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saradika · 1 month

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— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #ts drabble challenge #din djarin imagine

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

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Enchanted to Meet You - Colin Bridgerton

A/N: I am so hype for the new season, and Colin isn't even my favorite Bridgerton sibling. When I was thinking of who should get Enchanted, I knew the story had to happen at a beautiful ball, so really this was one of the only choices. (There may be more Enchanted inspired fics, who's to say!) Hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #6: Enchanted

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: After years of knowing, and not liking each other, Colin and the reader meet again at a ball, and share a magical evening together.

"Isn't that your second glass?" Eloise asks, a glass of champagne in her own gloved hand.

"No. It's my third," you say. She doesn't even try to hide the un-ladylike snort she lets out.

"I thought your mother said one."

"She did," you say, peering about the crowded ballroom for her deep red dress. "But, as this is my third ball of the season, I thought it only fitting."

"I'm sure she'll see it that way, too," Eloise says sarcastically.

It was true, this was your third ball, but the three glasses of champagne didn't really have anything to do with that. The matching numbers did add some kind of magic to the night, but truly, you just needed them to get through the evening.

It was your first year out, and after three balls, you weren't sure you would ever find someone to marry. It wasn't like you hadn't had callers. You had blossomed in the last year. So much so, that people often did a double take when they looked upon you. It wasn't so much that they weren't interested in you, but that you weren't in them.

This evening was looking to be another night of forcing laughter and faking smiles with men you had no interest in. The thought of another glass of champagne was too enthralling.

"I don't believe it," Eloise says, leaving your side. You watch her nearly run across the ballroom, and run into the arms of a man. When they break away, you see it is Colin, returned from his travels around the world.

It is hard to believe, but he has become more handsome, in his travels. You spent years and years at the Bridgerton household, and never found Colin anything other than annoying. He was the brother closest in age to Eloise, and he spent most of his time picking on the two of you.

But walking towards you now is a man. A very handsome man, whose smile seems to make your insides melt. You think you might melt, too, as he walks up to you.

"Have we met?" he says, taking your hand in his.

"Are you joking?" you ask, watching as he places a soft kiss to your gloved hand. "Colin, it's me."

"Y/N?" he asks quietly, his brow furrowed as he studies your face.

"Of course it's Y/N, you idiot," Eloise says, slapping his arm.

"You . . . you look completely different," he says.

"Bad different?"

"No, no, not bad at all," he says. He stares at you for a moment longer, seemingly speechless.

"Oh cut it out, will you?" Eloise says, "Both of you are staring like you've never seen the other before."

"Well, he looks different, too," you say, "A good different," you add, looking to him. He smiles, his mouth turned up to one end in playful amusement.

"Eloise, I hope you do not mind if I ask Miss Y/L/N to dance," he says. Eloise begins to say she does mind, but your mind is only on Colin as you drop your hand into his.

You are trembling as he leads you out onto the dancefloor. You have danced this dance hundreds of times before, and have done so to this exact song at the previous two balls. But now, the man in front of you is Colin, and that makes it completely new.

When he pulls you into his arms, your chests a touch closer than societally acceptable, you aren't breathing.

"Hello," he says softly.

"Hello," you say, as the music begins around you. Your moves are instinctual, as you let him lead you into the dance. He is still studying you, his eyes on every angle of your face. You laugh at his ministrations.

"What?" he asks.

"You act as if you don't know me."

"Well, I don't."

"I've spent nearly every summer at the Bridgerton household."

"No, that was Eloise's annoying childhood friend, that wasn't you," he says, his eyes locking on yours.

"Well, it has been a while since we've seen each other. And I have changed."

"I can tell," he says deeply. Goosebumps appear along your neck, and you watch his eyes track them.

"You've changed, too," you say, "Traveling agrees with you."

"Thank you," he says. He spins you out of his arms and back in. "How are you enjoying your first season?"

"Truthfully, it has been pretty boring so far."

"Boring?" he asks in surprise. "Don't tell me you've been a wallflower."

"Oh, on the contrary, everyone seems to notice how much I've changed," you say with a grin, making him laugh, "It's just, I haven't found their company as agreeable."

"And how about my company?" he asks, his voice quiet again.

"I'm not sure yet," you say thoughtfully, studying his face. "But so far, you are certainly a far better dancer than any of the other men I've danced with."

"Really? I'm honored."

The music comes to an end, and both of your hands linger for a moment longer on the other. The dancefloor starts to shift as couples enter and leave. You are supposed to be dancing with Lord Charmbord for the polka.

"Care to have some more fun?" Colin asks.

"What?"

"If you don't mind leaving Lord . . ." he trails off as he touches your wrist again, glancing at your dance card. "Lord Charmbord in the lurch, I'd be happy to prove that my company is much more enjoyable," he says. There is mischief in his eyes, and you know you will go wherever he wants you to.

"Where to?" you ask.

"Meet me at the fork in the gardens," he whispers in your ear, as he walks past you casually. Again, the goosebumps appear.

You walk off the dancefloor, keeping your head down so that no one, especially Lord Charmbord or your mother, see you slip out onto the terrace.

There are a few couples lingering out on the balcony, but they are too involved in their conversations to notice you move down the steps to the garden. You move silently as you look around for Colin, or anyone else.

Scandal would be sure to follow you if anyone were to catch you out here, but you can't bring yourself to care right now. This is the first time all season that you have felt anything, and you aren't going to let it go.

As you round a bend in the gardens, hands grab your waist and you nearly scream out. Quickly, though, Colin turns you around and reveals himself. You clutch a hand to your pounding heart.

"You frightened me," you say.

"I'm sorry," he says, laughter still in his eyes.

"No, you aren't," you say with a laugh.

"No, I'm not. But I am glad you met me here."

"Well, I was promised good company,” you say. Colin straightens, a smirk on his face, as he extends his arm to you.

“A promise I intend to make good on.” He leads you deeper into the maze like garden, as if he has explored it before. Before you can ask, he says, "You know, I used to play with the lord's son when we were kids. He knew where all of the hiding spots were in here, and challenged me to hunt him down. It took a few years, but I was eventually able to find all of his spots, and a few of my own."

"So if I asked you to hide right now . . ."

"You would not find me."

"You assume so little about my seeking skills?" you joke.

"No, just that my hiding ones are much more polished."

"Ah. Well, I should hate for us to have to split up, anyhow."

"As would I. You know, I still can't truly believe that you're you."

"I really haven't change, Mr. Bridgerton," you say.

"No?" he asks, looking you over thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps I have."

"You have."

"How so?" he asks, a small smile on his face. You look him over for a long moment before smiling back.

"You've gotten taller," you say. Colin lets out a tut of laughter.

"Indeed."

"But, I'm sure it's also your travels that are to blame for the man I met tonight."

"I would agree with that estimate," he says, "I learned a lot during my journeys that I am not sure I would have ever discovered at home."

"I can't help but feel envious," you say, "I've always wanted to travel, too."

"Really? Where to?" he asks.

"Anywhere, truthfully. But I've always been fascinated by Florence."

"It is truly gorgeous," he says with a nod.

"You've been?"

"I have. They have absolutely the best food of any of the places I've been. But what's more is they even have the best dances."

"The best dances?"

"Yes, they've taken our plain old quadrille and changed it into something magical," he says. He seems to notice the excitement in your eyes, because his smile only grows. "I couldn't help but notice that you're an accomplished dancer."

"Oh, please," you say, self-depreciatingly, "I'm passable, but certainly wouldn't call myself accomplished."

"I had no complaints," he says softly. He waits for you to give him a smile before continuing. "And if you spent one day in Florence, I know you would out dance every woman in there."

"They are truly that good?" you ask.

"Would you like me to show you?" he asks. He has come to a stop in the center of the gardens. A large fountain trickles softly behind him, the air moist with the shooting spouts. You study him for a moment, waiting for him to say he was joking, to turn back to the Colin you had known.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"Of course," he says, holding out his hand.

"There's no music."

"You don't need to hear the music to feel it," he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you in close. "Just follow along. It's got the same steps as the quadrille you know, but with a little more movement."

You nod your head and focus on the moves. Without music playing, it is a little harder to get into the rhythm, but he is correct, after a few steps, you can feel the music echoing inside of you.

His hand on your waist presses slightly, making your hips move more fluidly. You are certain if anyone were to see, it would mean scandal, but you cannot fight the smile growing on your face. Again, he shows you how to add more movement into a step, bringing the two of you closer again.

You have danced through one whole song in your head, and you don't want to stop anytime soon. Never in your life before have you danced like this. You feel so free, so graceful. And it is at this feeling, that you trip on an upturned stone and crash into Colin's arms.

The music has stopped playing in your mind. There is only the soft sound of water, the trill of crickets, and your pounding heart.

You have never been this close to a man. Your chest is flush against his. You can feel his breath, and watch as he looks down, too, at your bodies pressed together.

His eyes catch yours and everything seems to slow. There is only his warm brown eyes, locked onto your own, and the hand on your back that moves softly, comfortingly.

"Colin," you whisper. He smiles widely.

"I like when you say my name."

"I've said it a million times before," you say with a laugh.

"You've never said it like that."

"We should be heading back," you say. The hand on your back grows firmer, like he would do anything to keep you against him.

"No one knows we're out here," he says.

"My mother will come looking soon."

"Y/N," he whispers, his head ducking so that his words dance over your neck. You shiver slightly, and his smile only grows.

"I see what you mean," you say, looking back up at him, "I like the way you say my name, too." The look on his face is purely prideful.

"Don't go back inside," he says.

"We'll both be ruined."

"What if I don't care?" he asks.

"You do care," you say gently, "And so do I."

"Perhaps you're right."

"I am right, Colin," you say, beginning to pull away. He pulls you back in and your lips are a breath from his. His eyes flicker between your own and your lips, that are practically begging to be kissed. Your eyes close, against your better instinct, and you lean in.

Snap!

In an impossibly quick moment, Colin has pushed you out of his arms and ducked into an alcove of the garden. You wait for someone to appear, for your reputation to be ruined, but no one comes. Another minute passes and Colin comes out.

"Perhaps, you should get back inside, Y/N."

"Where did you run off to?" you ask, jumping again at his appearance. Before he can answer, you sigh. "Right," you say with a laugh.

"Let's get you back inside," he says. "That was too close."

Colin does get you back into the ball without scandal falling on you.

When you find your mother again, her face is nearly as red as her dress. Clearly, she has not followed her own rule regarding glasses of champagne. She says that Lord Charmbord had been searching for you, but you can't even begin to pretend to care.

For the rest of the ball, your eyes are always on Colin. Unfortunately, you don't get to spend any more of the evening with him. The closest you get is a moment on the dancefloor where you briefly switch partners.

His hand meets yours at the same time his eyes do, and once again, the world around you is gone. There is only the music and his face, looking at you in a way you can't precisely name, but that you're dying to know.

But just as soon as it happens, it is over, and you are back in the arms of a man you have absolutely no interest in.

As the night comes to a close, you bid Eloise and Lady Bridgerton goodnight. You can't help peering around the both of them for Colin, but just when it appears he is not coming and you have turned towards the exit, he calls your name.

"Miss Y/L/N," he says dashingly, "I would be remiss if I didn't bid you a goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton," you say, watching as he bends down to kiss your hand. Quietly, so that only you can hear, he says, "Say it just once more, please."

"Goodnight, Colin," you whisper. When he stands up straight, he is fighting off a smile. He bids your mother goodbye, and then you are getting handed off into your carriage, and ripped away from what feels like the first real night of your life.

The ride home is quiet. You answer your mother's few questions, but when she can see you're in no mood to talk, she sinks into her own thoughts.

The countryside is dark, but as you look out upon it, you can't help but wish. Wish that this was the very first page of your story with Colin, not where your story line will end. That he was as enchanted by you as much as you were by him. And pray that he is not in love with someone else.

At home, when you finally get into bed, you are restless. You toss and turn well into the early hours, questions rolling about your mind, all about Colin.

Too early the next morning, you are awoken by a lady's maid. The day after a ball is always busy. Gentleman callers all morning, and mothers and daughters in the afternoon, to get caught up on the morning callers.

While your handmaidens go about getting you dressed and pinning your hair up, you can't help but relieve the night before. It sparkles in your mind - truly the most perfect night you could have imagined.

You pray that it is not the last, but you know that you have to remain practical. Besides the looks and smiles he gave you, Colin did not lead on that he was interested in marriage anytime soon. You, on the other hand, were very interested in getting wed off this season.

As you walk down the steps to your sitting room, you assure yourself that it will be okay, if Colin does not feel the same.

"It is too early for callers!"

At the foot of the stairs, you hear your doorman arguing in hushed tones. You can hear another voice, but not clearly enough to match the sound to its owner. Before you can open the door and find out, your mother comes bustling down the staircase and passes you.

"Who could it be at this hour!" she says, ripping open the door.

Colin Bridgerton is standing in your doorway, a bouquet of orange tulips in hand. His eyes are wide when they circle to meet yours, but then they soften.

"Y/N," he says gently. The doorman stutters a response at this lack of formality, so Colin corrects himself. "I mean, Miss Y/L/N. Mrs. Y/L/N," he says, turning to look at your mother.

"I apologize for the early arrival, but I wanted to be the first here," he says.

"The first here for what?" your mother asks in shock.

"To call upon Miss Y/L/N, of course. You see, I shared quite an exquisite time with her last night, and hope that I may spend more time in her good company."

"Really?" you and your mother ask in unison. You laugh, and feeling bold, walk towards Colin. Still keeping a respectful distance from him, knowing that your doorman was watching closely, you take the tulips from him.

"Really," he says. "I was enchanted to meet you again, Y/N. Please don't have someone waiting on you."

"Not at all," you say. "Would you like to come in for tea, Colin?"

"I would love to," he says with a grin that nearly takes your breath away.

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #ts prompts #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction

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romanoffshouse · 13 days

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"You don't get to tell me about sad"

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ncis-nerd · 18 days

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But Daddy I Love Him

ship: older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader. wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, mentions of cheating, older nat, jerk nat, younger reader, wanda is kinda a dick, age gap, arguing, being ignored.

a/n: happy ttpd day!!

"I'm done with being your second choice Natasha. Just because I am younger than you, it doesn't mean you can just go off with other women because you're scared to admit that they are what you are looking for. Someone older, more mature, someone you can relate to" Y/N exclaimed, her small frame against the older women's.

Her green eyes met y/n's gaze which only confirmed what y/n feared. "That's it? You aren't going to say anything?" Y/N spokes as she grabbed a suitcase from the closet.

"I'm so sick of Wanda! Don't think I didn't see all the ways she touched you. Her hands always on you whenever the two of you were together. I'll tell you this Natasha. I'd rather burn my whole life down, Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'" Y/N threw her arms up in protest and huffed.

"Where are you gonna go." Natasha spoke dismmisingly. She doesn't think you'll actually do it. You have no where to go, no one to go to. Her eyes watering at the slight chance that you may be serious.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Natasha had an award dinner and she asked you last minute to come. It was odd she didn't ask you earlier in advance because they usually know about these things at least 6 months in advance with scheduling and whatnot. But you didn't think much of it. Because you didn't want to accept the alternative.

You came as her date but it sure didn't feel like it. You were the youngest there, all the avengers were at least 10 years ahead of you. It didn't help that your girlfriend left you to fend for yourself, your eyes stuck on her and Wanda. Natasha threw her head back, laughing. Wanda's hand on her shoulder. Their prolonging eye contact. The way they looked at each other. It gave you a bad feeling in your gut but you pushed it away.

No, I'm not coming to my senses. I know it's crazy. But he's the one I want.

You refused to accept it. She said she'd never let it come between you guys. That your age difference would never break you up. She lied. You rose up from the table but no one even noticed, everyone engrossed in their conversation. A stray tear fell from your glassy eyes.

You made your way to the bathroom. Attempting to keep your composure, they already think you're immature, you don't want them to see you as a baby on top on that.

You looked at yourself in the large glass window. You looked at your reflection. Your dress glistened in the light. The door swings open. It's Wanda. Of course she was the one who noticed you missing. Ironic isn't it.

"Y/N" she spoke, her voice filled with fake concern but a hint of guilt. You refused to meet her eyes, not willing to give her that sense of comfort. "Y/N, I'm not going to lie to you just because you're younger than us. I like Natasha. And honestly it feels like she is into me too. There's nothing I can say to make you feel better but I assure you I would never make a move on her while the two of you are together. I promise." Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

"I have money, I know you don't have anywhere to go but if you and Natasha should split, please call me. I don't want to on your own, fending for yourself. I can help you get an apartment or something." Wanda offered.

I just learned these people try and save you'. Cause they hate you

Of course, of course she wants to "take care of you". Because you're the little fragile thing who can't handle heartbreak. She just wants to make a move on Natasha, this is a ton of bullshit. You press your nails into your hand. You smile politely and say a simple thank you. Not wanting to cause a scene and give Natasha more of a reason to leave you.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me. And counteract the chemistry. And undo the destiny.

Her hand reaches for my shoulder, to stop me from leaving. "That won't work anymore, Natasha. I'm calling Wanda. She offered to help me get an apartment." You spewed out, reaching for the door. It hurt. You no longer called her Natty, the sweet nickname you had gave her when your relationship was in an earlier stage. A simpler stage where you didn't have to question if she wanted to be with you.

You slammed the door behind you, goodbye Natasha.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

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bizzxis · 1 month

Text

This guy will act like a victim just so he can get head-pats and kisses from you.

#PAthetic #but imagine he starts liking naps cuz it makes him feel closer to MC #HMMMMM #also I don’t have an OC so here an up to interpretation OC #idk if I want to punch him or kiss him #also he seems like the type to like feeling protected #cuz he’s always the one protecting #touchstarved fanart #touchstarved game #ts leander #leander x mc #touchstarved leander #leander touchstarved

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tomblythismyhusband · 18 days

Text

“His hand, so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face”

-i can fix him (no really i can) Taylor Swift

THIS LINE IS SOOOOOOO BILLY CODED AGH. I CANT. THIS IS WHAT I WANT IN A MAN.

#billy the kid #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #i can fix him (no really i can)#ttpd #billy bonney x reader #ts ttpd #billy the kid x you #billythekidxreader #billy the kid x fem!reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fanfiction #billy bonney #i can fix him #tom blyth

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amongemeraldclouds · 7 days

Text

But Daddy I Love Him

Mattheo and the Slytherin boys rescue you from your father who held you captive one day before your wedding.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader ft. The Slytherin Boys

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, cursing, the boys being chaotic. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title.

✿ Masterlist | 872 words

“Can’t this bloody car go any faster?” Mattheo asked gripping the leather seats, straining against his seatbelt as if he could steer the car faster out of sheer will.

Draco scoffed, “it’s the latest model of flying cars, of course it can. The car is not the problem.” He was insulted that Mattheo would even question the calibre of cars they kept at the Malfoy Manor. They borrowed it from his father without asking, but he didn’t think he would mind.

“We already went over this,” Theo grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last dregs of his patience. He drove the car over the roofs of buildings and clouds blurred past them. He was going as fast as he could without compromising their safety. “If we let you behind the wheel, you will drive us all straight to a tree. You can’t have a wedding if your corpse is busy rotting in a tree, huh?”

“I’m not some foolish Gryffindor who would do that!” Mattheo argued.

Blaise sucked in his breath, tired of having to play peacekeeper. “Arguing would not get us to her any faster, okay Matty? When has Theo ever let you down?”

Lorenzo chimed in, also eager to diffuse the tension. “What’s next, mate? You just roused us all out of bed to rescue your girl the night before your wedding, what happens when we get there?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “I only roused Theo then Draco offered his father’s car when he overheard us. The rest of you tossers invited yourselves.”

“That’s besides the point,” Enzo continued knowing Mattheo would do the same for any of them if they ever needed help. “What’s your genius plan?”

“When we’re close enough to the estate, I’ll signal y/n. She says she has a plan to escape and we’ll swoop in as the getaway driver.”

“Sounds simple enough when you say it like that,” Enzo mused.

“But daddy I love him!” You declared, losing track of how many times you’ve had to defend your fiancé to your father.

“He’s the Dark Lord’s son-” he begins, his favorite line whenever he tried another argument to dissuade you from you marriage plans.

“Father, I’m having his baby!” You spat out, tired of his same old lines. That shut his mouth.

Your news drained the color from his face as he opened his mouth again to say something and closed it. This was going to bring shame to the family name. He was too stunned to speak.

You tried to hold it in, but burst out laughing. Your father was a man hardened by business and the ways of the world. He was not easily shaken so this reaction was priceless.

“Oh father!” You held your stomach to control your laughter. “You should see your face! I was just joking! See, there are worse things that could happen? Father, I promise this is not as bad as you think. He is nothing like the Dark Lord. He’s doing his best to be better than him.”

Your father mumbled incoherently as if holding back a string of curses. “Dear child, you will send me to my funeral! These white hairs will turn even whiter than snow.”

“Please,” you approached him, holding his hand. Trying to appeal to his affections, the way you did when you asked for a pony when you were younger. “He’s the one I want, if you could just give him a chance and get to know him.” “What about our family name? It will put us to ruin, think about us,” he responds coldly.

“I’m taking his last name, father. You won’t have to worry about that. My name is mine to do with as I please.” You were losing hope, nothing was getting through to him. You just needed to wait for the signal.

As if you summoned it by your thoughts, you saw a light flash three times and you grabbed your wand from a hidden compartment in your dress. That’s on your father for underestimating you, he couldn’t just lock you in - you were no longer his little girl. You saw the car approach the window and withdrew the wand.

“Well father, I wish you would come around. Come to the wedding tomorrow in peace, the cake is fantastic,” you bid him goodbye with those words and you cast an explosion with your wand, bricks flying and dust spraying through the air. You took one last look at your father as he stood to catch you, but you moved faster.

From the clearing that once formed the east wing of your father’s mansion, you grinned at Mattheo and your friends.

“That’s your escape plan?” Blaise broke through the silence when the car was near enough.

At the same time, Mattheo cheered, “that’s my girl!”

You shrugged, running towards them and taking Mattheo’s hand. You sat on his lap in the front seat of the car as there was no other vacant seat. But you could hardly complain at the chance to snuggle with him.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You simply said as Theo drove you away from the mansion.

Theo just chuckled and shook his head, “you two are really meant for each other.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I was listening to TTPD when this whole scene came to mind. It’s the fastest I've written and uploaded a fic so far.

#mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #amongemeraldcloudswrites #theodore nott #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #blaise zabini #ttpd #ts ttpd

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elia-the-bibliophile · 18 days

Text

Loss of My Life (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Angst Word count: 1k

Tribute to the release of the Tortured Poets Department album, specifically “loml”. I knew I had to write something based on it.

“You shit-talked me under the table

Talking rings and talking cradles

I wish I could unrecall

How we almost had it all”

You could call to mind, on all those different occasions that he never failed to divulge of his future plans for the two of you.

For instance, at Gerhard's Cafe, as you sat across from Charles, laughing as he shared stories from his recent trip to the Ferrari Factory. An old couple who were sitting on the next table complimented them on their chemistry, to which Charles replied with a grin, "You know, one day I'm going to marry her. We'll have a big family, five kids at least." Y/N blushed at his words, feeling her heart skip a beat at the thought of a future together.

Or at a dinner party a few weeks back, Charles and Y/N found themselves engaged in a lively conversation with a group of friends. When someone asked about their plans for the future, Charles didn't hesitate to chime in, "Oh, Y/N and I have it all mapped out. We're going to get married and have a whole football team of kids." You couldn't help but smile at him.

Or when you were walking hand in hand through a park, the two of you stopped to admire a family playing together nearby. As they watched the children run around, Charles turned to you with a soft smile, "Someday that'll be us, you know. Little Leclercs causing chaos wherever they go." Y/N hummed and leaned into him, Charles then planted a small kiss on top of your head.

Also a time during a networking event for fundraising, Charles proudly introduced you as his girlfriend. When someone jokingly asked when they were tying the knot, Charles replied with a twinkle in his eye, "Oh, it's in the cards. Just you wait, we'll have a beautiful wedding and a house full of kids running around." Y/N felt a surge of affection for him, grateful for his unwavering commitment.

Funnily enough even Charles sits down for an interview with the crew of Drive to Survive, reflecting on his career and personal life. "Charles, beyond the track, fans are curious about your personal life. Can you tell us about your relationship with Y/N?”

You saw his wide grin appeared, "Absolutely. Y/N is my rock, my biggest supporter. We've been together for years now, and I can't imagine my life without her. She's my future, you know? I've always said I'll marry her one day, and we've even talked about having a big family together. I want five, to be exact." As the camera zooms in on Charles' sincere expression.

__________________________________________

Y/N stands in the kitchen of their apartment, nervously clutching a small box in her hands. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the prank she's about to pull on Charles. With a mischievous grin, she carefully places the box on the counter and waits for him to return home from his morning run.

As Charles enters the apartment, you can barely contain your excitement. You gesture for him to come closer, heart racing with anticipation. "Love, I have something to tell you."

Charles raised his brows, his curiosity piqued as he approaches. "What is it, chérie?"

With a dramatic flourish, Y/N reveals the box. “I'm pregnant!"

For a moment, Charles is stunned into silence, his eyes mirroring in disbelief. But instead of the expected smile or any other evident of him being happy, his expression shifts to one of panic. He gripped her shoulder, "What? Are you serious?"

Y/N freezes, her heart sinking as she realizes how scared he is. She quickly tries to backtrack. "N-No, Charles, it was just a joke! I'm not actually pregnant."

But Charles' expression remains serious, his mind clearly racing with thoughts and emotions, and none seems to appear positive. He takes a few steps back, his grip on her shoulder loosening.

Charles' tone turns cold, his words cutting through the air like ice. "Don’t you ever joke about that again, we are not ready for this conversation."

The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, mirroring the dark mood between them. Y/N crosses her arms as she confronts Charles. “I’m sorry for joking about this in the first place but what exactly do you mean by that? You've always talked about marriage and having a family. What changed?"

Charles hesitates, his usually confident demeanor faltering as he struggles to meet your gaze. You yourself are scared of what emotion you might find if he looks up.

"I... I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I'm at the peak of my career, Y/N. I can't afford any distractions right now. I can't let anything jeopardize my chances."

Your eyes widen in disbelief, a single tear threatening to spill over as you ponder the weight of Charles' words.

Charles' shoulders slump slightly, his own emotions raw and conflicted. "You know how much you mean to me. But... but we can't just throw everything away for a family right now. We have to focus on our careers."

Y/N shakes her head disbelievingly, hands trembling with emotion as she struggles to process Charles' words.

Charles tried reaching out tentatively, his expression pleading as he tries to bridge the distance between them. "We do have a future together, bébé. I just... I need more time. Please, try to understand."

But you can already feel yourself slipping away, heart heavy with wariness. "I need some time to think, Charles."

__________________________________________

Y/N stands on the balcony of her bedroom, the cool breeze ruffling her hair as she clutches the fake pregnancy test in her hand. She stares out at the the sea below, the waves crashing against the shore in a rhythmic pattern.

With a heavy heart, you gaze down at the pregnancy test, the plastic stick a stark reminder of the rift it had caused between you and Charles. In a moment of frustration you hurl it over the balcony railing, watching as it spirals through the air before disappearing into the depths of the sea below.

And with it, your dreams of marriage and a future with Charles.

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beskarandblasters · 1 month

Text

Enchanted to Meet You

Security Guard!Din Djarin x Senator/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift! Part of the Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! This is also way more than a drabble and possibly some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!

Summary: You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Small talk. Painful small talk. Your cheeks hurt from faking smiles and pretending to nod at people’s boring anecdotes. If you fake laugh at one more unfunny story you’re going to lose it. Everyone here is so insincere, only here to further their own political gain. It’s a gala for the New Republic, sure but what happened to the social aspect of it? It just feels fake, like the whole thing is a facade.

The only thing that makes tonight semi-bearable is your dress– midnight blue chiffon with silver stars embroidered throughout the fabric. A dress that you’d like to meet someone in if you weren’t surrounded by self-absorbed politicians.

The gala is decorated extravagantly. The lights on the dance floor reflect gorgeously off your dress and your jewelry. The music is actually quite catchy for a party full of bureaucrats. And the multiple rounds of revnog are certainly helping you loosen up.

If only you had someone to share it all with.

You don’t feel like you fit in here. Most of the senators are Coruscant, Chandrila, and other Core planets. You’re from Naboo and that makes you feel like an outsider among the Galaxy’s elite.

A tap on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought.

“Care to dance?”

You turn around, the skirt of your dress swaying with the motion, and find Senator Hamato Xiono.

“With you? Not a chance.”

“Aw, come on. Perfect opportunity to talk trade routes. The music, the lights… it might make you think differently about voting no on my proposal.”

“Because your proposal lacks any real research.”

“You’ll change your mind once I’m done with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, stepping towards you and grabbing your arm.

You attempt to pull away from him but his grip is tight, snug around your wrist. The blood drains from your face and adrenaline courses through you. He’s trying to talk about politics now… at a party? And on top of all that he put his kriffing hands on you.

“Is there a problem here?” a sultry-toned voice asks.

You look to your left and find a man wearing silver armor. Tall, broad, an absolute unit. His face is concealed by a helmet that matches the rest of his armor, a T-shaped visor running down the middle.

Senator Xiono lets go of your wrist and you let it fall to your side. His touch leaves tingling marks on your skin, and not the good kind.

“Nope. We’re fine. Aren’t we?” Senator Xiono asks, a fake smile gracing his face.

You look at him and then back at the strange masked man before saying, “I need some air.”

You walk past both of them, your ears ringing with anger as the other partygoers' faces blur around you. The adrenaline doesn’t start to subside until the cool nighttime air hits your face.

Alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing and looking at the sea of speeders beneath you. Deep breaths and counting to ten calm you down. And once your mind is finally clear you ask yourself… Who was that man?

“Are you alright?” the same silky voice as before asks.

You don’t have to see him to know who it is but you turn around anyway, meeting his visor.

“I’m fine… But thank you for checking on me,” you say before glancing at the view of Coruscant again. Your hands grip the cool metal railing and the wind causes goosebumps to prick your skin.

“...Who are you?” you ask, still not looking at him.

“I was hired as security for the event,” he says, not saying who he really is.

“I see…”

You sense him standing next to you at the railing, matching the same pose you’re making, his gloved hand so dangerously close to yours.

“Thanks for stepping in back there,” you say, turning your head and looking at him. Your eyes are always drawn to his visor. It should be unsettling looking at something without a discernible face. And yet all it does is intrigue you.

“He was disrespecting you.”

“He tends to do that.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m sure you deal with much worse… Are you always doing security?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, turning to face you.

“A bounty hunter?” you ask, facing him too, your eyes widening.

“Mhm.”

You’re not sure why… but that excites you. It’s a contrast from your boring day-to-day routine of paperwork and meetings– a life on your own, living by no one’s rules.

“Tell me more about that.”

He gestures to a bench in the center of the balcony where you follow him, sitting side by side, thighs touching ever so slightly. You listen to him recount fascinating stories, ones where he’s brave and slaying countless people left and right. But he also tells you a story about the time he was bested by a blurgg. He makes you laugh. And surprisingly he laughs, too.

Maker, his laugh.

You’ve only just met him yet his laugh is like music to your ears. The conversation is so natural, so easygoing. You feel like you can be yourself around him. You hope he feels the same way about you. Your mind starts to wander… What does he look like underneath the helmet?

“Can I tell you something?” you say.

“What?”

“I wish I could kiss you.”

“...Really?”

“But you can’t take off the helmet.”

“You’re right. It’s a part of my creed.”

He pauses for a moment before saying, “Let me show you other things I can do.”

He rises from the bench and extends his hand out to you. You take it, interlocking your fingers with his as he leads you back inside. He pushes through crowds of people, leading you down a hallway and into a refresher.

He locks the door and turns to face you, looking you up and down as he walks closer to you. You take a step back and feel your back touch the sink. His hands ghost your waist and his helmet cocks to the side.

“Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathe out.

His hands slide up your waist, caressing the outline of your breasts.

“I may not be able to kiss you… But I can show you a good time.”

He spins you around so you’re facing the mirror. Excitement pools between your legs as you watch him hike up your dress. Not once did you think you’d be having sex in this dress, let alone in the refresher at the gala.

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Bend over for me, cyar’ika.”

You follow his instructions, internally wondering what the nickname means.

“No underwear?” he asks once your lower half is fully exposed, “Naughty girl.”

You giggle and rest against the sink, gripping the ceramic as he tugs off his glove. He lifts his helmet for a split second, just barely enough to expose his mouth. You close your eyes out of respect and hear him spit in his hand. Once you feel his fingers tease your entrance you open your eyes. His helmet is secured on his head and his body leans over yours, a finger sliding inside you slowly. A small gasp escapes your lips. He barely gives you any time to warm up to one finger before sliding in the second. Not that you’re complaining. He curls his fingers against your walls, pushing against your g-spot. Your moans fill the refresher, gradually getting louder and louder as he brings you closer to the edge.

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, “Be quiet, mesh’la. There are people in the hallway.”

Another nickname.

You bite your lip and meet his visor in the reflection of the mirror, doing your best to not make too much noise. He pulls your first orgasm from you, knees trembling beneath you as you grip the sink. You bite your lip harder and try to be quiet but it’s hard. It’s too hard when he’s making you feel this good. He’s so skilled with just his fingers but you suppose it makes sense given the helmet.

Once you’re done coming he pulls his fingers from you, one hand holding your hip as the other slathers his cock with the wetness you just produced. He leans forward again and whispers, “Got so wet for me, cyar’ika. I’m not even done with you yet,” just as he thrust his cock into you.

A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips. He’s large, splitting you apart. If it weren’t for the sink holding you up your knees would surely give out. Your entire body trembles with pleasure and he hasn’t even moved inside you yet.

You bite your lip again as he draws his hips back, slamming into you swiftly. It’s too hard to be quiet. A whimper forces its way out of your throat. And then again as he thrusts into you a second time. Staying quiet is impossible as he’s railing you. You watch him in the reflection, stone-cold visor staring back at you as you’re reduced to a shivering mess beneath him. Yet he remains his composure, his pace never faltering.

You wonder what his cock looks like; a clue as to what the rest of him looks like. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could show you all the other things he can do. His cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. And the refresher is not only filled with your moans but also the wet squelching sounds of your cunt.

Your walls tense up in anticipation of a release. And though your second orgasm hasn’t happened yet you know this one is going to be bigger than the last, thanks to his impressive size. But aside from the sheer size of his cock he knows how to use it. He knows how to melt you into a puddle, putty in his hands as you’re brought to the edge of orgasm.

With one last thrust of his hips, you’re coming around his cock. You’re fully whining and moaning now, bordering on screaming. For a moment you forget you’re in a public refresher, completely blissed out. He doesn’t remind you to keep quiet this time, watching your face in the mirror as you cum.

“Good girl,” he praises, slapping your ass with his bare hand. You let out another small gasp but it’s cut off by a moan of pleasure. He continues thrusting into you through your high, prolonging it even further. Stars dance in your vision and there’s a strange haze around Mando in the reflection. This…. This is euphoria. All from a man you just met tonight.

He hangs on until you’re done coming, pulling out of you right before he comes. He paints your ass with his release, a modulated groan slipping out from under the helmet. You wish you could see his face as he cums. You can only imagine what he looks like, eyes closed and mouth open as cum leaks from his cock.

Once he’s done he quickly reaches for a towel, cleaning up the mess on your ass. He tosses it in the trash and helps you stand upright as you smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“That was incredible,” you breathe out, voice still high-pitched from your two climaxes tonight.

He grabs your hand, thumb rubbing against yours. You glance down at his bare hand and you’re greeted with tan skin. You can’t help but wonder about him, more of his story, more of what he looks like. You could’ve stayed on the balcony and talked with him for hours. But you’re not complaining about what just happened either.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, cyar’ika,” he says.

But before either of you can ask what that and the other nickname means, there’s a knock on the door.

“Mando? Are you in there? You’re needed on the dance floor. There’s been an incident,” a man’s voice says.

“I’m sorry…” he says, putting his cock away and bending down to grab his other glove, “I’ll find you after?”

“I’m okay! Go do your job,” you tell him.

He lingers for a moment, looking at you one last time before leaving the refresher and meeting whoever is in the hallway. You hang back for a moment until they’re both gone.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, ensuring you’re presentable before returning to the gala. There’s a bunch of commotion and groups of people are being ushered out. It must’ve ended early due to whatever incident happened on the dance floor. It’s all so overwhelming, loud noises and bustling crowds of people.

You spot Mando, talking to none other than Senator Xiono and another small group of people. You roll your eyes. Mon Mothma’s going to have to reprimand him. You figure you’ll just wait around until Mando’s done but another security guard comes up behind you and shouts.

“Everyone out! Party’s over!” he shouts, ushering you out with the sea of people. You open your mouth to protest but he shouts, “Let’s go! Get a move on!”

You glance over your shoulder at Mando, who’s still talking to Senator Xiono. His hands are on his hips as Senator Xiono argues with him. Mon Mothma’s there too now. It looks like he’ll be a while much to your dismay.

You follow the crowd outside, trying to wait on the platform for Mando but yet again security guards are ushering people into speeders. It isn��t until a guard practically shoves you into one that you accept your fate. You’re leaving whether you like it or not.

You stare at the tapestry of stars above you, replaying the night’s events. You were dreading coming to this event and here you are leaving… enchanted; wonderstruck. As the speeder takes you back to your hotel you wonder to yourself…

When will you see him again? Is he promised to someone else? Is there some other woman waiting on him somewhere else in the Galaxy? What did those nicknames mean?

The walk to your room is spent with your cheeks on fire, staring at the floor smiling, giddy like a little kid. Tonight was magical, flawless up until you were ripped away from each other too soon.

There’s one thing for certain, you were enchanted to meet him.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #ts drabble challenge

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miley1442111 · 14 days

Text

fresh out the slammer- a.hotchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao.

intended for fem reader!

summary: based off of fresh out the slammer by taylor swift

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: sad ending, talk of falling out of love, aaron is still in love with Haley

the tortured poets department masterlist

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

Fresh out the slammer, oh

Aaron unlocked the door to your shared home, one thought on his mind. Haley.

He missed her more than life itself. He missed being a family with Jack and her. He missed it all.

You were his girlfriend, you should’ve been on his mind. You had been there for him during his recent recovery after the stabbings with Foyet, you were working at all hours to try and find Foyet, you were always there for him. He loved you, truly.

But you weren't Haley.

Another summer takin' cover, rolling thunder

He don't understand me

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter

He was with her in dreams

He lay beside you in your bed. You were already asleep, soft snores falling from your beautiful lips. A certain unease settled into Aaron’s body. He realised something slowly, and it led to a heavy sense of dread, shame, regret, and guilt.

He didn’t love you. He was still in love with Haley.

He thought of Haley everyday, every night. He wondered what she was doing, now that he didn’t know where she or Jack was.

Sleep evaded him that night.

Gray and blue and fights and tunnels

Handcuffed to the spell I was under

For just one hour of sunshine

Years of labor, locks, and ceilings

In the shade of how he was feeling

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

Weeks passed and Aaron became more and more distant. He cancelled dates, came home late, he was reckless at work.

You felt hopeless. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what. You decided to confront him, staying up late enough to catch him.

“Aaron, what’s going on?” You asked as he walked into your shared bedroom. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Aaron, I’m a profiler too. Tell me.”

He felt conflicted. He liked you, a lot. He’d been dating you for a year. He’d thought he was over Haley, he was wrong. “I’m not in love with you anymore, I’m not sure I ever was.”

Your heart broke, but you swallowed it back. “Ok,” you whispered and got up, grabbing your go-bag and walking out. Aaron didn’t chase you. He didn’t want to.

You got into your car and let yourself break down. He never loved you. He was still in love with Haley. You were just a placeholder for her.

You went to Penelope’s place, knowing she’d be there for you. She let you in immediately and comforted you to sleep.

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you

Frеsh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

(Frеsh out the slammer, oh)

Haley was dead. You felt devastated for Aaron and Jack, not enough to speak to him though. You attended the funeral, you stood beside the rest of the team, then went straight to Strauss. You handed in you badge and gun, leaving the BAU behind. You cut everyone off, blocking their numbers, moving house, taking up a job in the CIA instead.

Aaron had officially lost you. In the weeks of your breakup, he’d realised how wrong he was, that he had loved you, that he was in love with you.

Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches

Toss the ashes off the ledge

As I said in my letters, now that I know better

I will never lose my baby again

He spent weeks trying to find you, finding nothing. You’d asked one of your new colleagues to essentially wipe your existence off the face of the earth. You changed your name, you changed.

He’d made Penelope look for you for months, he went to your family as a last result.

“You want to know where Y/n is?” Your father asked. “We thought you’d know.”

His heart stopped. You were missing.

He got the team on it immediately, until Strauss called him in.

“Aaron, Y/n Y/l/n is not missing. She’s been reassigned,” she explained.

“Why can’t we find her then! All of her accounts were drained and closed, her family don’t know where she is, and she left the BAU!” He demanded.

“She was reassigned Aaron, that’s the end of it.”

He was helpless. You were gone.

My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it

Watch me daily disappearing

For just one glimpse of his smile

All those nights, he kept me goin'

Swirled you into all of my poems

Now we're at the starting line, I did my time

He took a leave of absence from the BAU for a month, deciding to try and find you on his own. He looked through everything on you, tried to remember details you’d told him, but he came up with nothing.

Until he saw you on a case.

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin'

To the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams (Gleams)

To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams

And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway

Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake here

At the park where we used to sit on children's swings

Wearing imaginary rings

You were a CIA agent, you were happy the way you were. You’d found a husband in the 2 years since you’d left the BAU. He loved you and adored you like you were supposed to be adored. He was a childhood best friend, one you’d had a crush on as a child. Aaron walked into the CIA building and saw you with your hand in his. His world crumbled for the third time in his life.

You had found someone else. You shot him and the entire team a small, knowing smile, and assisted them on their case.

“We thought you’d died,” Derek admitted as you were all cleaning up the conference room they were using as an office.

“Well technically Y/n died, I’m Y/n/n now. Y/n/n Scott,” You smiled, showing off your wedding ring and smiling at your husband, the other CIA agent that was helping with the investigation. Aaron’s stomach turned. At least you were happy.

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

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firebrand-witch · 6 months

Text

Tumblr swiffers sign and share this petition to allow water in stadiums

People are supposed to have the time of their life at concerts and not worry about heat stroke or death. What happened was really unfortunate but we can use our voices to make sure something like this never happens again

If we can fight for cruel summer single or atw 10 or evermore lpss, we can fight for this too. Please don't let this post have 1 reblog and 3 likes

#taylor swift #the eras tour #v's op #eras tour brazil #music #concerts #ts #obvi this is also because of the stadium's greed but #we can do our part #imagine how she felt and imagine how her family must be feeling #this is terrible

385 notes · View notes

hungermakesmonsters · 25 days

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter One

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : The full first chapter. For anyone that missed the first sneak peak, this is going to be a vampire fic, so it's going to have smut, dark themes, and blood mentions. I've been reading a lot of gothic novels lately so there's a bit of inspo from that in here. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter One

It was official; you'd lost your fucking mind.

You’d been standing outside the building for five minutes now, the paperwork tucked in your coat pocket feeling heavier by the second. Were you sure that you wanted to do this? Could you really give up a year of your life to serve a vampire?

What other choice did you have?

A lithe and pale figure watched from behind the tinted, UV proof glass while you changed your mind a dozen times over. After a few more minutes, the sun finally disappeared into the New York skyline, plunging the street into shadow.

The door opened.

The figure called your name, and you stepped forward, almost mesmerised by the lilting, lyrical tone of her voice. You shook your head a little, trying to keep your wits about you.

You took in the sight of her as she held open the door; taller than you with a willowy figure, long white hair down to her hips, and eyes of pale blue that seemed to look right through you. You’d seen enough vampires to tell one by sight.

Your small suitcase was clutched in your hand, the few possessions that meant anything to you had been hastily packed before you’d headed to New York, and now felt like all you had left in the world. She glanced at the suitcase with disdain, but said nothing.

“Do you have the paperwork?” She asked, the soft but icy sound of her voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting while you fished the folded mess of documents from your coat. She gave the contract a cursory glance, making sure you’d signed every dotted line, before; “good. And are you sure you understand everything that this position entails and what will be required of you?”

You nodded again.

“Speak up,” she prompted. “This is your last chance to ask questions.”

Despite the impatience on her face, you took a moment. Only minutes ago you’d had at least half a dozen questions about the job and the mysterious vampire who had hired you.

“What happened to the last person who took this job?” Her eyebrow rose, obviously not expecting that question. “The contract is for a year, but I’ve seen this job advertised three times in the last ten months.”

“There are a lot of people who mistakenly believe that they can do what is required of them. Many have come to work for Mr Russo, and many have disappointed him,” she shrugged.

“What happened to them?”

“The same thing that will happen to you if you breach your contract; immediate dismissal with no severance,” she explained, slowly starting to step towards the elevator. “During your time here, everything will be provided for you and you will only be paid once your term of service is completed.”

“A million dollars,” even though that was the amount in black and white on the contract, it still didn’t seem real to you.

“Yes,” she pressed the call button, putting an obvious timer on this conversation. “Like I said, this is your last chance to ask questions. Once I take you upstairs, your contract will officially begin, and you will forfeit the agreed upon rights.”

You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and nodded, knowing you had no choice. You needed the money and a year wasn’t that long if you really thought about it.

The elevator doors slid open and you took one last deep breath before stepping inside.

“What floor are we going to?” You asked, not wanting to stand in silence.

“The penthouse,” she answered, allowing another moment of quiet before adding; “you’ll find that Mr Russo has been more than generous with your living quarters, far more generous than most.”

“Do a lot of vampires do this? Hire people to feed from, I mean?”

“For those that can afford it, or those with particular... tastes, it’s quite common, yes,” she replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look at you, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore; it was too late for you to change your mind.

“And which is Mr Russo?” You dared to ask, which was enough to earn a glance from her.

“Both,” she answered coldly, “as you no doubt saw in the advertisement, Mr Russo is very particular, and you’d do well to remember that. He is a man who likes everything in its place.”

Your lips parted, more comments and questions about your mysterious employer on your tongue, but they were cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. She led you out into the penthouse; a large open-plan living and kitchen area, with an open fireplace and wrap-around sofa, decorated in dark colours and dark-stained wood.

“Leave your suitcase there,” she instructed. “You won’t need it.”

You did as you were told, speechless as you took in the huge space in front of you. The windows drew your attention; tinted and obviously UV proof, but spanning from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of Central Park.

“This is the main area of the penthouse,” she started, as if she was a tour guide, reeling off facts that she no longer found interesting. “You may use this area as you see fit during daylight hours, but between 9pm and 6am it is off-limits. You will clean up after yourself.”

You nodded, following her as she slowly started towards the kitchen, leaving your suitcase at the elevator.

“All food will be provided, and should not be left in this kitchen area. You have your own private kitchen in your quarters. As per your contract, you will keep to the list of acceptable foods, and will receive grocery deliveries once a week on Fridays.” She stopped for a moment, letting you get a look at the main kitchen.

While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food in the main kitchen, there was a large wine rack, filled with bottles. But it was the small glass-fronted refrigerator that caught your attention. That was where he would keep your blood. Suddenly it all started to feel very real to you.

If your guide cared, she didn’t bother to show it. She started to move again, and you followed after.

“Behind that door,” she pointed, “are Mr Russo’s rooms. You are forbidden from entering. Any breach of that rule will result in your immediate dismissal.”

You nodded, eyes lingering on the door, wondering if he was behind it right now, if he was listening in to everything being said. The thought caused your heart to beat a little faster and, that, you were certain she did notice. She led you away, towards the other end of the apartment.

“Through that door is Mr Russo’s library, you may use it as you see fit during daylight hours,” she didn’t linger or allow you to look inside, so you decided that was the first place you would explore once you were alone.

“And this,” she pushed a door open, “is your private suite.”

The door led to a small corridor with three doors. You continued to follow her.

“Your kitchen,” she pushed open the first door and let you glance inside before moving to the door on the opposite side of the hallway, “your bathroom.” Again, she only gave you a second before moving to the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is your bedroom. For your privacy, the door can be locked. Though once you’ve slept here, no vampire will be able to enter without permission.”

You were almost speechless as you stepped into the room, immediately noticing the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around the corner of the room, giving you amazing views of Central Park and the city. The room contained a large bed, a sofa and TV, as well as a small gym area in the corner. There was a wardrobe, the doors of which had been strategically left open so you could see that it had already been filled with clothes for you. Beyond that, there was a desk and several mirrors, and everything was decorated with the same dark palette as the rest of the penthouse.

“As per your contract, you are expected to remain clean and healthy at all times,” she continued while you slowly stepped around the room, cautiously running your fingers over the desk and opening drawers. “Mr Russo requires that you shower at least once every day and that you wear only the clothes provided. If the clothes provided are not to your tastes, reasonable adjustments to the wardrobe can be made.”

You opened a drawer and felt heat rise in your cheeks when you realised that it was filled with silk and lace lingerie sets. Closing the drawer, you decided to look elsewhere, moving towards the nightstand. There was a silk sleep mask beside the lamp, with your initials sewn into the fabric.

“You will not leave the penthouse without permission. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate dismissal,” again, on paper, it had sounded easy but now you weren’t so sure. “Part of remaining clean for Mr Russo means that you will forgo sex for the duration of your contract, and you will not allow anyone to touch you in a sexual way. However, Mr Russo understands that this can be... difficult for someone your age, so he has provided everything you need to keep yourself... satisfied.”

Your confused glance was met by a raised eyebrow and the slightest dip of her head, indicating the drawer which, stupidly, you opened without hesitation.

“Oh...” you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but a drawer full of sex toys certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks got hotter and your heart raced in your chest.

“I would suggest getting that under control, your embarrassment is quite distracting to vampires,” she stated before leaving the room. You quickly pushed the drawer of toys closed and followed after her.

She led you into the kitchen, a clean and sterile looking room with everything you’d ever need to cook for yourself. Waving at the only chair at the small table, she instructed you to sit, take your coat off and roll up your sleeve.

“For the first week, I will assist you in drawing blood and showing you how to store it, after that it will become your responsibility. You will do this at least once a day, and it is your job to ensure that Mr Russo never goes without,” she explained, opening a drawer and removing what she needed.

You felt queasy the moment the needle punctured the skin, and you were sure she scoffed when you looked away from the sight of blood. Clearly, she didn’t think you were going to last in your new job.

“While your contract is in effect, Mr Russo is the only vampire who may drink your blood,” she continued to list rules and stipulations.

“And he’ll only drink it like this? He won’t -” you hesitated, trying to decide if the question could be seen as offensive to a vampire.

“It is, legally speaking, entirely up to you whether or not you would allow Mr Russo to feed from you directly,” which, of course was something you knew - since vampires revealed themselves to the world, lots of safe-measures had been put in place to protect humans from being involuntarily fed upon. “However, Mr Russo prefers to feed this way, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

After almost ten minutes she pulled the needle from your arm and began to explain how to seal the blood before handing you a bottle of supplements and a glass of water.

“Take one of those every day after bleeding, they will help your body replace what you’ve given.” She watched as you took one of the supplements without questions and then led you back out into the main area of the apartment, showing you how the blood was to be stored in the fridge, with the day's date clearly marked on the jar.

“Now, you should go shower and change into the clothes provided. I can either dispose of what you’re wearing or it can be placed in storage with your other things until your contract is complete.”

“Wait - storage?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“As per your contract, everything is provided -”

“I get that, but... you’re saying I can’t keep my things? What about my phone?” Sure, you’d read the contract, but you’d never realised that that was what it meant.

“Mr Russo is a very private man, your phone or other electronic devices would be a security risk,” she answered sharply. “If you wish to terminate your contract -”

“No - no, it’s fine. As long as they’re kept safe.” As much as you hated it, you knew the alternative was worse. No, you could live without your phone and laptop for a year if it meant earning a million dollars, if it meant finally being free.

Without hesitation, you removed your phone from your pocket and handed it to her. She seemed almost amused that it was already turned off, and quickly slid it into her own pocket.

She nodded and started to walk away. “Leave anything you want put into storage by the elevator.”

It was then that you realised that she was about to leave you all alone and you’d have no more chances to ask her questions.

“When will I meet Mr Russo?” You asked as she pressed the call button.

“That depends on Mr Russo,” she shrugged, “you may never meet him if he doesn’t wish it. He’ll decide when he returns to New York tomorrow. For now, I’d suggest you spend your time getting comfortable. A year is a long time for warmbloods...”

The elevator doors slid open and she carried your suitcase inside.

“I’ll be back after sunset tomorrow to draw more blood.”

It wasn’t until she was gone that you realised you’d never even gotten her name.

Alone, you remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, half expecting her to come back to explain more rules but, when she didn’t, you decided to explore.

It felt strange and you didn’t dare touch anything, practically creeping around the apartment, even though you were fairly certain that you were all alone now. You got yourself familiar with the main living area, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the windows before heading for the door that led to Mr Russo’s library.

Whatever thoughts you had about it, you weren’t expecting what you found behind that door. The book cases covered two of the walls and, in the corner of the room sat a grand piano. There was a worn looking leather sofa and, towards the back of the room, you realised that there was a set of shelves filled with vinyl records. Suddenly, being stuck in this apartment for a whole year didn’t seem like enough time.

There was a strange mix of old and new about the room, things that made you wonder about the sort of person your new employer was. How old was he? How long had he been a vampire?

You decided that you were definitely going to spend a lot of time in the library but, for tonight, you settled on taking a battered looking copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a shelf, hoping that no one would mind if you took it back to your room.

While it wasn’t getting late, it had been a long day and you were still feeling a little shaky, so you decided to do as instructed and have a shower before changing into one of the silken pairs of pyjamas that had been provided. Once you’d neatly folded and piled your old clothes by the elevator, you returned to your bedroom.

Paranoia had you checking around the room, beneath the bed and in the wardrobe, before you finally felt safe enough to lock yourself in. While it had been your plan to read until you fell asleep, you were too distracted by thoughts of home; had anyone noticed that you were gone yet? Were they looking for you? Had they been trying to call?

The only thing that you knew for certain was that no one would find you here. And, once you’d completed your year and had your million dollars, no one would find you ever again.

The next morning you realised why you’d been provided a sleep mask; as stunning as the floor to ceiling windows were, the moment the sun rose your room was filled with light. Grumbling, your hand reached for your phone on the night stand before you remembered exactly where you were and that you no longer had your phone.

There was a clock in the kitchen, on the wall above the small table where you sat and had breakfast, telling you that it was far too early to be awake.

After breakfast you showered and decided to spend the day getting used to your surroundings, starting with the bedroom.

The contents of the wardrobe left you speechless. Even the leggings and jeans were expensive brands, and some of the ball gowns... honestly, you didn’t even know why they were in there, but you’d spent enough time attending balls and gala’s back home to know that each was easily worth tens of thousands of dollars. Some of the garments felt a little more questionable; corsets and dresses that would probably reveal far more than you were comfortable with.

And the shoes.

You’d never seen so many pairs of shoes. Everything ranging from cute sneakers, to thigh-high boots with heels so big you’d break your neck if you fell over in them. Every kind of shoe for every sort of occasion, and they were all stunning.

Then, in the drawers, you had your more everyday items; underwear, tee-shirts, leggings. And, again, it seemed like no expense had been spared. Admittedly when you finally changed out of the pyjamas, it felt a little bit weird to put on underwear that you hadn’t bought for yourself, and weirder still to think about how soft the lace felt on your skin.

You picked out a pair of jeggings, an oversized sweater and a pair of Uggs to wear before continuing to search through your room. There was everything you could think that you might want or need, with the exception of a laptop or phone. (And you were very mindful about ignoring the drawer of sex toys, not even wanting to think about it.)

It took you almost the whole day to get through it all and find where everything was. Once you were done, you decided to cook dinner; a simple pasta in sauce with some bread. You hadn’t even stepped out of your suite and into the main apartment, you’d almost managed to forget that anything existed outside of your bubble until the sudden knock on the suite's door.

You opened the door to find her standing there, remembering she had promised to return at sunset.

“Have you found everything to your liking so far?” She asked as she stepped past you and made her way into the kitchen.

“Everything is fine,” you told her, following after. “I did have a few... questions about some things?”

She indicated that you take a seat and moved to the cupboard that contains the equipment for drawing blood. You rolled up your sleeve without being asked.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“In the wardrobe, there are ball gowns?” More statement than question and she looked at you with a raised eyebrow until you clarified; “why?”

“Mr Russo occasionally likes to host parties or attend events in the city,” she answered, piercing your skin with the needle. “If he decides he enjoys your company, he may ask you to attend with him.”

“Oh,” you decided not to ask the ridiculous follow up and instead change direction completely. “And, while I’m here I’m not allowed a phone or the internet?”

“As I told you yesterday, Mr Russo is a very private man. If you wish to contact loved ones, I can -”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut her off. “What if there’s... I don’t know, an emergency? Or something I need?”

For a second she paused, the slightest look of realisation on her face, as if she’d just remembered something.

“By the elevator, there’s an intercom. You can use it to contact me or, if I’m not available, you can contact the doorman.”

Which, of course, brought you to the next awkward question.

“... you never told me your name.”

“Lissa,” she quickly responded, off-handedly, almost dismissively, like she thought you’d never need it.

Once she was finished drawing blood, you followed her out into the main area of the penthouse and over to the fridge where, to your surprise, yesterday’s blood was gone.

“Is -” you started to ask, glancing towards that foreboding door that was off-limits to you, “- is Mr Russo here?”

“He’s back in the city, yes.”

You took that to mean that he wasn’t in, so you decided not to ask any more questions - what had she told you yesterday? That he’d decide whether he wanted to meet you when he got back. Well, he was back now and, obviously, he didn’t.

Lissa asked if you needed anything desperately and you told her you didn’t; she didn’t exactly make it seem like she was interested, more that she felt obligated.

The next few days passed in much the same way; you’d spend your afternoons exploring the penthouse, trying to get some idea of what Mr Russo was like. Then Lissa would help you draw blood and, by the end of the first week, you no longer needed her assistance. Every morning you checked the fridge and found it empty. He was there, in the penthouse. But, as the days passed, you started to think you’d never cross paths and maybe that was by design.

Maybe that was for the best, maybe it would be easier to get through the year without meeting him. You could just pretend that the penthouse was yours.

But it seemed like a lonely way to live, especially once Lissa no longer had a reason to visit. You weren’t used to space or privacy, not like this. You took to muttering to yourself, moving from room to room of the penthouse just to get a little bit of variety in your life.

The first day you were completely left alone, you decided to start the morning with a run on the treadmill. It was raining outside but you tried to picture what it would be like to run through the winding paths of Central Park, all the way to the fountain. Then, after showering, you rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen to find all the ingredients you needed to make chocolate muffins.

By the time the sun started to set, you were quietly impressed with how well you’d managed to distract yourself. But it was only one day, and you had over three-hundred and fifty more to fill. You made yourself some dinner, drew some blood and took it out to the fridge for Mr Russo, whenever he decided to get it.

Then, you ended up on the sofa.

Initially you’d only wanted to sit down for a few minutes, feeling tired and a little bit unsteady after putting today’s blood in the fridge. You had a feeling that you might have drawn a little too much, and you found your eyes drifting shut.

The alarm on your watch woke you, set to remind you every night when it was approaching 9pm so you could retire to your suite, as per the rules. You felt groggy as your eyes opened, taking a second to sharpen.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the wrap-around sofa, a glass in his hand, dark eyes set on you.

You sat up quickly - so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.

Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or nausea.

If he cared about your display of discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, for a moment you were sure you saw a flicker of a smirk cross his lips. For a second you found yourself staring, taking in the sight of him; dark suit, dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was stunning, even by vampire standards.

“I’m sorry, I -” you started, flustered. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for. It wasn’t like you’d broken any of his rules.

“So you’re the new one,” his voice didn’t sound like you thought it would. For the look of him, you’d imagined a smooth but commanding tone, instead there was something rough to it.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, quickly introducing yourself to him rather than addressing what exactly he meant by the new one.

“Drink that,” he instructed and you noticed the glass of orange juice on the table. “It’ll help with the blood loss.”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, embarrassed that he’d figured out why you were sleeping on the sofa. (Just how long had he been sitting watching you sleep, anyway?)

You gave a muttered thank you before reaching for the glass and slowly starting to drink. You’d forgotten to take your supplement too and that probably wasn’t helping.

“So, what are you running from?”

“I'm sorry?” You asked, not understanding the question.

“You've agreed to spend a year living in the home of a man you've never met - a vampire, no less - so, what are you running from?” He looked at you as if he could look through you, as if he expect a lie and he’d be able to catch you in it

“I’m not running,” you answered, forcing yourself to sit a little straighter, despite the light-headedness. “I just didn’t want to be at home anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” You answered flippantly before realising that that wasn’t the best way to talk to your new employer. “I mean - I already signed all of your contracts, so does it make a difference?”

“It does if I end up with your parents at the door screaming about how I spirited away their daughter and have her under my thrall so I can drain her blood.”

“Has - has that happened before?” There was something about his face, his eyes, it made it impossible to tell if he was joking or being serious. “Things like this are legal, so it’s not like they could complain...”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

It was only then that you realised what was in his glass, the dark viscous liquid he was gently swirling. He was sitting and having this conversation with you while cradling a glass of your blood.

“I’m not avoiding it,” you decided to tell him, “I just don’t want to answer it. I appreciate how this could look to some people, but I can promise you my family won’t be an issue. They don’t even know that I’m here and they have no way of finding me.”

“So, not running, escaping,” he stated like he didn’t want a response and already knew he was going to get one. And, finally, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink..

You didn’t want to watch him drink, but you found that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, watching the gentle bob of his throat and the way he licked his lips after draining half the glass. When he caught you looking, you dropped your attention to your own glass and took a slow drink.

“I’m not your first am I?”

Sputtering, you almost choked on your drink and, for some reason, your mind immediately went to the drawer of toys in your bedroom. Your cheeks continued to warm as the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“My first what?”

“Vampire.”

“No. I mean, I’ve never -” you took a second, trying to regain your composure. “I’ve met other vampires, I’ve just never let them...”

He lifted the glass and cocked an eyebrow before taking a drink. This time when he drank, you let him see you watching, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. Again, his tongue wiped away any trace of your blood from his lips and he looked oddly satisfied.

“Do you like it here? Are you settling in?” He asked, and you were starting to realise he was trying to get a measure of you. “Are your rooms to your liking?”

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” you answered before taking an awkward drink. You weren’t sure what else to say about it because, outside of the library, there wasn’t much to the penthouse. In fact, once you started thinking about it, you couldn’t help but realise that it seemed a little cold and lonely. But, perhaps it was different in his rooms, perhaps that was where he’d made his penthouse into a home.

“You like the library,” a statement more than a question.

“Yes, I - how did you know?” Had he been spying on you? Watching you?

“My copy of Dorian Gray,” he stated softly, and you felt your breath catch, “it doesn’t seem to be where I left it.”

“It’s in my room,” you answered, worried that you might have already done something wrong - you couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after only a week. “No one told me that I couldn’t take it out of the library, I just wanted something to read in bed and I -”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “You can take as many books from the library as you want, as long as they’re returned undamaged.”

It seemed to mean a lot to him and, perhaps, you should have asked why but, instead, you found yourself feeling indignant.

“I’d never damage a book,” you told him, “especially one that didn’t belong to me.”

Again, he seemed more amused than fazed by your response. “So, you like to read?”

You nodded.

“Why?” His eyes stayed on you, staring through you, right to your soul. At least, that was how it felt. Your lips parted, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Why did anyone like to read? “Escapism? Perhaps to imagine a better life? Or is it love and fantasies of fictional men who will treat you better than anyone in the real world that you enjoy?”

“Is that why you have all those books? To fantasise about fictional men?” you found yourself responding, trying desperately to ignore the heat burning through your cheeks.

He let out a laugh, a deep and dark sound that sent a shiver up your spine. The smirk on his lips grew and, for a moment, he just watched you before shrugging.

“Sometimes men, sometimes women,” he admitted with ease, lifting his glass and draining it, leaving nothing but a pinkish stain on the inside of the glass. “I like you,” he decided and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your blood. “This is going to be fun.”

With that, he got to his feet and all you could do was watch, getting some idea of his height and how he held himself once he was standing. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew his own strength even if others couldn’t see it, and you knew immediately that you shouldn’t underestimate him.

“You should return to your rooms,” he told you, turning and heading for the kitchen to get rid of his empty glass. “I wouldn’t want Lissa finding out that you’ve already broken your contract.”

For a second you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you saw the time. Twenty past nine. He’d kept you talking for almost half an hour. (Could he really fire you for that when he was the reason?)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time, I -” you got to your feet so quickly that you almost fell back down

“I’m joking,” it hadn’t sounded like a joke. He glanced back towards you, offering something of a smile. “You should go back to your rooms and rest, though. And tomorrow, take more care when you’re drawing blood. I wouldn’t want you fainting.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before moving towards the elevator and slipping inside once the doors opened.

For a few seconds, you stood, at a loss over what had just happened, before quickly making your way back to your own rooms.

CHAPTER TWO

End Notes : Sooo... there it is. I honestly hate starting new fics because I always feel like they start a little slow. I'm not sure what the posting schedule will look like for this one, I'm hoping once a week (on Friday evenings) but I'll post an update or something if that changes.

Thanks for checking this out, I know it's a bit of a departure from Catch Me if You Can. Have a wonderful weekend.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #billy russo imagine #(ob)ts ff

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