a gentle lilt. “Cooking is one of the few joys I still hold onto from my human days. Though the skill goes to waste most of the time in this house.”
“It really is lovely,” you whispered, sitting up and giving the tray another once over.
The spawn accepted the compliment graciously, her smile growing wider as she gave you a slight nod. Warmth bloomed in your chest, your heart clinging to someone so kind in a place so compassionless. The spawn before you seemed so different than the others, almost sounding maternal as she explained the different dishes.
As you both made small talk, you couldn’t help but be more and more drawn to her infectious energy and kind demeanor. The way she spoke about cooking with a mix of nostalgia intrigued you, making you want to know more about her past.
To know that despite vampiric nature, someone could still have some humanity.
After a while, you finally gathered the courage to ask for her name. She paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to share that part of herself with you. Then, with a soft smile, she whispered, “Evelyn. My name is Evelyn.”
The name rolled off her tongue like a melody, fitting her perfectly. You repeated it back to her, savoring the chance to connect with someone though you were trapped here.
With a graceful gesture, the woman handed you the cup of tea, the rich aroma enveloping you like a warm embrace. It smelled of deep herbs and spices, faintly sweet after a while. You took a small sip, worried you’d look like a starved animal if you ate at the speed your growling stomach demanded.
The woman let out another melodic laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Go on, Miss,” she urged, her small hand gesturing towards the feast before you. “Don’t be shy. I’ll still be here to keep you company while you eat to your heart’s content.”
You tentatively picked up a delicate looking pastry, its flaky crust glistening in the warm candlelight. As you took a bite, the taste exploded in your mouth. A perfect blend of buttery sweetness that made you all but forget about the ache in your stomach. But as you swallowed, a sharp pang shot through you, and you immediately felt queasy.
Evelyn noticed the sudden change in your souring expression and reached out to your arm, concern etching lines on her forehead.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asked softly, the genuine worry evident in her voice. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but the discomfort gnawing at your insides made it difficult.
“I- I think I just need a moment,” you managed to say, setting down the half-eaten pastry with a trembling hand. The woman’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to pat your hand gently.
“It’s alright, my dear. Don’t force yourself to eat it,” she assured, exuding care. “Perhaps it’s too rich for your current condition.”
You felt a surge of guilt at her words, knowing how much effort she must have poured into preparing the breakfast before you. How you had hoped with all your heart that someone in this house would be kind, yet here you were, too weak to accept the gesture. The woman seemed to sense your inner turmoil and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Do not fret, Miss. I understand pregnancy can bring about peculiar cravings and aversions. Especially with a dhampire child,” she said with a comforting smile. “Let me bring you something lighter that will nourish both you and the little one.”
“Dhampire?” You squeezed her hand back, hoping she wouldn’t leave just yet. As painful as it was to admit, you felt so much safer, so much more cared for with the woman here.
“Dhampire,” she repeated with a nod. “A child conceived of a vampire and non-vampire. I can’t tell you much more than that, the Master should explain all of that to you.”
“I don’t want to see him,” you said quickly, trying to keep the panic out of your tone. The hurt of the day before was still raw in your chest, you weren’t sure if you could face the man without devolving into a storm of tears.
Whether that was the hormones or the being kidnapped part, you couldn’t tell.
“Oh, miss,” the woman sighed, giving you a pitying stare. She seemed to deliberate for a moment, her expression softening as she gazed at you with a mix of sympathy and understanding. With a gentle touch, Evelyn reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, her touch cool and comforting.
“I can see that the Master’s actions have left a mark on you,” she murmured softly, her voice carrying an underlying current of familiarity. “I won’t tell you what the right thing to do is. But you can’t avoid him forever.”
“I know,” you whispered, feeling a sense of resignation settling in your chest. Despite your dread at the thought of facing him, you knew Evelyn was right. You couldn’t close yourself off from him, especially not in his own home.
“I’ll put together something lighter for you to eat, my dear. Someone will bring it to your room shortly.” Evelyn cooed, her thumb rubbing circles on your hand.
“Can’t I go with you?”
Evelyn’s eyes softened with a mixture of sadness and longing, seeming to want the chance of more time with you. There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke, her voice gentle yet firm.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, dear. The Master has given strict orders that you are to remain in your room until he decides otherwise,” she explained, her delicate features betraying a hint of worry.
You felt a surge of frustration suddenly, your condition hurtling you into a new emotion. If you were going to be imprisoned here, the least the arrogant “Master” could do is let you into a hallway.
As Evelyn rose from her seat, her movements graceful and purposeful, she leaned in closer to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Be patient, my dear. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you,” she whispered. “He’s already been out of sorts since the first night you were behind these walls.”
With that, she glided out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the remnants of the uneaten pastry.
You watched Evelyn disappear through the partially opened door, the soft click signaling your solitude once more. Her words lingered in the air, your feelings growing conflicted. The dusty room suddenly felt oppressive, the weight of your confinement bearing down on your shoulders.
With a determined sigh, you rose from your bed and set about tidying up the neglected room. The dust motes danced in the magical light, making you wonder how you made it all of this time without being reduced to a puddle of sneezes. The soft glowing light from the room made you wonder, realization dawning on you that this room was much brighter than the hallway you were carried through.
With vampire’s having near perfect night vision, did this mean that someone had purposefully lightened the room for you?
You shook off the idea. The last logical thing would be to think that your kidnapper cared about you at all.
You rummaged through the bookcase, stumbling across an old rag. With meticulous care, you began to scrub away the inch thick layer of dust, each swipe revealing more of the delicate wood beneath it.
As you cleaned, a sense of purpose began to ease your anxieties. The rhythmic swish of the rag against the wooden surface was strangely soothing, almost hypnotic. Each stroke revealed the intricate carvings on the bookcase, depicting scenes of knights in battle and dragons breathing fire. The craftsmanship was remarkable, each detail painstakingly etched into the wood with precision.
Lost in the beauty of the carvings, you almost failed to notice the faint creaking sound coming from the corner of the room. It wasn’t until you heard a soft click that snapped you out of your trance. Glancing over, you saw a previously unnoticed door slightly ajar, sunlight streaming in from the other side.
Curiosity piqued, you cautiously made your way towards the door, your footsteps silent on the dusty floor. Pushing it open further, you were greeted by a washroom that seemed to belong in a palace rather than a forgotten room.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked towards the stained glass windows. Why on earth would there be a source of sunlight in the home of a Vampire? Even if being ascended meant you could walk in the sun, you knew for a fact that the spawns couldn’t.
Who was this room meant for?
You stepped further inside, gazing around the room. The walls were adorned with shimmering mosaics that glinted in the light of the colored glass, casting a rainbow of reflections across the marble floor. The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of dried lavender and jasmine, the tiles beneath your feet cool and smooth.
A large claw foot bathtub sat in the center of the room, its gleaming surface inviting you to sink into its depths and wash away the grime of captivity. Dusty towels were stacked neatly on a golden rack, perfectly placed next to the row of dishes filled with bars of soap.
Overwhelmed by the sudden luxury surrounding you and the mystery of its existence, you felt yourself growing tense. You quickly stepped back, shutting the door to the washroom gently behind you.
As you turned around, you were startled by your bedroom door swinging open. Your eyes tried to adjust to the dimmer light of the room, focusing in on the figure. Your eyes widened at the sight of Amastacia standing there with a tray in her hands.
Amastacia’s presence sent a surge of anger coursing through you, memories of her betrayal flooding your mind. You could feel the heat rising within you, the urge to confront her clawing at your insides like a beast hungry for vengeance. But you held yourself back, your jaw clenched tight as you glared at her from across the room.
Amastacia’s eyes met yours, a flicker of annoyance passing through them before she composed herself into an icy mask of indifference. With a nonchalant grace, she sauntered towards you, the tray in her hand rattling slightly with the plate of bread upon it.
“Breakfast?” Amastacia offered, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
You recoiled at the sound of her voice, the memories of her honeyed lies still fresh in your mind.
“I don’t want anything from you,” you spat out, your tone laced with barely contained fury.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Amastacia’s lips, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, darling, no need to be so hostile. After all, you need all the food you can get since you’re eating for two,” she said, settling the tray down with a clank.
You eyed the bread warily, knowing better than to trust anything that came from her hands. You could hear the thinly veiled aggression in her words, the challenge she was presenting.
“Surely, you don’t expect me to eat something when the last meal we had you drugged,” you gritted.
“Surely you don’t expect me to care,” she bit back, all fake pleasantries disintegrated. “I’m not going out of my way to make you eat, even if you are Master’s latest pet.”
Your blood boiled at the mention of being called Astarion’s “pet”, the audacity of Amastacia’s words cutting deeper than any blade.
Speaking of blades, the moment you came in possession of something sharp, you were driving it through this harlot’s chest.
Beneath the anger you felt lay a flicker of something else, a strange sense of possessiveness that tugged at your heart. As much as you despised Astarion at the moment, part of you longed to be more important to him than just some means to an heir.
With a forced calmness, you pushed aside the bread, refusing to let her see how much her words truly stung.
“I am not anyone’s pet,” you said through your teeth, your fist clenched at your sides.
Amastacia’s laughter rang through the room, sharp and mocking.
“Oh, sweetling, you are far too naive if you think he thinks otherwise. You’re nothing more than a momentary nuisance,” she taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.
A surge of defiance surged through you, igniting a fire within. You stood taller, meeting her gaze head on with a hardened glare.
“Maybe he doesn’t, but you’re no better. Nothing but another one of Astarion’s slaves,” you retorted, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.
The air crackled with tension, the unspoken challenge hanging heavy between the two of you. As Amastacia’s smile faltered ever so slightly, you knew you found the chink in her armor.
Astarion.
Amastacia’s broken smile quickly transformed into a sneer, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. The mention of Astarion’s name had hit a nerve, and you could sense the shift in her demeanor as she struggled to regain control of the situation.
But you refused to back down, emboldened by the realization that you held power over her at this moment.
“You think you know him so well, don’t you?” Amastacia’s voice was laced with venom as she took a step closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “But you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
A shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in her gaze, but you stood your ground, unwavering in your defiance.
“I may not know everything about him, but I know enough to see through your facade,” you shot back, your tone challenging.
Amastacia crumbled before your eyes, revealing a glimpse of the seething rage and possessiveness that lay beneath. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that sent fear through your veins.
“You know nothing,” she hissed, her voice barely more than a whisper but filled with a deadly promise.
In that moment, the room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the air heavy with tension thick enough to suffocate. You could feel the weight of her fury pressing down on you, starkly contrasting the affectionate gaze she started this whole series of unfortunate events with.
“Maybe not,” you conceded, trying to swallow back the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “but I know unrequited love when I see it.”
Amastacia’s eyes widened at your words, a mixture of shock and fury crossing her features. The room seemed to vibrate with her suppressed emotions, the air crackling with the intensity of her anger. In a sudden movement, she lunged towards you, her hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp hold of something intangible. You barely had time to react before she was upon you, her nails digging into your skin as she snarled incoherently.
Pain flared through your body, sharp and biting as Amastacia was overcome with a primal rage that seemed to consume her from within. It was as if a beast had been unleashed, all semblance of control slipping away in the heat of the moment.
You fought back as best you could, adrenaline fueling your movements as you tried to push her away. But her strength was surprising, her grip unyielding as she continued to claw and snarl, her face contorted with a savagery that chilled you to the core.
Just when it seemed like Amastacia’s onslaught would never end, the door burst open with a resounding crash. Astarion stood in the threshold, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that matched the flames of Amastacia’s fury. His presence was like a tempest, commanding attention and respect as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.
Without a word, Astarion moved swiftly towards you, his movements fluid and graceful like a predator closing in on its prey. In one swift motion, he ripped Amastacia off of you, his strength overpowering hers effortlessly. She snarled and hissed, struggling against his hold, but he held her firmly in place with an iron grip.
“Enough,” Astarion barked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. The force of his command seemed to quell the storm of emotions swirling around you, bringing a moment of calm amidst the chaos.
Amastacia glared at Astarion for a split second of undisguised hatred, her chest heaving with anger. Astarion’s glare deepened, leaving no room for argument.
“Leave,” he spit, his tone deadly.
For a moment, it seemed as though Amastacia would defy him, her aggression sparking like embers in her eyes. Yet then, with a venomous glare in your direction, she wrenched herself free from Astarion’s grasp and stormed out of the room, her rage echoing in the emptiness left behind.
As the door swung shut behind her, a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant echoes of Amastacia’s footsteps fading into the night. Astarion turned to face you, his expression growing more exasperated than angry.
“What did you do to make her so upset?” Astarion sighed, his frustration palpable as he looked upon the aftermath of your scuffle. His gaze fell upon you, accusatory and questioning at the same time.
In response to Astarion’s question, you felt a surge of indignation rise within you. He quite literally had to pick her up like a rabid animal and he’s assuming you were the one in the wrong?
“I did absolutely nothing,” you seethed. “Maybe you should be more careful with who you ‘employ’ from now on.”
Astarion regarded you with a mixture of surprise and skepticism, his eyes probing yours for any sign of deceit. After a moment of tense silence, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his silvery hair, seemingly lost in thought.
“I admit, I may have underestimated her propensity towards violence,” he relented.
“Underestimated?” you laughed dryly, holding out the deep claw marks on your arms. “She would have killed me! Might I remind you that if I die, your precious heir dies too?”
Astarion’s expression darkened at the reminder of the stakes involved, his features hardening with resolve. With a curt nod, he took your arm in his hand, looking over the scratches. You winced at the stinging pain, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. His cold fingers traced the lines of blood, his expression becoming softer with each passing moment.
As he observed, you found yourself drawn to his presence once again, the way his fingers soothed the pain sending goosebumps across your skin. You tried to ignore the way your heartbeat began to flutter, the undeniable pull you felt towards the pale elf ramping up again.
Astarion’s gaze lifted from your arms to meet yours, his expression unreadable.
“Forgive me,” Astarion murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Moving faster than you could realize, he brought your arms to his lips, licking a long stripe along the fresh cut. His eyes never left yours, the sensation of his tongue grazing your skin sent heat through your chest. A mixture of fear and an unsettling thrill coursed through you as you looked on.
As he finished cleaning the wounds, you could feel the tension between you heating in the air. Astarion’s gaze held a hunger that you weren’t quite ready to unpack, afraid of what his gentle touches meant. With a sudden intensity, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours.
“You should never have been put in danger. I won’t allow such things again,” he whispered.
His promise hung in the air, low and sure. You were caught in a trance, unable to tear your gaze away from his hypnotic eyes. In that moment, you knew your life had become completely intertwined with the vampire, bound by an unspoken connection that defied logic.
“Now come,” Astarion said simply, straightening and dropping your arm. Gone was the intensity of his gaze, your mind reeling to catch up with his mood changes.
Did the pregnancy hormones seep into the air and affect him as well?
“We need to go see our in-house healer. Evelyn informs me that you haven’t been able to eat.“
You followed Astarion out of the room numbly, still trying to catch up from the intimate moment you had just shared. The tension lingered between you, a potent mix of fear, desire, and uncertainty swirling in the air. As you walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips against your skin, the memory burning hot in your mind.
When you reached what must have been the healer’s chambers, Evelyn was already there. Your smile grew wide at the sight of her, the stress of the day already seeming to melt away.
“You must know how to do everything, Evelyn,” you laughed, looking around at her healer’s office.
The space seemed to be a sanctuary within the cold stone walls of the mansion. Soft, flickering candles cast a warm glow, illuminating shelves lined with jars of herbs and vials of potions. The air was thick with the earthy scent of dried thyme, instantly calming your racing heart.
Evelyn cast a weary glance at Astarion before looking at you. Her eyes immediately flitted to the deep scratches on your arm, her breath gasping sharply.
“Oh, sweetling, whatever happened?” she cried, rushing over to look over your injury. She glared at Astarion, no fear in her eyes. “Did you do this to her? I swear to every god I can name, if you did,” she threatened.
Your jaw dropped in surprise, completely shocked with how brazenly the older spawn was speaking to the pale elf.
Astarion only chuckled softly at Evelyn’s stinging words, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
“Now, now, dear Evelyn, there’s no need for such hostility. I assure you, I had nothing to do with her little mishap. Ask her yourself.” He waved his hand dismissively, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Nothing, hm? You should take better care of her,” the woman narrowed her eyes skeptically at him before turning her attention back to you. With gentle hands, she began tending to your wound, applying a salve that soothed the pain instantly.
“Might I remind the Master, she is growing your child,” she continued, chiding Astarion as if he were a babe.
You watched the exchange between Evelyn and Astarion with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. It was clear that despite his confident mask, Astarion held a healthy respect for the old spawn in front of you. As Evelyn continued to scold him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude that there was someone in this building who seemed brave enough to talk to Astarion like he wasn’t a god.
The pale elf leaned casually against a nearby table, his eyes never leaving you with an odd sense of concern. The tension that had filled your life earlier had seemed to dissipate, replaced now with comfortable small talk.
“You wound me with your accusations,” Astarion teased, a playful glint in his eye. “I would never harm our little one… or its vessel,” he added with a grin.
You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the obvious disrespect in his tease. It was so interesting to see the man act this way. It was as if he had been replaced by an entirely different person, a doppelgänger that wasn’t so needlessly dark and depraved.
Perhaps Evelyn just had this effect on everyone.
Evelyn rolled her eyes at Astarion’s dramatics but couldn’t hide the spark of affection in her gaze. She turned back to you, finishing up the treatment on your arm with practiced ease.
“You’ll be as right as rain in no time, my dear,” she reassured you, patting your hand gently. “But do take it easy. For your sake and the baby’s.”
“Of course,” you nodded gratefully.
“Speaking of,” the woman directed her attention at Astarion, “I believe I know why she is having trouble keeping food down.”
“Oh?” Astarion prodded, his face growing serious. Based on his reaction, you wondered if it was something they had talked about before. You felt your chest flutter at the thought of the two of them being concerned about something so mundane.
“I believe that when an Ascended Vampire conceives a baby, the pregnant person has to consume vampire blood for the baby to grow,” Evelyn began, her voice lacking a sense of humor. She paced between the two of you, throwing her hands up as she spoke.
“It’s an exceedingly rare occurrence, mind you,” she continued, her brow furrowed in concentration. “But I was able to find it documented in a few books I’ve studied. The blood of an Ascended carries with it a unique quality that is essential for sustaining life. For parent and child.”
A hush fell over the room as her words lingered in the air like rotting meat. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach upturn at the gravity of her revelation.
“I have to drink his blood?“ you asked quietly, feeling positively ill.
Astarion threw you a glance, seeming all too aware of your discomfort in the situation. “For the baby,” he whispered, his gaze unwavering. You could see the concern in his eyes, his feelings seeming genuine for once.
Evelyn nodded solemnly, her expression grave. “I understand this is probably too much to ask of you,” she said, her tone gentle. “But it is the only way to ensure the child’s survival. And your own.”
As she made her way towards the door, Evelyn paused, turning back to look at you both. “I have to go about my rounds now,” she said, her voice tinged with pity. “I will leave the two of you to discuss this further.”
Alone in the dimly lit room, the reality of the situation sank in. The thought of consuming blood, fresh blood, turned your stomach. The image of it swirling your mind like a dark, viscous liquid.
“I’m sorry,” Astarion offered quietly, taking a few steps towards you. “I realize that the last few days have probably been a lot for you to handle. Even without adding this on top of it all.”
Astarion reached out a hand, his fingers hovering just inches from your arm as if unsure of whether or not it would be welcomed. His words held a weight to them, a sincerity that caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in the cool room, the shadows dancing around you both.
“Drinking blood… It’s not something I ever imagined myself doing,” you admitted softly. The very idea seemed monstrous, unnatural. Yet, there was an undeniable pull in Astarion’s eyes, a depth of understanding that made you question your own reservations.
“I think I would be more worried if you had,” the pale elf chuckled.
He let out a soft sigh, his gaze meeting yours with a matching uncertainty. “I never imagined I would be in this position either,’ he confessed. “But it must be done. I won’t risk your-… I won’t risk the baby.”
“I don’t even have fangs,” you replied numbly, ignoring the pause in his sentence.
Astarion broke out in a grin, unable to stifle a laugh. “It’s a slight impediment, I suppose,” he teased, the tension in the room easing just a bit. “I am more than willing to lend you mine.”
He held his hand to his mouth, biting into the skin softly. You couldn't help a nervous giggle, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. You felt a strange mix of revulsion and gratitude as you watched Astarion pierce his hand.
He must have sensed your mixed emotions, his eyes soft as he raised his bleeding hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, the fear of actually drinking his blood still coursing through your veins. You looked up into his eyes, trying to borrow some of his ever present confidence.
You took a deep breath and slowly reached out to touch the trickle of blood that had formed on his skin. His fingers trembled slightly, exposing his own apprehension in the situation. He gently wrapped his other hand around yours to steady it, his touch sending a warm surge of reassurance.
You would have to unpack his newest affectionate demeanor when you weren’t face to face with his blood.
As you hesitantly brought your lips to his hand, Astarion’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see a flash of desire. The moment felt vulnerable, the vampire offering a part of himself to you.
You closed your eyes, willing yourself to trust him, just this once, taking a small sip of the blood from his hand.
The flavor zinged across your tongue like electricity, completely different from the metallic and putrid taste you expected. Instead, it was smooth and rich, like the finest wine you had ever tasted. It flowers through your veins, alighting your nerves and filling you with a sense of power and strength. It was exhilarating and vaguely reminded you of how it felt to have the pale elf’s aphrodisiac bite.
Astarion watched you intently, his lips parted ever so slightly and his eyes filled with satisfaction. You pulled away, savoring the taste on your lips and the warmth that spread through your veins. You couldn’t help but look into Astarion’s eyes, seeing the matching spark reflected in them.
For a moment, you forgot how dangerous the man in front of you was, or how volatile the situation you found yourself in. All you could focus on was the growing intensity in the air around you, Astarion’s eyes flitting to your lips.
You exhaled a shaky breath, a small tentative smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
“Thank you,” you murmured softly.
Astarion nodded, his eyes still locked with yours. His hand held yours close, leaning in ever so slightly. You could see the flecks of gold amongst the ruby sea of his irises yet again, your breath catching in your throat.
Astarion’s gaze heated for a moment as he shifted forward, his breath mingling with yours. The tension between you pulsed like a living thing, wrapping around you in a heady embrace. His touch was feather light on your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he brushed his lips against yours.
The kiss was hungry, bordering on desperation. You realized you felt exactly the same, your feelings raw and exposed once your resolve had been peeled back.
You wanted him. Wanted him so badly.
Craved him like it was the air that you breathed. It may be irrational, perhaps even foolish. But you had been chasing the high you felt your first night with him despite the wall firmly placed between you.
But just as quickly as the passion ignited between you, Astarion pulled away abruptly, the fire in his eyes dimming to a cool mask of indifference. His jaw clenched, betraying the turmoil within him as he turned away, his back now to you.
You watched him in silence, feeling the weight of his absence hanging heavy in the air. It was as if there was a chasm between the two of you, wider and deeper than any physical distance could ever measure. Astarion stood motionless, his shoulders tense with an invisible burden that seemed to crush him from within.
The vulnerability you glimpsed in him just moments earlier now made your heart ache with a longing you couldn’t quite name. You reached out tentatively, your fingers hovering over his arm before hesitating. Would he push you away or pull you closer?
You pulled your arm back silently.
“Feel free to roam outside of your room from now on. Just don’t leave the grounds. I’ll find you in the evenings to feed.” Astarion broke the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Right, thank you,” you replied, uneasily matching his demeanor.
As Astarion left the room, you were left standing there, the echo of his presence still lingering like a ghost in the empty space between you. His departure felt like the closing of a door, separating you from a world where anything seemed possible.
Returning to your own chamber, you sank onto the edge of the bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of him.
Were you falling in love with him?
The question echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of doubt and fear that surrounded your heart.
You traced patterns on the coverlet with trembling fingers, lost in a maze of uncertainty and hopes. Astarion was a puzzle you couldn’t solve, a riddle wrapped in enigma and shrouded in darkness. And yet, there was a hint of something in his eyes, a longing that drew you into his embrace time and time again.
The night stretched on before you like an endless tapestry, woven with threads of longing and desire. Torn between wanting him close and fearing that the whole affectionate thing was an act, you wrestled with your own emotions in the quiet solitude of your room.
You were drawn back to the washroom, craving the view of the outside world. The moon cast a silvery glow through the glass, painting everything in shades of grey and blue. As you sat, staring at the stars, you wondered if there was even a place for anything more than duty and necessity in Astarion’s life.
If there was a place for you.
Sleep finally claimed you, pulling you into a dark embrace on the cold tile floor. Even while deep in slumber, you couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t mean anything to the pale elf at all.
When you awoke to the sunlight filtering in, washing over you like a warm blanket, you immediately regretted falling asleep on the hard ground. Your mood was sour as you trudged back into the bedroom, your eyes catching on a plain paper resting on the small bedside table.
You picked it up curiously, flipping it over to see the writing. Tied to the edge was a small hairpin. The silver piece was adorned with delicate ivory carvings of intertwining vines, their leaves and flowers forming intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer as they caught the light.
It was absolutely magnificent.
As you examined the hairpin more closely, you found that the tip had been sharpened to a fine point, one that would easily draw blood with the slightest wrong movement. You felt your chest flutter, your eyes flitting back at the note attached to the gift.
All of your doubts melted away as you read the crimson cursive writing, the words giving away more than your pale elf could ever say.
“For my fangless vampire so that she’ll never again grow hungry.
Yours always,
Astarion.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Next chapter
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Tagged - @dinoace2 , @tiedyedghoulette , @n3cros1sbunny , @bloodlust-1 , @bookishpenguino , @asterordinary , @generalstephkenobi , @under-the-crescent-moon ,
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chapter 5: he SNUCK????
masterlist
← chapter 4: detective y/n on the case 🤓👆🏻
→ chapter 6: all the way formal
Description: After Chenle "accidentally" hits the follow button on Twitter, you try to get him to unfollow you by any means necessary, even if he's keen on staying right where he's at.
Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (featuring NCT Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, & Jisung, aespa Ningning, & aespa Karina)
Genre: suggestive, crack, funny haha stuff idk
Content Warnings: death jokes, kms/kys jokes, simping, slight fan hate lol, suggestive
Note: can you figure out who's who? ;) let me know who you think so far...
Taglist: @poemzcheng @kpophosblog @i6renj @xuimhao @fullsunstrawberry @simpforarmihn @kpophosblog @iscocohere @222brainrot @daegale @leefullsun @annoyingbitch83 @chezziy @multifandomania @fairyjunnie @lotties-readings @odxrilove @ckline35 @mark-geolli @llepia @hamji-hae @haechanielove @sunflowerbebe07
taglist is open! comment to be added :)
+ bonus fan content
#chenle#nct#nct dream#chenle smau#nct smau#nct dream smau#chenle fluff#chenle angst#chenle smut#nct smut#nct fluf#nct angst#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst
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Time Bomb | Criminal minds x fem!reader
Summary; Y/N’s mind is overworked and tired from case after case after case and the team begins to notice, prodding her until it gets too much.
Parings; BAU team x BAU!reader, no romantic relationships mentioned. (she/her pronouns)
Warnings; angst, mentions of chronic headaches/migraines, swearing, physical and emotional pain
Words; 1.7k
No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!
Gif is not mine. @book-place
It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to have a migraine, let alone a simple headache. She was diagnosed with atypical migraines when she was 15 and has been dealing with them since. But joining the BAU 6 months ago really seemed to ramp things up for her. Since the day she left for that first case, the severity of her headaches increased, impacting her working abilities.
She knew it wasn’t going to be an easy job, the commitments alone were tough but what was worse was trying to leave every painful detail of a case behind and move onto the next one, especially so quickly. She felt like she was doing work 24/7, whether she was on a plane flying across the country, stuck at her desk filing reports or thinking about cases when she got home. Everyone else on the team had been there for much longer than her so they had it down packed. But Y/N was still struggling, not that she would let anyone else figure that out.
She became quite good at compartmentalising, hiding her emotions from her colleagues, family and friends. But all of this stress, tension and hurt came through in her migraines. Having suffered in pain for almost 10 years already, she was good at moving through the pain, pushing it aside, but lately it began bothering her more than ever, and the team began to notice.
Derek was the first to pick up on her change in mood when she didn’t acknowledge his daily “Good Morning Firecracker”. Instead of her normal response, she flipped him the bird and kept walking to her desk in silence. He was quite insulted at her actions but took it as a bad morning. The other surrounding team members took note of this unusual behaviour from Y/N, all beginning to watch her closely.
Reid noticed her mental distance during a case when it repeatedly took her 8 seconds longer than usual to answer a question or hear her name being called.
It was then Emily who tried to comfort her, but was brushed aside and ignored by Y/N. It happened yesterday, the team were in the office, working on files from the previous case and Emily noticed the younger team member had been silent all day. She watched with concern from her desk as Y/N held her head in her hands, rubbed her temples and took painkillers every few hours. As the day ended Emily approached Y/N, tapping her on the shoulder lightly to get her to raise her head off the desk.
“What?” Y/N turned to Emily with tired eyes and an exhausted expression.
“Sorry, I just wanted to check that you were okay? You’ve been quiet all day.” Emily removed her hand from Y/N’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, Prentiss.” Y/N used Emily’s last name for the first time in months and it shocked everyone in the room. Y/N gathered her stuff and quickly left towards the elevators, brushing Emily’s shoulder on the way out. The whole team, including Rossi and Hotch who’d left their offices, stood in shock at the agent's actions. Something was definitely wrong.
~~~~~~
This morning Y/N slept in for the first time in weeks, and not on purpose. She had slept through three alarms and would officially be late for work, but it didn’t bother her. The pain pounding through her head was insufferable. It felt as if her skull was squishing her brain, waiting for it to explode. So she took her time getting ready, pausing every few minutes to sit and attempt to not pass out or throw up. Could she have just opted to take the day off? Yes. But she was too stubborn for that.
She eventually made it to work, slowly making her way through the glass doors, now almost an hour late according to her watch. But when she finally looked up from the floor, no one was at their desks, or in the kitchen, or milling around the bullpen. It was silent. As much as she admired the peace and quiet, it was bugging her, where the hell was everyone else. Curiously she made her way up the stairs, peeking into Hotch and Rossi’s empty offices, then towards the conference room that suspiciously had the door closed and shades drawn.
She opened the door slowly, expecting to also find no one, but was wrong. The whole team was sitting at and standing around the table, previously talking lowly amongst themselves.
“What the hell is going on? Why are you all in the fucking dark in silence? It’s weird.” Y/N’s voice caught the attention of her friends and boss, everyone staring at her with shock or concern plastered on their faces.
“Come sit down Y/N.” Hotch finally spoke up, his hands crossed at his chest nodding his head to the empty chair in the centre of the table.
“Fine.” Y/N snickered, moving slowly towards the chair. “What is this? An intervention?” Y/N laughed as she sat down in the chair, sliding down into a comfortable position. The room stayed silent. “Will someone please fucking say something!” She waved her hands in the air and looked to Emily, then Spencer then Derek.
“Y/N.” Derek sighed, moving away from the window where he was previously leaning, catching the attention of Y/N. “We’ve all noticed some changes in your behaviour recently and we just wanted to see what was going on.”
“Yeah.” Emily’s voice perked up from beside Y/N, moving to place her hand on top of the other agent’s. “We’re all worried for you, you haven’t been yourself. You get mad at the smallest of things, you’re constantly tired and falling asleep everywhere. Is there something you need to tell us? Are you-” Emily couldn’t even finish her sentence.
Y/N shook her head in disbelief, they probably think I’m an alcoholic or drug user. Unbelievable. “Wow!” She laughed out, snatching her hand away from Emily’s. “Okay, so how about you guys take a guess at what’s wrong with me and I’ll tell you if you’re right.” Everyone’s jaw dropped at her outburst, not wanting to say anything to make it worse. “Hm. Go ahead. Or are you too scared?” Y/N stood up from her chair.
“That’s enough Y/L/N.” Hotch sternly expressed to the agent, urging her to calm down.
“No, Hotch. I’ve had enough! This is bullshit.” Y/N began walking towards the door behind her, only to be stopped by Derek. “Move.” She argued but he didn’t budge. “Stop it Derek, let me leave.”
“No.” He uncrossed his arms, now softly holding her forearms.
“Derek,” She was really frustrated now, tears began welling up in her eyes. “I swear to god.” She shook her head at him, her voice was breaking. The physical and emotional pain was getting too much. The pounding in her head was so loud she thought her ear drums were going to burst. Derek saw her pain, swiftly moving to pull her into a tight hug, one that she didn’t reciprocate but also didn’t try to remove herself from. She broke down, for the first time in months she’d finally let go. She stood there, crying into Derek’s chest as he held her tight, protecting her, the room was quiet besides the sound of Y/N crying.
This was the first time any of them had seen her cry in the 6 months of knowing her, not even after hard cases. They looked at each other, hearts breaking for their colleague and friend. After a moment she began to move and Derek’s grip on her loosened. She wiped her bare face and held her head down as she went to sit back down. “Talk to us honey.” JJ was now in the seat beside her, stroking her back lightly.
She took a deep breath before she spoke again. “I have chronic migraines. I have since I was 15. And since working here, they’ve been worse than ever. Especially today.” She stopped, I sound so stupid, she thought to herself. Emily squeezed her shoulder encouraging her to keep going. Y/N sniffled, “I guess the heaviness of the cases, the workload, the stress has been getting to me a lot more recently. And don’t get me wrong, I love this job and you guys,” She lifted her head to look at her friends who were now all sitting or standing in front of her. “But sometimes it’s just too much and the emotional pain turns into physical which then turns into anger and a bad mood.” She looked back down at her hands, picking at her nails.
“Well why didn’t you tell any of us you were struggling?” Rossi spoke kindly from across the table, meeting eyes with Y/N.
Y/N’s mouth twists before speaking, trying to stop the tears. “I didn’t want to burden you. You guys have your own lives. And I’ve been dealing with it by myself for so long I thought I had it under control.” Her voice cracks at the end causing everyone’s hearts to shatter. How did they not see this earlier? They all thought to themselves.
“Y/N, look at me.” Derek was now behind her, she looked up behind her shoulder. “You are not a burden. You are an incredible and important asset to this team and this family. That’s what we are.” He smiled down at her.
“And that means that we’re always here for each other, good or bad.” Penelope’s sweet voice spoke next from further down the table. “Okay?” She asks when Y/N looks like she doesn’t believe her.
She stayed silent for a while, thinking about their words. Slowly she began nodding her head, careful not to increase the pain. “Okay.” She smiled at her team.
“How about you go sleep off the pain in my office for a bit?” Rossi offered, she almost rejected because she didn’t want to let them down but Rossi continued before she could open her mouth. “Just until we get a case, okay?” He hoped that would do the trick, and it did.
“Thank you.” She sniffled. “And I’m sorry for how rude I’ve been, it wasn’t intentional I promise.” She looked specifically at Emily and Derek who had received the brutal end of her outbursts.
So now the team was fixed once again, now knowing how to help Y/N on her good and bad days.
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#Criminal Minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#bau x reader#fem!reader#chronic migraine#angst#fluf#derek morgan#emily prentiss#aaron hotchner#jenifer jareau#spencer reid#david rossi#penelope garcia#bau/reader
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“I don’t want to not tell you that anymore.”
jeonghan x reader
genre: fluff; angst
word count: 4.1K
a/n: Hi lovelies! Here is the long overdue part 2 of “I know, but don’t say it.” It’s been a few weeks since the events of “I know, but don’t say it” and Jeonghan has been doing some thinking and is ready to take some action. I know 4,000 words is a bit long but I hope it’s worth the read. Thanks for waiting for this, thanks for reading, and I hope you all enjoy :))
p.s. In this fic you can decide for yourself if you want Jeonghan to be an idol or not- I mention that he travels for work and has busy schedules but I never explicitly state what he does so it’s up to you! <3
Heart beating twice as fast as when you walked into the corner store, your eyes studied the brightly packaged snack foods that lined the checkout lane. You had a strategy, or a plan, rather: if you stared into the varieties of gum and treats with deep interest instead of looking forward in the direction of him then he simply wouldn’t notice you.
Isn’t it strange how someone can be so familiar in one environment, and with a change in setting they can suddenly become so foreign? Like seeing your teacher inside a café when you’re thirteen years old, the distance from the classroom making it feel as though you’ve never actually met this person.
Inside the walls of your apartment, between your bedsheets, you knew Jeonghan very well. Deeply. Intimately. You even knew him at gatherings amongst your mutual friends. That was where you met, after all; friends of friends. As much as you wanted to know him in every environment, the nature of your relationship simply didn’t allow for that. He didn’t allow for that.
Just last week he watched fondly as you made grilled cheese for you both and served it on your old Mickey Mouse shaped plates, which Jeonghan didn’t miss the opportunity to poke fun at. “I’ve had them since I was a kid, you jerk,” you had defended yourself through an amused smile. And yet, spotting him two people ahead of you in the checkout line was so unfamiliar it felt as though you two could be strangers. Your heart was aching with anxiety, and perhaps with longing that you weren’t ready to address. Questions ran through your mind as you scrambled to figure out how to handle the predicament, and you wished there was some sort of handbook for navigating a very public run in with your friend with benefits. What was the protocol for running into your fuck buddy out in the wild?
And why was it so nerve wracking to see him like this? Was it simply the unfamiliarity? Or was it seeing him live the life you weren’t part of? Of course you knew he lived a whole life outside your apartment walls. Every time he left, he shut the door behind him, effectively shutting you out of his world. Seeing him now gave you a glimpse of that world; perfectly mundane and real. Suddenly, there he was, charming as ever as he flashed a sweet smile at the cashier. You were jealous that someone else got his public smiles.
Despite your attempt to avert your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t notice you, pulling your gaze away from Jeonghan turned out to be quite the challenge. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you, considering you couldn’t help but observe him as he dozed off against your pillows each night he came over. He was beautiful and enigmatic, making him an attractive and enticing mystery that you were always trying to figure out. You peered over the person in front of you and watched as he placed his card back inside the wallet sleeve. Such a mundane action but you were fascinated by the movements of his fingers. Your focus was so fixed on his hands and delicate wrists that you didn’t notice Jeonghan looking down the line casually. Glancing back up at his face, you found his eyes on you as realization hit his features before you could divert your attention elsewhere. Your jaw dropped open slightly as his eyes widened with surprise. You wondered if he was also confused as to how to handle the situation.
It was him, after all, keeping you separate from these moments of his life. It was complex because he made it so. Jeonghan had been betrayed in the past, and with his frequent trips abroad for work and his busy schedules even when he was home, he was resistant to committing. Those were the excuses he used, at least. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t questioned whether he was just avoidant of committing to you, specifically.
As you both stared at each other, a small part of you hoped he’d wave your way quickly before exiting the store. A bigger part of yourself called that smaller part of you a fucking liar because if he left without addressing you, you’d be crushed. A faint smile appeared on his mouth as he waved cutely at you. You nodded your head at him coolly, biting back a smile that had to have been beyond obvious judging from the way he chuckled at you.
Instead of leaving the store with his single bag, he backed away without pulling his gaze from you and crossed his arms over his abdomen and just… waited. He waited for the person ahead of you to finish buying their items, and when it was your turn to check out, Jeonghan shrugged at you as if to say, what are the chances? And then he stepped toward you slowly, a small smile curving on his lips once more.
“Well hello,” he whispered to you, leaning toward your ear as though the greeting was a secret. There was an edge of familiarity in his voice, despite the unfamiliar circumstance, your clandestine affair clashing under the grocery store’s fluorescent lights.
“Hi,” you smiled, a bit awkwardly, still unsure how to handle the situation. However, he didn’t seem to carry the same nervousness, the man reaching for a couple of your bags. “No, no, that’s ok, I can carry them,” you tried to refuse his help.
Jeonghan sighed before speaking your name with a smile, amusement in his breath. Smirking at him, you pulled a few of your bags off the counter. “I’m stronger than I look,” you teased, an attempt to find some comfortability. Eyes scanning his delicate features, you found yourself suppressing your desire to kiss the man like you wanted to. Like he was very much not a stranger, because he wasn’t.
“You don’t look so weak,” he tilted his head in a flirty manner, his eyes traveling along your stature as he flashed you a cheeky smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ve kissed up and down those arms, and suddenly you were transported back to being in your bed last week, the last time you saw him, when he did just that. It was before he got up to make you both grilled cheese sandwiches, and he was lying next to you, trailing his lips along your upper arm, complimenting how beautiful you were, his eyes heavy with sleep. The way he watched you made it seem as though he was lost in the memory too, and you wondered if he wanted to kiss you in this store too. This man, a non-stranger despite the unlabeled relationship, knows you—even in the new setting. “Just let me help anyway.”
“Fine,” you relented, nervously watching him as he scooped the groceries up and you both started leaving the store. Together. “So, this is unexpected, huh?”
“I was thinking more like a pleasant surprise,” he grinned. “I like seeing you out like this.”
Stealing a glance at him, you found him watching you with a small smile on his face as you walked down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. He had a key to your door, you thought. Yet you were being so awkward. “What, at the grocery store?” You asked, lifting your eyebrows in question.
“Outside those four walls,” he spoke quietly through a smirk. Your lips twitched slightly, despite your fight to keep the smile off your face, but you were sure he noticed anyway. There was a piece of you who found his comments so cruel, so careless, as though he was either oblivious of your feelings (which was doubtful-or really, impossible) or he simply didn’t care about toying with them. He used to be cautious, watching his words, holding certain feelings back. You used to wish he would stop being so controlled, but now you were realizing that Jeonghan speaking and acting more freely was a double-edged sword. “If I had known you needed some groceries I would have picked them up on my way over.”
“Oh, so you were on your way over?” You questioned with a scoff, but not without obvious amusement. “This is news to me.”
“I could have been,” he smiled mischievously. Speaking with Jeonghan sometimes was like communicating through riddles. There was often a second meaning to the things he said, and you were left trying to decipher them. “Or we could have gone shopping together.” So careless.
As you walked the short distance to your apartment, you allowed your mind to conjure up a scenario in which you were shopping with Jeonghan. You could picture him grabbing an extra container of ramen with the justification of, “I know you get hungry late at night.” Jeonghan knew these things about you.
You chose not to respond to Jeonghan’s comment. The idea of doing normal mundane things with him was exciting to you, as well as painful when you remembered that the terms of your situationship didn’t include picking out fruit together. You didn’t want to let him in on either of those feelings.
“Are you going to carry those bags all the way up to my apartment?” You asked him when you arrived outside the complex.
“Of course, I’m a gentleman,” he told you, flashing a flirty grin.
“That’s not the first word I’d use to describe you,” you teased him, watching as he widened his eyes playfully.
“Whoah, are you finally loosening up?” He asked, his voice light with surprise as he poked fun at the tense and awkward demeanor you sported since spotting each other in the market.
“No,” you said stubbornly, “But I can get this. Really,” you nodded at the bags.
“Hey, just let me help you,” he said more seriously. “It’s the least I can do,” he added, and you felt it was another one of those double-meaning comments.
“Your key or mine?” Jeonghan teased you when you approached your front door, making you shoot him a glare as the metal jingled in your hand.
“That’s strictly for when I don’t want to get out of bed to come let you in,” you joked as you pushed your door open and stepped inside, Jeonghan giggling as he followed behind you.
Setting your gaze on him as you both kicked off your shoes, you exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. As though any remaining anxiety over your surprise run in with the man melted from your frame the moment you entered the familiar space. This was how you knew Jeonghan. You knew how to handle him here.
He lifted his eyes from the floor and caught you staring at him, though before he could question you on it, you nodded at the bags in his hand. “You can just bring those in here,” you told him, starting toward the kitchen.
When he set the bags down on the counter, he instantly began sifting through them, pulling out items and navigating your kitchen to put them away. The various snacks went in the cupboard next to the refrigerator, and when you opened your mouth to tell them, you quickly closed it again because he already knew. Of course he did. He knew this kitchen.
“Hey, you shouldn’t have bought these,” he held up the package of cookies before placing it into the shelf.
Smiling at it, you raised your eyebrows in an accusatory way. “But you finished them all last week.”
“Exactly,” he giggled cutely. “That’s why I bought them for you.” Jeonghan reached into his own grocery bag and pulled out the same cookies.
“Oh,” you grinned, walking over to him and grabbing the package out of his hands. “Now we have extras.” We. A slip of the tongue. But at the same time, there was a we. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to stop yourself from grouping the both of you together as a unit.
The carelessness that had developed between you both over the past several hangouts was only complicating things further, and your relief from entering the apartment started being replaced by irritation. We statements, buying snack foods for each other, flirty whispers in public, the spare apartment keys, the near confession of truth while tangled up in sheets a few weeks ago; it was all becoming too much. You wanted it all. And the more you got it, the harder it was to watch him leave again.
Jeonghan lifted his hand and settled it on your hip. The touch, despite being welcome, fuck it was so welcome, seared into your skin and shot a pain to your heart. You wanted more from him. And you didn’t know how long you could keep yourself from asking for it. Once you did that, asked for it, you would either get everything you’d been wanting or you’d have to walk away from all of this. The course of your relationship would hit a fork, leading to two different fates.
“Hannie,” you sighed, glancing down at his forearm, trailing your eyes toward his hand that was gripping your hip and pulling you closer. “What are you doing in my neighborhood?”
“I told you,” he spoke gently.
“You were coming to see me?” You clarified, doubtfully. “Be for real.”
“I was actually,” he told you as his tone became much more earnest and serious. “I wanted to talk.” Your gaze scanned his features, studying, trying to figure out his expression. “The cookies were my excuse.”
Scoffing, you shrugged at him in frustration. At him for coming over like this. At yourself for feeling happy about it. You were annoyed by his lack of commitment because this thing between you both could be so great if only he’d let it be. “What are we doing?” You asked, helpless as your shoulders slumped slightly.
“We’re talking,” he told you, his eyes full of emotion and concern at your crumbling stature.
“No, you know what I mean,” you corrected, taking a step back so his hand fell slack against his side. “Look, I know you don’t trust easily, I know that commitment is scary-” you paused for fear that the tears stinging your eyes would slip down your cheeks. “Your hurt from the past isn’t my doing.”
“I know that,” he acknowledged somberly.
“But you’ve been holding it against me,” you told him sadly. “I know you were hurt, I know it was awful and I’m so sorry that happened to you, but you’re letting someone else’s actions hurt both of us now.” His ex had been unfaithful while Jeonghan was away in another country, his busy work schedules keeping him away for too long. Its effect on Jeonghan manifested in a resistance to commit, but it wasn’t simply because he was scared of being hurt again. Jeonghan was away and busy more often than the average person due to the circumstances of his job, and he believed this to be a killer in relationships. During one of your first nights together, he had admitted that he didn’t think it was fair for him to dedicate himself to others because his partner would ultimately deserve more than he was able to provide. “I can’t really give enough. And if someone is willing to tolerate my life and put up with all the time apart, then they’re probably too good for me,” he had told you early on in your affair. The comment had broken your heart then, and it only became more heartbreaking the closer you got to him. He deserved someone to choose him. And you were trying to.
“I know,” he again accepted his fault, almost too easily. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re sorry, but I can’t carry your past on my back like that anymore,” you shook your head, feeling the first tear fall onto the apple of your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, watching as Jeonghan took a step forward before stopping himself. “I can’t. Not if you’re not going to give me access to your present and future.”
“I don’t want you to carry it,” he shook his head, his frustration with himself coming through in the way he tensed his jaw. “I-” he sighed, giving up on his words as he stared at you, disappointment in himself taking over his gaze.
“Seeing you today- it struck me that you have a whole life that I’m not a part of.” Your bottom lip trembled as you spoke, more tears gathering on your lash line. “And then you say that shit about going to the store together and how am I supposed to hear that and then not want it? I want the responsibilities with you, I want the routines, I want the mundane-”
“I want it too,” he blurted out, panic overtaking his features, the words knocking the air from your lungs. The reality of losing you, and of losing him came crashing into your minds, resulting in a moment of long overdue honesty. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for doing this to us for so long.”
Shaking your head in frustration, Jeonghan opened his mouth to speak again, desperation written in his voice and his rounded eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“We deserve better than this,” you told him sternly, a quiver in your voice. “What she did shouldn’t keep us from being happy, Hannie.”
Jeonghan took another step forward, tentative as he watched how you responded to him. When you didn’t back away, he came a bit closer so he was standing directly in front of you within arms length.
“I can’t take back the way I’ve been treating you,” he frowned. “But I need you to believe me when I say I want you to have my present and future.”
“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” you interrupted, giving him one last chance to back out and take it all back. You couldn’t hear these words from him if they weren’t sincere.
“I mean it,” he assured you, his eyes staring deep into yours as he tried to relay his candor. He reached his hand out for yours, waiting for an ok for him to take it. Was it ok?
“Wanting something and allowing yourself to have it are different things,” you pointed out, Jeonghan nodding quickly as though he knew what you meant. Glancing down at his hand, you sighed before pushing yours forward slightly and letting your fingers brush against his own. He quickly wrapped your digits up with his own.
“I came over here to talk to you,” he circled back to the intent behind his trip to your apartment. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say for the past week, or really month, and- can I just get this out?” You took a beat, your eyes roaming over his face before you nodded. He sighed in relief, gathering his composure a bit by standing up taller and broadening his shoulders. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this rashly. It’s not spur of the moment, I’ve been feeling this way for a long time and I apologize for the time it’s taken me to get to this point,” he started, your eyes pulling into a focused stare.
“I love you,” he said simply, his voice light but serious. Those three words, the ones you both had felt but left unspoken for far too long, sent a jolt of shock and electricity through your body. Your heart picked up speed as you stared into his pretty features, so stunning and striking. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t, and I don’t want to not tell you that anymore. That night we were in bed, a few weeks ago, I wanted to tell you so fucking bad, angel. I want to say what I feel towards you.”
“Jeonghan,” you whispered, the man shaking his head.
“I love you,” he said again. “I have for a long time.” You felt another tear slide down your cheek and Jeonghan squeezed your hand in response before a humorless laugh escaped his lips. “I came here intending to tell you this before any tears fell but-”
“You love me.” You finally spoke, the air returning to your lungs. His confession wasn’t news to you. You had both been in love for the better portion of your affair, but hearing the words leave his mouth marked something special. A possible new phase in your relationship. One where you both could take the risk and love each other openly, and finally commit to each other. You had met the split in the road, and he was choosing the path where a future for you and him together existed.
“I love you,” he said again, as though he couldn’t get enough of saying it now that he finally spoke them. You wondered if the words tasted like he had been sucking on a sugar cube, coating his tongue with sweetness.
“So- wait- fuck, I-” you stuttered, your thoughts floating aimlessly in your mind, being replaced with feelings of love. “What do you want then, Jeonghan?” You finally got out, searching his expression for hints that this was really happening and it wasn’t some fucked up dream.
“So much,” he gave a single breathy laugh, brushing his thumb over the side of your hand. “But really, so little. I want to walk through this door and be able to tell you I love you. I want to sleep in that bed with you for an entire night instead of leaving like an idiot. I want to kiss you when we leave for work in the morning. I want a little drawer in your bathroom and bedroom for my stuff, and I know you have a lot of shit but I want it anyway,” he interjected, a smile finally cracking through your expression as you shook your head at him in fond disbelief. “And I want the same for your things at my place. I want to go grocery shopping with you and I want to meet each other’s families, I want to tell our friends about us. I want to call you when I’m on the road and tell you I miss you, because I love you. And it sucks being away from the ones you love.”
“You’re rambling,” you giggled, lifting your hand that wasn’t held by his toward him, only to discover the cookies were still in your grasp. Rolling your eyes at the package, you set it down on the counter.
“I want to eat those with you too,” he added, nodding at the package as he wore a sweet smile.
“Are you going to allow yourself to have these things though? Like, really?” You questioned him. You wanted to believe him. And you would if he let you. You’d take his word as truth, he just had to speak them and act.
“Yes. I want you, and I want us together,” he told you. “I’m in,” he let out a breath of disbelief that he finally said it, and relief because he finally said it. “And I hope you are too.”
“Ok,” you simply said, hiding the absolute glee you felt in favor of seeing that glare overtake his features. You smiled at him as he shook his head playfully at you.
“Ok?” He smirked, cocking his head to the side. “That’s it?”
“Well I’m not going to deny you of what you want,” you beamed, watching as Jeonghan’s smirk morphed into a happy grin despite the scoff escaping his lips.
“Angel, don’t play with me right now.”
“But it’s so fun,” you whispered teasingly as he tugged you toward him. Your hand finally raised to cradle his jaw and guided his face to yours, kissing him hard. You’d kissed Jeonghan many times since, but this meeting was something different. Electricity zipped through your frame, making you push yourself further against him until there was no room left between you both. His lips worked against yours with fervor, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you moaned against his mouth. And yet, the smiles you both wore made it difficult to keep up your pace, both of you too happy to conceal it.
All too soon, he pulled away with quickened breath. “Do you want all of that too?” He whispered against your lips, both of your mouths, once again, forming into grins against each other’s.
“You know I do,” you replied genuinely. “I love you, Hannie.”
“Say it again,” he grinned, his lips just barely grazing over yours, his eyelids fluttering open as he pulled away to peer at your features.
Sighing jokingly, your hand slid to the back of his neck to toy with the strands of hair that rested against his skin. “I love you,” you told him again with a soft smile. “And I want you, and I want us.”
#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan angst#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan imagine#jeonghan scenario#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fanfic#svt reactions#seventeen reactions#svt fluf#seventeen fluff#svt angst#seventeen angst#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#svt scenarios#seventeen scenarios#svt fics#seventeen fics
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Regulus Black Headcanon
(Sorry that I suck at writing btw)
When Regulus was younger, him and Sirius cuddled whenever they could. Usually, right after Walburga went to sleep after putting the two brothers to bed, Sirius would sneak into Regulus’ room and slide into his bed. And Regulus was usually awake, waiting for Sirius. Unless he had gotten super tired that day and had already fallen asleep.
Sirius would slip into Regulus’ bed and cuddle up to him, and sing him to sleep, or tell him a story. And on the nights Sirius couldn’t sneak into his room, Regulus realized he hated sleeping alone.
In Regulus’ Hogwarts years, Regulus obviously slept alone. Pandora, when told by Regulus that he hated sleeping alone, had stared at Regulus in disbelief. “What?” He had said, getting a bit nervous that Pandora hadn’t said anything. “You don’t have any plushies?!” She had finally said, exasperated. “Well…No, that would look silly in the Slytherin dorms.” But inside, Regulus had actually been quite interested by the thought..
And that day, was the day Regulus got his first plushie, and there were many more to come.
Regulus had a favorite plushie, but he would never say it out loud. (In case his plushies could hear him) And it was a plushie of a fluffy black dog, that was his favorite. (He felt bad about it though, like the other plushies might’ve felt left out) It was his favorite because..
Because it reminded him of his brother.
The dog plushie was a grim, and it reminded him of his brother because the grim seemed big, and fierce, and dogs were protective, and kind, and dogs were amazing.
Like his big brother.
So yes, even through..everything. That plushie was his favorite. Because it reminded him of his brother. And he felt an almost nostalgic comfort by cuddling with the dog plushie, like he was cuddling his brother again.
#harry potter#harry potter fluff#sirius black#marauders#regulus black#harry potter angst#marauders era#mauraders#the marauders#marauder#the most ancient and noble house of black#the marauders era#the noble house of black#the black brothers#the black brothers fluf#regulus black and sirius black#black brothers angst#sirius orion black#sirius o black#sirius deserved better#sirius and regulus#regulus and sirius#regulus arcturus black#regulus deserved better#black brother angst#angst with fluff#black brothers fluff#fluff headcanons#angst headcanons#marauders fluff
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Main Masterlist
Genshin Impact:
➼ “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon” [Neuvillette x reader]
— The rain pours over Fontaine, darkening its skies. You immediately take that as your sign to see a certain someone.
➼ “Once Mine” [Male Character x reader]
— He was yours once, now he belonged to another.
➼ “My Dearest Love” [Baizhu x reader]
— You’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for Baizhu, but you were more than okay with it.
➼ “Close To Me” [Yandere Alhaitham x reader]
— You finally give into Alhaitham and fall right into his arms.
➼ “I Wished For You” [Male Character x Reader]
— You saw the love he gave to another, and could only wish he would have done the same to you when you were together.
➼ “One Day” [Zhongli x reader] - (pt. 2) (alt. ending)
— You loved Zhongli, but he could never be yours.
➼ “Are You Mine Yet?” [Zhongli x reader] - (pt. 1) (alt. ending)
— You’re plagued by Hanahaki Disease because of your unrequited feelings for Zhongli, but there might still be a chance for you.
➼ “A Chance” [Alhaitham x reader] - (pt. 1) (pt.2)
— Alternative Ending: You move to Sumeru, leaving Zhongli and romance behind. Will it be that easy for you though?
Honkai: Star Rail:
➼ “I want you” [Blade x reader]
— Your soul yearns for Blade, but does he feel the same?
➼ “Through Heaven and Hell” [Nanook x reader]
— Nanook being fond of you (headcanons)
➼ “Hurry Up Now, Darling” [Dan Heng x reader]
— Dan Heng’s been waiting for you for so long.
Unwind Series:
➼ “A Sickly Sweet Home” [Connor Lassiter x reader]
— Connor only wishes to settle down after everything that went down, only this time, its with you.
➼ “The Trials of Time” [Roland Taggart x reader]
— You let Roland in during your time as an AWOL, but it only hurt you more than it helped.
➼ “How About?” [Connor Lassiter x reader]
— You don’t think Connor loves you, especially now that Risa showed up.
Jujutsu Kaisen:
➼ “Fool’s Gold” [Megumi Fushiguro x reader]
— You’ve lost Megumi, but now he’s lost you forever.
➼ “Second Best” [Yuji Itadori x reader]
— You were never Yuji’s first choice.
Record of Ragnarok:
➼ “Undeserving of Your Love” [Poseidon x God! reader]
— You meet Poseidon, soon falling in love. Unluckily for you, he already had someone he adored.
Demon Slayer:
➼ “In Another Lifetime” [Akaza x reader]
— Akaza and you are in love, but you can’t be together, not when the universe itself is against you.
Any Characters:
➼ “Would you choose me just this once?” [Male Character x reader]
— You love him so dearly, yet he thinks of you as nothing.
➼ “Hope To Be Yours” [Male Character x reader]
— He picks someone else over you, but you’re used to it.
➼ “Love Me, Please?” [Yandere Female Character x reader]
— She loved you first, so why were you with someone else?
➼ “Web of Lies” [Female Character x reader]
— You and her play a game of manipulation, but who’s really in charge?
➼ “Maybe” [Male Character x reader]
— You knew, no matter what, he would never choose you or love you.
➼ “Want Me Too” [Female Character x female! reader]
— You wished you were him.
➼ “Call Me Back” [Male Character x reader]
— It hurt to be something, but it was worse to be nothing. You choose the former.
Beings:
➼ “God’s Gift” [Yandere Archangel x Demon! reader]
— They’ve set their sights on you during battle, vowing you’d forever be theirs from then on.
#x reader fluff#x reader#x reader angst#genshin x reader#zhongli x reader#alhaitham x reader#angst#fluff#genshin angst#hsr angst#hsr x reader#xiao x reader#unwind series#unwind roland x reader#unwind roland angst#unwind x reader#unwind angst#unwind fluf#unwind connor#connor lassiter x reader#roland taggart angst#roland taggart x reader#demon slayer angst#demon slayer x reader#akaza x reader#ror x reader#poseidon x reader#yandere x reader#yandere angel x reader#angel x reader
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PROLOGUE
★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader
★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)
★ c.w.: drinking (more content warnings and tags)
★ a/n: OMG! im so excited to finally start publishing this fanfic. ive been sitting on it for a minute. DISCLAIMER LOL I dont condone the behavior observed in this story (even if I myself would have done it in a heartbeat) anything for papa nanami. im so normal about him (I have daddy issues). if ur new around here, say hi! if you've read my other ffs then welcome back teehee. chapter is not beta'd. we die like men. (I would recommend listening to the song while u read)
★ w.c.; 3k
my kinda love; chapter index
THE HORRORS. He dreamt about them often. Most of his dreams were of a similar nature; long, detailed, brutal. Bloody, at times. When he wasn’t kept up by the memories, he was dreaming about them – as if they had followed him into his slumber. When he woke up, his burdens were heavy on his shoulders. He would repeat this cycle every day.
He was compensated rather well for his traumas. Well was an understatement. Maybe it wasn’t… after all, no amount of money could ever possibly make up for the things he had seen.
He repeated the same cycle every single day.
“Nanami?” A soft voice shook him out of his reverie. It was his therapist – a woman of short stature with long, brown hair and a business-casual outfit on.
He raised his brows, doing his best to appear as if he had been listening the entire time. “Yes?”
“I asked you if you’ve had any romantic pursuits recently,” She answered. Her smile was warm, patient, but the clipboard in her lap said otherwise. He was paying for her time. “Any efforts to let new people into your life…?”
Nanami’s face wore a blank expression. He fiddled with the hands folded neatly in his lap. “As in… dating?”
“Dating counts, yeah,” She nodded. She tapped the edge of her purple pen against the page rhythmically while she awaited his reply.
He thought of the innumerable faceless women he had spent the evening with. He thought of warm mouths, soft lips, and supple bodies; Countless beautiful women he had tricked into thinking they had a chance at something more than a one night stand. Every time a potential suitor came along, he found himself being scared away by intimacy.
Not sex. He was no stranger to that, nor to its remarkable ability to take his mind off of the stress. It was what lurked in the shadows that daunted him – the lingering touches, the good morning messages, the heartfelt gestures. He could handle it when he was the one dishing it out, but the moment the energy was returned, every single time, he would find himself running away.
It was a dangerous game. He knew he was an evil, cold-hearted, bad man. A part of him wished he could have done right by those select women he had courted (for rather brief periods of time). The more sensible part of him knew he simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront his issues and commit to a single woman.
So he continued to ignore his problems – finding comfort in a warm bed and a warm body whenever he could. Sex made for one hell of an emotional crutch when it was the only thing that seemed to make you feel anything other than indifference.
Indifference. That was the only thing he felt these days. That, and the rush – the pursuit of animalistic passion in favor of neglecting his personal qualms. The temporary escape from his permanent issues.
“I’ve had quite a few,” He answered after a pause that seemed to stretch on for a moment too long. “Commitment is a bit of an issue for me, still, but I’m making an effort to work on it.”
Only partially a lie.
“That’s great, Nanami!” She smiled. She clicked her pen against the page, scribbling something down before she turned her attention back to him. “Tell me more about that effort. Have you been letting those emotional walls down?”
He fought the urge to grit his teeth together at her inquiry. If you can call ghosting three women in the last month and a half letting walls down.
“I’ll be honest,” He sighed. Sitting back in his leather loveseat, he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m starting to believe I’m unable to open up to another person on that level.”
“Don’t say that, Nanami,” She scribbled something down. Her eyes weren’t even on him when she uttered this. “I think you just need to put yourself out there a little more. Ease yourself into that intimacy you typically shy away from.”
Put myself out there.
He thought again of the countless women he had been with.
“Forgive me for being vulgar,” He admitted. “But I think I have enough sex.”
“Not that,” She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Intimacy and sex are two completely different things, Nanami – though they often intersect. You should try exploring non-sexual intimacy with a partner.”
“Non-sexual intimacy…” He reiterated. The term felt foreign as it rolled off of his tongue. “What do you mean by that?”
Was that what he had been missing? Non-sexual intimacy?
“Letting someone be vulnerable with you – being vulnerable with someone. The softness, that stuff that makes a relationship more than just physical. Other than love, that is,” She answered. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the page before flipping it. She was like clockwork. “There’s something healing about having a soft and, in your case, feminine presence in your life that you can be vulnerable with.”
“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never acted,” He said. Casting a sideways glance at the analog clock on her desk, he asked, “Does that make me selfish? Shying away from non-sexual intimacy because I don’t understand it – even though I allow myself to indulge in sexual intimacy?”
“It makes you human, I think,” She smiled softly, writing something else down. Her brown eyes flitted up to meet him with unfounded warmth. “You should try letting someone in, Nanami. Might be worth a shot. What do you have to lose?”
Everything, was his first thought.
“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed anyway.
The faint buzz of the neon sign before him grew louder as he approached it. It was hardly audible over the deep buzz of the bass coming from the other side of the door. The words “Cat House” blinked periodically, illuminating his tired face in its glow each time.
“You’re taking him to a strip club?” Nanami grumbled. Still, shutting the door of the sleek black vehicle behind him, he glanced at the glowing pink sign. “The kid is turning 21.”
After his white-haired-blue-eyed long-term-acquaintance stepped out from the other side of the SUV, the driver pulled off. Gojo wiped his hands off on the fabric of his suit. “Not just any strip club! My favorite strip club!”
“You’re a regular,” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”
“You, my friend, need to learn how to have some fun,” Gojo hummed. He brushed past Nanami, making his way to the stairway that undoubtedly descended to the entrance. “Yuuji’s gonna love it!”
Nanami followed after Gojo, flicking his cigarette onto the ground below his feet. His footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway. “If this is what your definition of fun is, I don’t think you should have been the one planning out his birthday.”
“What would you have done? Take him to an arcade?” Gojo waved him off. He nodded towards the door the two men now stood in front of. “Kid’s 21, not 12. Let’s go inside.”
"Hard pass," Nanami answered calmly. He straightened his tie out, suddenly feeling rather overdressed for the occasion – especially considering the kind of establishment this was .
"Yes we are."
"I have better things to do."
"Like what? Moping and pouting at home?" Gojo interjected, reaching for his arm – which Nanami quickly pulled out of his grasp. “It’s Yuuji’s birthday. Go celebrate with a lapdance, or something.
Gojo grabbed his arm again. Getting the strong feeling that he would simply try again if he pulled his arm away, Nanami let him.
“I will be doing nothing of the sort,” He grumbled. Still, he allowed Gojo to pull him into the entryway.
A low and seductive saxophone medley poured out from the speakers, and Nanami nearly considered turning back there and then. Gojo – with Nanami in tow – approached a rather scantily clad woman near the door.
“Hi, doll. Party for Itadori?” He asked.
The hostess nodded. Gathering a few menus, she stepped out from behind the counter – wearing nothing more than a micro skirt and a bikini top. “Right this way,” she said.
The two men followed her into the club. Everything – everything – was pink. As pink as Yuuji’s hair, with red chairs and booths scattered throughout. It looked like the place had been designed by fucking Cupid himself. There were dozens of dancers strutting around the place – all of which wore tiny skirts and tight tops.
Nanami didn’t miss the way Gojo’s eye’s trailed over the hostess’s ass while she led them over to their booth.
“The dancers here are phenomenal," Gojo said to him, raising his voice so that he was louder than the music. The stage was surrounded by at least 15 tables, all of which were packed with very excited-looking men. Conveniently enough, their table sat front-and-center to the stage.
"Can I get you started with something to drink?” The woman said, gesturing to the booth. “Or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”
Gojo sank into one of the cushiony chairs at the table, and Nanami did the same. The cushion was a bright red velour. It was soft – he really didn’t wanna think about what sort of stories the chair could tell.
“A strawberry margarita for me, please– extra dirty,” Gojo answered. He didn’t even have to look at the menu. Fuckin’ party animal.
The lady nodded, then turned her gaze to Nanami.
He had to think for a moment before he asked. “Do you have wine?”
“Yeah,” She hummed. “What kind?”
“Merlot, please,” He answered. “Bring the whole bottle.”
The lady nodded, and again, he caught the way Gojo shamelessly stared at the woman's ass as she walked away. Once he was certain they were alone, he asked his eccentric friend, "The drinks any good here?"
"You ask that after you order a whole bottle of it?" The man chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and rather conspicuously nudging Nanami’s leg with his foot. "They’re alright. The key is to get wasted enough that they taste better.”
That’s terrible advice. Nanami knew better than to try to argue with Gojo. He had long since learned his lesson. Instead, he tried to see the bright side of the whole situation. Perhaps this night out would help him take his mind off of everything
Yuuji and his friends had arrived only thirty minutes earlier, and they were already drunk. They were cackling loudly – so loudly that they were beginning to draw attention. Gojo, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, was clapping his hands together in amusement.
There was a brief moment of silence, during which Gojo went for the tequila bottle and poured everyone another round of shots. The clear liquid seemed to catch the light just slightly, just enough that it glistened as he raised his glass.
“Lovely students, gather ‘round!” He slurred, a drunken sparkle in his eyes. He tapped the side of his glass with a metal fork – the resulting clink cut right through the laughter.
The group hushed as all eyes focused on him. “I want to make a toast!” He announced after a dramatic pause. He glanced at poor Yuuji, with his “birthday girl” sash and matching tiara, and proclaimed, “I wanna thank all of you for gathering here to celebrate our beloved birthday girl’s special night!”
All eyes turned to Yuuji, who wore a dopey, beaming grin.
Gojo stood up from his chair, bringing the glass of tequila with him. Nanami watched with moderate intrigue – only because there was a 50% chance that his alcoholic beverage could wind up all over his shirt.
“To Yuuji!” he declared, raising his glass high.
The group raised their glasses together. For a moment, Nanami felt a warmth in his chest – a rare moment of contentment amidst all of the chaos. Everyone was okay. They were here . Happy.
“To Yuuji!” They echoed.
He raised my own glass a moment too late, then threw it down the hatch. The bitter taste of the liquor as it flowed down Nanami’s throat and warmed his chest was not unwelcome.
Yuuji, however, nearly gagged on his, swallowing slowly before erupting into a fit of coughs.
Laughter erupted once again, and Nobara affectionately patted Yuuji on the back. As the group continued to revel in the celebration, the lights dimmed.
"Oh shit, I think the show is starting," Yuuji exclaimed.
"Quiet down, everyone! Gojo chimed in, his usual exuberance heightened by the alcohol.
As the lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere shifted. The group settled into their seats, anticipation filling the air. Yuuji, still wearing his birthday girl sash, looked around with wide eyes, a goofy grin plastered on his face.
The curtains gracefully rolled open just a moment later, ushering in a pulsating beat as a shadow emerged from the stage's depths. Gojo couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Gliding effortlessly to the stage's forefront was the dancer, adorned in a fetching ensemble—a pretty pink G-string paired with a matching corset adorned with little embroidered hearts. Her hair was styled into two low pigtails, and from where Nanami stood, he couldn't deny she was, well, kind of pretty.
The rhythmic beat filled the restaurant as the dancer began to sway her hips, accompanied by the provocative lyrics.
‘Tell nobody I control you
I broke you just to hold you,’
She placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing it around her neck before seductively sliding it down her glimmering, scantily-clad chest. The spotlight painted her feminine silhouette with hues of pink and red, and Nanami couldn't resist letting his gaze drift a little lower.
‘They can’t tell, but I love you,’
Grasping the pole behind her, the dancer executed snakelike hip movements. Her hands remained wrapped around the pole as she pressed her back against it, biting her bottom lip in a tantalizing squat. Legs opened, hips gyrating, she beckoned the audience forward. Nanami's eyes dropped below the belt once more as her body rippled enticingly to the beat.
‘Cause you’re loyal, baby,
I love when you’re submissive,’
She was undeniably gorgeous. Her attire accentuated her curves, and her movements exuded confidence and sensuality.
‘Love it when I break skin,’
Gojo, in his usual flamboyant manner, clapped his hands and whistled at the dancer. Nanami turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if silently conveying, "She's hot." Gojo simply smiled in return.
‘You feel pain without flinchin’...
So say it…’
She stepped around the pole, so that her long, athletic legs were spread in front of it, her back was straight, and her hands were clasped around the pole above her head. She demanded attention – something reflected by the hoots and whistles resonating throughout the room.
‘Give me tough love,’
Slowly, she slid into a squat.
‘Leave me with nothing when I come down,
My kinda love,’
From there, she crawled onto her hands and knees, arching her back, rolling her hips against the floor in a way that had Nanami’s eyes blinking rapidly. She grinded and crawled, eventually transitioning onto her back, where she backbended and then cartwheeled onto her feet again.
‘Push me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’
His jaw would have been on the floor if he didn’t have an image to uphold.
Returning to her confident strides around the pole, she stopped to roll her body against it, smoothing her hands over her smooth bottom, eyes scanning the audience. Sliding her hands up her inner thighs, she flipped her hair up and then rolled back up slowly. She dropped down into another squat, then – spinning on the balls of her feet – she rolled over the floor, kicking her legs up into a split, hands on the ground, back arched.
‘ We don’t gotta be in love, no,
I don’t gotta be the one, no’
She’s amazing, he found himself thinking.
She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself back onto her knees, and arched her back – all while running her hands over her torso, her waist. Her hips rolled forward, making a little riding motion that made Nanami reconsider his harsh words towards his comrade earlier in the evening.
‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.
Spinning around to face the crowd on her knees, she crawled onto her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly, sensually – in an almost feline fashion – with her ass and heels pointed up.
She pushed herself onto her feet, hands holding her heels, rolling up slowly again – this time dagging her hand up the length of her smooth, long legs. She reached for the pole, rolling her body against it.
‘Push me down, hold me down,
Spit in my mouth while you turn me out,’
Is she even going to use the pole? Nanami wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. It looked difficult – something he could never imagine himself being able to do. And, shit, for what it was worth, she was putting on one hell of a show without it.
‘I wanna take your light inside,
Dim me down, snuff me out,
Hands on my neck while you push it out,
And I’m screamin’ out’
She hooked her leg around the pole – as if she had heard Nanami’s internal inquiry, and flipped up onto it. In one smooth motion, she seemed to defy gravity. Her legs were pointed up, straight towards the ceiling as the pole rotated slowly. Then, before Nanami could catch his breath, her legs split open.
‘Give me tough love,
Leave me with nothin’ when I come down.’
She looked so fucking… perfect, so remarkable. He found himself entirely hypnotized by her. Her back was arched, pressed up against the pole – hell, her whole body was bent backward. He had never seen someone do an upside down split in mid air with only their hands as support, let alone do it so effortlessly.
‘My kinda love,
Force me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’
Her eyes scanned the shouting crowd with a seductive expression. She wrapped her legs around the back of the pole. Then, still upside down, she relaxed her grip on the base of the pole, sliding down until her hands met the ground.
He was surprised her breasts hadn’t spilled out of their containers by now.
‘We don’t gotta be in love, no
I don’t gotta be the one, no,
I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.’
In one fluid motion, she opened her legs and cartwheeled away from the pole. She sauntered up to the front of the stage again, sliding her hands up her hips, her stomach, her chest, her neck. Nanami’s eyes followed her hands hungrily on their journey up, and then again on their way down, down, down. With her hands on her knees, she sunk into a squatting position.
‘We don’t gotta be in love, no
I don’t gotta be the one, no’
Nanami gaped at the stage. She was absolutely stunning. Her body moved with grace, and her long legs worked those heels in a way that left his head spinning. The way her hands gripped the pole ignited a desire in Nanami's fingers to reach out and touch her.
‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh.’
Strutting to the stage's front, she sank back down to her knees, this time facing away from the audience. Slowly, she bent over backward, bridging off the stage into the audience. What struck Nanami the hardest wasn't the sparkle of her chest or the way her hair framed her pretty eyes; it was the way she looked right at him.
‘ Lock me up and throw away the key,
He knows how to get the best out of me,
I’m no fool for the world to see,
Trade my whole life just to be.’
And Nanami, normally a man of composure, felt the blood rush to his face. He felt something stir deep within his chest – a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Her half-lidded, smokey eyes gazed into his with the intensity of a thousand wildfires—unwavering, unrelenting, glimmering. She was fucking beautiful.
Droplets of sweat slid down her chest, and she smirked before extending her arm towards him. An unfamiliar, small hand gently caressed the side of his face. Nanami's heart raced, the scent of sweat and perfume leaving him reeling for more.
Then, as if nothing had transpired, the dancer pulled herself back onto her knees and continued with her routine.
Nanami's head spun, utterly captivated. He felt Gojo tap him on the shoulder.
“She’s good, ain’t she?” He shouted over the sultry beat.
As the bills rained down around the captivating dancer, Nanami found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Gojo's words still echoed in his ears, but a stubborn sense of restraint kept him from joining in the display of buffoonery.
Gojo, undeterred by Nanami's refusal, slid him some bills anyway. "Tip her," Gojo insisted. Before Nanami could protest further, Gojo walked away.
Left alone, Nanami hesitated, his gaze alternating between the bills in his hand and the dancer on stage, who continued her mesmerizing routine, seemingly unaffected by the cascade of money around her.
‘We don’t gotta be in love, no
I don’t gotta be the one, no’
He yearned to be closer to her. It was a strange feeling – one that he hadn’t felt before. He yearned to see her, to hold her, to…
The bills felt weighty in his hand, a tangible representation of the internal struggle Nanami was experiencing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. With a determined look, he rolled his thumb over the bills one last time, then threw them up into the air.
Dollar bills danced around the woman as she moved, and she seemed to lock eyes with Nanami, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.
He wasn’t enamored.
No, he definitely wasn’t enamored with the absurdly pretty exotic dancer on the stage. That’s what he told himself.
And even though he had slandered Gojo for being a frequent patron of the club before that night, he joined the rank of regular himself not very long after.
a/n: hi pookie cookie bookie butts! I didnt like this specific chapter, but I never like my first chaps. thats why I make prologues lol!! the story will get much better I swear. tell me your thoughts, requests, remarks, etc in the comments, as always!! love u all <333 -Leo
comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.
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wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index
#my kinda love ʕ•㉨•ʔ#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#nanami x reader#kento x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami smut#nanami fluf#nanami angst#nanami kento#nanami kento x you#kento nanami x you#gojo satoru#gojo#Yuuji itadori
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The Maid - Part 10
Pairing: Loki x reader
Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.
Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.
Thank you and enjoy!
Series masterlist Main Masterlist
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You stand there, staring at each other until Loki breaks the silence.
"Why do you keep lying to me? What are you hiding from me?" he questions you, eyeing you up and down.
"I - I'm not hiding anything, I just -" you're cut-off by Loki slamming his hand against the reading desk next to him.
You shriek in fear and jump away.
"Damn it, woman! I will give you one last chance." staring into your eyes, you can see the anger swirling behind them.
You're breathing heavy, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Unable to form an answer, your eyes are frantically searching around the room for a way out.
"I've enchanted the room. You can't leave and nobody can come in." he says, stalking closer to you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey.
"Are you a witch? A spy? A traitor? A clever ploy, how could anyone suspect a mere maid of anything?" He's circling you now. Your hairs stand on the back of your neck.
"No, I'm not a witch." you choke out.
"Ah so a spy or a traitor then?" he hisses.
"No - I'm... not I swear to you." He closes the distance between you again, towering over you in rage.
Boldly, you look up at him "Having trouble finding a lie? Because there isn't one." you bite back.
A smirk pulls at his lips as he studies you.
"So, not a witch, nor a traitor nor a spy... then what could you be hiding from me, the king and why?" he questions aloud.
You swallow thickly and stare at the floor.
"I don't know" you whisper as you look up.
"You don't what you're hiding or why you're lying?" he retorts.
You let out a shaky sigh as you pull out a chair and sit down. Loki follows suit, sitting in front of you.
He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.
"No. I'm not a witch, or spy or traitor." you say to him, staring directly into his eyes. You see him searching for your lies but sits back when he can't find one.
"I don't know who I am. I'm nobody." your voice is shaking from containing your emotions.
"How do you mean? That is impossible" Loki replies dryly.
"And before you even think about it, there's no way out of this until I'm satisfied with your answer."
You pull at your fingers in your lap.
Nothing left to lose now anyway
"My parents found me one night while they were travelling between realms. They used to work as intermediaries for the royals between the realms, carrying to a fro items to be traded. My father told me that he found me between the nine realms."
Loki interrupts you "that is impossible."
"My father was told the same by the others when he returned with me, an infant, hungry, cold and crying. He went to every realm and searched for my parents but nobody claimed me. Soon, word spread of how I was found and the realms forbade my father from bringing me to any of them, out of fear that I was cursed. My parents always wanted a child but were never able to have so they considered me a blessing rather than a curse, and they adopted me.
"As I grew up, I was isolated, feared amongst everyone as I was an 'unknown'. I didn't belong anywhere. My parents home schooled me, until I was 18, since nobody would let me within a few feet from any of the villages. Then, my mother fell very ill. Healers refused to come to her aid in fear of crossing my path and being cursed as well. They warned my father that I was the reason for her illness and that she would never heal.'"
"A few years later, it was apparent that she was dying, quickly. My father could not bear it and turned to alcohol."
**flashback**
"Father, please stop! I can't do this alone!" you screamed at him desperately.
He stumbled across the room in rage in his drunken state.
"This would have never happened had I left you there to die. Everyone warned me but I could not believe that an infant could ever cause such suffering. Yet, here I am, watching my wife die as everybody watches and nobody helps. BECAUSE OF YOU!" his voice booms against the walls of your home.
"You're the reason we will both die. You were a curse disguised in an infants form. You will forever plague everyone and everything you touch." he spits at you. Chugging the last bit of the bottle he throws it across the room, shattering on the floor.
"I never wanted you. I should have left you but she insisted you were only an infant, innocent... bah, FOOLS! You were never my daughter and never will be. You have caused the demise of this home and will suffer the rest of your life because of it." he growled at you as he slapped you across your face, sending you spiralling over the kitchen table.
Your mind was buzzing from the hit, unable to focus, until you feel your body being lifted and thrown to the wet ground.
"GET OUT! Stay out with the animals where you belong. Never return." he screamed at you and hurled another object in your direction.
"I said GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he yelled as you scrambled to your feet in fear and ran as far as you could for as long as possible before collapsing on the ground in the middle of a field. You sobbed until you could no longer produce tears or feel anything. You felt hollow. The worst loneliness you have ever felt. You truly had nobody.
The next morning you awoke on the floor. Willing yourself to get up and find food and water, you stumbled upon a crowd, murmurring to themselves.
"Have you heard they both died last night? He threw her out and they shortly died after. They were found next to each other on the bed. They should have listened to the warnings. She is a curse." a stranger said to another as they worked through their items on the selling kiosk.
You felt like you couldn't breathe. You turned around and felt your feet pounding against the earth, running in any direction away from them. Tears flowed down your face freely as you ran and ran.
When you stopped, you collapsed once more onto the ground.
You were thrown away like an animal. Left to your devices, in the wild, with nothing.
They were right. I am cursed.
**end of flashback**
You shook your head from the terrible memories that replayed in your mind but when you looked back into Loki's eyes you knew he had seen your flashback. He stared at you with such pity and understanding.
Embarrassed you stood up quickly from your seat. Blinking away the tears.
"To answer your question, again. I am nobody. As you said, I am simply a maid." you looked at him with your lips placed in a tight smile.
Before he could say anything you grabbed your supplies "I must finish cleaning, my king. I have fallen behind schedule." you say to him mechanically.
He watches you as you climb the stairs and resume your cleaning.
Tapping his fingers on the table he releases the enchantment and walks out.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in and lean against a wall.
How much of that did he see, if anything at all? Why did he look at me like that? Now that he knows some of my truth, he will surely cast me out like everyone else has. He is no different. Nobody wants to deal with a cursed woman. Especially not a king.
You sigh heavily as you continue sweeping, keeping your mind busy with the task at hand.
At the end of the day you retire to your room and sit on the floor, back leaning on the bed.
"I can do this. Just like we practiced. Focus on pushing those feelings down, locked away. Make sure you feel nothing before waking." you say to yourself.
You close your eyes and begin imagining locking your heart, and all emotions with it in a box, sealed tight and tucked away in the deepest parts of your mind. Once you felt hollow, felt nothing, you opened your eyes.
You walk to to the bathroom and stare at your reflection.
"Good. It worked."
Your eyes are blank and dull and now shining bright blue. Nothing is seen behind them. You feel empty, and finally at peace.
You've dissociated.
You had found out you could do this, years ago to survive through the trauma. You don't know how or why, but never cared to look into it as it has kept you alive far longer than without it.
"Now, hold on to this as long as you can and just keep going." you say aloud, comforting yourself in the dire room.
You lay down on the bed and close your eyes.
With your emotions and memories locked away in the deepest parts of your mind, you fall asleep easily.
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I Swear Somewhere This Works: Prologue
summary - You've known your entire life that you were meant to be with Bradley Bradshaw. Born with the rare gift of being a "matchmaker", you've been able to see your soulmate connection since childhood, just like you see the romantic pairings of everyone around you. But while everyone saw that as a gift, you see it as a curse. Because what's the point of knowing Bradley's your soulmate if he's never fallen in love with you? You've tried, altering time and space with your gift to find the one iteration of your life that you and Bradley are fated to be together. And, in every iteration of your life, you have to watch Bradley fall in love with someone else. But everything changes when one of these iterations puts you right in the trajectory of Jake, a matchmaker who's determined to convince you that the universe isn't always right.
warnings - soulmate au, my first time writing a love triangle, language, talks of death/dying, mentions of hospitals, no use of y/n, both Bradley and Jake are 6'7" because I said so
word count - 2.3k
i swear somewhere this works masterlist
I swear somewhere…
The heart monitor beeps continuously, filling the room with a kind of white noise that’s almost relaxing, despite the circumstances. The IV bag drips, drips, drips right past a strip of medical tape and into worn, leathered skin. It’s all so hazy, like early rides to the airport or empty shopping malls where time feels frozen, and you want to fill the silence with something—anything—but all you do is listen to the heart monitor and watch the IV bag drip, drip, drip.
“What do you think happens when we die?”
“Don’t say things like that, Bradley.”
He chuckles, but it’s hoarse and weathered, sounding more like air being pushed out of his tired, weary lungs. “I don’t think not talking about it is going to stop me from dying, Fig.”
Looking at him now, tucked under a tightly woven hospital blanket, he still looks like your Bradley. Curious, kind eyes wrinkled with crows feet etched into his skin from every laugh and smile that took place in his lifetime. There’s still that crook in his nose from when he broke it when he was eight. It never did heal right, but Bradley never seemed to mind. He’d break it twice more over his life and every time you recalled the stories you’d joke that it’s a miracle the cartilage hasn’t just fallen off yet. But, much like who it belonged to, Bradley’s nose was stubborn.
He looks like your Bradley, with his kind eyes and crooked nose. But he’s not your Bradley.
His hair is almost gone now, wispy and thin like it’s just laying on his scalp. Sun spots cover his skin, his complexion pale and fragile. And normally that would scare you, such an obvious display of his mortality, but it looks good on Bradley. He looks like he lived.
With large hands that have held the weight of the world, and then children, and then grandchildren. Chapped lips that have spoken more words of love, and compassion, and happiness than you would ever have time to listen to. Once sturdy legs that have now turned frail, the bones eroded with how many places they have taken him to.
And so he’s not quite your Bradley anymore, not in the way he was. Not in the way he could have been.
“I think I’m ready,” Bradley wets his lips, hardly moving his neck from his propped up pillow to look at you. “To die, I mean.”
Your hand squeezes in his—worn, and old, and not yours—his words constricting your heart in a dulled sort of melancholy. You’ve already gone through the five stages of grief weirdly, usually you aren’t this ready for it. But denial turned to anger, turned to bargaining, turned to depression, and here you are at acceptance, holding the hand of the only person who has ever mattered as he looks entirely dead and entirely alive all at the same time.
“Well, I’m not,” you say finally. It comes out shaky, maybe because you don’t entirely mean it. You are ready. You just wish you weren’t.
Bradley meets your eye with an understanding that only comes with age. “Yes, you are.”
You hate how well he knows you. How he can read you with just a look and say the words you need to hear. He knows everything about you. And yet.
“Will you miss me?” You ask instead. It’s an empty question—irrelevant. But still you want to know. Just to be reassured that Bradley even cares about you a fraction of the amount you do for him. That maybe he’ll realize, just once, in this hazy capsule of time, that you matter more to him than anything ever should.
Bradley smiles at you sadly. “Of course I will. When have I ever not needed my Fig?”
Your lips quirk up just slightly and you look down at your interlocked hands. “I cannot believe I’m 77 and you’re still calling me that.” You look up again to meet his eye, pretending to shake your head in exasperation.
“And I cannot believe that you’re 77 and still think you can hide things from me.” The crows feet by Bradley’s eyes crinkle when you fail to register what he’s referencing. “I see you sneaking off to the vending machine to get Fig Newtons when you think I’m asleep.” When your lips part in unprepared surprise, Bradley croaks out a laugh. “I’m 84, not senile.”
Even now, he makes your cheeks heat and you huff in your fluster. “Well, can you blame me? I’ve been eating nothing but hospital food for the past week.”
Your words make you falter, a crack of lightning in the room that illuminates everything you wish to forget. When the world feels so hazy, you can trick yourself into thinking that time is entirely frozen. It’s just you and Bradley and the universe. You can talk about anything—your love of Fig Newtons and how the hospital vending machine has criminally overpriced them—because you have time. All you have is time.
But time is running out, like granules of sand in an hourglass. Seconds with Bradley tick away and you can run after them all you want, but all they do is slip through your fingers. Slip, slip, slip.
If Bradley is affected by your words, he doesn’t look it, a calm sense of serenity washing through his eyes. For a moment, you can pretend that you would be okay with this, that you can finally let Bradley go. But it’s a little too late for that, you suppose. Because, somewhere, this has to work. Somewhere, you know everything about Bradley and he knows everything about you and he never has to stop being your Bradley.
It’s just as much for Bradley as it is for you. You’re his soulmate. Wouldn’t he be so much happier than this, having lived with his soulmate? You’re meant to be together and that’s all that matters. One of these times, Bradley will see that. You know he will.
“Can I get you some wa—”
“I’m going to die tomorrow,” Bradley decides.
You freeze, your question dying in your throat. There’s nothing else to say, you’ve done this song and dance enough times to know that. You only nod, pursing your lips to hold back the tears pricking at your waterline. You’re out of time.
Bradley turns to you with that familiar, childlike hope he somehow clung to his entire life. “Will you share a Fig Newton with me before I do?”
You swallow, your fingers tensing so much that the muscles twitch and you hide the hand from his view. “Of course.” You lift his hand to press a soft kiss on the back.
Bradley smiles and you feel like you’re going to be sick. He closes his eyes, shifting under the hospital blankets to get comfortable and you let out a silent sigh. You only get minutes of conversation with him now, before he’s too tired to continue. You sit with him anyway and, as he sleeps, you say all the things you never did over the decades of your friendship. He never remembered it anyway.
Bradley’s hand relaxes in your grip, the heart monitor spiking and dipping with his heart, and you try not to think about how he’s dying.
“This is going to sound like I’m crazy.” You look up at the sound of Bradley’s quiet voice, sleep tugging at the ends of it as his eyes remain closed. “But I can feel Alice waiting for me.”
He can’t see it, but you force a smile anyway, swallowing down the bile in your throat. You don’t say anything—you don’t think Bradley expects you to. That hazy feeling settles over the room as his breath evens out and, for several minutes, all you can do is watch him.
Maybe this isn’t fair.
But if this isn’t fair, then none of it is. Why would the universe give you a soulmate who didn’t love you? Why did you deserve to watch him fall in love over and over again while you waste your life pinning over a man who’s never even looked your way? Didn’t you deserve to be happy? Didn’t Bradley?
You look down at his sleeping features, entirely relaxed like he’s not plagued with a single regret or an ounce of hesitance. Maybe it’s because you’re full of it, taking it all for him because you don’t know how to do anything else. The heart monitor beeps continuously. The IV bag drips, drips, drips. And you close your eyes.
…this works
Sunlight filters in through the windows, waking Jake gently as he stretches out his legs on the sheets of his bed. He’s still in that peaceful period between wake and sleep, enjoying the warmth of his blanket as he regains feeling of his muscles. The first thing he realizes is that he doesn’t hear seven of his bones cracking. The second thing he realizes is that he’s very, very sore.
Jake sits up with a start, whipping his head towards the floor length mirror propped up by his dresser. He’s met with striking olive eyes and appropriately trimmed blond hair. He knew it.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jake groans, rubbing at his eyes as he gets up from bed. He’s getting tired of this. He hadn’t said anything the first time it happened, nor the second, nor the third. But rewinding his life back to 31 for the fourth time? It’s getting ridiculous.
Moving into his bathroom, he puts his toothbrush into his mouth with a little more force than necessary as he wraps his head around having to live out the rest of his life again. Everyone else was lucky, at least they don’t know they’re reliving their lives every few decades. But not Jake, Jake knows. Just like how he knows everything about this shitty soulmate system. And so Jake is stuck living his life over and over until someone gets to be with their soulmate.
For a while, Jake had no idea who that person could be—there’s an infinite number of people he could have come into contact with, that’s just kind of how civilization works. But then it kept happening and the puzzle pieces kept fitting and Jake has a pretty good idea as to what’s going on.
He cannot believe his life is being actively ruined because of Bradley fucking Bradshaw.
At first, Jake didn’t think anything of the brunet and his infamous best friend/soulmate who had just moved to town. But it wasn’t hard to piece together the one-sided lingering looks and the somewhat charged interactions at the Hard Deck whenever Bradley had a bit too much to drink. You were in love with Bradley, that much was obvious. What hadn’t been as obvious was that you had the power to try to make him fall in love with you too. Which would be all well and dandy, if you hadn’t also dragged Jake into it in the process. He’s almost positive you’re the reason he’s currently reliving his life for the fourth time and Jake refuses to make it five.
Throwing an old shirt over his head, Jake exits his bedroom to snatch a banana from his kitchen counter. He eats it in large mouthfuls, lacing up his running shoes before making sure he has his phone and keys. Moving to throw away the banana peel, Jake also quickly grabs a water bottle and fills it up with cold, tap water in the sink.
Though he’s frustrated, Jake can admit that it’s nice to be in a body so young again. Granted, he’s currently suffering from the pushups Maverick must have put him through yesterday, but he’ll take that over the random aches and creaks he used to feel for seemingly no reason other than age.
With one last check to make sure he has everything, Jake opens the front door of his house, making quick work of the walkway steps as he breaks out into a light jog. His tennis shoes absorb the impact of his strides as he picks up speed, smiling politely at the woman he passes walking her dog. Taking a deep breath of the Miramar air, Jake takes the turn out of his neighborhood, his feet still crunching against the concrete.
He doesn’t entirely have a plan, all he knows is that he can’t keep doing this. And especially for this stupid of a reason. Jake had always been skeptical about the whole “soulmate” thing. Growing up, people always told him how special he was for being granted the ability to see soulmates, Jake just thought it was more trouble than it was worth. Now Jake knows definitively that soulmates are bullshit and he’s not about to let it ruin his life again.
The houses begin picking up in proximity again as Jake makes his way to another neighborhood. Sweat has started forming on his hairline, not quite enough to be droplets yet, and Jake wipes it with the back of his hand. He keeps running until a small, light blue house with purple flowers in the front and a brightly painted mailbox comes into view.
Jake slows to a stop, letting out a pant and taking a gulp of water before he starts walking towards the front door. He doesn’t have a plan, but he can’t keep doing this. Wiping some sweat from the back of his neck, Jake gently knocks on the door. When a minute goes by and there’s nothing, he knocks again, slightly louder.
This time there’s the sound of shuffling inside and Jake lets his shoulders slump as he catches his breath on the porch. The sound of footsteps gets closer and Jake swallows thickly, trying not to fidget. With a rickety creak, the door opens. You fill the doorway suddenly, still in pajamas and a sleepy expression, squinting at the sunlight you’ve let in.
Your eyes meet his and Jake watches your face crinkles with recognition and then confusion. “Hi?”
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#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw imagines#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluf#bradley bradshaw angst#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin imagines#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin angst#rooster imagine#rooster imagines#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#rooster angst#hangman imagine#hangman imagines#hangman x reader#hangman fluff#hangman angst#top gun maverick imagines#x reader#i swear somewhere this works#buggy's got a pen
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