#So I don’t know what to even say if I had the chance
Note
this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!
Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)
Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.
Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol
Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx
If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.
“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.
Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”
Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”
When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.
Unknown Number
Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…
Y/n
Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.
The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.
Unknown Number
WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?
Unknown Number
YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN
Unknown Number
If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit
Unknown Number
LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE
Unknown Number
Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder
Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.
Y/n
You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!
His response was immediate.
Unknown Number
Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?
Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.
Y/n
*Image Attached*
Y/n
I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.
The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.
Unknown Number
Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.
Unknown Number
You are very pretty tho
Y/n giggled,
Y/n
Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.
Unknown Number
Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.
Y/n
How do I know this for sure?
Unknown Number
Trust me?
Y/n
Okay, ig. What’s your name?
The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.
“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.
However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.
Unknown Number
Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?
Y/n
I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)
Y/n
Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny
🏎️
The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.
Bob!
Good morning :)
Bob!
Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?
Y/n
Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.
Bob!
GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n
Y/n
Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol
Y/n
I live in London! What about you?
Bob!
Monaco
Y/n
Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?
Bob!
NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho
Y/n
Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.
Bob!
😭
Y/n
No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces
Bob!
Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.
Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.
She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.
Y/n
Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.
Bob!
Ok! text me when you’re free?
Y/n
yesss
—
There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.
Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.
Bob!
Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!
Y/n
sry, i just got home.
Bob!
Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??
Y/n
yeah
Bob!
Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you
Y/n
that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?
Bob!
you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times
Y/n
thats love fr
Y/n
but yeah its been a long day
Bob!
oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?
Y/n
Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.
Bob!
Talk to me about it then <3
Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.
Y/n
it’s ok. Thank you tho bob
Bob!
Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?
Y/n
no one?
Bob!
you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.
Y/n
We barely know each other.
Bob!
Do i look like i care?
She laughs and types,
Y/n
Bob, I don’t even know what you look like
Bob!
We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything
Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Y/n
People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?
There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.
Bob!
I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.
There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.
Y/n
Thank you. That means a lot.
Bob!
Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.
Y/n
When were you experiencing it?
Bob!
A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.
Y/n
You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.
Bob!
There’s not much to tell, Y/n.
Y/n
You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?
Bob!
I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.
Y/n
VAGUE
Bob!
Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs
Her eyes twinkle,
Y/n
Haha yeah right brotha
Y/n
That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.
Bob!
Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.
Y/n
You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?
Bob!
If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha
She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.
“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.
She breathes, “Bob?”
There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.
“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”
He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”
The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”
“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”
Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.
Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.
“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.
Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”
She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”
He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”
The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.
Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.
🏎️
“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.
“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.
Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”
Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”
Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”
“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.
Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”
Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.
“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.
Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”
“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.
Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”
Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”
Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.
“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.
“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.
Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”
He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”
She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.
Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”
Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”
“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.
Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”
Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”
Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”
As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”
Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.
—
Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.
“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.
Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”
Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”
Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”
Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”
“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.
Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.
🏎️
There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.
Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.
“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?
But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.
Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.
A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.
Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.
This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.
Robert Dancing does not exist.
🏎️
Unknown
Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?
Y/n
Everything is fine.
Unknown
Can I call you now?
Y/n
I’m busy.
Unknown
It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?
Unknown
Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?
Y/n
Stop messaging me.
Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.
Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”
She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”
Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.
“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.
Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”
A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”
A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”
“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.
“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.
He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”
She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”
“Y/n, I-”
She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”
A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”
Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.
He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.
What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”
With that, she hangs up the phone.
—
Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.
No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.
“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.
A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”
Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.
“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.
Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.
Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.
—
It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.
The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.
From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.
Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.
She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.
Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”
The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”
Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”
He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.
Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.
Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.
With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.
🏎️
The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.
She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.
He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”
It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.
When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.
“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”
The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.
The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.
The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.
He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”
Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”
He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.
Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”
“Y/n Y/l/n.”
He lifts his head slowly, “What?”
At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”
A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.
He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.
“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.
She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”
Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”
“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.
Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”
She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”
He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”
Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.
At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”
He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”
Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”
He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.
Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”
Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”
🏎️
The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.
Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.
So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.
“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.
A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”
Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.
When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.
Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.
He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.
He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”
He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.
The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.
Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.
“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.
Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.
“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.
“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.
“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.
Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”
What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.
“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.
She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.
“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.
“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”
Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”
He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”
Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”
Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”
Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.
“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.
He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”
Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”
His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”
She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”
Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”
Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”
She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.
🏎️
Y/n
Can you stop blowing up my phone
Bob <3
Why????? I’m bored baby
Y/n
im at work girly
Bob <3
girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me
Y/n
I think you might be obsessed with me
Bob <3
i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?
Y/n
girl
She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.
“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.
She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”
“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.
Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”
Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”
Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”
Lando hums, “An hour?”
“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”
Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”
She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”
He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”
“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.
He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”
She’d never get tired of saying it.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris edit#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfiction#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck The Freshmen (1/2)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Media girl!reader
Warnings: swearing, sexual references, paige is slightly ooc
Summary: Paige seems to be paying a lot of attention to this years freshman, but what you don’t realize is she pays attention to you too.
A/n: not sure if I should do a second part to this or leave it as is..also I got a couple requests for media girl shit so I hope this is good!! I’ll prob do more involving a media girl reader in the future
“Girl… stop staring like that.”
“Shut up, I’m not.” You nudge your friend in response, not taking your eyes off of the people in front of you.
You and your best friend had both had an interest in sports throughout childhood, so when the opportunity to become media girls came up at the University of Connecticut, a school with amazing sports teams, you both took the chance.
Since freshmen year you’ve grown a lot with the D1 Women’s Basketball team. What started as an awkward beginning had blossomed into a family-like relationship with most of the girls, and you had learned a lot in the past four years. Taking pictures during games had been the best part.
You’d gotten so good at it, by senior year you were appointed “student manager” of the media team, basically meaning you ran social media’s and were able to be as hands-on as possible.
Another thing nice about being a senior was mentoring. Just like the players on the Huskies, when new additions came to the media team you enjoyed teaching all the freshies your ways. None of them were as close as you were with the girls, for the most part.
“Wow, this one actually goes hard.” Paige’s voice rings through your ears. She’s leaning into one of the freshmen students, peering at her camera.
“Wait go back to that one. Shit, that’s good. That deserves to go on the instagram.” Paige says, ruffling the girls hair and patting her back.
“Thanks! Means a lot coming from you.” The freshie replies. You watch as the girls face turns pink at Paige’s contact with her. You listen as Paige showers her with endless praises.
“Seriously (Name). Stop gawking at them.” Your friend flicks you.
You shake your head in disapproval. “When I was a freshmen i barely interacted with the team, let alone the seniors.”
Your friend raises her eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just mad that Paige is all over the kid?”
“Super-senior Paige is gross, I’ll say that. But whatever, it’s not a big deal. I was just observing.” You grumble, hating to watch those two interact but unable to tear your eyes away.
“You’re in denial.”
“Pfft, I couldn’t care less.”
Paige’s eyes turn to meet yours, and you quickly look away. You can feel her smirk radiating, even as you turn to leave the gym.
“I’m gonna go get a snack.” You mutter. Your friend just nods.
As you walk to the vending machine outside of the gym, you feel your stomach twist at the thought of the scene earlier. You wish you didn’t care, but you’re all too familiar with the feeling of jealousy.
You pick out your favourite from the machine, but as you’re about to pay you hear a familiar voice.
“Lemme get that for you.”
Paige is behind you, and she pays for your snack before you can object.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You say.
“I wanted to though.” She shrugs in response. Paige looked good as always in her Huskies tracksuit, hair braided and tied back in her usual ponytail. Eyes blue and constantly searching your face for a clue to what you’re thinking. Sometimes even observing your body. “Didn’t take many pictures today, did you?” She asks.
“I don’t take pictures of random practices.” You roll your eyes, she’s supposed to know this but obviously doesn’t.
“Me and the others were brainstorming, and the freshmen got to test out action shots with the cameras.”
“You’ve got some good talent on your team with those freshmen, huh?” She smiles. You almost want to punch her. Paige is taunting you.
You decide to stay unbothered, even though your body is feeling hot with either anger or arousal. Usually it was both with her.
“Yep.”
She raises an eyebrow. “The teams gonna be in good hands when you graduate.” Paige smirks again, an awful know-it-all smirk.
“I want to get to know the freshmen better, since I’m staying another year I feel like I should be closer with them.”
“And how do you plan on doing that, Bueckers? You gonna fuck your way through the whole media team?” You quip. So much for staying unbothered..
She’s startled for a moment, but recollects herself by saying “I would if I could. You wanna go first or last?”
“Eat a dick.” You snap
“Kiss my ass.” She replies.
“I’d rather die.”
Paige scoffs.“You know you’ve thought of it.”
“You’re so fucking cocky.”
“And you can’t admit that you want me.”
You truly seethe at that.
“God, you think everyone wants you. Get a grip.”
“Well I don’t care about ‘everyone’ I’m just tryna get you.” She groans, as if it’s common knowledge.
“If you think I’m the type of girl who’s just gonna let you hit and then carry on with my life then you’re more stupid then I thought.”
“Ion’ know where you got this little idea that I just hoe around, but it needs to stop.” She finally says, no longer joking. She’s basically cornered you against the vending machine at this point. There’s nowhere to go, and if you weren’t so worked up you would’ve felt frozen by her gaze.
“Have you heard the way you talk to me, Bueckers? You don’t talk to anyone else like that.” You cross your arms.
Paige rubs her face, embarrassed. “Because you freak me the fuck out. I don’t know how to talk to you, and you’re just so cute when you’re mad. I can’t help it.”
You say nothing.
“I fucking hate seeing you talk to the others like you’re best friends. I hate the fact that you never talk to me. I don’t know why I fuck it up when you do, you’re just different.”
“Different?”
“Yeah. You’re something else.”
The two of you just stare at each other now. There had always been an untouched tension between you and Paige. The others dismissed it as banter, but you were never quite sure.
“Just don’t lie and say you don’t think about me.” Paige finally says. “I know you think about me. I see the effect I have on you, ma.”
She cups your face with her hand, letting her finger graze over your lip. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime before she whispers. “Can we go?”
“And the freshmen?” You cock your head.
Paige gives you a fierce look. “Fuck the freshmen.”
278 notes
·
View notes
Text
MA'AM
18+
MDNI
Neighbour au. age gap au (reader is older than jk). kissing, touching, oral (female receiving), fingering, jk calls reader ''ma'am''. reader is kinda lonely, bored and untouched. p in v, no protection (be wise and condomize guys).
this is all just fiction, don't take it too seriously.
plus im stil learing to write smut, so go easy on me.
helpful and positve feedback is appreciated.
Sorry for any typos.
--
‘’oh yn,’’ you hear a familiar boy-ish voice speak.
And when you turn, your eyes are met with jungkook.
You know him cause he’s your neighbour, but you rarely speak seeing that you have nothing in common but he’s always kind and sweet whenever you bump into each other.
Like right now.
‘’jungkook’’ you say surprised to see him. ‘’how are you?’’ you give him back a smile.
You haven’t seen him in a while, he must be busy with college (you assume) or maybe he’s busy with some girlfriend. Guys his age are usually swarmed with girls. Especially seeing how attractive he is. The college girls must be having fun with him.
You admire his hair that seems to have gotten longer. You can’t help but notice how good he looks with it.
‘’i’m good, hope you’re doing well..’’ he pauses in his speech ‘’haven’t heard from you in a while. I almost thought you moved out’’
You chuckle at his assumption.
You shake your head lightly as you chuckle ‘’nope. Just busy with work’’
‘’i dont think i’d ever move out honestly’’ seeing as this apartment has a fair price for rent.
He chuckles.
‘’im glad thought i scared you away’’ he says worriedly.
‘’you’d never scare me away’’ you mumble out suddenly feeling nervous.
‘’with all those noise complaints you handed to me?’’ He says with a warm joking tone.
You can’t deny that a lot of noise comes from jungkook’s apartment, that you had to report him. You kinda feel childish for doing it, he’s a college boy anyways. All they know is noise.
‘’but i do get it. I make a lot of noise’’ he uses his pointer and middle finger to rub his lower lip, you get the chance to admire his tattooed finger and pierced lip.
You feel yourself swallow the lump in your throat and bite your lip. You don’t know why you always feel like this when talking to jungkook, maybe it’s his hovering figure, intimidating voice or piercing brown eyes. Even though his eyes give off a soft innocent look you can’t help but observe the sensuality in them.
‘’um yeah’’ you don’t know what else to say. Your eyes can barely look at jungkook while his eyes can’t stop looking at you. There’s no way a college boy can make you feel this nervous. You thought you had outgrown it.
Or maybe it’s the aloneness since your last boyfriend. It’s been quite depressive but you try and not let it eat you up.
But it’s hard when you and jungkook’s walls are as thin as paper. and can hear everything that goes on. Especially when he has a girl over.
You don’t mean to listen to what happens, but what else can you do when you’re laying in bed, bored and lonely. It seems sad you end up finding your hand in-between your thighs as you hear how jungkook pleasures.
With all the groans and name moaning you have come to the conclusion that jungkook must be a great fuck. But it’s not like you’ll ever know. Do you even want to?
You can never fuck someone younger than you right? You’ve always dated older men or at least someone the same age as you. You’ve never been with a younger guy before.
But jungkook seems like he could definitely go for an older woman.
Wait.
Does jungkook want you. He does seem to give off that vibe but maybe you’re in over your head. Jungkook wouldn’t want you there are so many better options for him. So many better girls for him. Not you.
‘’so do you like those?’’ he askes pointing to the basket you have filled with ramen noodles cups.
You chuckle embarrassed.
‘’ yeah i do but, i mainly buy them cause i don’t have time to cook’’
He nods.
‘’maybe i can come cook for you one day’’ you laugh but he’s actually serious.
‘’oh, i wouldn’t mind but i assume you’re busy with school’’ you swing the basket lightly and unconsciously.
‘’i can find time’’ he says a little rushed out.
‘’then i wouldn’t mind’’ you smile.
‘’you going home?’’ he asks.
You nod.
‘’i guess i can give you a ride home, if that’s alright with you’’
You wouldn’t mind at all.
-
The ride back home was quiet. It still baffles you to how jungkook has a car.
When you were in college you could barely find money to buy food, let alone a car.
And even with a job you can barely find money to buy or rent a car.
‘’thanks for the ride, it was nice meeting you today jungkook’’
The way you smile and say his name makes a hot flash rush through him.
If only you knew how many times his thought of you calling out his name. Sometimes he wishes it was you in his bed, toes curling and back arching.
If he got the chance, he’d show you how you deserve everything.
You don’t deserve to get yourself off and barely get off.
Did he ever say that the walls are so thin that he can hear you too.
He’s heard your frustrated moans and grunts. And all the times you cursed cause of how hard it was to get your high, sometimes his heard you cry and it breaks his heart.
He wishes he could get a chance to please you. He’s never wanted to please someone so bad.
He’s never been so desperate to get on his knees and run you dry of all your juices. To feel you claw at his back as you take him so well.
But he’s also never thought of being with an older woman.
Jungkook knows you’re older than him and he doesn’t mind. Actually he makes him want you more.
He wants you like air and if he doesn’t get you now he feels like he would stop breathing.
So if he doesn’t take this opportunity now he might never have the chance to.
‘’do you wanna, come eat ramen with me?’’
-
You don’t know how it happened. But he asked you to come over to his, you didn’t see a problem with it so you said yes.
But you don’t know how you went from laughing over some movie to grinding on his lap as your lips intertwine hungrily.
Fuck. You never thought you’d be doing this with your neighbour and fuck you never thought it would feel this good.
Your hands roam his firm chest, and your thoughts are proved right, he does like the gym. Though you could’ve known that without clawing at his chest.
These younger guys are always in the gym, like their life depends on it.
Your gasps and moans mix. You don’t know how innocent sounds of laughter turned into hot whimpers of need.
Maybe it was the stares that seemed to linger for longer than they should have.
Jungkook takes a moment to take in your face but then his lips are soon on yours again as eager as ever, and you accept them.
He kisses you with eagerness and desperation. Desperation to touch and feel you in every way.
You moan into his mouth as you feel the wetness grow between your legs. You hate how a college student, has you this hot and soaking wet.
You’re busy devouring each other’s lips but you don’t fail to recognize the tent forming and touching your centre.
Jungkook’s hands rummage over your back and over your hips and to your ass, he sqeezes your ass lightly which causes you to jumb lightly.
‘’you okay’’ he asks
‘’yeah just never had anyone squeeze my ass like that’’
That boy-ish smile of his is far gone, now a manly sexy grin paints his face. A grin like a wolf looking at a lamb as it’s next meal.
���’you’ve never had someone touch you like that’’
You shake your head. You hate how jungkook makes you feel like a highschooler losing their virginity.
‘’who have you been fucking that doesn’t want to touch this ass’’ he squeezes your ass again, and you’re embarrassed when you release a moan at that action.
‘’i don’t know’’ your words come out more whiny than you’d like.
He moves to your neck and you move it to accustom him into the space. He places some wet and gentle kisses.
‘’i’m not like them though. I wanna touch every part of you. Wanna taste every part of you and feel you on me.’’ He kisses your neck again and the smacking sound of his lips meeting your skin causes you clench. ‘’i wanna treat you right, i wanna make you feel good’’
You don’t know how true his words are or if you can even take them seriously. Maybe it’s the lust talking. He’s a young man, he wouldn’t want to waste his days with you.
‘’don’t you have other, younger girls. You wanna make feel good.’’ You just had to ask.
The chuckles he releases causes a rush of blood to your groin.
‘’all i think about when i fuck them is you’’ he kisses you again.
You don’t want to believe him but your heart can’t help but flutter. You don’t want to get hurt again but something tells you jungkook is far from hurting you. But you can’t trust that feeling, what if that feeling is just how good it feels to be on him.
He has a great way with words and it would work on you every time, cause you haven’t grown out the naivety of your youth for some reason.
Jungkook knows when and how to say the right words which makes you scared. Which makes him dangerous. All these young boys are to slick with their words.
‘’yn, don’t think’’ he whispers against your lips. He must have noticed your distance all of a sudden.
‘’don’t think of anything but this’’ he pecks your lips.
‘’i’ll try’’ you coo.
‘’i’ll make you’’
his lips are back on yours desperately. And the sound of your lips smacking and you whimpers fills the room again.
His lips go back to licking and sucking that one spot on your neck. His mouth on your neck and hands on your hips helping you grind against his clothed crotch makes you gasp for air.
You’ve never had anyone take their time with you like this, they’re usually quick to just get it in. But not jungkook, he takes his time enjoying and tasting every part of you. Why wouldn’t he when he’s been thinking about this moment and taking cold showers to stop his natural desire for you.
Being with jungkook tells you how much you’ve been missing and how much you need to learn. It’s like going back to your college days.
‘’fuck jungkook’’ you moan when he nibbles at your neck. Your hands move from his chest to his neck then to his long hair.
You unintentionally pull at his hair and you love how he groans when you do so.
The need and ache between your legs grows strong as you grind harder on his lap. Jungkook watches how you move against him trying to find your high. He promises to give it to you but he needs to feel more of you before he does so.
You gasp when he plops you on your back onto his soft couch.
‘’jungkook...’’ you call out and he stops his action to attend to your need.
‘’yes’’ he sounds so submissive as he says so.
‘’i want you’’ your hips move up to feel some friction. He chuckles at the action.
‘’i want you too’’ he smiles as he pecks you on your forehead.
‘’no. Like i want you. Actually i fucking need you’’ you whine out. You’re probably gonna be so embarrassed later but right now you need him.
Your hand reaches for his belt but his hands stop you. You feel embarrassed and confused, you know he’s hard. You can see his fully grown bulge. But why does he want to take so much time.
‘’i wanna taste you first’’ he whispers by your ear.
Fuck. You’ve never had anyone want to eat you out. It’s been a while since anyone went down on you.
‘’jungkoo-‘’ you want to protest.
‘’please yn’’ he begs. ‘’i need it’’ his lips are against yours as he says in a whisper. His lips are on yours for a second before he leaves you wanting to taste his lips more.
You watch his body move down and you can feel your wetness drip down.
‘’fuck...’’ you hear him groan and grow a little self conscious.
‘’what?’’ you lift yourself up a bit.
‘’it’s just that you’re so fucking gorgeous’’ you can’t help but blush and feel a little weird. You’ve never had anyone ogle at you pussy like that.
‘’jungkook..’’ you call out in a whine. You can feel his breath breeze over you centre and it makes the need grow stronger.
‘’i’m sorry, im staring’’ he says and before you can tell him anything his lips are on you, hungrily.
You release a sharp moan as his lips make out with yours.
He licks a long strip of you pouring juices, your taste sinking into his tastebuds.
‘’so fucking good,’’ he groans. ‘’and so fucking wet’’ you feel his finger run through your folds.
‘’jungkook please. Fuck...’’ you don’t even know what you’re pleading for but you are.
Jungkook adheres to you unspoken cries, as he dives back into kissing you and massaging your clit.
Your hand finds it’s way to his hair and pulls. The groan he releases sends electricity through you.
You’ve never felt like this, nobody has ever put this much effort into touching you.
And jungkook has never put this much effort into eating pussy, but for you he will and he is.
He adds his fingers into you as he pumps into you.
‘’fuck you need to be fucked right’’ he says at your tightness. You can barely hear what he’s saying over at how hard he’s slurping.
With the way his digits work into you and his tongue sucks on your clit, you can feel that feeling you’ve been chasing.
‘’fuck jungkook, im going to-‘’ jungkook smiles at how you can barely finish your sentence but he knows.
The feeling grows closer and your heart races in excitement.
But then all of the sudden the feeling is gone and you’re about to curse out jungkook who’s now moving up.
‘’what the fuck, i was going to-‘’ you whine angrily.
‘’i want you to come over my cock’’
You don’t argue, he’s the one in control after all.
‘’ then please fuck me’’ all you can do is plead. It’s so embarrassing pleading for him to fuck you. You wonder if girls his age are this desperate too.
‘’yes ma’am’’ he says as he takes off his shirt, for some reason him calling you ma’am makes you more aroused.
‘’don’t call me ma’am’’ you say blushing but jungkook knows, you’re bullshitting.
‘’yes ma’am’’ he says with a cheeky grin knowing that it makes you clench around nothing.
You watch him unbuckle his belt and you’ve never seen anything this attractive.
As you watch him you anticipate how his going to feel and how you’ll wrap around him. That’s all jungkook can think about too as he strokes himself slightly, though he’s been hard since he saw you in the grocery store.
You feel his tip slide through your wet folds and you can’t help but suck in a breath. Jungkook can’t help but whimper at how wet and good you feel already.
You clench desperate to feel something inside you. You wonder if it will hurt, it’s been a while for you anyways. And he looks like he could stretch you out good. But you’re too needy to worry about that.
You gasp when you feel him move into you, slow and teasingly. His tip has you wondering if you’ll be able to take all of him.
‘’fuck you’re so good for me’’ he says as he moves in deeper. ‘’i wish i could feel you everyday’’
You can.
You want to say, but don’t wanna make promises. You don’t know if this will ever happen again.
‘’do you wanna be good for me like this everyday, yn’’ he says kissing along your jaw as he settles into you.
He doesn’t move waiting for your answer.
You hum but it’s not enough for him.
‘’yes, i want you everyday’’ you end up speaking more of your mind than you planned to.
Jungkook smiles as he slowly begins to move in and out.
‘’good. You can have me everyday’’
With the ways he rocks into you, slowly increasing speed, you understand the moans of those girls you heard him fucking.
His name falls from your mouth as he continues. Jungkook has never enjoyed being buried in heat like this. And he’s never wanted to stay in forever like he does right now.
‘’jungkook..’’ with the way your nails dig into his arm and you flutter around he knows you’re close.
But so is he. Your high is his target as he continues to stroke.
Jungkook twitches inside of you as you both reach your highs.
He lays on top of you as you breath heavily. He tries to keep his weight from crushing you.
‘’next time i wanna be on top’’ you say with the energy you’ve got left.
‘’deal. Even though i like being on top, i’ll let you ride me’’ you almost feel that feeling comeback.
You stroke his hair as you watch that boy-ish smile return on his face.
It’s like he’s changed and wasn’t the person balls deep into you seconds ago.
‘’i like this’’ you say comfortable.
‘’i like you’’ Jungkook coos into your neck.
--
#fanfic#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jeon jungguk#jungkook x y/n#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook fanfic#jeon jeongguk#jungkook smut#jungkook imagine#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#bts jungguk#jeongguk#jeon jeongkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc
248 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Whatever, now he’s just somebody that I used to know.” Steve shakes his head in annoyance.
Dustin won’t let it go. He’s still trying to get Steve to go with him to visit Eddie. As if he wants to travel across state lines to visit his ex boyfriend. Ex being the keyword.
“Yeah but he used to be your boyfriend. Come on, Steve. Eddie would be so surprised.”
“No shit. I’m sure he’d throw open the door and just be so elated to see me standing there. Toss his arms up and cheer with glee.” Steve swears Dustin better hear the sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“He will! I swear.”
“Have you absolutely lost it? Do you not remember how he broke up with me? He sent Jeff to my place to pick up his shit. Couldn’t even bother to do it himself. Then he changed his fucking number, Dustin. Does that sound like someone that would be happy to see me? He couldn’t risk the tiny chance that I would reach out to him. He went far enough to avoid me that he moved and didn’t say a fucking thing. So no, I won’t be joining you on this lovely weekend trip to Chicago. And for the love of god, stop asking me.” He punctuates his point by slamming the refrigerator door shut.
“Sorry, ok, I’ll stop.”
Steve glares over his shoulder at the boy. He can’t believe Dustin could have forgotten how painful their break up had been for Steve. Eddie dumping him out of the blue and subsequently disappearing like none of it meant anything to him. As if their relationship was just a smudge to be wiped away with a damp cloth.
Steve’s just made it to the angry stage of it all and for Dustin to completely disregard his feelings is especially crushing. He knows their relationship veers closer to a sibling connection. It’s why Dustin’s usual prodding doesn’t drive him as crazy as it does others but there is a time and place, and the subject matter of Eddie Munson is never an option. Not to Steve at least.
“I just thought-“
“Don’t,” Steve cuts the boy off. “It’s over. I’ve accepted it, you should too.”
Dustin nods silently with a twist to his mouth.
“I beg you, never speak to me about him ever again. If he wants to act like I don’t exist, then I get to do the same thing.”
“No, but Steve, that’s not- he asks about you all the time!” Dustin rushes out before Steve can strangle him.
Steve whips around scowling at the boy. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not, no, he does! I swear, Steve.” Dustin rushes to keep up pace with Steve when he turns heel and rushes out of the kitchen.
“Stop it,” Steve grits out.
“I swear on my mother. Every time I call him he asks how you’re doing. Or what classes you’re taking. Or how your new job is.”
Steve’s fingers are digging into his palms as he fists his hands at his sides. He’s trying so hard not to lose his shit right now. He’s breathing heavy as Dustin stomps behind him down the hallway.
“I swear, just come with me. He misses you.”
“SHUT UP,” Steve spins around and yells in Dustin’s face. “No he doesn’t! No he doesn’t! If he did then he wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have left without saying a word. He wouldn’t have ripped my heart out and destroyed me.” Steve’s anger is fizzing over into sorrow and he knows he’s failing at keeping the tears at bay.
“Steve?” Dustin’s voice cracks.
“NO!” Steve throws his finger in Dustin’s face. “I don’t want to hear it. I loved him and he betrayed me. He means nothing to me now. Nothing. Do you understand?” Dustin nods nervously. “He’s just some guy, now.”
Steve sighs with a heavy heart. Every muscle in his body is immediately exhausted. He thought he was done having to think about Eddie Munson. Thought he was past the point of letting the man get to him but here he is shaking profusely and on the verge of breaking down because Dustin is asking him to go on a road trip.
“Dustin, please.” Steve asks shakily. He’s so close to tears. “If you care about me even a little, you won’t do this to me. You don’t understand. He was just your friend, brother in arms and all. He was my-,” Steve chokes back the lump in his throat. “He was my everything. And if what you’re saying is true, then Eddie can try and fix this himself. He can get in his fucking piece of shit van and drive his goddamn ass back here and tell me himself. I’m the victim here. He did this so he can fix it. Now get out.”
“Steve,” Dustin pleads.
“No. Get. Out.”
Dustin nods solemnly then shuffles around gathering his things, and leaving Steve alone a few minutes later. Once Steve hears the front door close with a soft click, he collapses onto his couch and cries into one of the throw pillows.
#cw implied unhappy ending#post breakup#I watched that dancing TikTok to Gotye and had some feelings to get out#steddie#sad and hurt#steve harrington
195 notes
·
View notes
Text
So High School
high school boyfriend!finnick odair…
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who’s liked you since the first day of middle school but only found the confidence to ask you out in 9th grade.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who was all smiles when he found out he had 3 classes with you plus lunch. (He made sure he was sitting next to you in those classes.)
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who tries to make you laugh at any given chance, and when he does it makes his heart leap.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who notices that you start showing up to his practices. He sees you sit on the outdoor bleachers and read while he’s at lacrosse practice.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who walks you home afterwards and has the biggest smile on his face while he walks back home.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after talking for a while, nervously asks you out to a pizza date. (He’s exploding with happiness when you say yes.)
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who after 3 dates, (one pizza date, one library date, and one movie date) finally asks you out by asking if he can be your boyfriend.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who feels like crying when you say yes.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves walking you to class, holding your books and your hand.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who introduces you to his family, but his mom already knows everything about you since he never stops talking about you.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who loves going to your house or to the library afterschool to watch you read and do your homework. He loves the way you get frustrated when you don’t get something right the first time, he wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses to make you feel better.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who adores it when you come to his games wearing his spare jersey or hoodie with his number. He calls you his number one cheerleader and kisses you after every game.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who spends every winter break with you and buys you the new set of books you’ve been wanting for Christmas. He also spends new years with you and of course, kisses you at midnight.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who also spends everyday of every summer vacation with you. Whether it’s at the park, the beach, your house, his house, the movies, the pool, he’s always with you. He even spends the 4th of July watching fireworks with you.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who asks you out to the prom by having his teammates, your classmates and your friends hold out flowers for you to collect while you walk towards him. He holds a sign saying “I would be Enchanted to take you to prom” He’s all smiley when you say yes.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who needs absolutely no convincing for whatever color you choose for your dress and his suit. Anything to make his girl happy.
high school boyfriend!finnick odair who freaks out as graduation nears.
He’s lying in your arms as you read. But then the thought of graduation and college comes to his mind. He calls out your name, you put down your book.
He looks like he’s about to cry.
“Finn? What’s wrong?”
“What…what are we gonna do next year?”
You look at him with a confused look. “What are you talking about Finn?”
He sits up straight. “When we go away for school. What are we gonna do?”
His voice is shaky and you can already see the tears spilling out of his eyes.
“You aren’t going to leave me are you?”
You shake your head and hug him.
“No Finn…no. I would never dream of leaving you.” you whisper softly to him.
“You mean that?”
“Course I do. I’ve loved you for 4 years…and I know I’ll love you for more Finn. We’ll figure something out.”
He kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck.
“I love you sweet girl. Forever.”
Needless to say, you and Finnick go long distance and spend every break together. You both even get your own place together in the city after you graduate. And he definitely plans on marrying you. He just needs to wait til the eras tour to make it magical for you.
this has been in my head for so long so i needed to write it out so my head wouldn’t explode :P
#Spotify#finnick fluff#finnick x y/n#thg finnick#finnick x you#finnick imagine#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
then beg
pairing: suguru geto x f!reader
a/n: BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK srry guys idk what came over me when i was writing this (i need him so bad)
you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold out, your teeth biting down into your lower lip so hard you could nearly taste blood.
“c’mon now, sweetheart, just one little word and this’ll all be over,” your boyfriend purrs above you, his black hair cascading over his shoulders and tickling your bare skin.
you shake your head no, grasping onto any remaining pieces of resolve, collecting the shreds of your determination, to last just one more minute - that’s all you need, you try to reassure yourself.
truthfully, you never thought you’d be the one in this position - after all, it was you who originally made the bet with suguru.
you had put up with enough of his teasing, enough of being called ‘needy’ for just wanting to kiss him, and today you decided to stand up for yourself.
when he walked into your apartment, he just looked so perfect in his work clothes, his dress shirt rolled up above his elbows, his bangs falling across his forehead, how could you not want to fuck him on the spot?
“you’re so sweet when you’re all desperate like this,” he chuckles as you paw at his belt before he even has a chance to get his shoes off.
“suguru, i’m not that desperate,” you huff, stepping back and crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.
"oh yeah?" he tilts his head in amusement. "you couldn’t even wait ten minutes from when i got home, you needed me to fuck you so bad.”
“yeah. and you know what? i’ll prove it,” you state confidently. “ten minutes. i bet you i can go ten minutes without you fucking me.”
“you’ve got yourself a deal, angel,” he smirks, slowly waltzing over to you. his hands meet your waist, his touch sending shockwaves through you as his palms kneed the soft flesh of your ass.
“d-deal,” you stammer, conviction beginning to waver as he leans over, placing wet kisses along your neck.
and now, it’s been nine minutes of geto cruelly teasing you, bringing you to the brink of your release before pulling back.
he rubs his cock over your slick folds, the pressure driving you insane as you rut your hips up off the bed, craving anything more he’s willing to give you.
but, of course, he was not going to lose so easily.
“you poor needy thing,” he coos, watching you writhe in agony below him. “i told you, all you have to do is say ‘please’ and i’ll fuck you.”
it was becoming too much, the constant taunting and temptation overwhelming you. your body felt like it was on fire, everywhere he touches igniting new flames.
before you can stop yourself, your lips move on their own.
“please,” you blurt out weakly.
“what was that, princess? couldn’t quite hear you,” he teases, holding a hand up to his ear.
“please, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you babble desperately, “please fuck me, please suguru, please.”
with your eyes tightly shut you can’t see the way he grins, more than happy to give into your demands.
without a moment of hesitation he thrusts into you easily, a moan escaping your lips as you finally get what you had been craving. your warm walls envelop him as your eyes nearly roll back, your pussy beginning to clench around him.
“h-hah,” he whispers, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, i knew you were desperate but fuck.”
his words sound fuzzy, far away; right now, all you can feel is him, the fullness, the stretch, the sweet burning pleasure of his cock inside you. after what felt like an eternity of being denied it, you get suddenly pushed over the edge of your orgasm.
“p-please,” you moan, the words aimlessly tumbling out of your mouth, “please, please.”
your vision goes white as your entire body shakes, racked with wave after wave of ecstasy. broken pleas continue to fill the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, you just know that you need more.
as you come down from your high, you finally open your eyes to meet suguru’s, a glimmer of desire in his dark irises.
you feel his thumb stroke the tears off your face that you hadn’t realized were falling before he wipes the drool that had pooled at the corner of your open mouth away. he kisses you messily, his tongue easily sliding between your parted lips, his cock still buried inside you.
“you really are needy,” he breathes in awe through a smirk, “but since you asked so nicely, i’ll keep fucking you like the desperate slut you are, how’s that sound?”
blinking up at him through glazed-over eyes, you nod. “please?”
#trying out a new divider for my lil drabbles too teehee graphic design is my passion#q writes#drabbles#suguru geto#geto suguru#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x y/n#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x y/n#geto suguru x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto x reader#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#suguru x reader#jjk#jjk fanfiction#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gang AU Series 1
Bodyguard! Mark Lee x Mafia’s daughter! Reader
Summary: “I’ll be happy to die, if it means protecting you.”
cw: violence and mentions of death.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“You know, it’s a bad idea —-”
“Mark please!” you let out a deep sigh. “Stop being an overthinker! You’re making me nervous.”
“See! Even you're nervous about it, that means there’s something wrong with it!”
“I’m nervous because I might fuck up my speech if you don’t stop talking!” you shouted, proceeding to go to your dressing room and slamming the door against your bodyguard.
You felt peace now that you’re not in the same room as with Mark. You went to the drawer full of jewelries, pulling the first slide as your mother’s collections of pearls went on full display. You only smiled bitterly as you recall how your mother is so obsessed with pearls. You remember when you’re just a kid, you watch your mother dress up and wear her sets. Now, it’ll be you who’s wearing it.
You felt your heart tightening. It’s been a year since your parents died. A year since they left you and your older brother Johnny to take over their empire. An underground black market that sells illegal products and trades with guns.
It’s been a year and yet you still couldn’t comprehend how they died. An ambush, during a mayor’s dinner party. There weren't any other casualties aside from them. As if they’re the targets. After all, after their death, a lot of people attempted to take over the empire. Luckily, your brother is already accustomed to managing the market. Your brother was a powerful man, that’s why they didn’t stand a chance against him.
On the other hand, you tried your best to live a normal life even though you never had a normal family background. Coming from a family who’s been in a gang for years, there’s a huge part of your life that needs to be hidden. Not to mention, being the only daughter means they’re much more protective when it comes to you.
That’s where Mark comes in. He’s used to working under the gun trades but Johnny seems to be fond of him along with some of the other members, that’s why he made Mark your personal bodyguard.
“Yn, are you done? Because it’s almost 8 am, and we don’t wanna get stuck in the traffic,” Mark said behind closed doors.
“Yeah! Just a minute,” you shouted back. Wearing the last assembly of the set which is the pearl necklace. You went to the full-size mirror to check your fit. You only smiled because the pearls complimented your outfit. You went out and saw Mark on his phone. He glances at you and stands up from his seat.
“So,” he clears his throat. “You’re really going —-”
“Mark, shut the fuck up,” you cut him off. “I am going whether you like it or not, Johnny already gave me permission plus it’s a school event!”
Mark became quiet, he was about to say something but then thought that it’s a bad idea.
“What is it?” you asked with gritted teeth.
“I’m just trying to look after you,” Mark justified.
“Well it’s not helping, you’re suffocating me,” you answered one last time before storming out of the room, where the others are waiting.
“Damn, Mark-hyung got you already?” Donghyuck teased.
“Shut up Hyuck, is the car ready?” you asked.
“Of course it is princess,” the latter said.
You had Mark as your bodyguard four years ago. He’s three years older than you but your brother assures you that he’s a skilled fighter along with the others.
Having Mark as your bodyguard meant having another annoying older brother. He’s overprotective and an overthinker too. At some point Mark was definitely much worse than your brother who’s very chill with you as long as you come home alive.
It got worse when your parents died. Something shifted inside Mark that he became twice as overprotective and overthinker than before. It went to the point that you feel like you have no freedom at all, and it sickens you.
You tried numerous times to shove him away, even complaining about it to Johnny who only laughs at your complaints.
“Soon, you’ll understand why you need someone like Mark,” Johnny winks at you before leaving you alone in your room. You sat there, surprised because of your brother’s words. You tried to understand his side but as day passed by, Mark just didn’t do anything but to get into your nerves.
The car ride was tense, you notice how many times Mark glances at you in the rearview mirror while seated at the passenger seat. You tried your best to keep calm, practicing your speech numerous times. You are required to attend a school event because you’re the awarded student leader in your college department. It was an honor for you and you also wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hold a speech and talk for your fellow students.
The university was bustling with people, perhaps it was because of the annual school festival. There’s a lot of booths, activities, and events prepared for the whole week. Mark became more tense as they arrived inside the campus. You stepped down from the car, the remaining others getting out of the car.
You were about to leave when Mark grabbed your arms.
“Mark, we’re inside the school campus, it’s okay —-”
“It’s not okay yn, just this once please,” he said with a soft tone. “I can just accompany you alone if you want, there’s no need for the rest to come.”
You raised your eyebrow but you saw the worried look on his face and somehow, you couldn’t help but to soften. He’s right, and you feel like you’re being too harsh to him. You could only tug your arms away from him before proceeding to walk.
“Donghyuck can come too.”
“You heard her!” Donghyuck chuckles. “See you later losers.”
All eyes are on you as you walk towards the auditorium where the event will be held. It couldn’t be helped especially when your family’s background earned you quite a reputation too. And to think that you’re walking around the campus with two guards behind you just adds more to your image.
As you reached the auditorium, you were welcomed by the event organizer who’s a friend of yours. You only smiled as she ushered you towards the backstage but you remembered the two.
“You two just stay here, get a seat maybe, the talk will start in a few minutes. I just need to freshen up,” you told them. Mark only nods while Donghyuck gives you a thumbs up and “Good luck!”
As Mark watched you walk away, he couldn’t help but to let out a sigh. Donghyuck glances at the older.
“Stop worrying too much,” Donghyuck chuckles, playfully slapping Mark’s arms.
“I don’t know man,” Mark replies. “I just feel like something is off.”
The program started a few minutes later. Mark and Donghyuck stood there and watched you enter the stage with a bright smile on your face. Their eyes are locked on yours as you went to the podium and started delivering your speech.
Mark still couldn’t feel at ease as you delivered your speech. Everything feels off and he wanted to to trust his guts despite what you and Donghyuck said. He glances at Donghyuck who’s only smiling proudly, watching you deliver your speech in front of your fellow students. As Mark glances at his right, his eyes widen.
There were two men talking to each other. They were wearing caps and shades, trying to hide their identity. He nudges Donghyuck who only ignores him. As the older nudged Donghyuck harder that’s when the younger complained.
“Hyung what the fuck —-” Donghyuck wasn’t able to finish his words when he heard gunshots.
“Fuck, get yn!” Mark shouts, as the sound of another gunshot was heard.
You didn’t know what happened, all you knew was the first gunshot was heard and the next thing you knew, you felt something painful scraping against your arms. You fell down out of shock, and the continuous firing can be heard. You watched as the students panicked, trying to find their way to exit the auditorium.
You were helpless as you tried to stand up and escape when someone grabbed your arms. You almost screamed when you were welcomed by a familiar face.
“Yn it’s me!” Donghyuck shouted.
“Where’s Mark!?” you asked.
“Handling the guys, we need to leave —-”
“ — wait, what about Mark!?”
“He can handle himself, don’t worry,” Donghyuck said one last time before dragging you and escaping your way out of the auditorium.
You watched as the school ground turned into chaos. You couldn’t believe that what’s supposed to be a great day turned into a nightmare not only to yours, but also to innocent students. You wanted to help them but Donghyuck’s strong arms dragged you away from the chaos.
“Hyuck!” You saw Jeno approaching along with Jaemin.
“Help Mark-hyung there! We need yn safe,” Donghyuck orders.
“Renjun’s already had the car started!” Jeno shouted before going inside the auditorium.
You couldn’t help but to cry as you entered the car, Renjun immediately drove away from the campus as soon as the doors closed. Donghyuck could only pat your shoulder lightly, trying to assure you that everything’s going to be alright.
“It’s my fault Hyuck, I should’ve listened to Mark,” you said between your sobs.
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” the older one said. “Also stop worrying about Mark-hyung, he can handle it. He wasn’t hired by Johnny-hyung if he was weak.”
“This is bullshit, who the fuck would do it at a school event!?” Renjun muttered angrily as he drove.
“Hyung! Focus on the road!” Jisung shouted.
“It’s obvious that it was a perfect timing for them, especially since it’s yn’s first appearance after Mr. and Mrs. yln died,” Chenle explained. “But they probably hired the wrong people, look, they barely shot you.”
That’s when you remember that you grazed your arms. Your sleeve was stained with blood but it wasn’t that deep. You only wince because of the pain, while Donghyuck covers it with his handkerchief.
“You should rest for now yn, we’ll just tell you when we arrived,” Donghyuck said.
And you couldn’t even protest. That’s when you slowly felt exhaustion get into you. A few minutes later, you doze off to sleep.
-
You don’t know that it was already night when you woke up. As you sat up from your bed, you couldn’t help but to groan in pain due to the sudden movement. You look around and notice that you’re in your room, and as you look at your clothes — someone changed it into a comfortable tee and cotton shorts. Your arm had a bandage wrapped around the graze, that it’s most likely your bodyguards’ doing.
You noticed that the pearl set that you were wearing is resting idly on your side table along with your bag and phone. You grabbed your phone and saw that it was almost eight in the evening. You were asleep the whole day.
That’s when you decided to get out of your bed and have yourself some food. You opened the door and was surprised to see that the hallway was empty. Usually, your bodyguards will be there waiting for you. Now that you notice it, the house was eerily quiet.
But as you enter the kitchen, you heard small noises and to your surprise —
“Mark!” you shouted.
As he turns around, he only gives you a smile, making yours drop.
“What happened to you!?” you asked as you saw his cuts and bruises, not to mention, the arm sling.
“It’s nothing, just a fracture bone —-”
“Are you stupid!? How can you say that it’s just nothing?” you shouted. You couldn’t help but to cry, seeing Mark all rugged-up because of the event earlier.
Mark approaches you and slowly places his other arm around you, pulling you closer as you continue to cry.
“Hey it’s okay, I’m okay see?” Mark said softly. “I just fell on the wrong side, that's why I broke some bone.”
“I can’t believe you let yourself be left behind, what if you died!?” you shouted.
“Well that’s my job, if it means dying to protect you, I’ll do it,” Mark explains, and because of his words, you punched him in his chest, making him exclaim in pain.
“Stop that,” you said.
“No seriously, I swore that to Johnny-hyung,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m going to protect you no matter what.”
You became quiet, your swollen eyes staring at his brown ones. Mark only gave you his sorry smile and you don’t know what to say. Perhaps this is what your brother is trying to say to you.
Mark’s loyalty cannot be compared to the others. He was dedicated to protecting you no matter what, even if it means sacrificing himself, he would willingly do it for you. You only fall into your own thoughts as your eyes wander around his wounds. You don’t know why but your hand intrusively reached for his cuts, you saw how Mark tried to cover up his pain.
“Can you promise me something?” you asked.
“Anything you want, I’ll do it,” he swore.
“Don’t die for me,” you stated. “If you want to protect me forever, you have to keep yourself safe too.”
Mark only chuckles, grabbing your hands as he kisses the palm of it. “If that’s what you want, then I swore to you that I’ll be safe.”
#nct imagine#nct dream fic#nct dream#nct fic#nct#nct x reader#nct dream imagine#nct mark#nct mark fic#nct dream mark#mark lee#mark lee imagines#mark lee fic#nct 127 mark
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
There’s a door on the right wall of Peach and Mario’s bedroom, just a few meters from the entryway. It’s an entirely unremarkable door, really; it matches the doors to both the private chambers and the restroom, white with gold trimmings and a polished brass doorknob. Such a door normally wouldn’t give Peach any pause whatsoever.
There is, however, one strange thing about this door in particular: it wasn’t there this morning.
She repeatedly looks from the door to her husband, who’s casually unlacing his boots by the dresser. The door to her husband, who’s rummaging through the third drawer down. The door back to her husband, who’s unhooking his overalls and kicking them onto the plush carpet floor. If he’s aware of this anomaly in an otherwise familiar setting, he’s not showing it.
“Mario.”
Mario hums lazily, not even looking at her as he pulls on his softest, most worn nightshirt, its red cotton faded and fraying. Peach is almost certain she’s dreaming right now. She was so certain she had been awake just minutes ago, laughing with friends and family over dinner, cheerfully accompanying her husband to bed after a long and eventful day of baby shopping with her best friend (though it's still a bit early to be buying any clothes, she’d tried saying a few times, statements that Daisy had immediately brushed off). But everything suddenly feels far too… off.
“What is that?” she finally chances, gesturing to the alien door. Mario finishes peeling off his socks and gloves before looking to where she’s gesturing, regarding it with all the mundanity he might regard any other door.
“It’s a door,” he answers easily, giving her a patented I have no clue what you’re getting at but I love you and cherish the words that come from your mouth anyway grin.
Peach sucks in an uneasy breath. Maybe this is that Pregnancy Brain thing she’s read about? Perhaps her memories are being rearranged, her senses tricked? Toadessa did warn her that she might become increasingly forgetful as the months progressed. It’s a more logical explanation than any other she can conjure up. If something were truly amiss, then surely Mario would notice too. Right?
“I… don’t remember it being there this morning,” she confesses, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She remembers, or at least thinks she remembers, that there was once a small storage unit just behind that door, filled with old broken halberds and spears and other assorted equipment that was too valuable to trash but too broken to repair. Yes, she remembers it now with greater confidence; she had been terrified of that dark, cluttered room, unable to sleep for fear of whatever monsters might be lurking within, and so Toadsworth had ordered it sealed when she was age seven or so.
Or maybe he hadn’t?
Mario chuckles, and though the corners of his eyes crease in good humor and his smile is filled with warmth, her face burns hotter still. “Fog’s already setting in, huh?” He taps a finger to his temple to hammer home what he’s implying, and though Peach knows his words hold no malice, the teasing still fans an unpleasant flame in her chest; she can’t help but cross arms in front of her and huff, half in hopes of exhaling that flame, half to make her displeasure known.
Suddenly Mario’s face reads a bit less amused and a bit more ashamed, and that just makes her feel even worse.
“No,” he croons, approaching her with his hands loosely extended, “tesoro mio, I’m so sorry. That was mean.” His tone doesn’t quite match his words. He’s clearly sorry to have provoked such a reaction, Peach doesn’t doubt his sincerity there, but there’s nevertheless a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, like there’s still something terribly amusing about her predicament.
So this is the thanks I get for carrying your child, she considers pouting, but something in Mario’s eyes sparkles so brightly that she feels her annoyance melting away, like an icicle brought into the sunlight. Damn him. She sighs and unfolds her arms to take his hands; for her silent pardon, he brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses them one by one, and suddenly she’s overcome with the urge to giggle like a lovestruck schoolgirl.
She resists, if only to spite him one last time, then she lets the grudge slide from her shoulders.
“You know,” Mario says once he’s done with his ministrations, his thumbs rubbing little circles into the backs of her hands, “I don’t have any right to poke fun. I don’t even remember what’s behind that door, either.”
Peach blinks. No, okay, now she knows she’s dreaming. This entire scenario is making less and less sense by the moment.
But before she can pinch herself awake, Mario’s guiding her towards the unfamiliar door, letting go of her hands and drifting behind her. Almost like he’s pushing her forward, she feels.
“Maybe we should check it out,” he suggests all too innocently, and if not for the way he lingers behind her, she might not find the suggestion too strange. But Mario always insists on taking the lead any time there’s unfamiliar terrain to be trekked. He would never let her be the first in the line of fire, no matter how mundane said terrain might appear on the surface, especially not in her present condition.
Unless, of course, he knows what she's stepping into.
Staring at the white and gold door, reason begins to resettle in Peach’s head. How had he known she was referring specifically to the door itself? If she were to gesture to the bathroom door and say "What is that?", he wouldn’t say “That’s a door,” he would say “That’s the bathroom.”
She’s not dreaming, nor is she going crazy. There is definitely something going on. Some sort of conspiracy that he’s in on and she’s not.
Unaccustomed to being left in the dark by her own husband, she grasps the doorknob, takes a breath, opens the door… and gasps.
The room behind the door is, in fact, the room she remembers, or is at least roughly the same size. But where she remembers dingy hardwood, there’s now carpet, luxuriously plush like the carpet in the bedroom. The sterile gray walls that once spooked her are now a soft and lovely blue, decorated with empty floating shelves and cheerful paintings of Biddybuds and Fire Flowers and scenes from familiar mushroom forests.
There's no trace of the broken weapons that once littered the room. There's instead a dresser flush to the wall, and a tall table of some sort, and a small chest in the opposite corner... and in the center of the room, on a round and ornate rug, are two pieces of furniture on smooth, curved rockers. One is a chair, adult human-sized; the other is much smaller, a horizontal hollow contained within smooth, round bars. A crib.
“Oh yeah,” Mario chimes in somewhere behind her, “now I remember! I knew there was a reason I asked Daisy to keep you out of the castle today.”
His words slowly sink in as Peach approaches the rocking chair, reaching out to brush her fingers over the dark red wood. Cedar. The whole room is filled with the dry and resinous aroma of fresh cedar, a scent she typically associates with the workshop in the castle's western wing. The workshop where Mario tinkers with metal and wood whenever he tires of royal monotony and needs to keep his hands occupied.
The workshop that's been suspiciously locked every time she's approached it the past couple of months, even when she could hear saws cutting through raw materials and the tap-tap-tap of chisels in experienced hands within.
All pretense is gone. When she turns back to Mario, she finds him bristling with pride, that teasing smile wider than before.
"You did this?" She looks back to the chair, fastened with fluffy pink silk cushions, and the crib, a matching cushion tied to its bars and emblazoned with the royal mushroom emblem on its headboard, an emblem that's been carved into the chest a few steps away as well. Something in her throat feels impossibly tight. "All of this?"
Mario finally leaves the doorway, his hand brushing against her back as he steps past her. "Well, not all of it, no. Just the furniture." He taps his right foot a few times against the statement rug beneath their feet. "Weeg handled the layout and the decorations and the swatches and all that fancy stuff. He's got a better eye for that sorta thing! Then he helped me get everything moved in and set up and the door re-installed while you and Daisy were out shopping. Of course Toadsworth's the one who told me about this little room in the first place, so he helped us get it unsealed, and Daisy—" He laughs now, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, she wasn’t even part of it originally! She just barged in one day — I had the door locked, Peachy, but she just waltzed right on in! I don’t know if she had a key or if she just forced it open with her bare hands — and she said the only way she’d keep quiet was if she got to be involved and take credit for her part in the whole ordeal, so that’s how that happened, and—”
His face grows darker as he prattles on, until at last he’s forced to take in a sharp gasp, his color returning to normal as oxygen once more fills his lungs. “But! The rest of it! Yeah, that was all me! Looky here—” His fingers curl around the bars of the crib, giving it a few demonstrative rocks. “Remember that night you called me into the bathroom and I thought you were hurt and I panicked but actually you were just excited because you could finally see a little baby bump in the mirror? I couldn’t sleep at all that night because suddenly it all felt so real, so I spent the whole next day making this!
“And then I thought, ‘Well, we’ve got a place for them to sleep, but where are we gonna change their diapers? And where are we gonna put all the diapers and wipes and all that good stuff anyway?’ And that’s how I got started on that one!” He darts now to the table against the wall, gesticulating around it with the enthusiasm of a used kart salesman. “Perfect little platform, plenty of storage space, I’ve been thinking about making a mobile to put over it too in case she gets fussy, because the last thing we need is a dirty diaper and a fussy baby, right? And then—”
And this continues on for a good few minutes, Mario darting around the room to show off each hand-crafted piece of their new nursery. The dresser to store non-diapers, things like blankets and onesies and a few changes of clothes for both of them because babies are messy and ruined clothes are inevitable, and the chest to store everything else, like toys — he throws the lid open and shows Peach a few delicately carved wooden blocks and dolls, because what's a toy chest without any toys?
The information comes at Peach too quickly to absorb any of it, because an excitable Mario is a Mario at full steam that won’t stop for anything or anyone, so she blindly follows him, brushing her fingers against each piece’s cool cedar, examining the smooth-gliding drawers, dragging her thumb nail over the ridges in each toy she’s handed.
“And then the bookshelf! I’m… still working on that one.” He scratches his neck again with a nervous chuckle. “But I couldn’t wait any longer! Gimme a few days and it’ll go in that corner right over there. Weegee’s already got a whole library lined up for her, so we should have enough books to last us a while at least. And then I was thinking we could put some flowers and vases on the shelves, maybe? So they look sad and empty now, but pretty soon they’ll…”
Peach dutifully admires one such shelf on the wall, right next to a painting of a Fire Flower field in full bloom. Yes, a live Fire Flower on the adjacent shelf to compliment the painting. It’s certainly a good idea. She’s so caught up in the automatic thought process that, as soon as it runs its course, she turns to take on whatever bit of information Mario throws at her next, effortless and thoughtless.
Only then does she realize he’s gone silent.
“...You okay, Peachy?” Suddenly there’s no bravado in his voice. It’s softer, gentler, quieter. He closes their distance and takes her hands in his, warm and strong. “Sorry, I… I know this is a lot. Of course, if there’s any part of it you don’t like, you can tell me! You know I won’t take it personally. Well, not too personally.” He couples this statement with a playful wink.
Another automatic thought crosses Peach’s mind: how could she ever criticize any of this? He’s made an entire nursery with his own two hands for their child. She could never…
And for the first time since she opened that strange new door, it hits Peach. Not in words, but in images: Mario in his workshop, wiping sweat and sawdust from his forehead as he consults his blueprints, making certain his vision is coming to life exactly as he’s planned. Mario crammed into a booth at Tayce T.’s with his brother, thick brows knit in confusion as Luigi gives him a crash course on color theory and interior design. Mario in a football-style huddle with Peach’s steward and brother-in-law and best friend, giving everyone their roles sometime late last night or early this morning while she still lay blissfully unaware in bed.
Mario kneeling beside the completed crib, rocking it a few times with a peaceful smile, staring down at the plush pink cushion and imagining a little blonde or brunette bundle of blankets sleeping soundly within.
The stagnant tightness in Peach’s throat erupts in the form of a sob, a rush of raw hormones heightening her every emotion until it almost hurts, and once she starts, it’s impossible to stop.
“Ah— Peachy—!” She hears Mario offer a few uncertain words of comfort beneath her shrill breathing, and he starts to pull her in some equally uncertain direction (uncertain to her, anyway, because her tears are falling too hard and too fast to make out anything other than abstract shapes). She lets him guide her steps, until suddenly he hoists her into his arms and lowers both of them. He’s settled in the rocking chair, she realizes from the way they both jolt as he adjusts her in his lap.
Her belly is larger now than it was the night she called him into the bathroom, though not so large that she can’t wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly, burying her face into the crown of his head. Even his hair smells of cedar, a fine dust that tickles her nose, and laughter bubbles in her chest alongside the tears.
“You’re amazing,” she manages to choke out. Her Mario, her thoughtful Mario, her hard-working and mind-bendingly devoted Mario. He cradles her, his left hand against her outer thigh, his opposite arm supporting her back, his right hand stroking the side of her belly ever so gently.
“So,” he says into her chest, and she can feel him smile against her, “does this, uh, does this make up for the teasing earlier?”
Peach sniffles and laughs again, drawing him in closer. Even if she hasn’t forgiven him (which she has, she’d like to believe she’s not that petty), she supposes drenching his hair with tears and mucus is payback enough. Maybe they can shower together tonight. Maybe she can wash his hair, and he’ll press kisses to her sternum the whole time, like he always does.
Though for now, she’s equally content to remain right where she’s at, secure in his arms in this cozy little nursery, their baby nestled safely between their bodies. It’ll still be a few more months before this space is put to proper use, after all. What’s the rush?
#well! this was corny even for me#but I enjoyed writing it so you won't be hearing any apologies from me. 😆#I love the thought that mario simply Cannot Shut Up when he’s excited so this is my propaganda as well#bonus points if you remember the post this was based off of! it was from december I think?#super mario bros#smb#mario#princess peach#mario x peach#mareach#peaches' fancy fics#tw pregnancy
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Office Hours - Chapter Ten
Summary:
It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.
Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4.3k
Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex
So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.
As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.
Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist
Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.
He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.
“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes. Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.
“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”
“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.
“Sorry, what?”
You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”
His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”
“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.
“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”
He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.
“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.
“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.
“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.
“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.
“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.
“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.
You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet.
“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.
“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.
“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.
“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.
“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.
“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.
“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.
“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.
“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.
“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”
“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.
Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.
“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.
“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena.
“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.
“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”
“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.
“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.
“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”
“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.
“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.
“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.
You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.
You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.
“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid.
“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug.
Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.
“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.
“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.
You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.
“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”
“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”
Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.
“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.
“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.
“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.”
“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”
Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”
“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer.
“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.
“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”
“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench.
“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.
“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.
“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.
Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.
“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.
“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.
You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.
It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.
“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.
“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.
“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.
“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.
“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh.
“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”
His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.
“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.
“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.
You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.
“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.
“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.
“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.
“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.
“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”
“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.
“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.
As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.
“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.
“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.
“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.
“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.
“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.
“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face.
“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.
“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”
“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.
“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.
“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.
“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.
“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.
You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.
“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.
“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.
“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.
“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.
The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.
“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.
#astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion fic#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate fanfiction#astarion ancunin#astarion smut#baldurs gate smut#fanfiction#smut#professor astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x you#bg3 au#college au#bg3 modern au#astarion x tav#astarion romance#office hours#baldurs gate au#astarion angst#enemies to lovers
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
and they said, speak now
18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!
a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.
a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.
“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.
steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.
“and i’m invited?”
“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.
eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”
robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.
perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.
maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?
but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.
-
the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.
eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.
“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.
robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.
jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.
there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.
-
eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.
“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.
he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.
it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.
they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”
it’s you.
they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.
everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.
but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.
“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.
it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.
eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.
fuck.
you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.
it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.
“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.
the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.
“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.
“long,” he smiles meekly.
there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.
besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.
“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.
he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.
your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”
mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.
eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.
eddie doesn’t count on it.
-
eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.
pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.
fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.
eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.
but he’s gotta try.
- reader’s pov -
it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.
you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.
but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.
you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.
“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.
“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.
“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.
he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.
you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.
something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.
alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.
if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.
“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”
the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.
“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.
eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”
“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.
his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”
“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.
if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.
but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.
he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”
there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.
“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”
“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.
it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.
you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”
he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”
“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.
he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.
you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.
a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.
about what could’ve been.
somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.
eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.
you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.
it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.
and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.
but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.
the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.
your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.
the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.
it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.
his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.
eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.
his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.
your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.
the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.
cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.
your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.
“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”
a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.
marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.
the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.
eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.
your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.
“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.
your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.
“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.
it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.
eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.
with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;
fuck, shit, love you, love you.
your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.
“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.
he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.
“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.
you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.
eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.
your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.
finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.
it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.
“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.
his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.
eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.
“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.
“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.
you swallow, “what else is there for me?”
getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?
his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”
almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.
eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.
buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.
tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.
he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.
the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.
-
you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.
six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.
but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.
a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.
sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.
“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.
“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”
she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”
her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.
- eddie’s pov -
steve notices something’s up immediately.
dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.
“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.
the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.
the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.
he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.
because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.
sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.
they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.
concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.
eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.
he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.
slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.
he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.
you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.
“i came to find you,” he says, simply.
because he would, he’d do it in every life.
your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.
“you don’t look fine.”
your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.
your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.
then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.
eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.
so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.
“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”
he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”
promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.
he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.
you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.
nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.
“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.
“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson stranger things
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
alone with you - l.m.
Liam Mairi x reader
part two of Liam and Spark's story.
words: 3.0k
🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol
Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.
You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.
“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”
You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.
“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back.
Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.
But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.
She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.
Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.
It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.
No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated.
But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.
“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.
You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.
He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.
“You should have taken his eye out.”
“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”
You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.
You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.
Still, Liam’s heart races.
It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends.
You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.
He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.
“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.
Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.
The other cadet has the same idea.
You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.
The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”
You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.
It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.
You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.
“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?”
“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.
You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.
“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.
You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine.
You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.
Liam reaches for you, looking worried.
You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”
He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.
You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would.
You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands.
You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.
Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.
The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about.
Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms.
Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.
Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.
You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.
You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.
You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head.
If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.
There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist…
Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.
Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.
You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm.
There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight.
You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.
Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.
The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform.
He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.
You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.
He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.
“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”
You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.
He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”
Liam has always been too observant for his own good.
You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.”
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.
He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong -- it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.
“Three sips?” he asks softly.
That seems doable.
You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.
And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.
You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough.
You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now.
You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.
You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done.
You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.
Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.
You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.
“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”
So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.
He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.
You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”
His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”
You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being.
He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact.
“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”
You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.
All good things must come to an end.
“Sweet? He must not know you at all.”
“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back.
At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.
You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now.
Good. You don’t either.
You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.
You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
long distance video calls with soap
my first time writing anything and it’s smut ish. i’m usually a reader and recommender but god do I love this concept
cw: phone sex, mutual masterbation, vibrator use, voyeurism. (let me know if I missed anything)
you and johnny are in a new relationship. it’s your first relationship where the guys got an actual career. he’s someone important, he can’t tell you the details just that it’s demanding and can be dangerous at times.
you embrace the long distance phone calls and rare video chats. it’s worth it because when he’s home it's unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you know he’s military or something along those lines, the time differences and crazy schedules make it obvious.
after a few months together he opens up. tells you about the team, his cap, gaz, and of course simon. how the long hours and being away all the time gets to the team, he’s pissed none of them ever talk about it.
him having someone to come home to, it changed his mindset, he feels bad for them. it’s empathy, a bit of pity. he’s having such a good time with you, it’s not new for him to want to share the things he loves with his teammates.
the team just got settled into bed, working for almost two days straight in some random country, everyone was out as soon as they hit their pillows, deployment’s running too long. it feels like an eternity since he’s seen you, felt you. he knows he has to keep external contact as low as possible, but the thought of seeing you. it’s his forbidden fruit.
he’s a catholic, in hindsight not a great one, he kills, does unspeakable things for his job. so what’s another tally? one that he knows he deserves, because he’s been working so hard, it would be worth it.
the video call only rings twice before you pick up.
5:33 am.
he should be sorry for waking you up, but he needs you. you answer in the darkness of your room face illuminated by your phone screen. the lights are off in the barracks but you can see him in his bunk, shirtless, an arm tucked behind his head.
he looks like the product of a wet dream. one of which you’ve had too many of to be relaxed seeing him like this. he asks you what you’re wearing, tells you he needs you. he’s desperate, working long hours, going through all kinds of shitty situations. he says he’ll return the favour once he’s home. you know he will, he always does.
you don’t resist when he asks you to lift your shirt. you know he’s been working so hard, it’s the least you could do. he tells you to grab the vibrator he got you just before he left. knows how sometimes you need it quick and strong, not afraid of you liking it more than him, he knows how desperate you get while he’s gone for long periods of time.
he’s whispering praise to you, you can see the movement of his arm behind the screen. the laptop propped up on his drool worthy abs. it’s quick, the vibrator hitting in just the right spot, johnnys not the only desperate one. you haven’t seen him in months.
johnny knows he should turn his volume down. the sounds of your pleasure are bouncing off the walls of the small barracks. he just can’t help himself, too focused on your contorted face, your sounds, the quiet hum of your vibrator.
it should be embarrassing how fast he comes, but seeing you, even through a screen, it's more than he’s had, his imagination can’t compare to seeing the real thing. his grunts and heavy breathing are enough to push you over the edge. you both writhe in pleasure, thousands of miles between you too, but it’s not enough to keep you apart. you’re even more tired, a good orgasm and seeing johnny, you know he can’t stay on the line longer, but you want nothing more than to actually get a chance to talk.
he tells you he’ll be home soon, make up for him being gone longer than he said he would be. he wishes you a good night saying he's got another busy day tomorrow. you blow him a kiss goodbye, making him promise to come home safe.
“alweys dae lass”
the call ends, you set the vibrator and your phone back on your nightstand, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland.
johnny sets the laptop to his side, wondering how he’s going to clean himself up without waking everyone up. just when he’s about to say fuck it and sacrifice his boxers, a box of tissues hits his shoulder. he catches it before it hits the ground and looks to the bunk across the small room, he can see the outline of the infamous skull mask staring back at him.
“didn't know you had such a pretty bird waiting for you back home, johnny”
he swears he sees simon adjusting himself beneath his blankets. but it’s dark, he hasn’t slept in almost 40 hours. it’s just his mind playing tricks on him right?
is this actually good? I like it but it’s a word vomit of my thoughts so i’m insanely biased. do I continue writing or stick to recommendations…
#soap x reader#ghost x soap#ghost x soap x reader#simon riley x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap x reader#john soap mctavish x you#john soap mctavish smut#john mactavish#simon riley#cod 141#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#poly 141#poly!141 x reader#possible gaz and price inclusion#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#soap x ghost
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
Learning to Love Slowly
Jason Todd x Reader
All Chapters
AO3
70- I Love You, Jason Todd, and PTSD
It was the worst time to have a panic attack. You had been on top, smiling down at Jason as you watched him get off, and he had been entirely at your mercy. Then, your hand came to his throat. You didn’t squeeze or anything, just held him there to keep him looking at you, but something about it made him go back to the night he died. He remembered the Joker grabbing his throat, squeezing before letting go. The panic acted faster than rationale, and he threw you from him. It wasn’t a hard throw, he pushed you, making you fall back onto the other side of the couch with an ‘oomph’.
“Jay?” You said, a mixture of surprise and worry in your voice.
Jason sat up, shaking his head as he tried to push back the panic. You reached toward him, but he smacked your hand away. “Don’t…don’t do that ever again, please.”
You nodded frantically, pulling your hands toward yourself like you were somehow trying to reverse what you had done. “Of course. I’m so, so sorry, Jason.”
He didn’t care to respond as he got up, rushing toward the bathroom to be alone as he put himself back together. It was difficult when his heart was pounding wildly in his chest while something invisible squeezed around it, making it hard to catch his breath. Jason tried reminding himself that it was just you—Sweet, beautiful you. Yet, when your hand came up to his throat, it wasn't just you. A memory was there, too. One that cut and tore at him like he was made of paper.
Looking in the mirror, Jason realized that he had been crying. He had felt a sting in his eyes, but not the tears running down his face. Wiping at his cheek, he used his free hand to turn the sink knob so he could splash water onto his face. The cool water brought him back enough to come out.
Jason found you on the couch, a blanket draped over your body, and you looked at him with concern. Sucking in a deep breath, he awkwardly inched toward you, grabbing a blanket on his way to sit down so a little dignity could be recovered.
“I’m,” You paused, thinking over what to say before continuing. “I’m sorry, Jason. I should have asked if I could do that.” He tried to smile at you, to give you a sense that it was okay, but the guilt was still written all over your face. Before he could even get out that you shouldn’t be worried, you inched closer to him, eyes not moving an inch from his. “Do you want to talk about what happened? We've established no choking, but, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you…”
“React like that?” He finished the sentence, understanding the hesitancy. It was a tough question, but he didn’t want you walking on eggshells around him. You nodded shyly. “It, um, has to do with the Joker. Honestly, that’s all I want to say about it. Please, don’t tear yourself over it, sweetheart.”
You nodded, taking the chance to lean forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Maybe we should at least talk about what you don’t like? For future reference.”
Jason chuckled and nodded. “Sure, just…let’s do it another time.”
You nodded, reaching over to rub small circles on his back. “Do you want to be alone?”
He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with these thoughts. Suddenly, you followed that up by sheepishly asking if he wanted to order some McDonald’s. Jason was caught off guard, especially when he let out a quick and loud laugh because McDonald's was the last thing on his mind. Yet, he wasn’t put off by the offer. Instead, a little bit of him was thankful that you managed to distract him from the echoing tormented laughter in his head.
He looked at you when your hand came to his cheek. “You sure you’re okay?” He nodded. “Good, I love you, Jason Todd.”
Those words coming off your tongue felt like a light in the darkest parts of him. It made him feel airy and light, so when he couldn’t find the words to say it back it wrecked him. You must have noticed.
“I know, baby, I know,” You kissed him again.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head on your shoulder as you reached over to grab his hand. It was comforting to know that, despite the falls and dips of his life, you’d always be there to lift him up.
#jason todd#red hood#bruce wayne#jason todd x reader#romance#batfamily#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#red hood x reader#dc red hood#red hood fanfic#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x y/n
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
1 am thoughts with kit;
mdni (here is other academic rival!coryo)
on the topic of being academic rivals with coryo, little petty fights would happen all the time.
even during school hours, where you’re speaking in harsh, hushed tones to one another in the library because he took the book you needed on purpose of course.
Yes, he did need to book for an assignment. But, he already read it and is pretending he still needs it just to piss you off. And you know it. Even though it’s a dumb fight and you know you’ll get the book in time in some way, you’ve had it. You’re tired of the fighting with him, with how annoyed he makes you feel.
Coriolanus doesn’t expect you to straight up ignore him when he asks you what you’re gonna do about him having the book. You turn on your heel and go back to where you set up at a study table, aggressively putting your notebook and pens away, not daring to look at him even when you hear his footsteps approach.
“Are you gonna answer me? I have the book you need, what’re you gonna do about it?”
You don’t respond still. Ignoring him as though he’s not there. He’s searching for a fight. Coriolanus wants to hear you snap at him, but he’s getting angrier the more you ignore him.
“Can you stop with the silence? I’ll give you the book,” he tries, seeing if that will make you talk to him but you don’t. You finish packing your back, zipping it up and before you have the chance to sling it over your shoulder, you feel his hand grab your jaw to turn your face to him.
“Don’t ignore me,” he spits out, in a stern tone even he didn’t expect to have. His grip isn’t hurting, but it makes you freeze in your place, feeling vulnerable but also turned on. Which is another thing in of itself. His hands were so nice. And he held your face like he needed to. Made you look at him. It was always difficult to suppress your attraction to Coriolanus, and he’s making it harder.
“Sorry,” he mutters, letting go of your jaw, as though he snapped out of it and realized how aggressive he had gotten, that your breath hitched in a way he wondered if you liked it or if he was overthinking.
“Thought you’d want me to ignore you, Snow. I annoy you so much, maybe it’s better if we just leave each other alone,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady.
His mouth parts to say something, but he stops himself. He looks at the book in his hands and just holds it out to you, waiting for you to take it. You do, turning to put it into your back.
Coriolanus clears his throat and steps closer, leaning his head down so he can whisper to your ear, “I don’t want you to ignore me.”
He watches for your reaction but the moment you lock your eyes back to his, he’s looking away, standing up straight and fixing the strap of his bag on him, starting to walk off, but not without saying, “see you in class, dork.”
#late night thoughts#coryo calling you a dork when he himself is a bit of dork basically#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow concept#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus x you#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus smut#coriolanus imagine#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow blurb#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow drabble#tbosas
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Please, Don’t Go | One Shot
Fem!Reader x Yandere Shoko Ieiri
About:
Shoko has lost almost everyone close to her, so when you turn up half dead in the medical bay, she decides that she wants to keep you forever. Once she fixes you up, of course.
Tags/themes:
Mild yandere, she’s very protective. Oral sex, everything is consensual. Basically porn/smut with a little plot. Slight warning for light violence, but it was to set up the scene. Fem!Reader x fem!character.
Word count: 3k
***
“This is fucked up.” You said as you leaned against the rails, huffing out a puff of smoke—your eyes bitterly staring off into the distance.
“Right.” Shoko agreed, lighting up her own stick as she joined you. Her arm brushed against your shoulder, offering idle comfort as you both surrendered your gaze of the fiery red sky.
At least you were getting one last sunset out of tonight, before you’d have to assist on the mission. You didn’t want to go, you weren’t strong at all. But you were called in to fulfil your duty and you had zero rights to refuse.
“Think I got a chance at all?” You sighed, throwing the cigarette to the ground and rubbing it into the concrete with your shoe.
“I want to say you do,” she sighed, her demeanour stiffening just a little, she was tense and it showed, despite being neutral in the way she carried herself—her uncertainty was finally slipping through the cracks, “but who really knows.”
“Encouraging.” Your response was sarcastic and you smiled, but you swallowed down dread as you did so. Your eyes watered just a little as you felt dizzied from the prospect.
Fighting a special grade cursed spirit? You didn’t stand a chance at all. Your presence to the scene was likely just fodder; a distraction to keep it at bay for a split second as those who could hold their ground on the battlefield scrambled to form a plan to contain it.
You felt sickness rise within you next, some type of festering nausea that swelled within your core. Your head hurt as you struggled to retain focus.
You really didn’t want to go.
You wanted to live.
“If you’re able to, try to survive at least a little.” Shoko spoke up after a painful moment of silence.
“Hm?” You hummed, suddenly grounding yourself.
“I can put you back together, I think, if you manage to keep your critical areas in tact,” she said, her voice ripe with care, “I’d really hate to lose another friend again. It’s just so… lonely.”
“I mean, I’ll try?” You half scoffed, half laughed. You didn’t want to die for certain, you’d do your best to be one of the lucky few who would only meet at the verge of death and not at their final end.
“Good.” She said in a somewhat scolding tone. “You’d better.”
***
By the time you got to the scene, everything was more or less in shambles.
You managed to make it through the waves of the dead, leading a trail as to where you had to go like a matted pile of flesh, blood and bone. You sighed as you knew that you were likely the next in line to be paved into that ill-fated road, your body shuddering as you approached a presence that you could even bear to witness.
It saw you from the very moment you entered the scene, a mile or two away. You could feel its invading eyes linger and seep into your soul as the stare pierced you, as if warning you to not take a step closer lest your life would end.
You dared approach it anyway, understanding your duty to fulfil as a sorcerer. Even if you were to topple and succumb immediately, then that had to be done—your life was only mere, slight in comparison to the others that you’d have to save in the surrounding area.
You thought back to Shoko’s request.
To your promise.
You’ll try to drag this one out, to buy the minds plotting for victory some time, but you��d also try to not meet your immediate end if you could help it. You didn’t want to leave her entirely and utterly alone, because whether or not she saw you as what you saw her back as, it felt all simply too cruel to condemn her to such a twisted fate.
The special grade taunted you from the moment you faced it, its eyes eluding contempt mocking you as it locked its sight onto your body. It was objectifying almost, his mouth—drooling, salivating at the sight; you felt hunted, like a deer walking into the belly of the beast rather than towards the forested horizon that promised safe escape.
Its voice deep and trembling, echoing within your body’s core as his words shook you, you could feel it vibrate against your throat as your skin prickled with goosebumps, enveloping your very being.
What happened next was quick—brief, sudden and swiftly done, you weren’t even properly conscious to bear witness to the horrors done unto you within the limited amount of time that you had. All you could understand was that you were standing at one point, then smeared against the asphalt the next.
Your body burned and it ached, bones stuck in unnatural places, bending as though to just barely snap, kept in by pure miracle alone. Your eyes felt dry, as if sand filled your waterline, to even blink, feeling as though you’d crumble.
It was a waiting game to bleed out, to wait for death to come and claim you. Your eyes darkened, your body numbed.
Your attempt didn’t even make a dent, but it wasn’t in vain.
You did your part, now it was up to everyone else.
***
You awoke some time later in a bed, so warm and plush and comforting—was this a hallucination? Perhaps your mind was allowing you to live out your final moments in a dream, how nice of it to do so, if it was truly that.
You felt everything you could, the smell of clean laundry and the sensation of cool air wisp against your raw skin, enveloping it with comfort. You laid against soft linen, hearing the gentle hum of someone familiar in the background, the smell of tea drifting to your senses as the comfort continued to build.
You pinched yourself to ensure this was real and much to your surprise, it indeed seemed to be. Every feeling was correct and your body was put back together, but how—and why were you back so soon? Were you really back so soon?
Your eyes drifted around the room again, scrolling from side to side as you tried to figure out where you were. You weren’t a corpse rotting outside against the pavement, but you weren’t quite back at the campus either.
This felt personal. From the scent of incense burning by the window, velvet smoke drifting into your nostrils as the wind carried the scent inside. Your body was intact, fingers clenching and brushing at the warm bedding that your body laid upon.
Through the door entered a familiar face; her eyes so worn and tired, dusty hues of exhaustion settling on her face. Shoko’s complexion wrinkled a little, the extensive work she put through to keep you in one piece likely taking a huge hit out of her very being.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up after a while.” She sighed, her hip dipping against the frame of the door. Her fingers latched onto the handle.
Just how long has she spent doing this?
“How long was I out for?” You croaked, your own voice surprising you. You sounded so stiff, so tense. Your words barely made it out of your throat.
“A week, almost.” She said, walking inside of the room and scanning your body on the bed. The way that she did so seemed expertly crafted, as if studying her own handiwork with fixing you back together.
Her eyes seemed dark though, there was something beyond that caring gaze, something not exactly sinister but not quite good either. It was all surely subtle though as she soon corrected her stance, relaxing her posture as she sat along the edge of the bed.
Her hand trailed over to you as you initially thought it was out of affection, only for her to tighten something that looped around your arms instead. Your eyes snapped to the confines she placed around you, realising that your ankles were bound too.
How did you not notice this?
You supposed that you were out of it when waking up. Your mind still wasn’t in a correct place.
“Hey…” You softly said, your mind finally catching up now that you didn’t feel so groggy.
“Don’t struggle,” she hushed you, her fingertips now dancing against your lips as though to silence you, “please, don’t struggle for me.”
“This your idea of being funny, then?” You asked, trying to keep things light in case that this was all some strange joke.
“It’s my idea of keeping you safe, be grateful.” She sighed, her body leaning in over yours as though to find comfort in your frame, you groaned just a little as you didn’t quite feel entirely healthy just yet.
“You’re serious?” You frowned in response instead, feeling her painful comfort as she refused to budge. You tugged along at the confines, finding that they were oddly strict and your body felt a little too weak to protest properly.
“Everyone just keeps dying. Do you know just how close you were to following them?” She simply asked, sitting back up once again. She wasn’t joking as much as usual, her words carrying extra weight as she stared you down with those tired eyes.
“But you’ve fixed me, so I won’t go anywhere-“
“Correct, you’re not going anywhere, but I’ve also done something stupid. Something I maybe shouldn’t have.” She said as her expression tightened, a look of pure regret.
“And what’s that?”
“You’re categorised as killed in action, I put the paperwork through to confirm it. You won’t be returning.”
“You did what?” Your tone shifted to something confused, you didn’t understand where this was going any longer.
Your mind reversed just a few seconds back—you focused on something small she just told you, it stuck out so painfully sore in the slew of words she otherwise fed you:
(You’re not going anywhere.)
You were supposedly marked off to be dead.
Her face and the way she looked so stiff told you that she was being serious, but even then, you refused to register it as such, maybe this was all elaborate. It wouldn’t be unlike her to be so deadpan and scarily authentic just for her to tell you that it was a joke all along—you begged for her to tell you it was one after all.
But the punchline never came.
“I don’t want you to go out there again and get killed.” She defended, immediately jumping on the backpedal.
“So you told them I died so that I wouldn’t go back?” Your voice raised a little.
“You were dead on the table when they sent an assistant, or close to it. Then I just… patched you up on my own terms once they were gone. Everyone’s too busy for a proper funeral anyway.”
“Shoko…” You sighed, your head falling back flat against the pillow. Your eyes glued to the ceiling above you as you processed her insanity.
“You’re not leaving me,” her tone darkened, her voice carrying something spiteful almost—you’ve never heard her speak this way, “you won’t be like them, you won’t die and leave me here all alone—but look, I’ll keep you safe.”
“And what about when I inevitably walk out of here alive?” You sighed.
“You won’t.” She hushed you. “You’ll be alive, I mean, obviously… but, you won’t be leaving.”
“So, your plan is to keep me inside forever then or what?”
“If I have to.” She seemed to conclude that this was it anyway, based on how she promptly sat up and got up to walk back out of the door.
“Shoko.” You persisted, feeling still weak from the battle, your body aching for recovery. Thankful that she brought you back, but otherwise wary of what she kept promising you.
“I’m bringing you something to help you recover, but only once, so be good for me and actually eat up.” She said, demanded almost. Her command was laced with utter care, her will begging for you to comply and live for her sake, if barely your own.
She came back after that moment, her hands cradling a tray as she slid it over to you in silence as you struggled to sit up to take it on. On it was a cup of steaming tea and some okayu to help you recover.
You weren’t all that fond of rice porridge, but you did suppose that you were her patient and you needed to eat something simple, something healing.
You ate it as you were told, your body yearning to recover as you did so. The warmth of everything settling in your stomach, keeping you warm and comforted and satiated to boot.
Her weary eyes watched you as you ate, as though relaxing at the sight of you replenishing your health. She held against your side of the bed, her eyes slowly closing as you finished up your meal—suddenly fluttering open when her ears met with silence, the sign of you completing your meal.
“Thank you.” You said, unsure what to say.
She didn’t respond, yawning as she carried the dishes out. You could hear her back meet the surface of the door, the dishes clanging against the tray as she settled against the floor, as though grounding herself right outside the room.
This wasn’t like her… to struggle at the sight of you. There wasn’t a single unserious thing about her going on for once and it was brutally striking to see.
Maybe you did need a break though.
Maybe you could give in for just a little bit.
Perhaps she would even heal too.
(But she wouldn’t. She refused to.)
***
It took about another month of soft exchanges between you and her gently protesting for your freedom. She’d let you use her shower—bathroom. She’d let you breathe fresh air on her balcony, to hold your hand when you’d stumble just a little, whatever damage that special grade did seemed to be permanent.
Something not even her reverse cursed technique could fix.
“You’re almost better,” she would say, monitoring your progress through it all, logging every single thing she possibly could to hurry up your recover, “but you’re still staying with me.”
“You’re never letting me go?” You would then ask, warming up to it just a little. You almost wanted her to promise you it, your mind surrendering to her will.
Her responses would be similarly rooted along the same vein, it would be either a never or some other long and distant time before she could let you out of her sight, always returning you to your confines when she had to go somewhere.
The aftermath of the fight left you permanently weakened, or at least that’s a state you assumed you took on after it—your mind lingered at the possibility that this was done on purpose, but that idea bordered on insanity so you let it go.
(Unless?)
You’d sleep with tight restrictions, the concept of freedom beyond the packed little flat a slowly fading pipe dream. She would often be back with takeaway or some booze, ready to share something familiar and comforting with you as you would slowly get better and better.
You’d watch movies with her on the sofa, be with her as she filled out even more paperwork for both of your slowly dying out allies, you’d sit there in painful silence as if to reminisce about the company that was no longer existent.
But as you got better, all your good health did was sicken her—you quickly understood it as obsession, a burning innate desire to keep your life ongoing and close.
Today was a day that Shoko finally allowed you a gentle freedom, the confines finally releasing from your slumber as she now felt confident with your loyalty.
“You’re staying for me, aren’t you?” She purred, her hands tracing lines against your wrist, leaving behind affectionate shivers.
“I suppose.” You finally warmed up.
“If you leave me like that again though, I’d just get you back in that little state.”
The threat was muffled as she had promised you such a thing in a hushed whisper. Just loud enough for it to register with you, but quiet enough for it to slip by you had you not been paying attention.
Your hunch was slowly being proven correct, even if she didn’t admit it directly to you. Your weakened state was likely a fabrication, an attempt of deception and dependency.
But you somehow didn’t mind.
The idea grew on you and you were tired of just barely surviving each and every single time. Whether it was cowardice to think in such a way or not, you didn’t quite care anymore.
“I won’t leave.” You promised her and slowly, her calmer and more carefree side seemed to show once more.
“Yeah?” Her tired voice asked.
“Of course not.”
“You’d better not.”
The silence that brewed beyond that point was almost loud, somehow. Your breathing meshed with her own as her tired eyes found comfort in your own—your state relaxed her, a piece of company that wouldn’t succumb to the unforgiving lifestyle you’d both found yourselves entangled in.
“So, let me take care of you,” Shoko said after a while, her voice suddenly relaxed once again, just like how she used to be before work got the better of her, “let me make you mine.”
You didn’t reject her this time, unlike the first time that you did so many years ago. You felt some sort of dependency linger, wanting for her to care for you and to give into her emotional demand.
After seeing near death so clearly, you wanted for her to promise you life again and again.
As such, you found your body feeling heavy as it relaxed, your heart rate fluttering as she crept closer, her soft hands pressing their palms and sweeping over your face, cupping your cheeks as her lips slowly moved towards your own.
She then connected the kiss, leaving an aftertaste of bitter coffee as she continued to press herself down, your tongue reacting to her own as it entered your mouth, pushing it from side to side as you exchanged a kiss.
Slowly, her hands brushed down your body, to your shoulders, neck and chest; her feel was intricate as the touch leftover lingered on areas you had a positive reaction on—nothing was forced, you wanted this, you wanted her back. Especially right now.
For her to comfort you, to soothe you.
Her lips trailed down as her hands explored your body, planting a path of kisses down your neck and past the middle point of your chest. Slowly, her hands slid down to your hips, her mouth following in pursuit as she made it past your stomach, down to your hip line and then just beyond.
“You’ll let me take care of you forever.” She said, not even asked. It was a demand.
You nodded as your breath shuddered, her eyes locking with your own as she received unspoken confirmation that it was okay for her to continue.
In her pursuit, she drew the fabric of your shorts off and slid your underwear off until you were completely bare. Her eyes scrolled around your sex, taking in the sight of you delicately and then drifted back towards your face, just as if to give you a heads up in advance—that this was going to happen, that she would make you feel good if she could help it.
Silence followed as yet another inaudible agreement was forged; her fingers parted your folds as her face pressed inwards, the feeling of her tongue immediately seeking out and meeting with your clit. The muscle flicked and circled the nub as you felt your thighs tighten, repeating only motions that drove out reactions. Slowly but surely, she got both a taste of you—and what you liked.
Your back arched in the bed as the pleasuring sensation began to build, feeling a rising wave of bliss that tingled within your stomach and finalised at a breaking point—your breathing shallow, your voice emitting higher pitched gasps caught on and off in the back of your throat.
Your hips rolled against her tongue with rising pressure, her hands holding against the sides of your thighs as she continued to feverishly suck on your clit—alternating between that and teasing the now swollen bud, sending you over the edge if she could help it.
The bedsheets tore as your nails clawed against them, ripping fabric in the heat of the moment—your body slowly beginning to tremble beyond a controllable limit.
You continued to rock on her tongue, grinding on pure instinct alone as the rising sensation now begged for violent release; you couldn’t hold yourself in any longer as your hands sought comfort as she offered you her own, interlocking your fingers into place as you squeezed—almost, almost—!
Shoko was nearly out of breath too as she brought you over your limit, your insides coiling as your peak neared its end, it was sudden and intense as the pressure reached its threshold and finally, your body succumbed to a final release.
Your breathing stifled, sharp breaths cutting through your lungs as the waves finally rolled through. Your inner legs tingled as your body finally gave permission for an end to manifest, toes curling and your grip relaxing, your mind blanking into bliss.
It was over—yet you felt it all linger after, your breath slowly coming back to you as you let the pleasure ride out a final time.
Her fingers trailed towards your warmth to play with you after, although gently as sheer delight formed in her eyes as she felt just how wet you were and just for her. She swirled two fingers inside as she finally pulled back and laid her head just outside your thighs.
It didn’t take her long to climb on top of you after, using your body as a source of comfort, making her bed right on your frame.
“You’re mine forever,” she whispered as she tightened her hold around you, her tired voice letting out one final yawn, concluding her intentions, “I’m never letting you go.”
It was then that you didn’t mind all of a sudden.
You wanted to stay, after all.
With her. For her.
#yandere x reader#yandere jjk#fanfic#yandere shoko#yandere ieiri shoko#shoko ieiri x reader#shoko ieiri x you#shoko ieiri#jjk fanfic#yandere x female reader#female yandere#jjk yandere#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#female x female#smut#jjk smut#smut with plot#smut with feelings
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
i was gonna make this a comment but smthn told me this was gonna be long.
SORRY FOR THE LONG-NESS OF THIS ASK
BUT DOT- THINK ABOUT YAN DILF JADE.
who knows if his ex wife was murdered or not, oh well! 🤭 best not to dwell on it because it makes the twins sad :(
see? (🧍🏻🧍🏻)
…anyways
but here me out (this is me going coco bananas. full on psycho mode) maybe the first time he saw you was at a RANDOM party that a friend of yours hosted.
blah blah mutual friend of a friend and that long friend family tree stuff
but maybe you slithered away to the dog, or were tasked with helping a baby (more like someone threw the baby at you in order to dance)
or you’re with the other room for the children that the party provides (this is like a really rich friend. like mega mansion. crazy rich asians kinda thing)
but ugh he’s there with his dreadful beautiful wife and his wonderful children. and his wife is already leaving to grab a drink and he thinks their children shouldn’t get a glimpse at whatever tom-foolery parties like these will lead to.
so in they go! (maybe this was years ago when they’re toddlers)
but then he sees you swarmed with babies. the nanny took a break and left you in charge and you’re fighting back babies with one of those roll-pop lawn mowers-
ARGHHH ONE JUST SPAT ON THE END OF YOUR RENTAL DRESS DAMNIT.
jade is utterly beside himself with laughter, amusement, and everything of the sorts and creates flirty small talk. and oh?? what's this? his wonderful bundles of joy seem to have found a liking to you? how precious (they’re clawing and climbing you like a jungle gym) jade takes a note of that!
they don't even like their mother that much , simply tolerating her. but jade can tell that his kids got good taste!
he lowkey interviews reader (without them know oops!!) and while yes, their beauty was what drove his interest, second being their personality (you have to be attracted to someone to give them a chance!)
and the twins were the cherry on top!
and conveniently you say where you work (rookie mistake) while he tells you he’s a humble business man… don’t ask what for tho cause that’s a super family secret 🤭
but he's planning and scheming and charming his way into your life and he’s in it for the long run because eels are patient. it just sucks that jade is even more patient, like a saint if you would
^^accurate depiction of saint jade
^^and this is jade when he gets questioned for his wife’s uh oh 🤷🏻🤷🏻
maybe she drank too much at a party and fell over the side.
maybe there was a targeted hit meant for jade but they got the wrong one.
maybe a classic batman scenario but jade survived and is throughly traumatized (same with his kids, i mean look at them!!🧍🏻🧍🏻 they’re so torn up that it just breaks his heart😿)
but he’s making chance encounters rather… commonly. (he had reader stalked for a good few years as he was planning everything. just to make sure he likes them& they keep it interesting.)
just... some thoughts about dilf jade leech and his hell spawns hehe (when the trio visited your work they managed to leave your section alone... so it looks like you were in the eye of the hurricane)
im gonna read your other stuff about dilf jade now because AHHHH
Angry at my boss, so I decided to see if there was anything in my inbox to cheer me up. Woo hoo!
In reference to this
Cw: light Yan!, implied stalking, Jade's a freak but if you don't already know that then you aren't paying attention
I can only imagine that, after the party, since you interacted with so many kids and parents that night, they all kind of blurred together. And it's not until, after he visits your place of work, and you chat over text for a while, and you have a real date, then invites you back home for an after date drink, do you start to remember. And that's only because the twins are scamps and stayed up past their bedtimes, and they are staring at you with eyes you remember.
Obviously, you are gonna chalk it up to a coincidence. "Oh my god! You know so-and-so, right? I think I met you at a party a few years ago!" He laughs, and plays along, oh my god,.yeah what a really good coincidence.
Meanwhile, the twins share a look, because Dad has talked about you every day since Mom died, so they know he's lying. Hell, when you aren't here, they already call you mama/papa. But, they are their father's kids, so they are never going to say anything.
One date turns to two turns to three, turns to a year of dating. It's time to meet the family. You know Jade has a twin, but they've taken different paths in life.
So when Dilf Floyd Trudges up the driveway with his six adopted kids, four of whom are sprinting around the house and lawn and destroying Jade's home, two of whom are under Floyd's arms like suitcases, you're in for a culture shock.
When you first meet him, he seems incredibly grumpy. He's got salt and pepper stubble, the baggiest outfit, though you get the feeling it's designer, no matter how slouchy it is, his hair is slicked back, making the grey streaks look neat against his otherwise messy look.
He tosses the kids and yells at them to go play with their cousins, then he rudely shoves past you. Jade stops him with a hand on his shoulder that appears gentle, but if you had felt the full force of it, you'd have landed on your ass. He hissed at Floyd, through a smile, to greet his new fiance. There's a tense moment where they stare at each other, then Floyd storms over to you, and presses a ticklish kiss to your cheek, before muttering, "Welcome to the family," then storming to his room and locking himself in for the night.
The next day it's like he's a different person. He makes breakfast for you and excitedly asks you about yourself, wanting to know everything about his future sibling. Eventually he pours you a glass of what you know is Jade's most expensive wine, which he has been saving for a special occasion, and you finally get the courage to ask about the night before, and he laughs and says he was tired from the trip. Wrangling six kids on an airplane is exhausting, you know?
You decide to ask him about little Jade, and Floyd's stories of childhood charm you so much that you don't notice Jade's brooding presence.
Not that Floyd minds. Yeah, he got off to a rough start with you, but he gets why Jade likes you. And Jade only has two parentless kids, he has six. So his kids need you more than Jade's do, right?
Will the dad's eventually drag the kids into this fight? Absolutely. Those kids have Mafia parents, they have plenty of acting training. They will be pulling those heartstrings of yours 😊
#just some thoughts#fun with moots#yandere twisted wonderland#dilf jade leech#dilf floyd leech#jade leech x reader
60 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
farmersagentus-blog
Untitled
ewalkart
EWalkArt
scattershotthoughts
Void Screaming
itsbacontimesomewhere
Y'all Thungry
wonderhouse
so many thoughts. head still empty 😁