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writersdrug · 2 months

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Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

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Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to - asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x yn #konig cod #konig fanfiction #fantasy au konig #cod fantasy au #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig nsfu

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andvys · 2 months

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited feelings, sexual tension, reader teasing Steve sexually, not giving away anything else

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: After you and Steve cross a line, you are the one to take things to a whole new level — driving Steve insane with your never ending teasing.

Word count: 7.4k+

Author’s note: I know you keep yelling at me but anyways -- shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, especially the uh last part hehe.

Also, @prettyboyeddiemunson talked about a little crossover thing, and I love her girl in gods & monsters so she's making a little appearance here for Eddie hehe, all credits go to my bestie of course, the character belongs to her! If you haven't read the story yet, go check it out, it's one of my faves!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve sinks deeper into his pillows, finding more comfort in his bed than usual, he takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his face. He should feel content, knowing that he’s got the day off but instead he feels tense and frustrated in a way he had never felt before.

His mind could be anywhere right now, he could think about the new tapes he stacked up at work last night, he could think about the show he watched before he went to bed, he could think about the mixtape Eddie had made for him, he could think about the girl that so obviously tried to flirt with him at work the other day, his mind could take him to any place, his imagination could be limitless but no, his mind is somewhere it shouldn’t be, his mind is with you.

Nothing he does, nothing he tries to think about can drag his thoughts away from you. You occupy every space of his mind, reminding him of how much control you had taken over him ever since you both crossed a line that changed things between you both.

Steve may have been the one who started it at all, but you are the one who took the game to a whole new level.

The little accident in his kitchen that happened weeks ago, was only the start of it all.

Steve wasn’t exactly subtle when he kept checking you out before the fiasco with the broken lever, and he wasn’t subtle with his touches either. He was treading on thin ice, he knew that, he knew that his slight teasing could have easily backfired if you reacted differently but it didn’t, and your reactions were everything that he was hoping for. You grew flustered, you started blushing, you stuttered and you looked at him the way he was hoping you would.

But, what he didn’t expect was for you to tease him back, especially in a way that had him blushing, stuttering, and staring at you in shock.

You were so innocent and shy at first, doing everything as subtly as possible. It started with gentle touches on his arm or his hand, soft whispers during dinner whenever he sat beside you, or long eye contact. Then, you realized just how much power you had over him and things quickly developed into something more, something so much deeper.

Your teasing was no longer innocent and your shyness seemed to have slipped away more and more, little by little.

The look in your eyes was no longer a shy one whenever you looked at each other. There was a fire behind your eyes that he had never seen before. The smirk that tugged at your lips wasn’t the same one you usually looked at him with, it was different, mischievous, and very suggestive – a little too suggestive for someone like you because if someone else had looked at him the way you do, he’d think that they’re flirting but you don’t do that and certainly not with him.

The only explanation for your behavior is that you are teasing him, playing with him just the way he did with you but not because you want him. He started something that night when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement. It was harmless at first, his teasing was light and playful, he loved to see those sweet reactions of yours but Steve didn’t know that it was a dangerous game that he had started, he didn’t know that he’d be playing with fire the moment he’d touch you.

Because you are far from harmless, and your teasing is not light and playful in the slightest. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling like this right now; frustrated, agitated and filled with pent up emotions that he can’t even make out in his own head.

He closes his eyes again as a groan falls from his lips, he shakes his head at himself, cursing inwardly for thinking about no one other than you.

Has it always been that way?

Have you always been on his mind?

Or is it something new?

An unspoken deal was made between the both of you when you two started this. There are no rules, just a winner and a loser – whoever breaks first loses and so far, it seems like Steve won’t even get close to winning, even though he was the one to start it all so confidently.

You clearly have taken over, because the moment you looked at him with innocent big eyes and a pout on your lips while pressing your chest against his arm when you tried to squeeze past him, your boobs nearly spilling over your cute little top, your voice sounding raspy from all the weed you had smoked that night, he was done for.

It wasn’t the first time that a girl had done something like this to him, plenty of girls have given him those innocent eyes, have pressed their boobs against him, in much less clothing… but something about you drives him especially crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that you both hate or dislike each other or maybe it’s the fact that he is just extremely frustrated – sexually frustrated. Maybe that is the only reason why you get to him in that way… why he feels the want to continue this little game or why he feels the intense need to fuck you and get you out of his mind, once and for all.

Another groan falls from his lips when he remembers that Robin bailed on him after she called him in the middle of the night, telling him that she wouldn’t make it to lunch today, meaning that it will be just Eddie, you and him.

A part of him even looks forward to seeing you, the other part doesn’t because he already knows how he will feel afterwards, while you will probably go home feeling satisfied after teasing the hell out of him.

Every time before you leave, you look at him as though you had done nothing wrong, which sometimes leads him to believe that you’re not even aware of all the teasing you torture him with and that he was the only one playing this game, all this time.

Steve drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the water can heat up while he brushes his teeth. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, rolling his eyes at the mess on his head, he brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it.

As he thinks about what to wear, he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about you, wondering what you will wear. Are you going to wear a dress? Another short skirt to drive him crazy with?

He rolls his eyes, cursing inwardly at himself for thinking about you again.

He needs to get this out of his system.

He needs to get you out of his system.

And there is only one way to do it and he knows it, but he’s not even sure where your feelings stand, if you’d be down for what he’s longing for or if you’d laugh in his face if he even tried to suggest something like it. – Your reaction would probably be the latter, and just the thought of it is enough to bring the grumpiness out in him.

He begrudgingly starts getting ready, all while his mind keeps him occupied with thoughts about you.

He doesn’t know what caused all of this, he doesn’t know how it happened, how his mind is incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but you these days.

He feels as though he had been cursed. You are haunting him, in his mind and even in his dreams, and seeing you all the time doesn't help at all… and yet, he wouldn’t want it any other way because this little thing between you both makes him feel a thrill that has been missing in his life.

By the time Steve pulls up into the parking lot at the diner, you and Eddie are already there.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, hands folded in your lap, sunglasses low on your nose, a smile on your lips as you’re nodding along to whatever Eddie is telling you. You look good… too good for just a simple breakfast at the diner.

He parks the car and after a few deep breaths, he pulls out the keys and gets out, trying not to stare at you as he walks towards the two of you.

“Hey guys.”

Eddie turns around, a mocking smile on his face, he crosses his arms over his chest, “took you long enough, big boy.”

Steve chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes you from the side, “yeah uh, I missed my alarm this morning and Robin woke me up in the middle of the night to bail on us, took me a while to fall back asleep after that.”

You groan at his words, sliding off the car, you smooth down your jean shorts and push your sunglasses up into your hair, “so she keeps ditching us.”

“She’s in love, Sweetheart,” Eddie winks at you, wiggling his brows, “she’s got better things to do.”

You roll your eyes at his words and look over Eddie’s shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time today. You lick your lips as your eyes move down up and down his body.

“Hey, Lego head.”

Lego head. The silly nickname doesn’t quite suit the look in your eyes.

“Blondie,” he nods.

Eddie chuckles, playing with the keys in his hand as he nudges his head into the direction of the diner, “let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving, Eddie,” you snort as you are the first to start walking.

“Yeah man, you’re always eating and you’re still starving,” Steve chuckles, walking beside Eddie, “you’re like a raccoon or something.”

You look over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, “oh he’s definitely a little raccoon.”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise, he looks between you both, “did you just… agree on something?”

You scoff at his words, turning back around without another word while Steve looks down, shaking his head. The weight of Eddie’s arm around his shoulder makes him look back up, though not at you, but at Eddie, whose eyes are filled with amusement.

“You’re not trying to steal my girl are you?”

Steve doesn’t know what is about the words ‘my girl’ but he feels himself clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. By the tone in Eddie’s voice, he should know that he is only teasing, but apparently his mind isn’t able to comprehend that right now.

He feels a fire in his chest that he can’t even explain, one that only grows even more intense a few moments later, when a guy who was just leaving the diner, steps aside for you after opening the door.

Steve can’t see your face or the looks you are giving to the man who is staring you up and down with nothing but hunger in his eyes, but by the way you walk past him without even turning your head or looking back, he knows that you’re giving him nothing. And yet, it doesn’t stop his anger when the guy keeps checking you out, shamelessly, following you with his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at your ass. You’re not even aware of it as it seems and it wouldn’t be the first time.

Steve saw you at Big Buy’s the other day, you were strolling around the aisles in your cute little dress, throwing food items into your basket, completely unaware of his eyes on you. He couldn’t look away from you… even when everything you did was riling him up, whether it was the way you bend down to reach for something on the lowest shelf, the way you touched your hair or the way your dress was moving by your sides as you walked. As he caught himself staring at you, at your effortless beauty, he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – and his suspicions were confirmed, when he looked into the other aisle only to see another guy, not past his 30s staring at you, something that you weren’t aware of in the slightest. He also caught himself rolling his eyes and clenching his fists… but that’s something that he easily ignored.

Unlike today, he can’t even help it when he passes the guy who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you with a deathly glare on his features, feeling anger for how shameless and disrespectful his ogling is, it’s disgusting.

“Perv,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, glaring the same way Steve does.

The guy doesn’t even spare them a single glance, moving past them after taking another long… too long look at you before he walks out of the diner.

Steve and Eddie roll their eyes, following you to the table that you have already picked, completely unaware of what just happened.

You sit down in the booth, sliding over to the window. You put your sunglasses down on the table and instantly reach for the menu.

Eddie sits down beside you, while Steve takes the seat across from you. He tries not to look at you, sinking deeper into the leather seats as he reaches for the menu, as well.

“What are you guys doing afterwards?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing, just gonna go back home and watch movies or something,” Steve mumbles, peeking over his menu and at you, to find you looking at him already.

“Perfect, why don’t you two have a little bonding moment and have a movie day together?” Eddie grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you.

Steve sees the way you scrunch your nose up at his words, scoffing and shaking your head at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing that you have ever heard, like it’s something that you don’t even want to think about.

“We’re getting along just fine, no need for bonding time.”

Right. Steve had been so focused on all your teasing, he almost forgot about how much you two are supposed to dislike each other.

“Exactly,” Steve winks at Eddie, “Blondie and I are doing just fine.”

He looks back at you, his eyes meet yours, you raise your brows at him, smirking as you tilt your head.

“Are we?” You ask softly as you blink at him.

Steve leans closer, licking his lips, he opens his mouth to speak but Eddie cuts him off, clapping his hands.

“Yeah, you are getting along! Now shut your mouths before you start a fight.”

You both snort at the metalhead, leaning back in your seats, neither of you saying a word, you both just look back at your menu’s, focusing on that… for now.

The busy waitress stops by your table, telling you that she will be back to take your order in a minute, seemingly catching Eddie off guard after placing her hand on his shoulder before she scurries away again.

He no longer looks at the menu, he finds something more interesting to look at.

Steve’s eyes flash with amusement as he looks over at his friend, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are red, an awestruck expression all over his face. He can’t help but nudge your foot under the table, tilting his head towards Eddie when you look up with a frown.

You turn to your best friend. Your features soften, eyes flashing with surprise, you bump your shoulder into his, clearing your throat, “hey Ed’s, before you fuck this up again, don’t you want to tell Lego head about what happened?” You ask, snickering.

Eddie blinks, turning back to you, “h-huh?”

“You have a man to give you his opinion of what you did wrong.”

Steve furrows his brows, looking between your amused face and his confused one, when Eddie’s eyes flash with realization and he groans in annoyance.

“Sweetheart, he’s gonna be on my side.”

“What opinion?” Steve asks.

You turn back to your menu, scoffing at Eddie and rolling your eyes before you glance at him, “you’ll want to kill him.”

Eddie groans, shaking his head, his curls bouncing a little.

“You’ll understand, Harrington. You’re a man. She is… looking at it from a feminine side of things.”

Steve gives you a quizzical look, almost laughing at the exasperated look on your face.

“Alright shoot,” he says to his friend.

Eddie presses his lips together, taking a deep breath before he folds his hand on the table and looks at him with squinted eyes, “okay so, I saw this girl at the hideout yesterday, Jeff told me to go talk to her, you know… so I did. We started talking, she was funny and all that, and you know, I always like to be a little mysterious.”

You snort, making Eddie roll his eyes again, “shut it, Sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyways,” Eddie sighs, glaring at you, “so, when she asked me if I was there with a girl, I just said ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’”

Steve draws back a little, raising his brows and pursing his lips, looking perplexed.

“Uh huh..” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve shakes his head, “just uh… did it… what happened then?”

Eddie sighs again, “well, she rolled her eyes and left, but you know, she may not have a sense of humor so… it’s whatever.”

“Munson, that girl had a sense of humor, you just have a lack of fucking tact,” Steve says, shaking his head at his friend, in pure disbelief.

Eddie’s jaw drops at his words, while a laugh falls from your lips as you turn to look at your best friend with nothing but satisfaction on your face.

“Told you.”

“Seriously!?” Eddie gasps, frowning. “Harrington, you were always mean to girls in the past, and you still slept with them!”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head.

“That was in high school, Munson! You are a grown up now, why the hell would you do that? Just tell her you were there alone or with friends!”

Eddie’s jaw drops again, he slumps back in his seat, throwing his hands up.

“I just thought that a mysterious persona would work better than… you know… bubbly, happy, go lucky guy, desperate to get his dick wet persona…” He whines, “no one wants to fuck me.”

You giggle, hiding your face behind the menu.

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, he points a finger at you, “I’m gonna have to agree with Blondie, again, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t worry, Eds. I’ll help you,” you say, smiling, “I’ll teach you how to flirt.”

“How are you gonna do that, Blondie? Do you even know how to flirt?” Steve snorts.

You may be a tease, a good one at that, but a flirt? No. You’re too rough, too mean, too harsh to be a flirtatious person, you can barely hold a conversation with someone without going off at them about something, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with, unlike him.

He is a flirty person, he has charm, he knows how to wrap a girl around his finger with just a few simple words.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he surely didn’t expect for you to smile at him, to shrug and give him nothing more than a glance that tells him how wrong he is.

After the waitress comes back to take your order, leaving Eddie a blushing mess, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back with your hair now free from the scrunchie that kept it together and another coat of gloss on your lips, something that instantly catches Steve’s eyes.

You place your elbows on the table, putting your chin into your palm, blinking at him innocently.

The look in your eyes tells him that you’re up to no good, but he can’t look away. He leans closer to the table, licking his lips as he raises his brows at you. Both of you are unaware of Eddie, who is basically drooling over the pretty waitress, too distracted to notice the looks you are giving to each other.

“The waitress, is she from Hawkins? Never seen her in my fucking life,” Eddie murmurs in awe.

Steve turns his head to look at the woman, a gasp nearly tears from his lips when he feels your foot on his calf and you pull his attention back on you, he stares at you with wide eyes.

Smirking in satisfaction, you pull your foot back and look down at your nails.

“I-I don’t know, Munson, not familiar.” He stutters without looking away.

Steve knew that this would happen, that you would tease him in one way or another, but he didn’t know yet, just where you would take this today.

When your milkshakes arrive at the table, both you and Steve watch Eddie with amusement as he stares up at the blonde waitress, eyes moving back and forth between her face and her chest, not knowing what to look at first.

His eyes get stuck on the dainty cross necklace around her neck, seemingly growing more intrigued by her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones.

Steve narrows his eyes at you, almost laughing when you look at him, at the same time.

Eddie’s cheeks are even more flushed than before now, his eyes wide, lips parted. The girl presses her lips together, trying not to giggle at the look on his face.

“Your food will come right up,” she says, looking between you all before her eyes meet Eddie’s again as she takes the last milkshake off the tray, putting it on the table and sliding it towards him.

He clears his throat, wrapping his fingers around the glass before she can even let go.

Both you and Steve watch the way she smiles down at Eddie and at the fingers brushing against hers.

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smirks at her, surprising both you and Steve with the confidence in his voice.

The girl smiles in surprise, before she turns around, walking away from the table but not without giving Eddie another glance, his lips curl into a bigger smirk and he waves his fingers at her.

Your mouth drops and so does Steve’s, both of you, looking at each other again, with stunned and puzzled expressions on your faces.

“Dude,” Steve mumbles, slowly turning to face his friend, “tell me… how did you fuck this up again… at the hideout, I mean?”

Eddie only looks back when the girl disappears into the kitchen, “the girl at the hideout just wasn’t the right one.”

“Oh, and this one is?” Steve chuckles, pointing his thumb to where the waitress walked off to.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dreamily. “She’s so…”

“Hot?” You ask as you reach for your milkshake, grabbing the red and white straw between your thumb and your pointer finger.

“Gorgeous,” he blushes.

Your lips tug into a smile, you bring your hand up to his face, pinching his cheek, “aw, look at you.”

He swats your hand away, snorting.

“I thought you didn’t know how to flirt, you’re doing such a good job, keep it up, Eds.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Eddie winks at you before he looks away, eyes searching for the waitress again.

“He doesn’t need your help after all,” Steve laughs, tilting his head, “not that you’d be much of a help anyways.”

You squint your eyes at him, shrugging at his words, and you surprise him with your silence.

He watches the way you lean forward, placing your elbow on the table as you finally wrap your lips around the straw. Your eyelashes flutter and you tap your red fingernails against the glass, a moan falling from your lips.

“Mmmh, that’s so good.”

Steve nearly jumps from his seat, the sound making his stomach flutter, he clenches his fists, staring at you with wide eyes.

There’s no smirk on your lips, no mischief behind your eyes, nothing but innocence is etched into your features – you’re not even teasing him, it was nothing but a genuine reaction to the sweet drink. And it’s something that frustrates him even more.

You reach for the maraschino cherry next, popping it into your mouth before you lick the whipped cream off your finger.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, he shifts in his seat, trying to look away from your lips… that are still wrapped around your finger but he can’t, his eyes are stuck, his body is stuck, he can’t move, all that he can do is watch you.

And then, you look towards him, eyes flashing with surprise when you find him staring. He hopes to see you blushing but instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you release your finger, scooping up some more whipped cream before you bring it up to your lips.

And this is where the real teasing begins.

Steve nearly gasps when you hold eye contact this time as you lick the cream off your fingers, letting out another, softer moan.

Holy fuck.

Steve’s eyes darken, he swallows harshly, clenching his jaw in anger.

Eddie is too busy with his own milkshake, ogling the waitress as she talks to customers at the bar, completely unaware of how you both eyefuck each other, the way Steve can’t take his eyes off of you.

By the look in your eyes, Steve knows how much fun you’re having with this, you know how much it frustrates him, you know what you’re doing to him.

And as though, all of this wasn’t bad enough already. You then accidentally drop some of the whipped cream on your chest.

“Oops,” you purr, giving him an innocent look through your lashes.

The warmth in his chest only grows more intense, spreading across his whole body, filling him up with need and a deep hunger that keeps growing and growing, one that can only be satiated in one way – he needs you, just once, he needs to have you, he needs to taste you, he needs to fuck you, he needs you out of his system for good.

He had enough of this, of all this teasing.

He would fuck you right there on this table if he could.

But, despite your teasing, despite the look in your eyes, despite your little act, he is still not sure about where you stand. He knows how you react to his touches, to his teasing, but a part of him fears rejection if he does make a move.

You are barely even friends, and the thought of making a fool of himself, in front of you, makes him want to crawl into a hole.

You are both playing this game, but while he knows what he wants, he doesn’t know what you want.

Maybe you just enjoy this little back and forth, waiting for him to break first before you move along and pretend like nothing ever happened. Maybe you don’t even expect anything to come out of this. Maybe you don’t even want him the way he wants you. Maybe you just like to tease him because you know that it's riling him up.

So what is left for him to do?

Stop this game and move on? Or… keep going and wait for something more to happen?

He’s had enough of your teasing, but he’s far from losing, there is still some power left in him… some.

He won’t sit here and let you get away with this.

So despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants, despite the burning in his skin, he plasters a smirk on his blushing face and reaches forward, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he mimics you, he grabs his glass and he reaches for the cherry on his milkshake, purposely dropping some whipped cream on the table as he puts the cherry in his mouth. He chews slowly, licking his finger tips while he watches you slowly, the way your smile slowly falls, the way your eyes widen a little.

He bites back the smirk as he scoops up the whipped cream off the table, with both his middle finger and ring finger, bringing them up to his lips, he looks back into your wide eyes as he places them into his mouth, watching the way you break eye contact to look at his lips.

Your throat bobs as you swallow, tightening your grip on your glass as you watch the way he licks his fingers slowly.

He can see the way you shift in your seat, the way your breathing gets heavier and your eyes darken, the way you lick your lips and how flustered you get as you look back into his eyes.

You are pressing your thighs together, he just knows you are.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, smirking at you in satisfaction while you still sit there, frozen in place. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his vanilla milkshake as though nothing happened.

“You gotta give this one a ride home, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at you without tearing his eyes away from the bar, “I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer.”

You clear your throat.

Steve expects you to be more… nervous, to hear your voice wavering, but instead, it sounds confident, filled with yet more teasing as you open your mouth to speak.

“Oh, I would love a ride home with Stevie,” you smile at him innocently as your foot touches his calf again, but this time, it doesn’t just stay there, you move it up, just a little, but enough to nearly make him choke on his drink.

“So you can keep getting on his nerves?” Eddie chuckles.

You lick your lips, smirking as you nod your head slowly, “exactly.”

Yeah, you don’t really do this anymore, getting on each other’s nerves, you both have found something so much better and much more interesting to do to one another.

“You know I always win, Blondie,” Steve says so very confidently, like he isn’t slowly losing his mind because his want for you is beginning to consume him entirely.

You tilt your head at him as you bite your lip, the sleeve of your blouse slowly sliding down your shoulder, making him gulp.

“Do you?” You ask, batting your lashes at him, provoking him with the look on your face.

He bites the insides of his cheeks, nodding at your words, “mhmm.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you shrug and lean back, “we’ll see.”

Eddie doesn’t know that you’re talking about something entirely else now, but he couldn’t care less, when he’s got his eyes set on someone that stole his breath away.

He uses every second he gets with the pretty waitress to flirt, whether it’s through glances when she passes by or through his charming words when she delivers the food to the table.

He happily eats his burger and his fries, eyes following the blonde wherever she goes, completely blind to what’s happening right next to and in front of him.

You and Steve keep staring at one another, eyes filled with intense need, hands itching to reach out to the other.

Steve feels the longing inside his chest, intensifying as the minutes go by, driving him insane. It gets to a point where he can’t wait to get the hell out of this diner so he can go home and take care of himself. He is not sure if he had ever felt this desperate before – he surely never had to rush home to jerk off, but that’s what he feels like now, like he’s going to explode if he sits here any longer.

The moment you decide on leaving, Steve nearly throws himself out of his seat, feeling no patience left inside of him.

“I got this covered,” Eddie announces, pulling out his wallet as he gets out of the booth so you can get out, “you two can go.”

You grab your sunglasses and get up, putting your hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I see what you’re trying to do, you wanna get rid of us so you can flirt with the hot blonde.”

He wiggles his brows, smirking at you proudly, “gotta score a date with my dream girl.”

Steve chuckles, grabbing the car keys from his pocket, he smirks at Eddie, “just don’t mess it up again.”

Eddie shakes his head, “nah never.”

“Alright casanova, call me and tell me how it went.”

“Call you?” He frowns, “I’ll be there to raid your kitchen tonight, sweets.”

You step away from him, brushing past Steve, “alright raccoon, I’ll see you later then.”

“See ya,” he chuckles.

With a sigh, Steve looks at Eddie, playing with his keys and giving him a nod.

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie winks, “and don’t kill each other!” He jokes, ignoring the weird looks he’s given from an older couple two booths away.

“Don’t worry, we’re not at that point anymore.”

You’re at a whole different point now, one that doesn’t make him angry, not exactly, just one that drives him up the wall.

Steve stares at your hips, at the way your shorts hug your body so nicely, the way your ass looks so good in them. He forces his eyes away, feeling a little startled when you turn around to face him before you open the door, a friendly smile appears on your face and he realizes that you aren’t looking at him, but at Eddie’s ‘dream girl’, waving goodbye at the girl before you step out.

He feels the sudden need to talk, hoping that you won’t tease him any further in the car, because if you do, he isn’t sure if he will manage to control himself the way he did, the whole time at the diner.

He rubs the back of his neck, walking down the steps, he clears his throat.

“Do you think he will manage to score a date?”

You slow down as you put your sunglasses on, “yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”

Steve chuckles, nodding.

“She seems nice, and she’s pretty,” you say.

So are you. Steve thinks to himself.

“She’s got the kind of blonde hair you wanted when you ruined your hair with the blonde dye, huh?”

Steve can’t see your eyes behind your sunglasses, but he can see the amused look on your features as your lips curl into a smile.

He ignores the way it feels when you step closer to him, when your hand brushes against his knuckles, sending chills throughout his whole body.

“Actually, I wanted it even lighter, and how would I know that the pictures on the box dye were lies, it said it lightens up any hair color to that specific color!”

Steve laughs at you, “what color were you hoping for?”

You shrug, stepping away from him again when you walk around his car to the passenger side.

“I wanted like a Dolly Parton or uh… Heather Locklear kind of blonde.”

He unlocks the car and opens his door, raising his brows at you, “wow, you should have gone to a hair salon, Blondie.”

You lift your sunglasses, rolling your eyes at him, “it was a spontaneous decision, I thought I could handle that myself, I’m definitely never touching hair dye again.”

“Just call me, next time,” he winks at you as he gets into the car, “I’m a pro at doing hair.”

You laugh at him as you get in as well, “didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Harrington.”

“They don’t call me ‘the hair’ for nothing.”

“Oh wow. I wouldn’t trust you with my hair, who knows what color you’d dye my hair to.”

“Maybe I’d get it to the Dolly Parton blonde that you wanted.”

“Yeah, right!” You scoff at him, “cause you’re such an expert!”

A smile tugs at his lips, it almost feels normal, sitting here in his car with you, talking like this, it almost distracts him enough from the strong tension between you both, from the pull that is dragging him towards you, more and more.

Despite the frustration that he feels from all your teasing, he cannot help but want to keep playing the little game.

The sun is shining brightly, pulling down the sun visor won’t be enough – how convenient it is that he keeps his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He could ask you to get them but instead, he moves closer, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before he places his hand on your knee as he reaches forward so he can get his ray-ban’s.

Satisfaction rushes through him when he hears you sucking in a sharp breath.

But, his longing intensifies when he gets a whiff of your perfume and feels how soft your skin actually is.

He clearly never thinks things through, his little plans always backfire.

The want to wrap his hand around your thigh and keep it there is so strong… so goddamn strong, but he pulls away begrudgingly, holding back the smirk when he feels your eyes on him. He puts the sunglasses on, and finally starts the car.

Your silence surprises him, but he knows that it’s something that won’t stay for long.

Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran starts playing and Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony, this is exactly what he feels like right now, hungry like a fucking wolf, hungry for you.

If you had been any other girl, he would’ve made a move on you, a long long time ago. He would have flirted more obviously, he would’ve taken your hand in his, he would’ve brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you.

But you’re not just any girl, you’re… you.

You love this little game, and no matter how flustered you get, no matter the looks you are giving him, he still struggles to read you, he still struggles to figure out whether you want what he wants or not.

He is waiting for a sign, but it’s almost like he’s blind to anything you give to him.

He holds the steering wheel tightly, keeping his other hand on the gearstick, dangerously close to your thigh. He keeps sneaking glances at you, at your soft skin, at the way you press your legs together, at the way your fingers play with the loose string on your shorts.

Steve’s face grows hot, his heart beating faster in his chest.

He almost feels relieved when your house comes into view, and he pulls up into your driveway.

“So… what are you doing today?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “besides having a movie day by yourself.”

You turn your body towards him, not making any moves to get out of the car yet.

“Uh… I don’t know,” he lies, his cheeks glowing red.

He already knows what he’s gonna do the moment he walks through his front door.

You take your sunglasses off, biting your lip as your eyes move up and down his body, making him shift uncomfortably, yet again.

“Well, I’m going to lay out in the sun, in my new red bikini.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he almost starts drooling at the images that start forming in his mind.

Images of you… half naked.

“We should have a pool party at some point,” you smile, blinking at him as you start inching closer to him, looking down at his lips.

“Uh huh…”

“But anyways, I should get going,” you sigh, catching him by surprise when you place your hand on his thigh, so dangerously close to where he needs you the most, “thanks for the ride, Stevie.”

And as though that wasn’t bad enough.

You almost cause his heart to stop beating, when your face is only inches away from him now, and you press your lips against his cheek, kissing him, completely shocking him, leaving him a stuttering mess.

He lost all ability to speak, all he can do is stare at you, as his skin tingles and his heart races.

You smirk at him, eying his red cheeks.

“Who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever blush for me,” you say smugly, before you pull away and get out of the car, giggles falling from your lips. Without another word, you close the door and walk away, looking over your shoulder one more time, still giggling.

Fuck.

His frustration turns into anger when the realization starts creeping in slowly.

The smug look on your face, the smirk and your stupid giggles prove his point, that you did all of this not because you wanted him, but because you wanted to win this fucking game.

That’s all it is, that’s all it ever was.

A game.

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is, whether it’s the feeling of annoyance or rejection, but it only irritates him even further, especially when all he can think about is still you.

You in your stupid red bikini, lying under the sun, looking pretty and hot… looking like someone he can never have, not even for a single night.

He is angry, angry at himself for still wanting you, for needing you, for wishing that he could feel your bare body underneath him, for wishing to hear your moans, your voice calling out his name, your hands clinging to his body, fingers tugging at his hair.

Despite the rejection, he feels his stupid jeans getting tighter, his dick straining against the fabric, making him feel uncomfortable and so needy to a point that the moment he gets home, he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom.

He slams the door shut and presses his back against it, hastily unbuckling his belt, the clinking and his heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the room… for now. He pushes down his boxers and his pants, just enough so he can pull his dick out – his tip is an angry red, already leaking with pre cum, he spits into his hand before he wraps his hand around his aching cock.

That is all that it takes for a needy whimper to fall from his lips.

He closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the door as he starts jerking off slowly.

Images of you curse and bless his mind at the same time.

He wonders what it would be like to feel your hand around his dick or what it would be like to feel your lips on his neck, your whispers in his ear as you take care of him.

He furrows his brows, lips parting as his moans get louder and he begins to move his hand faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut.

He pictures you on your knees for him, your hands replaced by your lips as he shuts you up with his cock in your mouth, silencing you once and for all, while tears stream down your cheeks.

“Oh fuck…” Steve whimpers, getting lost in pleasure.

He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table when you started teasing him with the stupid whipped cream, but all he can think about now is you on your knees worshiping him.

His muscles tighten as he increases the tempo, using his thumb to rub the slit as he imagines it being the tip of your tongue as you look at him with big and teary eyes.

And he doesn’t know for how long he was imagining you like this, but it doesn’t matter because he is soon spilling in his hand, a loud groan escaping his lips as well as a shaky breath, the back of his head hitting the door as he tries to ease his breathing.

Maybe three minutes passed, or twenty, but it didn’t matter. His cum is already on his hand and in your honor.

But this didn’t satiate his hunger, nor his lust for you in the slightest.

Nothing that he could possibly do will.

He can imagine you and take care of himself all he wants, but it won’t change the way he wants you, the way he craves you.

He knows that there is only one way to get rid of this.

Tomorrow he will put his frustration away. That’s all it is, frustration. He just needs to let it out. He needs to fucking breathe again.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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cherrygukki · 10 months

Text

after last night (m) || two

➸ pairing: rich! ex-fuckboy!jungkook x f. reader ➸ word count: 7k ➸ genres: unrequited love, non-idol au, smut, angst ➸ synopsis: Jungkook finally sees you after several months since your last time together. Surely enough you'll stay with him unlike last night, right? ➸ warnings: possessive!jk, unprotected sex (don't be silly), whiny and vocal jk, boob slapping, mirror sex, doggy style and missionary, rough, manhandling, tons of kissing, dirty talk, uses of "slut" and "whore", praise kink, oral (f), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy whipped jk, reader grinds on jk's abs, hints of reader being afraid of committing to jk :(( ➸ author's note: i'm finally back after a long hiatus! decided to write another part to this since most of you seemed to like it :) this can be read as a stand-alone, but i suggest reading part one first for more context! feedback will be appreciated as always <3

read after last night (one) here

"Hey, I don't think I'll be able to go out today. My head suddenly hurts and—"

"It's okay. You should get some rest. Bye." You cut your friend off with a sigh before hanging up the 15-second phone call you held with him. At this point, you don't really care whether your voice sounded frustrated on the other line because you are. You've been waiting for more than half an hour at the destination you were supposed to meet, only to receive a lame excuse which clearly translates into him not wanting to spend time with you today.

You exhale another deep sigh once more before standing up from the bench you were sitting on, clueless on where to go after being left in the ditch.

The stranger you were sitting next to can only stare at you in pity when she overheard the conversation you had. After all, you went out of your way to make your appearance look as glamorous as possible in hopes of impressing him, even putting on the effort to wear a high set of stilettos despite the sharp pain knocking on your feet.

And here you are, aimlessly strolling around the mall like a lost puppy. There's no other goal in your mind right now aside from getting home as soon as possible after the sour event you recently experienced.

However, being set up by your crush is unfortunately not the end of your embarrassing saga. It was too late for you when you abruptly heard the heel of one of your stilettos snap in half, causing you to shamefully trip in front of a large crowd.

You silently whimper in agony as you hear the whispers of people around you.

"I got you." You mentally praise the heavens in joy when you see a concerned hand reaching out on your fallen figure. You grab it without hesitation while the kind gentleman slowly guides you back on your feet, ensuring to remove your broken shoes to avoid any more accidents.

You sigh once more, already embarrassed enough that your pride is ripped apart from a mere slip-up.

Looking up, you intend to thank the unknown man for his kindness.

Instead, your gratitude is replaced with shock within the flick of your eyes.

Your mouth hangs agape to see the face of a person you've never seen in weeks — no, months. Your eyes go wide like a deer caught in the headlights, your breath caught in your throat. And yet, you silently stare at him in awe. As much as you hate to admit it, those delicate features that adorn his charming face are still very much prominent. In fact, you even think he became more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. Hence, here you are, appreciating your ex-fling with stars in your eyes.

"Jungkook?" You finally found yourself muttering to him while his firm grip on you doesn't relent.

He merely responds with a boyish grin before carefully examining your body to see if you've received any injuries. "Are you okay?" he softly asks.

You quickly nod, "Yeah."

"I saw you walking around earlier," he states. "I was about to approach you until this..." he trails off to stare at your wrecked heels, "...happened."

For the umpteenth time today, you exhale deeply, having no clue whether you ought to simply walk home barefoot or buy another pair of shoes that'll damage your wallet.

Jungkook seems to have already founded out the thoughts troubling your mind, for he immediately grabs your hand and drags you toward the nearest store he can find.

"I'll buy you a pair," he voices before you can make any refusal. The only thing you can do now is follow Jungkook around and let him treat you for at least today, internally cheering with glee that your telepathic message has conveniently gone over to his end.

You ought to pay him back later.

Although you do intend to purchase merely one pair of shoes, shopping took longer than to your liking.

With your indecisive behavior and his extravagance combined, Jungkook almost insists on obtaining the entire shop at this point from how much you struggled to pick something.

Declining the offer, you settle on with another set of heels to at least match your outfit. While it may not be as comfortable as wearing some sandals, the wedged heels Jungkook gifted you felt certainly better than your previous stilettos, your feet actually feeling secure for once as they were much lower this time.

"Thanks for saving me today," you meekly say as you and Jungkook are wandering through the mall.

"I'm just happy to spend time with you." He replies before giving you another one of his signature smiles that has your heart fluttering for him.

With that, you suddenly remind yourself that you're still indebted to this man. You part your mouth to change the subject, offering him a treat.

"Do you want to eat something together? I'll pay this time."

His eyes widen from your utterance, and he's swift to reject your offer. "No, no! It's fine, really. I just wanted to help you out."

"If you weren't here, I would've gone home looking like an idiot so I really owe you one."

He couldn't help but giggle at your persistence, but he still shakes his head nonetheless. "No, ___. You don't have to spend anything on me. I really am happy to just do anything for you."

You groan in surrender, knowing that a guy like Jungkook is almost impossible to convince otherwise. Rather, it's your turn to grab his arm and lead him to somewhere you like.

"If you're happy to do anything for me, then at least get a coffee with me! I won't mind paying for you, I swear."

"I'm sorry if your day turned out to be quite unexpected," he says.

You quietly sip on your hot latte as you appreciate the view outside the window. Fortunately enough, Jungkook didn't turn down your request to eat at a café with him, albeit he insisted on paying for your orders instead. However, your stubborn self paid for the two of you at the end of your minute-long bicker in front of the barista. Aside from it being out of gratitude, you simply don't want others assuming that you're merely a parasite for his wealth. You humiliated yourself more than enough today.

And thus, you find you and your fling casually conversing over dessert and coffee as if God has replaced the douchebag that was supposed to be with you right now.

You glance over at Jungkook who's also enjoying his meal, staring at him for a fleeting moment before a smile unconsciously spreads on your lips. For once, you're thrilled to see him again after the series of events you had with him during your class reunion. You've done your best to avoid him for months on end, having no such intentions on being further associated with him. Although you do appreciate the kind efforts he's shown you on what you thought was about to be a terrible day, you can't deny that you still have some lingering doubt for him in the pit of your chest.

With that, you finally respond to Jungkook who's been silently staring at you the entire time, "It's okay."

"I forgot to mention that you look beautiful today."

His words only add on to your already flustered state, the way he treats you makes your head giddy as you can sense your heart violently thumping against your chest.

"Thank you," is the only response you can muster up.

He doesn't fail to notice your behavior, chuckling softly for he's pleased that his presence alone still has its effect on you.

"Were you supposed to go out with someone?" he assumes.

A bitter pang hits you at the thought of his question. You scrunch up your face in disappointment before whining. "How did you know?"

He shrugs. "I doubt you wouldn't have a reason to go out looking so pretty like that."

You grumble, although his praises do soothe your mood. You huff, "I had to wait for almost an hour for him only to receive a call saying that he's sick." You pause for a moment before continuing. "He didn't even sound sick when he called!"

Jungkook frowns after finally finding out the reason behind your apparent stress earlier. He couldn't exactly place why you were moping around in the open, but once you confirmed his speculations, something in him snapped.

"Did you like him?" he inquires.

Your ears perk up from his precipitance. You answer him nevertheless, "Well, I did initially plan on asking him out, so I guess so." You shrug.

With that, his eyes darken at your statement, nodding quietly before humming. "I see."

Everything falls silent from then on. The atmosphere between you turned awkward faster than you expected. You nervously sip from your cup although your latte has long been finished, merely finding an excuse to avoid the fierce glare Jungkook is sending your way.

A minute of silence with him is the equivalent of a decade for you. If his staring wasn't enough to already have you squirming around in your seat, then it's the unwanted question you've been dreading to hear from him.

"Why did you just leave after last night?"

And that's where you begin to lose it.

Deep down, you're terribly intimidated at how Jungkook managed to quickly switch up the ambience, but the last thing you wanted was for him to see you waver. You speak, attempting your best to seem unruffled to his eyes.

"I thought last night was only supposed to be a one night stand between us."

All that Jungkook responded with was a heavy sigh, sinking himself further in his seat as he rubs his temple from the pent-up frustration.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you that I had to throw my phone away because I was so mad, ___..." he hisses, "I was so mad that I didn't get your number in time and possibly get to know you better."

You freeze in your spot after hearing his words, shock is written all over your face when you find out what Jungkook has been up to for the past few months you ghosted him, but you don't speak of anything in return, intending to hear the entirety of his story before you make any comments.

At your silence, he took it as a sign to continue rambling. "You wouldn't get out of my head after that night, ___. Day and night, all I can remember is you and your pretty little face," he chuckles bitterly, "I even tried looking your name up but I couldn't find you."

Your eyes lock with his. "I fucking missed you, angel..."

Shock remains all over your body. However, the bubbling doubt in your chest along with the trust issues spurring in your brain are coming into play. You feel like your entire system is crashing down from his mere words and it's definitely messing with you.

"I don't believe you," you protest.

Jungkook smirks mischievously from your response before casually spreading his legs wider on the plush seat. He carefully observes your reactions, and he knows you can't resist him starting at this point.

"Oh trust me, sweetheart. If I still had my phone, I'd call every girl I know and tell them goodbye."

The old pet name he calls you tugs at the strings in your heart, his choice of words having you completely melt right in front of him then and there. He smiles in triumph, acknowledging that you've gone all putty in his hands.

"Believe me when I say that you're the only one I've been thinking about, sweetheart," he sneers, "because I still remember that night when I was splitting you in half with my cock."

You almost cough out loud from his crude statement, his lewdness certainly passing some heat down your core which inevitably causes you to uncomfortably rub your thighs together to relieve the tingling sensation that's fluttering within you.

He immediately sees you squirming underneath the table, his grin growing into that of a Cheshire cat from the tension circulating between you.

How in the world did you get here?

You keep writhing in your seat, all the while trying your best to remain discreet from the public. If someone ever hears the nasty phrases Jungkook is mouthing at you, you're absolutely done for.

Of course, Jungkook chooses to be a menace rather than keeping himself shut to save at least a portion of your dignity. But no, vulgar words fall from those cunning lips like a train, intending to have you soaking your underwear to the brim.

"I bet you always think about how good I made you cum with just my tongue, angel," he snickers, voice turning an octave lower before exhaling deeply. "Your pussy probably tastes sweeter than last time, yeah?"

Just a few filthy words from him are enough to have your center yearning for him to touch you, feel you. You squeeze your thighs more, your arousal becoming unbearable to the point where you resort on slowly grinding yourself against the chair for the sake of relieving the aching sensation between your legs.

Jungkook silently watches you in amusement, fiddling with the cold metal of his lip piercing before darting his tongue out to slowly swipe on his bottom lip

"You have no clue how fucking crazy I am for you, ___," he lowly whispers, "I'll make sure to fuck you better than last time so you won't leave me again."

And that single phrase eventually does it for you. You quickly bury your head against the table in an attempt to cover up the muffled whimper that escapes your quivering lips. However, your minimal efforts are put in vain when you see a few customers spinning their heads toward you. A dark blush creeps its way onto your face after knowing that you've caught some attention to yourself, and his eyes stay on you like a hawk, the mortifying situation you've placed yourself in certainly providing him an excellent source of entertainment.

The more you try to get off on your own, the tighter Jungkook's pants become. His cock straining uncomfortably against his boxers eventually made him have enough of the smutty show you're putting on for him. With that, he hastily jumps from his seat and yanks your hand along with him. "Let's go," he firmly says, taking long strides out of the café before his bulge can even appear more prominent for others.

It doesn't take long for the two of you to arrive in his car. He swiftly unlocks it as he makes a beeline towards the backseat with you being dragged right behind him. You yelp in surprise when he pushes you inside with no thought, immediately hovering above you to seal your mouths together in what seems like the hungriest kiss you had in your life. He kisses you like a man deprived for decades: greedy, rough, never-ending.

You moan from the way his calloused hands would explore every inch of your body as if he's trying to imprint the image of you in his brain until it leaves a scar on him for eternity.

He pulls himself deeper when your lips part open, slithering his tongue inside your mouth which causes him to hum in delight. He doesn't think of pulling away from you once, though the need to breathe is slowly becoming a struggle for him. If there's anything Jungkook intends right now, it's to savor every moment with you before he reaches his high.

However, it doesn't take long for him to free himself from you, panting wildly as the two of you try to chase your breaths from your intense make-out, lips swollen, and your makeup partially ruined.

He stares at you with full-blown eyes, and you can definitely say the same for yourself. You drink in each other's beauty for what seems like forever, memorizing each perfection and flaw on one's face before you're locking eyes with him once again.

He completely breaks away from you, maneuvering himself to the driver's seat to start up the engine. You sit up in confusion, staring at him through the rear-view mirror, and you see his reflection sending you a smug smile.

"Let's go home, sweetheart," he murmurs, "'M gonna fuck and love you the entire day..."

You shiver at the thought of going home with Jungkook out of all people, but what sends goosebumps rising all over your skin is the fact that everything that has happened up until now was serendipitous. Your day has taken a detour to where you're met with someone you want to deny from your existence.

However, you can't help but let your body need him as much as he needs you.

The two of you struggle to navigate yourselves toward his bedroom, sloppily kissing each other within the long corridors of his penthouse for several minutes before you feel yourself being pushed against the soft material of his mattress. He swiftly discards his dress shirt, finally displaying the well-sculpted figure that's hidden behind the layer of fabric. A myriad of intricate patterns of his full-sleeve tattoo, the burly muscles around his arms, his slim waist—everything about him snatches your breath away in one second. You've already seen Jungkook's body once, but seeing the heavenly figure standing above you in all his glory makes it feel like your first time again. To your dismay, however, your silent worshipping is ephemeral when Jungkook impatiently hovers over your body, hands slithering to your back to unzip your dress off.

You sit up, pulling the straps off your shoulders until your outfit softly thuds against the hard floor. Jungkook quietly groans when your breasts immediately appear upon taking off your dress, a large hand cupping one of them on first instinct.

"Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra?" He husks, toying with your hardening bud with his thumb. You moan breathily as your eyes turn heavy, already feeling sensitive from his bare touch. "The dress already had pads in it," you whimper

Jungkook paid no heed to your response, however, diving himself down the crevices of your neck where your skin gains contact with his lips. You sigh from complete bliss, sensing every lick, suck, and bite he places on your bruised neck. He scatters evidence of himself from your jaw to your chest, a range of light to dark hickeys covering your once clean skin.

"Mine," he murmurs as his hands explore every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. With each dart of his tongue on one particular spot you love, the more your underwear dampened, and oh — was he extremely pleased when his fingers brushed against your panty-clad center.

"God, you're so wet, sweetheart..." he hums, your arousal feeding onto his growing ego as well as his erection. He draws slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, eliciting a small whimper from you. "Tell me, sweetheart. Who made you this wet, huh?"

"Y-You did," you moan, impatiently bucking your hips against his hand to add more pressure on your nub. He notices your behavior, thus pressing his digits harder agin your center, letting a yelp fall past your lips.

He leans down next to your ear where you can hear him breathing heavily, placing a soft kiss on your temple: a stark contrast to the way his fingers are roughly handling your cunt. "Say my name, angel. Wanna hear how good I'm making you feel."

The hot whisper he sends directly into your ear is enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You obey him, unable to resist the rapture he's giving you.

"Jungkook," you cry out, and that absolutely does it for Jungkook. The way your voice is filled with vulnerability merely adds on to his urge of ruining you in a multitude of ways he can think of.

Sitting up, he completely retracts his fingers from your sopping panties. You whine from the loss of his warmth, but your excitement instantly returns when he briskly peels them off your legs, now being completely exposed to him.

He grips the back of your thighs, spreading you open. You can practically see him lusting to devour your nether regions by then, but you stop him.

"W-Wait." Your hands fly down to his soft locks just for the sake of not having him face-plant himself on your center right away. He looks up at you with a concerned look, his demeanor doing a 180° flip when he sees you hesitating.

"Why? What's wrong, ___?"

Your heart almost jumps out when he softly addresses your name, showing you that he genuinely cares for your well-being. As much as you want to have Jungkook lap on your heat like it's his last feast, there's always been one asset of his that your starving pussy has been craving for.

"Wanna grind on your abs."

The request is almost inaudible, but he fully registers it. He stares deeply into your irises that you swear you could see his eyes turning a shade darker than before. He inhales slowly, finally pulling away from your parted legs to lay on his back as you gladly straddle him, your dripping cunt directly above his chiseled abdomen. He firmly holds your hips, gently guiding you down until the gap between your center and his skin is non-existent.

And oh, did the sensation hit differently.

You can feel every dip, curve, and ridge of his beautifully sculpted muscles upon contact, causing you to spill your essence upon Jungkook's honeydew skin.

He prompts you to move by grinding your hips back and forth. You didn't hold back the wanton noises escaping you, letting him appreciate your euphoric state as you shamelessly grind down on his perfect body.

You can see from the way he's hissing that he's clearly enjoying it as well, his gaze being solely trained on your heat leaving a trail of your arousal on his abs, biting his lip tightly as he goads you to pick up your pace.

Every time your sensitive clit nudges the hard pec of his abs, every time you feel Jungkook slyly flexing his muscles beneath you, and every time he further sinks your hips down to feel him better has you reeling for him. Everything about the man below you is driving you to the edge of being definitely crazy for him, your brain gradually fogging up to a cloudy state of lust.

"Such a slutty little pussy I have here..." he moans, sliding a tattooed hand up your body to fondle with your breasts. He plays with your erect buds, pinching and twisting them to how he pleases as his other hand never stopped its job from egging you to your upcoming orgasm. "So wet... it's all for me, yeah?"

You hastily bob your head up and down, for you're at a complete loss of words when you sense the bubbling knot in your stomach about to break loose any moment.

Jungkook finds no satisfaction in your response, though. He abruptly slaps your mounds to regain your attention. You gasp loudly from the painful impact, but your body seems to say otherwise when your pussy leaks more of your sticky essence onto his abs. "Words, baby. I can't hear you."

"Yes! Yes, 's all for you..!" you slur, having lost the ability to speak a single coherent word at this point. The only word you want to chant is Jungkook's name like a broken record.

And you're merely humping his abs like a pathetic animal in heat.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing his thumb on the top of your clit to rub figures of eights. You're sent into a frenzy from the subtle action, your orgasm reaching closer to its bay with each second passing.

"C-Cumming," you sob, your thighs twitching violently as your pace begins to falter, using what little energy you have left to bring you to the finish line of your climax.

"Yeah? Gonna be my good slut and cum all over my abs?"

His profane words aid your impending orgasm. Your voice becoming high-pitched, your chest rapidly heaving up and down as you hear the lewd squelching noises your cunt makes.

You reach a point where your entire body is stuttering, obscene noises continuously spilling from your lips like a waterfall. The hard ridges of Jungkook's abs are certainly bringing you to an intense high, but what ends you is his sweet voice putting you in a daze with his words.

Jungkook chuckles darkly with each sensitive reaction your body makes, "Go on and make a mess all over me, sweetheart."

And you did. Your mouth hangs wide open, but nothing is uttered from you. Your juices gush out from your center, flowing to your inner thighs and onto his abdomen. Your walls clench around thin air as you slowly ride out your high. Your small whimpers eventually come to a halt, and nothing can be heard in the room aside from the squelch of your cunt and your heavy panting.

He gently raises your hips up, eyes glazing over the sticky mess you've just created on his abdomen. Two fingers dip down to wipe away your essence from his skin, and before you know it, his fingers are right in front of your lips.

"Open." You did as told, welcoming your taste within your mouth. You greedily swirl your tongue around as you would with his cock, cleaning up what little mess that's left on him.

He pulls out with a string of saliva connecting him to your lips, groaning quietly after seeing his glistening digits.

"Fuck," he breathes out, "I have to taste you, sweetheart." He swiftly manhandles your frail body, hovering himself over you again as he parts your thighs. He eyes you like a man starved for days, and you're his prey that was caught in his trap.

Without warning, he licks a fat stripe of his tongue on your sensitive folds, earning a shriek from you. He moans against your sopping center, the vibrations making your entire body fall limp as you give up from prying his head away. Noting your weak state, Jungkook forms a sinister smile and proceeds to ruin you with his tongue, determined to put you on the brink of another orgasm.

"You taste so fucking good," he whines, his mouth loudly slurping up all of your leaking juices. "You gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?"

"Ngh... s-sensitive," you groan from the overstimulation, thighs threatening to close around Jungkook's head, but he holds you in place. He sucks on your clit like a madman, your legs quivering profusely as you feel yourself rapidly approaching another climax.

You don't realize the tears that are dribbling down your cheeks, your senses going into overdrive from the overwhelming bliss. It only takes one last suckle from Jungkook's lips to have you breaking down again. You see stars in your vision when your high crashes down on you like a tidal wave, your essence surging out your throbbing folds as he successfully catches everything on his tongue, leaving no traces of your orgasm behind. Your hands grip his hair, using the remaining energy in you to push him away. Thankfully, he complies, sitting on his knees to appreciate the mess he's created. Your hair has turned into a bird's nest, your makeup smothered all over your face, and your pussy is glistening from your slick all because of him.

Jungkook whines, the tent in his pants growing painfully unbearable. "Need to be inside you right now," he mutters before manhandling you on all fours. You shudder upon facing the mirror in front of you, finally witnessing for the first time how much Jungkook has destroyed you, and he's yet to sink his throbbing cock inside you.

Hearing a soft thud on the floor, you gasp softly when you feel his leaking tip poking your entrance. He bends down until your back meets his chest. His eyes lock with yours through the mirror, placing a soft kiss on your temple before ghosting his lips over your ear. "Eyes on the mirror when I fuck you, sweetheart," he whispers without ever breaking the intimidating gaze he has on you.

With that, he slowly enters you, your warm walls fluttering around his thick girth as you let out a long moan from his intrusion.

He hasn't even completely bottomed out, and your eyes are already giving in on the verge of closing themselves. He spots you from the large mirror, causing him to bundle the roots of your hair to force your head up. "Keep your eyes on the fucking mirror, baby," he groans, "watch me fuck you."

You finally feel him bottom out, mewling wantonly when his tip nudges your sweet spot. The burning sensation of your walls accommodating his girth brings tears in your eyes, for you sense every vein and inch of him rubbing against your warm folds.

Groaning, he slowly draws his length out until the mere tip remains inside you. The wind from your lungs is quickly knocked off when he roughly slams back in, pulling another gasp from your lips.

The thought of you taking Jungkook raw drives him insane. Feeling your tight walls squeeze his cock bare is something akin to heaven, and he can't help but let all hell break loose on you.

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, for he's already setting a ruthless pace on you. Your knuckles turn white from how you tightly claw the sheets beneath you, and for every second you watch Jungkook, the more your cunt becomes greedier for him.

The way his muscles flex with each languid thrust of his hips has you unconsciously clenching around his cock, a series of lewd noises tumbling out your mouth as if you're a broken toy.

If anything, you're his toy.

"Pussy so fucking good," he moans, landing a hard spank on your ass. "Your slutty little cunt is made for my cock, yeah?"

You roll your eyes from his possessive treatment, the way he filthily talks to you only adds on to your arousal as you nod in affirmation.

He simpers at your reflection, already knowing that you've become dumb on his cock from how you kept unknowingly drooling from the side of your mouth.

"Yeah? My little whore loves taking my cock so much, huh?" He continues, his cock drilling in and out of your leaking hole. "Bet you've never been fucked this good before," he snickers.

"Ngh, Jungkook!" You cry from how hard he's pounding into you, the mixed sensation of pain and pleasure pricking tears from your eyes. If it wasn't for the strong grip he has around the roots of your hair, your upper body would've gone purely limp by now.

It doesn't take long for you to eventually end up like Jungkook intended you to be: a broken mess. Any other rational thought from you had long been thrown out the window, for the only word you know left is his name. You chant his name in a mantra, panting wildly as you whimper louder with each thrust.

Nothing can be more perfect for Jungkook aside from the sight below him. He stares in awe whenever he pulls out to see his cock wrapped around in your slick, and hearing the obscene noises he's drawing from you is a symphony to his ears.

But most importantly, seeing how you react to even the littlest of his touch makes his heart skip a beat.

For Jungkook, you look the most beautiful when you're with him.

"You look so pretty taking my cock, sweetheart," he rasps, voicing out his thoughts. For a second, your eyes lock with his through the mirror, and you can feel your heart pounding wildly the moment you gaze through his dark eyes clouded with lust.

Your body begins to tremble when you feel yourself exploding for the third time. He feels your walls tensing sporadically around his girth, coaxing him to pound you harder—if that was even possible. You see stars in your vision every time his leaking tip kisses your spongy spot as more of your arousal trickles down your thighs.

"Jungkook," you mewl weakly, "'M g-gonna cum..!"

"I know, sweetheart." He licks his lips, making you release a tiny whimper. "You gonna milk all over my cock, hmm? Your pussy's such a fucking whore for me, angel."

The deep laugh that vibrates from his chest is what triggers you to cling onto his cock tightly and coat him in your orgasm. You wail loudly from the intense high, your upper body finally falling down on the bed. Jungkook gasps from how hard you squeezed him. His cock twitches madly inside you, and he hastily pulls out from your drenched hole to put you in another position.

You yelp when he places you on your back, his large hands groping the back of your thighs as he easily slides his cock back inside you.

Your moans quickly become high-pitched, for he gave you no time to recover from your climax. Jungkook watches in awe how you appear oh-so ethereal in his eyes—all weak and vulnerable underneath him.

He grunts with every push of his cock inside you, sensing his high that's about to burst any minute.

Leaning down, Jungkook seals your lips together in another heated kiss, muffling the sinful noises that are falling off your tongue.

It doesn't take long for him to pull away. You feel his forearms sinking down on the mattress as a few strands of his hair dangle against your face. However, despite being unable to completely see him, you can still see his eyes boring holes into your soul.

"And to think you could've gone out with another man," he spits, tone rather harsh before quickening his pace. "Tell me, sweetheart," he pants, "do you think he can fuck you as good as I can?"

You're taken aback by his abrupt question, but you mindlessly respond nonetheless, for your brain has absolutely gone to mush from how good his cock rubs against your velvety walls.

"No! Y-You're better!"

"Yeah? Am I the best fuck you ever had?"

"Yes..! Oh my fucking god!"

"Glad you know, angel," he chuckles, his tattooed hand suddenly flying down to rub fast circles on your sore clit, "because there won't be another dick out there that's half as good as mine."

"Jungkook, I can't," you sob, "t-too much..!"

He snarls, "Oh, you will, angel. I know my pretty girl can do it." His thrusts turn inconsistently sloppy as you feel his cock twitching uncontrollably inside your warmth.

"G-Gonna cum," you faintly whimper, your hands frantically ruffle the sheets, for you're at a loss on what to grip.

"Tell me you're mine," Jungkook pants, placing his forehead against yours, increasing the level of intimacy between you.

Your breath hitches from the proximity. You search for his eyes, and they glow a different appearance: desperation. He searches for yours as well, and your heart freezes momentarily from the passion burning in his irises. You sense him approaching the tip of his high, but he doesn't give in just yet. He needs to hear you confirm his words before everything else, refusing to relish the wrack of pleasure until you provide him the answer he yearns for.

"Tell me you're mine first and I'll let you cum," he swiftly says in one breath, grasping his fingers underneath your chin to graze his lips against yours. You become tongue-tied for a moment, your emotions being tangled up into a messy ball.

But the way he whimpers, oh, so weakly against you has your knees buckling; along with the way his cock is ramming up your cervix creates a cluster of hysteria blocking your rationale.

The only thing you're begging for at the moment is that sweet orgasm Jungkook is about to serve you. Thus, it's no doubt that you'd do anything he says for you for the sake of your breaking point.

You breathe heavily against his lips, your eyes closing in on the tremendous euphoria. "I'm yours."

"One more, baby. I wanna hear you."

"Fuck!" You whimper, his cock showing no signs of remorse on your sensitive g-spot. "I'm yours! Only yours!"

"Atta, girl..." he croons at you, snaking a hand around your neck to restrict the air flowing in your lungs. "This is my pussy, yeah? You're my slut. My good, pretty little whore, hmm? You're mine, sweetheart. I fucking love everything about you that I wanna keep you forever — shit..!"

His speech falters, a high-pitched whine falling off those pretty lips as he hastily pulls out of your throbbing cunt, stroking himself languidly before he releases his load all over your body. Spurts of white cover your abdomen to your leaking cunt. He lets out a guttural groan from the intense orgasm, milking out the last of his remains before collapsing next to you, utterly spent and exhausted. His tattooed arm reaches for the bedside table, pulling on one of the drawers to grab a towelette.

Jungkook props himself up on one elbow as he gently pats down the areas that are covered with his sticky essence. "You did so well for me, sweetheart," he chuckles breathily while cleaning you up.

You, on the other hand, are at a loss for words. Perhaps it's because your voice became worn out from the numerous orgasms he pulled out of you.

Or was it because of the dangerous attachment Jungkook was showing for you?

Whatever it was, you decided to remain silent the entire time, listening in on yours and Jungkook's tranquil breathing combined, chests rising and falling in perfect synchronization as you appreciate the afterglow of a temporary escapade.

Once he's done cleaning you up, he throws the filthy cloth into a nearby bin and pulls the covers over your bare bodies. "Uhm, ___...." he's also the first one to break the silence, looking at you hesitantly while nibbling on his piercing.

You turn your head to him curiously, which is enough for him to know that he has your attention again.

He sighs softly before continuing. "Listen... ever since last time, I really couldn't stop thinking about you. The fact that you left without a word seriously drove me crazy, and all I wanted to do was to have you in my arms again."

Quirking an eyebrow, you gaze at him with widened eyes. You're about to part your lips to say something in response, but he quickly cuts you off.

"I wasn't myself for the past few months, and I know that it was extremely stupid, but I couldn't help it, ___. I genuinely like you. Even if we only encountered each other for a short time, I really wish to ask you out. You don't know how happy I was when I saw you earlier today. I sincerely want to get to know you better, ___, and perhaps take you out more often..."

His confession alone is enough to have your thoughts turn into a messy, tangled ball of threads. Your throat dries as you stare at him with a baffled appearance. Hesitantly, you slowly nod your head at him, unsure of how to process everything at the moment.

However, Jungkook can read you like an open book. He isn't anywhere convinced of your slow response, rather demanding an affirmative answer from your mouth.

"Words, sweetheart. I need words."

Sadness looms in your eyes because of what seems like sincerity in his. If you're honestly speaking, there's nothing stopping you from giving the fine man in front of you a chance and letting him treat you like the queen you are, laying out a red carpet on the ground you walk on as he gives you ecstasy from morning to midnight.

Oh, how unfortunate that your thoughts didn't correlate with your words.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook," you mumble quietly, "I don't think I want to."

Jungkook's expression falls from your answer. "What..?"

You purse your lips nervously. You chose to reject him, but why are you feeling different?

"Is it because I'm always out with other people?" he asks, a frown forming on his lips. "The last person I've been with was you, ___. I told you I wasn't myself after last night between us. You were all that was running through my mind from then until now." You can see the desperate look in his eyes pleading for your approval, but all that comes from you is a shaky sigh as you look away from him.

"I'm sorry. We really can't."

"___, think about it," he frantically says, eyes following you when you abruptly sit up to search for your clothes.

"That's my answer, Jungkook," you reply as you hastily put on each piece of clothing one by one. "I reject your offer."

Before he can utter another word, you quickly fix your appearance as if nothing has ever happened between the two of you.

"___, wait." Jungkook chases for your arm, reaching out to grab it, but you're like water: always running away, never able to touch. You make a beeline towards the exit of his bedroom without ever turning back. You're as scared to leave as much as you are to be with him. You still choose the former, though, storming out the door without another word. Because you're a coward, unable to live on that fast lane with Jungkook.

He lays there defeated, clueless on how to get over the flame you lit up in his heart.

In the end, you left Jungkook smoking out the window as a bitter reminder of your rejection, wondering to himself on how you could do this to him.

After last night, you were the match who lit Jungkook on fire. After this night, you were the wind that blew his burning heart away into ashes.

#bts #bts smut #bangtan #bts x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts x you #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x original character #jungkook x you #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk smut #fanfic

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hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

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When Dr Gaul suggested Coriolanus return to compete his officer training, he was mortified. But she had made a valid point about his presidential future.

A man who served his country was easier to sell than a spoilt rich boy who deserted his post.

She would bring him back for the lavish parties and important ceremonies to shake hands with the right people. They all told him what a fine young man he had become. Following his fathers footsteps, despite his down fall.

He would smile and tell them it was an honor to serve Panem. An honor to fill the shoes of Commander Hoff and restore order to district 12.

Commander Hoff had been killed by rebels. A bomb went off during a hanging, hidden under the floor boards and trigged by flex of the rope. Commander Hoff had been standing directly above it and left district 12 with a dire need for a leader.

Coriolanus had only started to settle back into capital life. Before he was torn from his riches and thrown back into the dirt.

He was still bitter about returning, but his opponent, Augustus Bloom, for the presidential run was highly well known, and a few years older then him. He was a well established business man, and Coriolanus still had a school boy image.

Still, as Dr Gaul reminded him, Augustus had only known the spoils of war. Which made him fine company for dinner, but for a leader of Panem people would be looking for a man who would not shrink in the face of violence. A man who kept the scum of the districts at bay.

When President Ravinstill finally breathed his last breath Panem would be looking for a new leader and Coriolanus wanted to be the only one they turned to. With Dr Gaul's help it was a possible goal.

The first thing he did as commander was out up a electric fence around the district so there was no chance of lucy-grey returning or her covey sneaking out to help her with supplies.

He ruled district 12 with a harsh fist. It was good practice for when he would rule Panem. He experimented with ways to control people. He found that the best way was the hardest.

Fear was a great oppressant but also a great motivator. He had to balance it with small pockets of relent. The tiger won't bite you if you don't pull it's tail.

Keep in line, and the Capital would provide for basic needs. Coriolanus knew first hand what people would turn into when their basic needs were not met. So feed them, clothe them, offer the occasional entertainment to distract them from their miserable existence.

It would keep the majority at bay. And for those who knew better than to be lulled into compliancy, cruelty would be unleased into the district. Food shipments cancelled, mandatory public executions, Peacekeepers given free rein to take what they liked and flog anyone who protested. The people of district 12 would grow to hate rebels.

However, his tyrannical rule left him isolated from his army. The men kept out of Coriolanus way. Even those directly below him offered no familiar way of talking.

Only in his weekly call with Tigress and Grandma'am could he talk about something other than strategy.

He took to walks on sunny days to break up his day between work and sleep. Most of the men in his camp had taken to the district looking for their fun. Coriolanus wasn't invited out.

So he walked around the facility. Weaving through the large buildings and metrically kept gardens.

He was just about to head back to his apartment and settle himself down with documents awaiting approval when he heard quite yelling and whispers coming from the prison windows.

It was located at the far end, hidden between a tall brick wall and link fence.

He pressed himself to the wall.

"here! Here!" he could hear the quiet demands.

A traitor was interfering with Capital business. Coriolanus would make sure this rebel would met a fate worse than those imprisoned.

He peaks from behind wall not to see a ill fed man who dreams bigger than his station but a women overcome with compassion.

You're standing up on your tippy toes on the prison cell window. A basket over your elbow while your hand clung to the cell bars to keep you up. You were passing oat squares from your basket to blind hungry hands.

You had an air of vulnerability about you. A doe eyed looked that invited predators. Come eat me you seemed to cry. Coriolanus planned to do exactly that.

he walks over, trending lightly so he made no noise and picked you up by the waist, putting you down on the ground.

You stilled underneath his touch, frozen from fear. You slowly turned to see who's chest was touching your shoulder to see Coriolanus, the Commander of district 12.

You looked like Tigress had during the war. A quite braveness about you shun in your eyes. A willingness to do anything to protect those who you held dear.

Coriolanus had wanted to invite you back to his office where he would offer you a drink, and inquire about you.

But you had taken off before he could part his lips. Ran back to the broken linked corner of the fence and pulled your body along the ground and through the metal. You had dropped your basket at his feet and he kicked it as he ran.

He chased after you, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back towards him.

"Wait!" he implored. Something about you drew him to you.

It could have been his desire to protect Tigress all those years ago. Tigress had looked after him all his life and he had a large debt that he only started to pay back. Part of him held on to the disgust that he had failed her for so many years. You had the same loyalty as her, he could tell. Perhaps you could play a role in healing history.

Or perhaps it was your evident kindness that he wanted to trap like a butterfly. District life here was cold and lonely. He longed to be looked after like he was back home. He was a great and powerful man but with no one dotting on him he felt no better than a lowly peacekeeper. At least they had each other. Commander Snow had no one but his reflection to boast praise upon him.

Maybe it was a mixture of the two.

Your cry out as the sharp metal dug into you as he pulled you back through it. It was enough for him to release you. If you were hurt that's all you would be able to focus on. For all one knows, it might be all he would be able to focus on.

He stood up and watched you flee in the distance until not even a shadow of you could be seen. He committed your image to his memory, picked up your basket and walked to the entrance of the prison where the clueless peacekeepers standing guard greeted him.

He sent two to fix the hole in the fence, and demanded one other to bring him the prisoners facing the west wall one by one.

Hours of interrogation later and Coriolanus gave up hope that one of the prisoners actually knew you.

Some could describe you from what they saw but that was no good to him. He already burned you into his brain.

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Instead he issued mandatory vaccines. Sections were given time allotments to avoid overcrowding so he didn't miss you amongst the people and secondly so he knew which part of town you resided in.

It must have been the outer part as it was late afternoon of standing between each line for Coriolanus before he could finally see you in line. He had taken to eaten the rest of the oat bars in the basket after a nightfall of interrogation. Sat at his dinning room table in nothing but his underwear and devoured the small bars.

With acknowledgement that your resources were limited, they were quite good. Even after he was full he kept eating, hating the idea that anyone but him would taste or touch your cooking. You cooked with love he could taste it.

It reminded him of Tigress fried potato. She would always leave the best pieces for him. He imaged you both would be good friend's. Bonding over Coriolanus.

Despite his romanticizing of you last night, he didn't move, choosing to act as if he had forgotten you.

You had not forgotten him. You kept your head down, wore different clothes than yesterday and a scarf covered your hair.

You didn't really have much of a choice. peacekeepers were searching each house and surrounding areas to ensure all members were present. You also needed your vaccine booklet stamped. One missing stamp meant serious trouble.

He tried not to be obvious as he watched you get your vaccine. you moved quicker then the rest, rushing to the back as soon as your book was stamped.

He reached under one of the covered desks to retrieve your basket and followed pursuit.

He followed you as you moved through the people. Several peacekeepers had been instructed to help herd the women Coriolanus followed into a nearby ally way.

You attempted to turn right through the buildings but a Peacekeeper appeared out of thin air. You retracted froward but a looming peacekeeper at the gate squared his body to you.

You took of running to the right were another peacekeeper pushed his way through the crowd to you. You turned back to see Coriolanus walking through parted people. You see the ally and make way for it.

The plan had worked perfectly, and he nodded to the Peacekeeper still making his way through the crowd to say your work is done.

He sees you banging against the gate he had locked, trying to shove it open.

He fiddled with basket under his hand. Rubbing his thumb up and down the threaded wood as he made his way towards you.

You turn around to face him upon hearing his footsteps. You weren't sure if you were backed into a corner or if your body moved itself.

"You forget your basket yesterday" he held it out towards you but you didn't accept it.

"It ain't mine" you reply. You eyes don't even look at it. Keeping them on your shoes.

"So if i was to arrest you until the DNA testing came back on it you wouldn't mind?". He could feel your body tense.

"There ain't no rule that we can't feed em'".

A confession so quickly. Yet you still refuse to look at him.

"There is a rule about associating with rebels".

He steps closer, his shoulders lean forward almost over you.

'i was just feeding. Not associating".

Coriolanus sucks his teeth. He would feel almost disappointed having given the basket back. He would like to keep a piece of you.

"I could hang you for this, or..."

Your eyes flick to his. There was a lightness in them that you weren’t expecting.

“Or we could keep this to ourselves” he leans in close to whisper. You could feel his soft breath on your cheek, “our little secret”.

He swings the basket just outside of your hand. You reach for it but he swings it back.

“It would make us partners in crime” he warns.

He was playing. His eyebrows raised in a playful way and a slight smirk played on his lips.

You didn’t share in this playfulness. Too many of your friends had been killed by peacekeepers to find any of them amusing.

“What do you want from me?” you ask. Your eyes still at his. He saw the same fire for survival as his.

Coriolanus steps back from you allowing some distance.

“I want to help you” he swings the basket into your hand, “will you let me?”

You don’t answer. Just yank the basket away from him and turned to run out back from the ally. Taking the opportunity of him being back from you.

You turn as you wedge yourself back into the steam of people to see Coriolanus watching you as you as you try and disappear.

You knew it wouldn’t be the last time you saw the Commander.

You run home with a peacekeeper tailing you. Or at least when the basket of food appeared on your doorstep the next morning that's what you assumed.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tom blyth

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forwntrx · 10 months

Text

girls like girls (like boys do)

(reader x winter / reader x yunjin) smau series

you are the fifth member of aespa. one of the aces. loved by the public, the media, and even other idols. you were confident and assured in everything, except...your sexuality. you were so sure you were straight, just like a pin, until you met yunjin.

huh yunjin. a member of le sserafim. when she slips her number in your cookie at music bank, your whole life is thrown off balance. from that point on, she relentlessly tries to steal your heart, not knowing that winter was the one who set her eyes on it first. kim minjeong has loved you ever since she met you, but she was so sure that you could never see her that way. she lets go of her feelings and chooses to be your best friend instead. that is, until yunjin tries to make you hers. the three of you become locked in a triangle no one can escape. not without getting hurt that is.

- " i wanted her first. "

- " didn’t you ever hear second is the best, first is the worst? "

- " that’s not how that goes. "

STATUS - ongoing! not started yet but updates will come soon. my second smau so give me grace

TAGS - GAY GAY, 'unrequited' love (at first), fluff, pining, angsty a little bit i'm sorry, slow burn, slice of life, friends to enemies to friends to best friends to lovers (winter, most of this happens before but there will be flashbacks), strangers to lovers (yunjin), one bed trope hehe, fake dating, tipsy!yunjin, dorks in love, arguments, found family with aespa, !!! CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING !!!, think of it like a decision game where it branches out those two branches being either yunjin or winter

TAGS (PT2) - lesbian!winter, lesbian!yunjin, lesbian!reader, reader is clueless & indecisive, winter is bad with emotions and communication, she's trying her best, yunjin is the biggest flirt to ever exist, eventual winter and yunjin friendship (emphasis on the eventual), yunjin is annoying but in the best way possible, overthinker!yunjin, protective!winter, lots of fun guys

IDOLS FT. - yeonjun (txt), sunghoon (enha), jake (enha), aespa, le sserafim, yuqi (g-idle), tzuyu (twice) jihyo (twice), yeji (itzy), jeongin (skz), chaeryeong (itzy), other idol mentions most likely

CONTENT WARNING - sex jokes, alcohol, suggestive jokes, might have suggestive scenes nothing graphic and is sfw, too many pretty girls, swears, angst (sorry but only a little), very unserious sometimes, live a little, will update more later

TAGLIST - open! free! ready for whoever wants to be on it, just send me an ask

PROFILES ! — y/n's groupies | yunjin's haters | the idol club

I. FIRST ACT

music bank cookie

just me ()i-dle

canon event

room 312

exile

20 questions

oh okay

comfortable

so cute

on mine

is this your love affair?

i hate you

the jealous type

II. SECOND ACT

14. talk?

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softshuji · 4 months

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𝟒:𝟐𝟕𝐏𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Maybe, somewhere in another life.

Summary: Rindou and you believe you have forever to confess to each other, but on the eve of the Haitani's biggest fight, you realize time is slipping away and that things are about to change. Reblogs Appreciated!

Cw: fem!reader, tenjiku era Rindou, reader wears heels, dresses and makeup, semi-suggestive, pet names (princess, pretty thing), mutual pining, vague mentions of violence but that's it! Back to masterlist here.

Rindou has been fiddling with the ends of his hair for nearly 20 minutes now. The blue has faded a little, and he absent-mindedly makes a mental note to re-dye it when he can. Perhaps, he thinks, you might even help him this time. He’d like that.

He sees the light in your room flick off and then hears the jingle of keys as you leave and bound down the steps from your apartment complex.

Both of you are young and the summer of that year is swelteringly hot, the sky a sheet of deepest blue. You’re silly, innocent in ways neither of you quite know yet and you assume you have all the time in the world to figure things out, to figure each other out.

Rindou watches you fiddle with the strap of your heels, grinning sheepishly at him over the tall and overgrown hedge and he suppresses a small and hesitant smile when you practically skip over to him.

You jump, throwing your arms around him, your hair tickling his nose as he pulls you into the hug and his chest rumbles as he chuckles. His shirt is soft against your cheek, the ends of his blue and blond hair dancing on your skin. He smells of strawberries and clean linen, of a warm summer morning and endless possibility.

‘Miss me?’ You pull away and the sun’s stark rays hit your eyes at such an angle that the outline of his body is a glittering yellow.

‘You weren’t sick for that long,’ he replies deadpan, rolling his eyes, with the beginnings of a smile curling at his lips all the same.

‘It was two weeks!’

‘See? Not that long,’ he says, outright grinning when you pout and unwillingly his eyes shift to your lips, the bottom one pulled in by your teeth. It is not the first time he has thought about kissing you. Not the first time he’s thought about biting down on your lips, his hands moving along your sides, dipping his head till your nose brushes his and he feels your hot breath against his mouth.

‘So you didn’t miss me?’ You fold your arms over your chest in mock outrage. You have these little games between you, inside jokes and quirks, tiny moments that flit through your friendship and then fall between your fingers. It’s been that way for years between you, and the friendship has always felt easy and good, a cool breeze in the swarming heat, water in the desert.

‘I didn’t say that, did I Princess?’ And he is lucky, he thinks, that the warm heat of this particularly hot July, is a good cover for the red tickling his ears and cheeks, that it gives him an out for just how flustered he feels in your presence. Every time you lean in and he catches the faintest trace of your perfume still lingering on your skin and his vision swims just a little as the scent settles on his tongue.

You are both young and in love and neither of you know that yet either. You both wrongly think your feelings are one sided, unrequited, and yet this friendship of tentative smiles and secret glances, of days spent under the stars, is too precious for either of you to risk doing anything for.

The bike dips as you sit, your hands finding purchase on the smooth planes of his abdomen and you fail to catch the shuddering breath, the hiss that escapes his lips when your legs tense and your hands squeeze too hard around him. The muscles in his back shift and slide as he leans forward, revving the engine and then speeding off, the wind whipping your hair, blowing the hem of your dress up enough to expose your thighs. Despite that, despite the glare of the sun and the stickiness of the air, you hide your face in him all the same, relishing in the way his heartbeat thrums under your cheek, the slip of his muscles under his skin. You wish you could be even closer than this, that you could touch him, cradle his face, press your lips to the curve of his shoulder.

‘No need to hold on so hard Princess, you won’t fall off!’ He yells over the rush of the wind and the blare of car horns, increasing the speed when you squeal and bunch your hands into fists, grabbing his shirt between your fingers.

It’s a common pastime for the both of you, to ride around late into the night, the street lights turning the tarmac a coppery burnt orange, the air now refreshing and cool, the moon opalescent and shimmering white in a clear sky of stars. You go for hours, the silence punctuated only by the revving of the engine and the dangerously loud drumming of your heart.

The hot afternoon gives way to a rosy dusk and the sunlight bleeds into the horizon, a splash of red and orange. The clouds are pink, scattered, and the remaining light makes Rindou’s eyes flash lilac and pale violet when you look at him. And you’ve known him for so long that you don’t mind the way his eyes linger on you when you adjust the hem of your sundress because his gaze is warm when it falls on you. Warm, genuine and you know if you asked him to stop, he really would.

Perhaps this is all too much effort, too meticulous, too extreme for two people who call each other best friends but Rindou was the sort of person you felt it was right to make the effort for.

Those nights, days, months even, when he’d hit up a convenience store at midnight just because your voice on the phone was punctuated by barely repressed sobs. When the solitude and crushing weight became a little too much to bear and Rindou was always there, his voice sometimes laced with sleep, rubbing the grit from his eyes, just to see you again. He’d knock tentatively on your door, muttering a muted ‘Princess?’ before slipping in and curling against your body under the weight of the comforter. It had always just felt natural for him to slot against you, to breathe in the scent of your hair, wrapping his arms around you, tight enough to shatter the aches and pains, to will the hurt away.

Ran would call sometimes as the two of you were giving way to sleep, listening to the whir of the air conditioning unit and the thwack of branches against the wall outside.

‘Where are you?’ he’d say, and you would hear the jingle and clatter of keys through the receiver.

‘I’m with Y/N,’ Rindou would reply, his eyes closed and fluttering with the heavy weight of fatigue, lashes dark and long under the moonlight.

‘Right.’ Ran would smirk knowingly on the other side, undoing his braids with one hand and cupping the receiver to his ear. ‘Well, see you in the morning then. Have fun!’ And Rindou would groan and dash the phone onto the bedside table as he descended into sleep.

He parks beside your house again, the bike hidden by a tall cherry blossom tree, whose branches are dotted with rosy pink petals and extends a hand to help you off the back. His shirt is clinging to him, the sweat not just from the hot and sticky summer air but from the tight coil of nerves winding around his ribcage, a consequence maybe of being near you.

He holds your hand in his as you lead him to the entrance of your house, his thumb painstakingly brushing over every knuckle, so gently, so tentatively, as if you are a porcelain doll he’s afraid to crack. You glance down and the silver sliver of scars on his palms, his knuckles and arms, catch the light of the sun dipping on the horizon.

From here, the skyline is a shimmering line of lights winking at you, and the streetlight just beyond your house splutters to life.

‘Thanks for today Rin,’ you say and turn to face him, your eyes level and his hand still in yours. You glance left and then right, your ears alert and trained for the hum of your parents approaching car. But you’re safe for now.

A hesitant smile pulls at his lips and he looks down, kicks absent-mindedly at the lush grass beneath him.

‘Do I get anything?’ he says and lifts his head to flash you a cheeky grin.

‘For what?’

‘For today obviously and for bodyguarding you every day.’ He raises an eyebrow and smiles outright, the sun filtering through the blond strands of his wispy hair. He shimmers gold again and the sun, in all its glory, dances on his skin.

‘Last time I checked I didn’t ask you to.’ You roll your eyes and your nose crinkles as your gaze softens. That’s the point though isn’t it? You didn’t ask him to and he did it anyway. Just like you didn’t ask him to buy the expensive necklace on your birthday that had your initials in gold or open the honey jars when you were sick, or carry you sleeping on his back, resting your head in the curve of his neck. All of these, he just did, because he is so irrevocably him, so full of contradictions and complexities and strange wonders. Your Rindou, always yours.

He steps closer and you see the smooth column of his throat lift up and down as he swallows the lump there.It’s now or never Haitani, he thinks. Come on, you’ve been in gang fights, and you’re afraid of a kiss?

He hears Ran in his head, feels his Brother pushing him gently as he sucks in his bottom lip, his stomach tight with nerves, and he’s so anxious he thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t just do it.

‘Rin?’ Your eyebrows crease when you can’t read the emotions on his face, the way he looks terrified and yet breathtakingly beautiful, the way his pupils shift and dilate and his lips part as if he’s going to say something. ‘Are you okay?’

Faintly, in the distance, rising over the city skyline, the night’s first star winks at you, a coruscating silver. Venus, the morning and evening star, that shines so brightly that it is the first to appear and the last to leave at dawn.

His eyes fall to your lips, tantalisingly close, and he knows all he has to do is bridge the distance, tilt his head and let it happen, that you probably taste of cherries and promises, of summer nights and new beginnings. God he shouldn’t want it this much. But he can’t help it. He can’t help that you’re pretty, kind, that he wants his name on your rib cage and his tongue to explore your mouth, that he wants to spend hours with his hands on your body.

‘Y-Yeah,’ he says, and as you hear the drone of a familiar car, the moment passes and Rindou curses himself for what must be the umpteenth time today for not being braver and just taking the plunge.

‘Well.’ You rock on your heels and flash him an earnest smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Same time?’

He nods and his chest deflates with disappointment, resentment at himself and at the bubble of longing that threatens to break him every time he’s near you.

You wave over your shoulder, blowing a kiss at him as you slip into your house and Rindou shoves his hands into his pocket, kicking at the grass as he turns towards the direction of home, seething with anger at himself.

Both of you are young and you think there is plenty of opportunity, that you know the future, that everything, despite the scruples of life, can stay the same, that you have plenty of time to fall in love.

You are wrong.

The next day, you bound from your front door, looking left and right as you usually do, before crossing to the hedge that separates your house from the cherry tree outside.

You’re early, and so you don’t expect him to be there just yet. You pop your head around, look down the lane, the summer heat scorching the back of your neck, half expecting to see the flash of blue and blond hair rapidly approaching you but to your dismay, there is nothing but the smell of burning tarmac and the heat.

You wait. And the hours drain by. Lunchtime to afternoon, afternoon to sunset, and there is a funny feeling in your chest that can only come with the anxiety of having had all your calls to his phone go straight to voicemail.

You try Ran and are confronted by the beep beep of the automated voice telling you ‘the number you have called is not available.’

Something in you deflates, even more so the next day when Rindou fails to show up, the spot by the cherry tree just as vacant as it was before. You wipe your sweaty palms on the hem of your sundress when you knock tentatively on their door, hoping that at some point, either of them will crack it open and you’ll be greeted by Rindou’s fuzzy bedhead, hearing him mutter under his breath as he searches for his glasses.

But again, the sun settles on the horizon and the moon climbs high into the sky. Like that, the days pilfer on by, and no amount of asking around brings you any closer to finding the truth. Your heart cleaves every night, and when you look at the moon, you wonder if he’s doing the same, if wherever he is, he’s safe and perhaps happy, that maybe he simply just didn’t want to know anymore. It hurts, and the pain brings a fresh tundra of tears but you could live with that, you think. The thought that maybe he just moved on, because it was a safer alternative to what your heart told you, that perhaps messing around in gangs had finally caught up with him. Your tears blur your vision when you think about the concept of a world without him, without the promise of kissing him, of feeling him curve against your spine on the cold nights.

And like that, a year comes and goes. Then two. Then ten.

And as much as you want to spend forever thinking about him, trawling through the country, overturning every single crevice to find him, you know life goes on, and it won’t wait for you to finally accept what in your heart you know to be true, before it thrusts you back into the fold.

You graduate, you have a few boyfriends and girlfriends, you move out, and it seems like for a time, you are content. Perhaps not happy, but content, and at this point, you’ll take what you can get. An apartment in a high rise, a stable job that pays semi-decently, friends you see occasionally for coffee.

And the loneliness of a lifetime. Because no matter what you gain, the gaping hole of the loss never heals, and sometimes he is there in every blue sky, and every shimmering star, every appearance of the moon.

You think about him often still, at least once every day, and always with a soft spike of sadness in your heart. Your best friend, your moon and stars. The smile previously on your lips drops again as you trudge through the snow and you’re not sure why today of all days you feel like crying for him, why your heart aches with such longing to feel the smooth planes of his stomach under your hands, to tuck his hair behind his ear, to kiss his wrist and watch the blush faintly colour his cheeks.

‘God, get over it,’ you mutter to yourself, wiping your nose with a sodden tissue now softly mildewed by the cold air. You sniffle, suppressing the sob, opting to wipe your eyes with your gloved hands, your feet slogging through the thick layer of snow and it feels like you’re pulling the weight of the world with you as you do.

You slip, your feet tumbling out from underneath you. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to hit the hardened snow face first, throwing your hands out to break the fall.

Which never comes.

‘You need to be careful.’ A hand around your wrist, the other lifting you by the elbow, strong and firm, the warmth of it seeping through your coat. ‘You could have gotten seriously hurt.’

The shock of losing your footing has your head disorientated and your eyes are wild as you struggle to regain your footing again, the streetlight casting a pale orange glow on your panicked silhouette. You grasp onto the hand and right yourself, blowing hair from your eyes, partly ashamed for having fallen in the first place and partly embarrassed at having done it whilst crying.

‘Thank you,’ you say and stand, dusting off the delicate flakes of snow from the hem of your coat. ‘I’m a little clumsy, I’m sorry.’

‘It happens.’

You look up.

Into a pair of lilac eyes flashing with hues of violet, irises outlined in gold from the reflection of the streetlight.

At first, he only stares, his brow creasing as he rifles through the memories of the last ten years and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head, the shift and slide of the film of memories playing.

‘Y/N?’ he says, his breath a cold plume, wavering and uncertain, the mist curling from his pink lips.

You think your chest might explode, and it takes a starved and choked breath for your vision to stop swimming enough to formulate a response.

You shake your head. ‘You’re not him. You can’t be.’ You take a step back, feel the snow crunching under your boot, your back brushing against the lamppost and you glance at the your shadows lengthened along the ground. Your heart climbs up your throat, threatens to push its way out of your mouth and the sensation is dizzying. Your head spins, a pulsing pain that creeps up your temple.

This is a sick joke. Not even you could have come up with this.

‘Rin?’ Your lip wobbles and you realize absent-mindedly, he still has your wrist in his grip, his eyebrows furrowed as he searches your face for some element of recognition. You’re still not sure it’s him, it really truly can’t be can it? He’s gone, he left, he died and you suffered and mourned him for years. You screamed at the wall and left yourself to rot, wishing you could join him in death. You deliberately kept the news out of your life because you couldn’t let it confirm what you already felt to be true.

‘Y/N….’ Not a question this time. His lips part and his eyes widen when the weight of the truth crashes down on him.

‘Y/N,’ he says again, as if tasting your name for the first time in eleven years and oh how you’ve missed it, the way your name sounds on his tongue. Like sugared lemons and starlight.

‘You…’ And your tongue is a rock inside your mouth, slack, heavy and unmoving. ‘You changed your hair…’

He laughs, albeit hesitantly, his grip on your wrist softening. He takes a step forward and as he moves into the light, you catch the vague shape of a tattoo on the smooth column of his throat.

‘Yeah,’ he says and rubs the nape of his neck, the pink and purple strands of the wolfish mullet he’s sporting lifting slightly with the sharp breeze. ‘I had to change things up a little.’

You bite your lip and tentatively step forward, lifting your hand to touch him, to feel the realness of him under your fingers. You tentatively brush the hair from his forehead, tracing the high cut of his cheekbones, his full lips, your thumb skimming the tattoo at the base of his throat. Anything to feel the realness of him, to feel the warm blood pulsing under his skin.

He flinches. You wonder at what manner of horrors he has seen, what he could not tell you that he suffered.

The question on the tip of your tongue is a boulder, and as much as you want to ask, you’re still afraid of the answer. Would it hurt more to know or not know? Would it change anything?

You swallow thickly. ‘What happened Rin?’ Where did you go? Why did you leave?

He looks down, kicks the snow at his feet, and the action has your chest tightening with nostalgia. In your mind you see the grass, the cherry blossom tree long since cut down, the house and the hedge you tried to hide behind.

‘The day after,’ he says. ‘I was arrested. Both me and Ran. When I came out, things had changed.’

‘How?’

‘I couldn’t involve you anymore.’

The gravity of it descends on you and you want to argue, to say it wasn’t his choice to make, to say that he owed you an explanation when he was released. But in your heart, you know it makes sense, and perhaps that sort of understanding can only come from two people who’ve known each other like you have because you know you’d have done the same. Sometimes one must be cruel to be kind.

‘I waited…’ You don’t mean for it to sound so needy and desperate, for the tendrils of heartbreak that have built up over the years to leak into your voice, but they do and your eyes well with unshed tears. ‘I waited for so long, Rin. I thought you’d died.’

His life had never been a secret to you. You’d known what he was involved in, the gangs, the violence, the multitudes of criminal activity that was only spoken about in hushed whispers. You’d stayed anyway, because a dangerous life with him was better than a safe one without.

‘I’m sorry…’ he says and he knows the words have no weight, that they can’t begin to undo the years of pain he’s put you through, the longing, the yearning, the nights he couldn’t be there when you’d needed him. Maybe he says it just as much for you as he does for himself, for what he denied himself, for pushing down his ache to have you, to love you.

‘Oi! Can you hurry up?! Mikey’s going to have my ass if we’re late!’ A man with pink hair shouts in your direction, leaning on the open car door, his scarred mouth curved in a grin.

Rindou turns back towards you, his parted lips trembling with cold, his jacket doing very little to protect him from the sharp winter chill. He is still as graceful as ever, still a star you can only graze with the tips of your fingers.

‘Y/N I- I have to go,’ he says and the words cut through the both of you. There is so much you have yet to say, so much pain you have yet to voice. Despite this however, despite the heartbreak of the ten years, you know you’ve already forgiven him, that you’d done so the minute he left and would have done no matter the circumstances. You love him, he loves you and although it isn’t enough, that this is a case of the right person at the wrong time, you know the outcome on your part would be the same. You’d wait a thousand years if he asked you to.

‘Wait-’ You grab his sleeve with your trembling fingers, ‘Don’t…’

‘I have to.’

Can we go back to the way things were? You want to ask. Can we ever be like that again?

‘I only mean,’ you say, casting your gaze to the sky, as if searching for the words in the stars. ‘Don’t be a stranger yeah? Come say hi, when you get a chance. Please.’

Yes you are desperate, the both of you are, and it would be so easy to grab onto that red string of fate and let it pull you along to each other, as it has always done. But you know in your heart, that some things are changed forever, that there is no more trailing after him, no more of him borrowing your light like the moon does to the sun.

Your heart splinters when he gives you a shaky smile and you have a visceral urge to kiss the corner of his mouth, to ghost your lips over his neck, your warm breath on his collarbones. Just like before, the moment passes and the moon passes behind a cloud again, cloaking you in semi-darkness.

‘Of course. I’ll always be your bodyguard won’t I?’ he says, grinning outright now, the edges of his smile tinged with barely concealed sorrow. A thrum of watery pain lances through your heart.

‘Yeah…You will.’ A tear slips, sprints down your cold cheek and disappears into the fabric of your scarf.

He turns, walking back to the car, looking over his shoulder at you still under the streetlight, watching him with your scarf between your fingers, small and fragile and as big a crybaby as ever and he thinks that this is the moment his heart breaks, when he leaves you for a second time. He lifts a hand to wave, uncertain, cautious and meticulous as he’s always been.

He could go back, he could run towards you like before, and you’d barrel straight into his arms and he’d pick you up with ease, twirl you around and slot his lips against yours like he should have done.

Even as he thinks this, he knows how unrealistic it is to drum up the stuff of daydreams, that even if he does stay in touch, the past is a dead body long buried. The life he leads now is even more dangerous than before.

He slips into the car.

‘Ready?’ The pink one asks from the driver’s seat.

‘Yeah,’ Rindou says and casts a final glance at you, still standing there, waiting as you always have and the guilt churning in his stomach is a parasitic worm.

‘Who was that girl?’

Rindou narrows his eyes at the pink one through the rear-view mirror. ‘Why?’

‘She’s a pretty thing isn’t she?’

‘Don’t even think about it, I’ll rip your throat out.’

Sanzu snickers and raises his hands in mock surrender. ‘Why not? Could show her a thing or two.’

‘Are you begging to die or something?’ Rindou bites his cheek and resists the urge to look back again.

You watch the car speed off, see the purple mullet through the back window, and you wonder if this is what heartbreak really feels like, to have him and then not.

Perhaps in another life, you might have got it right, might have been able to have what others took for granted.

At some point, the moon moves from behind the clouds and the snow is pearly white under its light, flakes gathering on the hem of your coat, your collar, your lips. It lights the way as you traverse home, ice and snow and sleet crunching under your feet. The moon and stars, the only witnesses to your shared pain, as they always have been.

a/n: I have no explanation for the tragedy of this on halrin anniversary, please accept my deepest apologies !!!!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @deskaisers @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub

Let me know if you would like to be added!

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #haitani rindou #rindou x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader

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loveindefinitely · 5 months

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments.

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself.

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath.

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet.

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him.

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses.

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin�� hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team.

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men.

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

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tarotwithlove · 5 months

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PICK A CARD ⋆ 2024 Predictions!

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · BOOK A 2024 YEAR AHEAD READING WITH ME (GENERAL OR NSFW) · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

• reprieve from financial struggles. sudden positive turnaround or breakthrough in avenues you are, and have been, actively pursuing. modelling is significant, think also modelling clay.

• ‘california love’ by 2pac + 2 of cups. finding your soulmate… in another person or in a passion.

• doing things you wanted to do as a child or teen - wearing bolder colours or a specific style, getting a specific tattoo, starting a specific hobby, pursuing a specific career path.

• ‘this year was a movie’. barely having time to catch your breath with how things are changing . acting/directing breakthrough for some.

• getting your first camera for some, first luxury bag for others.

• beachside apartment.

• be careful of oversharing; of sharing plans, hopes, and dreams, before things are finalised. you may win the lottery this year, remember to protect your information as much as possible. be wise with your energy AND your money.

• start saving and investing.

• ‘the truth fool: be honest’. be honest with yourself most of all this year. if you can’t be honest with yourself about your dreams, goals, desires, regrets, and mistakes, who can you be honest with?

GROUP TWO

• highs and lows in mental health. trial and error with finding treatment or meds that agree with you. finally getting a proper diagnosis and help around june/july.

• finding out you’re cancer free or celebrating another year being cancer free. may be someone you’re close with, too. ringing the bell with a loved one. a clothing boutique, for some.

• adopting a stray ginger cat - especially if you don’t consider yourself a cat person.

• working at or opening your own animal shelter.

• ‘peach’ by the front bottoms. unrequited love. confessing to someone and being led on or being rejected; for some, realising the person you’re seeing is using you as a distraction or to get over the person they actually have feelings for.

• letting go of limitation with the way you live your life. being more adventurous. going skydiving, scuba diving, sperlunking, or deciding to become a nomad and travel while volunteering.

• this is your year of fateful connections, with things working out for you in unimaginable ways. you may meet a future business partner at a coffee shop or a high-paying client at the gym or at a hardware/crafts store.

• ‘the empty fool’. this is an oracle card of unlimited potential. the guidebook says: “the empty fool invites you into nothingness for a change. he carries no message and has no meaning. he’s simply here to remind you that your life is your own, and only you can create it. but before you manifest the things you desire, you must let go of all previous things.” you can achieve so much this year - if you don’t stand in your own way. even when things seem difficult, do not give up. your persistence will sow your rewards.

GROUP THREE

• suddenly coming into a large amount of money or into an abundance of opportunities - you have the choice to share this new wealth with others or to use it to found a brand new life for yourself.

• ‘say something’ by a great big world & christina aguilera. entering your first romantic relationship, having to heal wounds about love and self-worth you thought you had already healed. experiencing your first breakup.

• leaving behind your family or people who rely on you. moving to another city or country.

• nine of pentacles + the lovers. new job opportunities offering you the chance to have your own space and independence for the first time. new apartment.

• major theme of this year: choice. having to choose between yourself and your family; between yourself and your friends; between yourself and your lover. especially between your career/desired career and others.

• “do what feels right”. follow your heart.

• your intuition levelling up. seeing improvements in your finances thanks to a tarot, astrology, divination business or social media accounts.

• ‘habit’ by sekai no owari.

• learning to play an instrument.

• ‘the fool’s tax: live and learn’. facing the consequences of making the wrong choices time and time again, of following the wrong path, of fighting against destiny. you may feel things are not working out in your favour this year, no matter how hard you try or how much faith you have. it may be time to change tactics or to change paths entirely.

GROUP FOUR

• allowing yourself to be more free in all aspects of your life – especially sexually, for some. you may have had a bad breakup in the last year or two, which has made you generally hesitant to date again or enter another relationship, but this year sees you taking positive steps to turn your love life around.

• ‘get up 10’ by cardi b. standing on business. being able to look back at this year proudly, proud of yourself and what you experienced and achieved.

• getting cosmetic surgery or transforming yourself with skincare, diet, and gym - being able to look at yourself in the mirror and liking what you see.

• writing a love song or romance novel. going viral/blowing up/sales increasing because of social media word of mouth. think of what happened to ‘this is how you lose the time war.’

• spending time in nature. going camping and hiking, getting your dream job working in a game reserve, national park, or otherwise with the environment.

• welcoming your second child, for some. having twins. teaching your child/children about your job; one of them telling you they want to follow in your footsteps and do what you do and, thus, taking steps to make sure this is possible.

• saving for higher education.

• making the best of difficult situations. giving a sick pet all the love and care you possibly can and making sure their last moments are peaceful ones.

• ‘the faith fool: have faith’. things are working out in your favour, even when they don’t feel like it. don’t forget that.

451 notes · View notes

hughesyodaddy43 · 29 days

Text

Just maybe ⎸ N.H

Pairings: Nico Hischier x reader genre: friends to lovers Warnings: swearing, fluff synopsis: when a hopeless romantic doesn't pick up on hints. word count: 2.3k authors note: first Nico fic! i hope you like it. Requests are open. missing the devils rn :(

Nico, Nico, Nico was all your mind would wander to, from late nights to early mornings your mind was crowded with the thought of him.

From every text to every lingering touch your heart ached for him.

Him.

The captain of the New Jersey devils.

Him.

The Swiss man who lives across the hall from you.

Him and his cute accent.

Him and the way his eyes light up when he smiles.

Him. Nico Hischier.

This was never new to you, love that is or more so how easily you love. Ever since you were young your mind and body was plagued by the thought of romance. You knew you were a hopeless romantic, how could you not be? Growing up you craved having love like in the movies. Was this the reason for your many heartbreaks? yes .

After every heartbreak your craving for love grew stronger, wanting to be held and kissed and loved just like you do, being cared for the way you care for others.

Unfortunately as of right now the only romantic tropes that had come to life for you was unrequited love. Living in the shadows of someone else's love and loss.

Nico knew about your love for romance movies, he knew you so well and it hurt you knowing that he would never love you the same way you love him. But your mind couldn't help but wonder, just maybe. What if he liked you back?

Just maybe did the tighter squeeze of his hugs mean something? could the way he plays your favourite songs whenever he is driving you somewhere be a sign? Could the way he holds your hand when moving through large crowds be a hint to something more? Or is it when he always sends you a good morning text when he wakes up?

Perhaps, just maybe did he love you back?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw your phone screen light up on your kitchen bench. You place down your warm cup of coffee and reach to read whatever it was that lit your phone up bright. A sigh left your lips when you read the notification, revealing that it wasn't from Nico. you were so far gone, the thought of replying to other people sometimes felt daunting or annoying but replying to nico felt light and effortless. Like you could talk to him for ever and ever without running out of things to say or feeling uncomfy.

Instead the notification was from tinder, your pathetic attempt at getting over the hockey player was to surround yourself with other equally attractive men.

However that was not the case, whatever dates you'd go on you couldn't keep your mind away from Nico. no man in your eyes was as good as him. The thought of anyone else felt foreign whereas Nico felt warm and homey.

Most of the dates you went on were unfavourable and rather unpleasant. You never were one for quick hookups due to your very annoying habit of catching feelings so fucking your way out of this slump was not an option for you, despite your girlfriends suggesting so.

You pull yourself back out of your trance when you receive a text message from your best friend, Stacie - regarding your plans for breakfast this morning. You pause for a second, reading the time that displays in the top corner of your phone, answering swiftly to confirm your whereabouts and ETA.

You turn your speaker on and press shuffle on your playlist, attempting to drown your thoughts as you get ready for the day.

You finish up your makeup and manoeuvre your way back around to the front door, grabbing your bag and filling it with whatever junk you may possibly need incase of a very uncommon emergency.

You walk out into the hallway, locking your door tightly. You turn around and are met with big brown eyes you have grown very familiar with. He sends you a warming smile, in turn making your lips curl into an unintentional smile. Your cheeks burn up as you step forward towards the tall swiss hockey player, meeting him on the other side of the hallway.

“Hey!” you speak, hoping to disguise your excitement.

“Hello” nico respondes, tucking his keys into his pocket. “Where are you off to?” he adds, shifting his weight from his foot to the wall, leaning against it.

“Gonna go meet stacie at the cafe down the street for breakfast, you?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, still smiling embarrassingly wide. “Morning practice, which i was gonna ask if you were coming to the game tonight?” he asks, smiling slightly, causing his dimples to appear.

His eyes god his eyes, sparkling under the light, staring deeply into your own.

“Of course I am! Wouldn't miss it, especially when I get special treatment from the captain.” you say, lightly punching his arm. Nico laughs, redirecting himself to stand up straight, “anything for you” he answers with a wink, turning his body towards the elevator. You stand there for a second, trying to stop yourself from turning completely red.

Nico waits for you to walk with him towards the elevator, the two of you slipping comfortably into a natural conversation.

You make it to the front of the apartment building, ending the intriguing conversation about playoff hockey and whatnot.

“Do you need a quick ride? I don't mind driving you?” Nico asks, stepping towards you.

“Nah, I'll be okay to walk. Thank you tho” you reply.

Nico nods and goes in for a hug only to be turned down by you rejecting the advance to turn it into a simple fist bump, cringing at yourself for the gesture. Nico looked a bit stunned at the rejection but shakes it off with a light chuckle, returning the fist bump.

“I'll see you at the game, Schatzi” Nico says, turning to walk towards the car park. You stand there for a second, running your hand through your hair “what the fuck was that? A fist bump??” you mutter under your breath before being interrupted by your phone ringing

“Hello?”

“Hurry up.” the phone call abruptly ends, putting two and two together you register that the unknown caller was stacie asking you to get your ass to the cafe.

You walk down the street,enjoying the sun that has peeked out through the clouds. You admire the atmosphere that surrounds the sidewalk, passing your way through the crowds and delicate shops placed around the streets.

Unfortunately for you all you could think about was Nico and his stupid cute dimples and his stupid fluffy hair and his stupid big brown eyes.

You find your way to the cafe, meeting Stacie at the outdoor seats.

“Finally you show up, I thought you died” Stacie says, standing up to hug you, her long Auburn hair tied half up, neatly falling just away from her face.

“Got caught up, sorry” you apologies, sitting down across from the girl. “From mr dimples i hope” she teases, sipping her pre- ordered latte with a smirk. I roll my eyes away from her, snickering. “Oh my god, it was him wasn't it?” her big eyes widened at the realisation. You don’t reply, simply smiling to yourself, playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Well you can tell me when your drink gets here, i got you a mocha since you were too late to order for yourself” Stacie chides. “Thanks Stac, you're too kind” you joke.

Your drink comes and the two of you order your food. Stacie looks at you with a playful smile, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands “so..what did you two talk about?” she chimes. “Just..hockey or whatever” you shrug. “Mhm” her lips curl into a smirk “you should just tell him you like him” “what?no no i can't, we are just friends.” i defend.

If almost pre planned your phone vibrates on the table, revealing a very suggestive message from Nico

Nico: can’t wait to see you tonight ;)

“What was that?” stacie questions, raising her eyebrow “can't wait to see you tonight? Hmm seems a little too friendly if you ask me” she mocks “its nothing, i'm going to his game tonight.” you beat off.

“Listen, you've loved him pretty much since you've met him, call him a friend or whatever but I know how friends act and trust me, he likes you for sure. I mean you've been on so many dates with other guys to get over him and how many of them have actually been successful?” she monologues, pausing to take a bite of her fresh banana bread.

“Trust me, he doesn’t think about me like that” you tally. “Well I'm just saying , you only live once and if you can't get over him then you might as well confess to him. At least if he rejects you then you can get closure and move on'' she states, once again leaving you speechless for a few seconds. She starts up once again after reading your worn expression.

“I've seen the way he looks at you yk?” your eyes meet hers “how does he look at me?” you question, confusing, staying evident in your expression. “Like he never wants to look away” she reveals. Once again sipping on her drink.

“Hmmm I mean i've never seen anyone else around his place, and when we go out he doesn't really talk to any other girls.” you recall “ exactly, just give it a go. It's not like the world will end.” she finishes before swiftly changing the subject to one of her new boy toys of the month.

‘The world won't end’ you suppose the world won't end in the literal sense but what if he stops talking then it might as well end. It's dramatic but your whole day revolves around even the smallest thought of nico.. What are you even supposed to think about otherwise?

surely just maybe he might like you, granted that everything stacie says is true, perhaps you should take your shot sooner than later.

Your heart beats steadily as you arrange your hair in half up pigtails, wrapping the hair tie with red and white ribbon. You unfortunately didn't have a jersey for this game so instead you decided to sport a white tank top with a red sweater in support of the devils.

Once again your mind grows to Nico, the excitement of seeing him runs through your veins. You were never nervous or anxious to be around nico, if anything you felt safer and warmer around him, that is except now. The weight of what sense Stacie knocked into you really stuck in your mind. You couldn't help but wonder if you should confess and if it's even a good decision.

Your worries are cut short when you look at the time and quickly make your way to the front door, checking yourself out in the mirror one last time before slipping your shoes on and making your way to the prudential centre.

You walk into the arena, finding your seat comfortably in the stands, watching the warmups. Nico had asked you to meet him before the game. He said that he wanted to see you. After warmups you make your way to the hallway that leads out onto the ice, waiting patiently for nico to come see you.

He makes his way towards you, standing directly in front of you. He stands there, waiting for you to snap out of whatever trance your mind has put you in. your fiddling with your fingers, staring at your shoes, picking at your nails lightly.

“You shouldn't pick at your nails” Nico says, reaching out to hold your hand. His voice pulls you out and startles you, you jump and flinch your hands away from him.

“Woah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.” he apologises, eyes filled with remorse as he looks down at you. “No it's okay, just didn't realise you were there” you console, letting him reach for your hands once again, this time not flinching back. It's at this point that the other teammates are making their way back out to start the game. “When is the game gonna start?” you ask

“in a few minutes” he replies “just wanted to see you before it started” he adds, leaving you, standing there without a word “hey, what's going on inside that pretty head of yours?” he asks, bending down to read your face, his voice is calm and steady.

A sudden surge of confidence overwhelms you.

Fuck it.

You lean upwards, moving your body closer to his to attach your lips onto his. He is taken by surprise but it's not long before he shakes his glove off of his hand and reaches out to take hold of the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper.

You pull yourself away with a sharp inhale of air, nico face falling in a frown as you pull away.

“I like you.” you confess.

Nico stares at you, lips curling into a smile, his dimples becoming defined upon his cheeks.

“Yeah, I noticed.” he says, lowering his head back down to kiss your cheek.

Nico simply winks and jogs away towards the ice, looking back with a wide smile and blushed cheeks. The loud hollers and chirps are heard from the other devils players as they disappear through the doorway and onto the ice.

You make your way back to the stands, sitting down and watching the boys skate around , Nico playing perfectly as always. With best efforts, the game ends in a tight win, in favour of the devils. The crowd makes their way out of the arena and you're met with one more message from nico.

Nico: Meet me in the parking lot after the game, my car is parked around the corner. I'd like to take you to dinner if you're up for it?

Your face lights up, a smile breaking out, you bite your lip as you answer a yes, making your way towards his car.

Maybe.

Just maybe…

He does love you back.

#nico hischier #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nico hischer x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils #friends to lovers

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epicbuddieficrecs · 2 months

Text

Weekly Recap | March 18th-24th 2024

It's a long one today folks! I hope you enjoy! :) If you know anyone who's not tagged, don't hesitate to let me know!

idk 'bout you but I can't wait for the final part of the premiere on Thursday!!! 😃

Complete

anything that is beautiful, people want to break. by dylaesthetics (Post-Coma, Trans Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck has never meant to keep it a secret from the one-eighteen. Hell, he trusts them with much more gritty, uncomfortable stuff than that. It’s more like… It hasn’t come up. There’s been no reason for it to come up. But then he gets struck by lightning and the mix-up with his medical records happens. A nurse he hasn’t seen yet barges into Buck’s hospital room, with his entire family in it, blood and found alike, and stares at him for one dumbfounded moment before blurting out a name he hasn’t been addressed by in well over eight years.

not flesh and blood but the heart by Jinko / @jinkohhh (Post-S6, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Five times people assumed Chris was Buck's son + one time Eddie confirmed it.

🔥 don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (S7 Spec, Bachelor Party, Pretend Relationship | 14K | Teen): or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

A Little Bit of the Bubbly by Jinko/ @jinkohhh (Post-S6, PWP, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Since turning 30, Buck's relationship with champagne has changed. It also manages to change his relationship with Eddie.

washed away (but not) by Jinko / @jinkohhh (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): “Well, this is awkward.” Every part of Buck wanted to tell Chim to go fuck himself, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Nothing made a situation more awkward than pointing out the awkwardness of it. “So which one of you two made the deathbed love confession?” Ravi laughed, and frankly, Ravi could go fuck himself, too. The both of them could go fuck themselves because both Chimney and Ravi were correct.

i like the way you scratch my itch by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (BTHB: Hives | 3K | Teen): Buck’s big blue eyes sparkle. “You’re so cute, did you know that?” he asks, leaning close enough Eddie can count the small red-brown-orange freckles all across his nose. “Even when you’re red from poison ivy.” Red. Red from the poison ivy. Yeah, yep, that’s exactly what he’s so red for. Absolutely.

meet you in the middle. by dylaesthetics (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): OR buck and eddie get their shit together during a regular friday movie night at the diaz house.

🔥 Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit): Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Mythological AU, BDSM | 80K | Explicit): When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

and check out the amazing podfic!! 🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314

hold tight, you’re slowly coming back to life by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

Touch Me and I'll Scream by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Unhealthy Coping Mecanisms, Established Buddie | 5K | Mature): At his low, Buck uses rough sex as a way of self harm.

in another life by bellabrady (Coma AU | 2K | Not Rated): Or: Buck's in a coma and dreams of a life where Daniel never died and he never became a firefighter.

Locations by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Vomiting, Drowning | 4K | General): In which Buck drowns.

I was born to take care of you by Beulaugh/ @if-music-be-the-food-of-love (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Buck has a revelation at work and then promptly falls on his face. Eddie Diaz's ass: 1, Evan Buckley: 0

hold the silence. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6 | 3K | Teen): OR while looking for clothes to donate, Buck stumbles upon the shirt he was wearing when Eddie got shot.

Tomorrow we can drive around this town by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (S7 Spec, Drunk Eddie | 4K | Mature): If Eddie had been sober, he would have realized it wasn't something to be happy about. But drunk as he was, it had the blood singing in his veins, because Buck was going home with him, not Tommy. Tommy could go fuck himself – or you know, anyone else who was willing, but not Evan Buckley. Because Eddie was a pathetic, sloppy drunk and his best friend had a responsibility to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or drown himself in the bathroom sink.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz/ @tizniz (S7 Spec, Cruise Ship Emergency | 14K | General): God, he hopes Buck got out. That he isn’t trying to get to Eddie. That he gets to go home. And not just because Christopher needs him, although he does since Eddie is fairly certain he’s not making it home this time. He doesn’t let himself dwell too long on that thought. No, Eddie wants Buck to go home because he deserves it. Because Buck deserves to live. Because Eddie needs him to live.

you've got game by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (S7E01 Coda, Established Buddie | 1K | General): a silly little late night conversation about chris being a 'ladies man'

take this life and make it yours (take this heart and let it love again) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 31K | Mature): Before he could second guess it, he’d dialled Eddie’s number and listened to it ring in his ear. As soon as he heard the click of the connection, he said, “Eddie, what the hell, man?” “I meant what I said. I don’t know who you think you are, but call this number again and I will contact the police.” . . . or, the one where Buck finally figures out he's in love with Eddie, only for things to not go as planned. At first.

if i bleed, you'll be the last to know by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (S7, Hurt Buck | 6K | Teen): buck gets stabbed while out on a run and then... doesn't tell anyone about it. eddie loses his shit when he finds out, they have a moment in the kitchen and they kiss.... not necessarily in that order.

Baby, take me by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): “Same thing,” Eddie nuzzled him, stubble scratching even more as he moved his face. When he stopped nuzzling, he pulled back far enough that he could see Buck’s face. “I said stop thinking.” “Kinda hard to turn my brain off.” “Pretty sure I turned it off just fine last night,” Eddie said with a smirk that went straight to Buck’s cock, already half hard just from the way Eddie’s stubble is dragging across his skin. “Is that how I get you to stop thinking?”

when you call me yours by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Established Buddie, Proposal | 5K | General): Buck starts calling Eddie his husband. Only problem...they're not engaged. aka the 5 times Buck refers to Eddie as his husband and the 1 time Eddie makes it true.

just lay back in my arms for one more night by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (Established Buddie, Fluff | 2K | Teen): Buck loves Eddie as he naps.

Brat Burrito by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 1K | General): Just a cute Buddie moment about breakfast burritos.

it's a sliding into home kind of day by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie’s eyes still don’t leave the television. Frowning to himself, Buck cranes his neck to get a look at what could possibly be more important than him coming home after covering a tragically Eddie-less shift. A baseball game evidently is the answer.

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (New Years Eve, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): aka, Eddie's in love with Buck and he doesn't know how to tell him, until there's a miscommunication and fate (well, Hen) intervenes.

Loose Threads by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): New to dating and keeping it quiet, Buck and Eddie get a little carried away on a slower shift at the firehouse. But when the alarm eventually sounds, a spur of the moment mistake leaves them a little mixed up.

Married Life by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew)/ @911onabc (S5, Getting Together | 2K | General): Taylor films Buck for a TikTok challenge, and Buck finds out he would much rather be his best friend’s husband than his girlfriend’s.

A Seal By Any Other Name (Would Still Be My Best Friend) by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Post-Tsunami | 5K | General): Evan "Buck" Buckley is a collection of oddities. But they're just what makes Buck Buck and Eddie loves him for them. Eddie had thought that after their years of friendship (and maybe something more) that nothing Buck could do would surprise him anymore. But there is one oddity that Eddie never saw coming. “How about you start with why there was a seal in my bathtub and now there’s just you in my bathtub.” (Part 1 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

Just Add Water by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Tsunami | 3K | General): There may be more to Buck than meets the eye. But he's still only human(ish) and getting stuck in a natural disaster with his best friend's son is still all sorts of terrifying. A small hysterical part of his brain thinks about how ironic it would be if this was how he died. Him, a mythical aquatic creature, drowning. The universe would surely laugh and the long line of Buckley ancestors would turn in their graves. (Part 2 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

you can be my daddy (come on, you know you like) by bigfootsmom (Getting Together, Daddy Kink | 4K | Mature): Buck has a teeny tiny problem. One, he's in love with his best friend. Two, he wants to call said best friend Daddy.

It's the softness that breaks you by bigfootsmom (BDSM, Hurt/Comfort | 6K | Explicit): Or the one where Buck has more issues with intimacy than he had originally thought.

lay your love on me by bigfootsmom (PWP, Getting Together | 3K Explicit): Buck never thought the words he said to Eddie in the kitchen would ever come back to haunt him like this. Honestly, he’s not complaining.

you made me feel (i've got nothing to hide) by bigfootsmom (Virgin!Buck, Established Buddie, PWP | 8K | Explicit): Buck has a secret: Contrary to popular belief, Evan "Buck" Buckley is actually a virgin.

WIP

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 22/? | 162K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 122/? | 374K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #epic buddie fic rec #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #911 fic

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lokideservesahug · 8 days

Text

Did She?

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Nico Rosberg x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader (one sided)

Warnings: Reader is Mercedes' head strategist. Love triangle of sorts? A few innuendos from people on twitter but just the usual oomf shenanigans. Kind of unrequited crush for Lewis (I'm so sorry)

Notes: Based on that "She chose me. Did she?" Audio on tik tok.

Request: I combined this request and one from @a-beaverhausen suggesting I make something based on the tik tok audio so I hope it's OK!

Summary: The mid 2010s were the golden years for Mercedes and all of the team. Especially Hamilton, Rosberg and lead strategist Y/L/N. But how does that dynamic hold up in the present day?

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: What a wonderful weekend. Truly a touching memory to two legend's legacies. Thank you @sebastianvettel and Sempre Senna and Sempre Ratzenberger 💛❤

Liked by: Nicorosberg, Lewishamilton, Sebastianvettel and 754,987 others

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User1: Nico still being in the likes after all this time doesn't let my RosY/L/N heart down gently 😔

↳User2: This but with my Lewis+Y/N shipping self...

User3: Her and Lewis are so sweet together omd!

Liked by Lewishamilton

User4: Senna forever 💛 Long Live Roland❤

Liked by yourusername

User5: Her and Lewis are such a good couple awww!

↳User6: Not a couple bae!

↳User5: Wait what!!!!?!?!?😦

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Lewishamilton

Lewishamilton: Great weekend so far. P4 in quali but let's keep pushing💪

Liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc and 8,987,097 others

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User1: Lewis honey, your jealousy is showing...

User2: Nico shows up for 0.2 seconds of the weekend and he's already trying to prove a point.

User3: It's giving she chose me. Did she?

↳User4: LMAO FRFR

↳User5: Like it was a difficult decision. Anyone would choose Lewis in a heartbeat

↳User4: Hmmm...maybe not Y/N.

Yourusername: Great performance so far Lewis! Let's hope this pace can continue!!

↳Lewishamilton: It's all thanks to you but fingers crossed🤞

↳User6: Bro pls just ask her out it's been nearly 10 years now...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Nicorosberg

Nicorosberg: Happy 10 years together (and 8 years of putting up with me) to my amazing wife. I can't think of a better way to celebrate than seeing you in your element.

Schatz I love you so much and I am so happy that you took a chance and chose me. Nit a single day passes where I wake up and am not in awe of your beauty, intelligence and just sheer existence. Thank you and I love you.

-Your lover, Britney x

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↳Nicorosberg: Not at all possible Meine Liebe 🤍

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

As always, likes,reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #nico rosberg x you #nico rosberg #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x fem reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 smau #nico rosberg smau

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leclercings · 2 months

Text

Crush | Charles Leclerc x Reader | Part 3

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You're in love with your best friend, Charles Leclerc…

A/N: Unrequited love sucks. It inspired me to write this though. Here's the final part. What started off as a one shot has become a three part mini series, hope y'all enjoy it.

The final part!! Thank you for all the love you've poured.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of utensils clanking and sweet fragrance wafting through the air.

There are butterflies in your stomach.

Is Charles up? Is he cooking?

When you go out you see your mom working in the kitchen.

“Hi love,” she waves at you after wiping her hands on the apron.

Your heart sinks in disappointment.

“Hi Mom,” you reply halfheartedly, sitting on the dining table.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

You refrain from telling her about your interaction with Charles. You check your phone to see if he has left a message.

And he has.

We need to talk.

Of course you need to talk, but not how it happened yesterday.

Charles is never vulnerable. It caught you by surprise. You've only seen him this sad and intoxicated when his father passed away and after his breakup with Charlotte.

You scared me yesterday. You respond back.

I'm sorry. I'll come over at 5 pm. His reply is instantaneous.

Okay. See you.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Your mom places a pancake in front of you.

“Nothing.”

“It's Charles, isn't it?”

You roll your eyes.

“Not everything is about love, Mom.”

She gets one plate for herself along with maple syrup.

You look at the array of disorganised and unmatched utensils. You see your mom sitting right next to you, relishing her pancake.

You're going to miss this place so much.

She gives you a very suggestive stare and you finally give in.

“Okay, it's Charles, but can we please talk about something else?”

“All I see is Charles, all I see is Charles Leclerc,” your mom sings and you blush, embarrassed.

“Stop it, Mom.”

“Okay,” she says, but she's smiling. “I couldn't find so many things in your kitchen, Y/N. Why don't you have dinner at our place?”

Knowing your mom, you have a gut feeling that she is up to something.

“Okay,” you respond, taking a bite of your delicious homemade pancake.

“Good,” she says.

You both finish your breakfast.

“I'll do the dishes Mom. Don't worry.”

“I'll see you at dinner, love.” She kisses your cheek. “Please dress nice."

You chuckle.

“I'm going to come in my pyjamas.”

Your mom sighs. You love annoying your mom like this. You'll miss this banter. This pure energy of love.

You're planning to sell your apartment. You've sorted your possessions- a lot of them are going to Goodwill. Your mom will keep the rest of the stuff because you're moving back in with your family.

Affordability is obviously not an issue. But you feel like this job would open a portal of new opportunities. And there is a slight possibility that you will end up staying at Milan.

You're going to miss your little world.

The rest of the day flies by as you do your chores and a bit of packing. It's almost 5.

You get dressed, mentally preparing yourself for a conversation with Charles. You plan everything out in your head, trying to memorise your responses and how to tackle this awkwardness.

The doorbell rings and this time you open the door to see Charles with a smile, unlike yesterday, when he was drunk and vulnerable and also angry.

He's wearing a light blue shirt with white pants, looking gorgeous as always. You get a little conscious because of your pyjamas.

“Come in. Have a seat.” He follows your instructions and you sit beside him.

“So…” Charles puts his hand in its pockets, feeling a little awkward.

You decide not to beat around the bush.

“Can we talk about the kiss?”

“Yes. I was about to bring that up.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Y/N, I know we've been best friends for ages and I don't want to ruin that at all…”

“I like you, Charles. I always have and maybe I always will.” You decide to be upfront and honest.

This takes him by surprise. He's speechless.

“You do realise what you did was super impulsive and wrong.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, staring deeply into your eyes.

“I like you too. I always have.”

Wait. What?

Your heart skips a beat. It feels like it will come out of your chest. Charles’ confession excites you as well as relieves you.

“I've been running away from my feelings but I won't anymore.” He inches in closer and gives you a kiss.

You can't believe what is happening. It feels like a fairytale come true. You've always loved Charles, but you never expected him to feel the same way.

You spend the rest of the time together- talking, laughing over the silliest jokes.

“When did you realise that you liked me?” Charles asks you, sitting next to you inside your bedroom as you both watch Netflix.

You've decided to watch a movie. It's a classic rom com- When Harry Met Sally- which is ironic considering that the storyline of your life runs parallel to it.

“Senior year, prom. When you asked our Catherine for your date. I was jealous.”

He chuckles.

“But you were the one who set me up with her.”

You sigh. “I was trying to be a good wingwoman.”

“Don't ever sacrifice your happiness for someone else, Y/N.”

“I won't, I promise.”

"What about you?"

"What about me?" He asks, confused.

"When did you realise that you liked me?"

Charles sighs. "When you kissed me."

A blush spreads on your cheeks.

"Right."

You're glad that the kiss stirred his feelings. And you're excited for what is to come ahead. You both will make this work, no matter what.

As the movie ends, it's 7.

“I have to get ready for dinner at home.” You say, getting up.

“Don't go…” Charles pulls you back and starts tickling you.

“Stop it,” you laugh, hitting him softly.

He tickles you even further. You run away as he loosens his grip.

You've always loved spending time with Charles but this time it feels different. This time, it involves feelings.

“Charles! I have to get ready.”

He laughs. “Don't worry, I'll drop you.”

You get ready, deciding to wear a dress that compliments Charles’ shirt.

“Wow, Y/N. You look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

You leave for your parents' home around 8. The drive is quiet, almost serene. As you enter the premises, you see a lot of cars parked in.

“Wait-”

As Charles parks the car, he puts a finger on your lips.

“Wha-”

“Shh.” You both get out of the car.

“Close your eyes.”

“But why-”

“Trust me.”

You close your eyes and Charles gently guides you to the front door. He opens the door and as you enter, you can hear whispers.

“Surprise!”

You get scared as you open your eyes. You see everyone you love gathered in the living room.

Tears cloud your eyes. The room is decorated with your pictures and balloons.

It's a farewell party.

You start crying.

Charles hugs you, gently stroking your back. You're too emotional to respond.

“Thank you everyone.”

“It was Charles’s idea,” your mom chips in.

You look at him with the biggest smile on your face.

You're lucky to have someone like him by your side. Someone who respects you, loves you. Your heart is happy and full.

“Thank you, Charles.”

“Always.”

Taglist - @janeholt3 @rhythmstars @missenclod @phantomxoxo

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deakyjoe · 5 months

Text

Something Stupid

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader (no pronouns apart from “you” used, I believe)

Category: fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you”.

Warnings: slightly insecure Frankie and reader, kissing, awkward love confessions, pining, seemingly unrequited love (it’s requited), they’re both just super awkward really, basically soulmates, reader implied to be shorter than Frankie, alcohol consumption, Santiago described as short…

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Title and summary from the song Somethin’ Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra. For everyone out there who won’t be getting a kiss at midnight (me), this is for you <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

“You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

The words had been rattling around in Frankie’s brain for the past two hours.

It was the last thing he’d expected you to say when he’d mentioned, casually in conversation, that he hadn’t kissed anyone at midnight on New Years in at least half a decade.

Initially you’d scoffed, not believing him in the slightest. He was too attractive for that, women were constantly throwing themselves at him, and there wasn’t a chance that not a single woman at the party you were attending would offer to kiss him at midnight.

But when he’d insisted that it didn’t feel right with a stranger, who wants to begin the new year with someone you don’t care about, you’d paused for thought. He was right. You understood him. Yet you’d asked him to elaborate.

“So, what? It has to be someone you’re dating? Or someone you’re in love with?” You’d sipped on your drink steadily, bracing yourself for whatever answer he decided to give.

“No, not necessarily. Could just be a friend, a really good friend.” He’d clarified. “Just someone you care about, y’know? Someone you want to celebrate with.”

You’d hummed at that, deciding to tease him. “I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind a little kiss from you.”

Frankie had rolled his eyes. “Don’t joke. I’d kiss that fucker if he wasn’t going to have about twenty women fighting for him at midnight.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to see how that goes down.” You’d giggled, a thought suddenly popping into your head. “You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

Frankie’s brain had short circuited. He must’ve misheard you. There was no way you’d offered to kiss him at midnight. Not a chance in hell.

“Really?” He’d almost squeaked.

“Sure.” You’d shrugged, trying to create an air of nonchalance. “We’re friends, right? Have been forever. And I don’t have anyone to kiss either. So it makes sense.”

You hadn’t expected him to agree.

“Okay.”

So when he did, you tried desperately to hide your excitement.

“G-great!” You’d chirped, taking another couple mouthfuls of your drink. You had a couple hours until midnight, which you’d need to fill yourself up with liquid courage if this was actually going to happen.

Before the two of you could say anything else, you’d been whisked away by other people who wanted to chat, wanted to dance, wanted to drink. Time flew by, the clock counting down to midnight, and the only thing the two of you could think of was your kiss at midnight.

Frankie did shot after shot with his friends - Santiago, Will and Benny all having their own obscure flavours of liqueur that they insisted the others had to try. He felt extremely nauseated by the time the last one had reluctantly slid down his throat. Attempting to blink away the blurriness his eyes had suddenly adopted, he realised that the drinks had been a bad idea. He wanted to be as coherent as possible when he finally got to kiss you.

You, however, were happy to throw back multiple drinks considering you were berating yourself for being an idiot for most of the night. Why had you suggested kissing? All you were going to do was tease yourself with the prospect of having him momentarily but not quite fully.

What if he was a really good kisser (you knew he would be)? What if he held you close (you knew he would)? What if he wanted to use tongue (you knew he would)? What if he tasted good (you knew he’d taste delicious)? What if you fell even more in love with him (you knew you would)?

You were an idiot.

And so fucked.

The suggestion had been incredibly stupid.

Midnight was approaching fast, and the two of you realised at around the same time that you should probably start seeking the other out. Just so you were definitely together by the time the clock struck twelve. But every time one of you entered a room, asking for the other, you were informed that they just left.

Oh, you’ve just missed them.

I’m sure if you go now, you’ll find them.

They were literally just here.

Frankie found himself getting frustrated when he bumped into Santiago and asked after you.

“In the kitchen, I think. Anyway, excited for the new year?” He was very drunk. And Frankie really didn’t have time for this.

“Yeah, so pumped. I’ll see you later, man.” He tried to walk away but was blocked by Santi’s smaller frame. He took up a lot of room for a shorter guy.

“Why so anxious to leave, bud?”

Frankie hesitated before quickly explaining the situation. His attempt to hush Santiago when he started cheering went completely ignored.

“Catfish, my man! You’ve wanted this for years! Quick! Go, go!”

“I was trying.” He grumbled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen and left his friend behind, still celebrating.

He didn’t find you in the kitchen, but back with the majority of the crowd in the living room where most people were gathering around the television with their respective partners for the night.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Frankie exclaimed, pushing through a group to get to you. He sobered up at the sight of you. You were so beautiful.

“Well, you found me!” You smiled widely at him, the nerves dissipating as soon as you saw his face. His gorgeous face. “I figured we were going around in circles looking for each other so I decided to just stop so you could catch up with me here. And it worked!”

Frankie couldn’t help the pull on his heart at seeing you so happy at your simple plan working out. He adored you so much. “That was a good idea.”

You shrugged. “Thanks.”

There was a brief moment of silence between you.

“So, uh, ready for midnight?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

The anxious yet excited energy between you was palpable. Neither of you commented on it.

As the room grew more and more busy, everyone determining that they should be together in the same room for midnight, the two of you inched closer and closer together. Until you were chest to chest. And there was no room to breathe without touching the other.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah!”

Before you knew it, it was one minute to midnight and everyone was counting down from sixty. You and Frankie didn’t join in, just looked at each other and sent questioning looks to make sure that the other was sure they wanted to do this. Neither of you had been so certain about something before in your lives as you were with this.

The countdown reached ten.

“Ready?”

So ready.

“Ready.”

Five.

This was really happening.

Three.

His face dipped closer to yours.

One.

“Happy New Year.” The both of you rushed out before your lips crashed together.

Neither of you were patient, hands immediately on each other. Yours clinging to his shirt and on the back of his head, his on your waist and cupping the side of your face.

It was exactly as the two of you had predicted, butterflies floating around wildly in your stomachs at how good it felt to finally do this. Yet, somehow, the both of you remained unaware that the other felt the exact same way.

Frankie decided to take the opportunity to be greedy, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip and then into your mouth when you opened up and allowed him to. A deep groan rumbled in his chest when your tongue met his, a smile curving up your lips slightly at the sound of it. You tugged him closer, the handful of shirt tightening into a fist and your other hand carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been right about everything you’d been questioning before. The arm around your waist kept you flush against him and standing straight, the hand on your cheek stroking soft circles with his thumb.

The people around you broke away from their respective kisses, the music being turned back up and the dance party continuing. But the two of you were too busy wrapped up in your own little world. Wrapped up in each other. It would’ve taken the apocalypse to stop the two of you in that moment.

Frankie momentarily broke away for some air, feeling the earth shattering beneath him and the gates to Heaven opening when you immediately tugged him back towards you for another kiss. His cap got slightly knocked to the side when you forced him downwards even closer to you than before. But he didn’t care. He was too preoccupied with you.

He had to remind himself that this wasn’t real. You weren’t his. This was just for tonight. Just for this moment.

But you felt so warm and soft and perfect in his hands that it suddenly felt impossible that you didn’t feel the same. How could you not when the two of you fit together so easily?

So, without really meaning to, Frankie took the leap.

“I love you.”

The words were mumbled, barely a hushed whisper against your lips compared to the raucous noise of the room. But you heard them. Loud and clear.

It was evident by the way you froze momentarily, head rearing back in shock. Frankie’s heart dropped when panic suddenly flashed across your face and his hands dropped back to his sides.

He’d fucked up.

Could he play it off as a friendly I love you? No, probably not, considering that you’d just made out and the way he was looking at you was very non-platonic.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. But I thought-“

He cut himself off. Thought what exactly? He couldn’t confess that he’d convinced himself you were as madly in love with him as he was with you. That sounded crazy. You were nice to him, sure, very friendly. But you were like that with everyone.

Frankie adjusted his cap, pushing some hair back away from where it was sticking to his forehead. Had the room always been this hot?

Still you said nothing, your wide-eyed stare speaking a thousand words.

“I’ll uh…” He cleared his throat with a halfhearted cough. “I should go. Thanks, uh, thanks for the midnight kiss.”

And he pushed past you, shoulder bumping yours, before you even had the chance to open your mouth.

“Wait.”

It came out raspy, unsure, but it was too late anyway. Frankie was gone. You stayed stuck, frozen on the spot, for way too long. What were you supposed to do now? He’d confessed his love to you and you’d done the one thing worse than just rejecting him. Nothing. You’d done nothing. You didn’t speak. You didn’t even smile. Shit, you could’ve just kissed him again to show that the feelings were reciprocated. But you’d just stood there, horrified.

It had been your dumb idea to kiss at midnight, a selfish plan to see what it would be like to kiss him. Just once. You hadn’t expected him to admit feelings to you. Yet, it had been the one thing you desired most for years. Francisco Morales loved you. And you’d fucked it up.

So you chased him.

“Frankie. Frankie!” You pushed through the crowd, desperation pouring out of you. “Frankie!”

The sight of his retreating figure filled you with relief. You could see his brown curls peeking out from under his cap, the familiarity of it filling you with warmth. But you could’ve sworn that he started to walk faster when you shouted his name again.

Calling out his name repeatedly, you didn’t stop for breath until you reached the empty hallway.

Once you’d refilled your lungs with oxygen, you straightened up. “Francisco Morales, I know you can hear me.”

He stopped still, a sigh lowering his shoulders. You rushed towards him with quick steps as he turned around and folded his arms across his chest in an embarrassed yet defensive stance.

“You don’t have to say anything because you feel bad. It was my mistake. Let’s just go back to the way thi-“

You wanted him to shut up, needed him to shut up. Just so you could speak. But he just wouldn’t, no matter how many times you opened your mouth to talk. So you just let it burst out of you in a rapid half-shout.

“I love you too.”

That got his mouth to stop moving. By some miracle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before but I was just surprised and I don’t know how to voice my feelings well. And you confessed so easily and I didn’t know how to do that. Which is ridiculous because I could’ve just said it right back to you.”

Now you were the one rambling.

“But I didn’t know what to do because the kiss was real nice and I was focused on finally kissing you and then suddenly you were saying you loved me and yeah.”

It was Frankie’s turn to freeze and look panicked.

You really were quite the pair.

“Say something, Francisco.” You mumbled, realising you couldn’t quite judge him for this as you’d done the exact same thing a few minutes prior.

“I, uh, I-“ He paused and took a deep breath. “You love me?”

You nodded once. “Yes.”

“You love me back?”

“Also, yes. Technically, same yes I believe but yes nonetheless.” You internally slapped yourself for that. Just say yes, you idiot.

Frankie didn’t care about what you’d said. All he cared about was that you’d said yes.

Yes, you loved him.

And he loved you.

Had the two of you really been so oblivious to the other’s feelings for so long? Had you both hidden it that well? Or were you both just certain that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. It was all out in the open now and there was no turning back.

Frankie suddenly realised that he was stood staring at you silently. Why wasn’t he kissing you again? Good question.

He took the two steps forward and scooped you up into his arms, pressing his lips against yours desperately but in relief. Feelings had been boxed up for too long. He didn’t need to hide his longing for you anymore.

You giggled happily into his mouth, grateful that this had finally happened. Grateful to get this weight off your chest.

The two of you ignored the party going on in the next room, the floor shaking a little beneath you as people danced just a door away. You could only focus on each other, you’d wasted too much time already.

The confessions were whispered against just to be sure that the two of you weren’t dreaming or had somehow misunderstood the whole situation (of course you hadn’t).

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Neither of you could’ve been happier that you’d both been daring enough to say something stupid.

A/N: I wrote this instead of a uni essay. You’re welcome. Hope you enjoyed!

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angel-kyo · 4 months

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of a stranger making unwanted advances (it doesn't escalate, but yeah), and light drinking.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI

----------------------

“It’s too loud.”

“What?” you asked.

“It’s too loud,” Shoko repeated, closer to your ear this time.

You and Shoko had decided to go out for dinner, and after that, she had suggested hitting the closest bar for a quick drink. The loud music, however, was making her wish she had picked a different place.

“Tell Gojo we will head out. There is another place not far from here; he can meet us there” Shoko half-shouted into your ear and then pressed her glass back to her lips. You nodded and took out your phone to send a message to Satoru, who was supposed to be on his way to join you both there.

After a few minutes, it looked like he had not yet checked your chat, so you thought it would be best to call him. You were going to stand up and head outside to make the call when a stranger asked “Sorry, is this seat taken?” He was pointing at the seat next to you at the counter.

You shook your head no, observing the man. He had dark hair, apparently lean but maybe a bit older than you, and was wearing a gray suit; probably a salary man who worked around the area. He took the seat. “Thanks.”

And you thought that was all, but then he spoke again. “Are you here by yourself?”

“I’m here with my friend.” You gestured to Shoko, who gave him a court nod.

The man quickly started a casual conversation with your and soon it turned into him talking too much. Ieiri was focused on her drink listening disinterestedly to him going on about how a drink is nice after a tough day at work. You forced a smile, each reply coming out sharper than a knife.

Shoko took a quick glance at you. It was obvious you wanted to end that conversation.

If he’s trying to hit on them, he’s doing terribly.

“I need to go outside for…” You were standing up, taking advantage of the fact the man had stopped talking to take a sip of his drink, but he moved his hand to reach for yours.

“Finally found you.” You felt an arm wrapping itself around your shoulders. It’s weigh was instantly familiar.

Shoko looked at Satoru. He had not acknowledged her yet as his eyes were on the man keeping you in your seat. She knew how this would go. It was Gojo’s usual behavior, if he saw someone trying to make a move on you, he would stand next to you to stare them down, especially if that person was making you uncomfortable. If they were pushy, Satoru would even play the part of the clingy boyfriend, pulling you close to him, whispering into your ear, just enough to make anyone back off.

The man immediately pulled his hand away from your arm.

Shoko smiled. Wise choice.

Satoru’s stare could be menacing, even over the brim of his glasses. Ieiri had seen it a few times, and she understood why fellow sorcerers both respected him and feared him, and why average men would be easily intimidated by him to the point of refraining from approaching you if he was around. The ones who were not under the impression that you were Satoru’s, would certainly not risk it.

“I was going to call you. Shoko wants to go to somewhere else.” You looked at Gojo.

“Could I get your number before you leave?” the man spoke to you.

Satoru disliked individuals like this. He knew he would find this man disgusting since the moment he spotted him talking to you when he entered the bar. There had been something about the way you were sitting, and how you kept averting your gaze from him that told Satoru you wanted to get out as soon as possible, and when that stranger had tried to touch you, he just had to intervene.

Of course, he knew you could handle yourself just fine, and you were with Shoko. If push ever came to shove, she would step in, he had no doubt. But that did not mean he would not do it if he was able to.

You were looking at the man, ready to refuse his request when you felt Satoru’s gaze on you. If Shoko had been paying more attention, she would have realized that what was going to happen next was not part of the script.

Gojo turned his head to you and leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, except that you turned unexpectedly and his lips ended up meeting yours.

One second, maybe less.

You were surprised, but Satoru did not seem affected at all by the accidental contact. He swiftly turned back to the man and said “Sorry, but our friend wants to leave already.”

The man’s face revealed he had finally taken the hint. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.”

At least he has the decency to look embarrassed, Satoru thought when the man changed seats, but his arm did not leave you until you were all finally outside.

“Took you long enough to get here.” Shoko looked at Gojo.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around yours and Shoko’s shoulders. “But I made it, didn’t I? Now where do my precious friends want to go?”

***

Shoko guided you to a different bar. The place was quieter but now your head was louder.

One second, maybe less.

You figured Satoru had meant to go for your cheek. It was unnecessary, really; in those type of scenarios, if one of you wanted to help the other out of an awkward situation, you would just decline or stick to each other, whispering loud enough so whoever that was bothering you would get the message.

Kissing your cheek would have been an aggressive way of demonstrating you were (fakely) taken. It was an accident, you repeated to yourself, watching Gojo’s lips move as he talked with Shoko.

You had kissed each other’s cheeks before. It was not that different, and it had been just a second, not even enough to recall how his lips had felt against yours. Why were you giving it so much thought? Was it just curiosity?

Satoru glanced your way and smiled.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You could not possibly be curious enough to want to kiss him again.

***

“Shoko is home.” You were looking at your phone, specifically at her text saying she had made it home all right.

Satoru only hummed in response and plopped into your couch.

After a few drinks together, Shoko had left you and Satoru. When you decided it was time to call it a day, he walked you home and, unsurprisingly, said he was too tired to go back to his own place.

You observed him. Satoru looked too big for your apartment, and he was never one for trying to take little space. Legs and arms all spread over your couch, making it look small despite being the larger one of the set.

“You look like a starfish.”

A laugh came out of him and you watched his Adam’s apple move. “Good. I always wanted to be a star.”

Satoru expected you give him a smart comeback, but it never happened. He fixed his posture to look at you staring at him.

“Enjoying the view?”

He saw an indescribable expression on your face for a second, and maybe, in a different lighting, he would have noticed a blush on your cheeks.

Huh…

He was not really expecting to get a reaction from you.

“You wish.” With that, you walked to the kitchen.

It did not take long for Gojo to be standing behind you, peeking over your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“You are so nosy.” You added half a teaspoon of sugar to the coffee you had poured into your favorite mug.

You felt the hairs on your nape stand on end when Satoru half whispered in your ear “Isn’t it good that I am sometimes, though?” You realized how close he actually was.

Why was it making you nervous? He had always been like this after all.

You recalled the interaction with that man from earlier. Maybe sometimes having a nosy friend was indeed helpful.

“Thank you.” Your voice came out lower than you had intended,

Satoru tried to look at you, but your eyes were fixed on the coffee mug your hands had firmly secured.

“For what you did at the bar,” you continued, turning to him. “I could have handled it, but thanks.”

He remembered that man, and then his expression when he had realized you would not give him your number,

“And sorry about the… the kiss.” A somewhat nervous smile appeared on your face.

That was right, he had kissed you, briefly and accidentally. Only then it dawned on him that he should probably apologize too, even if he believed it was nothing to apologize for.

“You moved.” He was smiling out of nervousness too now. “But don’t mind it. It was barely a kiss.”

Satoru questioned himself. Why did he not want to apologize? He saw you nod. So, he was right, it was barely a kiss.

He went on. “It’s nothing.” But he should probably stop. “In other cultures, friends do it all the time.” Why could he not stop?

You looked a bit confused, processing what he was saying. He had travelled more than you had, so maybe he knew about that, right?

While you were internally debating whether or not he was right, Satoru was facing his own personal battle and was far more confused than you were.

He knew he had not kissed you on purpose, but that did not mean he had never thought of doing it. In his teenage years, he had blamed such desires on his hormones. He was young, too young, and seeing his dear friend blooming before his eyes has nursed strange thoughts in his head back then.

But now, he was an adult man, was he not? Still, more often than he would like to admit, Satoru would entertain those thoughts, and then scold himself for it.

He could not tell you about that, of course not; he was convinced you would be aghast if he ever did. You would consider him a wicked friend.

“Do they?” Your voice was soft, and Satoru remembered how close you were as you did not need to speak louder for him to hear you.

“They do. It’s a way of showing affection, isn’t it?” He saw your gaze slowly drop to his lips. You were leaning in, and he knew he should not give in, but what can you do when you are so close to something you have wanted for so long?

Before he knew it, he had closed the distance.

Satoru’s kiss was longer than the one at the bar, but shorter than you would have liked. At that moment, you thought that maybe people did kiss the way they felt, because no other person had kissed your lips so tenderly before. For a few seconds, you thought he was truly trying to convey his love for you, but then, he pulled away and averted his gaze.

You were the first to break the silence. “That was… different.”

Satoru had stopped because, as gentle as he wanted to be around you, he could feel himself losing control, and there was no way he would ruin a lifelong friendship over a moment of weakness. That assuming he had not ruined it yet.

He could not read your expression and it terrified him. Had you hated it?

“Yeah, different, but...” How could he salvage this? “...We are friends, so it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

You met his eyes and Satoru thought he had made things worse just before seeing the ghost of a smile on your lips. “Yeah… Right.”

That night, you tossed and turned for a while before finally falling asleep, exhausted from overthinking, while Satoru, who always slept better when he stayed over, or so he said, laid on the futon in your room, wide-awake, a bit too aware of your sleeping figure on the bed.

He had replayed the events of the night a hundred times and scolded himself just as many.

He sighed.

That’s why you don’t give in to temptation. You will only end up wanting more.

----------------------

Note: I was lazy on proofreading (but aren't I always?), so, sorry about that. Will go back to hiding now.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XIII

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