#but it was all a lie. he lost him again. really driving in the point that jack's friends are dead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachypinkygloss · 9 months

Text

call me soon — jjk

Jungkook finds himself obsessing over you a bit too much than he'd like to admit, but you two get a chance to see more of each other during a hot summer night where you both are lonely, desperate and horny.

☾ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

☾ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut

☾ word count: 5.9k

☾ warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of driving under the influence of alcohol (jk had one beer okay 🙄 no car crash lol), hello tae and oh — jimin?, hurt and comfort 🧐, mentions of masturbation (m), dry humping, clit stimulation, tits play, praising, unprotected sex & oral sex, blowjob, cum eating, cum play, multiple orgasms, brief overstimulation.

a.n.: i tried something and i think i like it 😼 put y'all seatbelts on because this is the best smut i've ever written 🫡 *no taglist!!

Jungkook knits his eyebrows together, deeply lost in his thoughts. At this point, the music blasting through the house doesn't make his body shake anymore, it doesn't make his heart beat faster nor does it make adrenaline rush through his veins.

He feels the vibrations under his feet, though. It's intense, but not enough to distract him. The pad of his index finger mindlessly circles the neck of the beer bottle he's holding, his other hand shoved in the pocket of his baggy jeans.

His friend's elbow sometimes nudges him in the ribs because of how animated he is when talking, but he doesn't make Jungkook turn his head nonetheless. He hears him laugh and curse while he looks away, gaze lost in the crowd of people, eyes shifting between all the faces without a thought about them.

He's too busy thinking about yesterday, that cursed night where he just wanted to fill up his gas tank and unluckily fell upon you at the gas station.

He thinks he never looked at his phone so many times in a day before, never thought a stupid call would turn him crazy, obsessively scrolling through his contact list to find your name.

Every time the day ended, he worried that maybe you had deleted his number, but your name has always been there. A part of him hoped you would have deleted him from your phone. It would have explained why you never called and then perhaps he would have felt less crazy.

But no. You just didn't bother pressing on his name and sticking your cellphone to your ear, waiting for him to pick up as you listened to his ringtone.

And that's quite a bit worse than being erased from your contact list because that means you just didn't think about him. Not once were your thoughts about Jungkook.

He could be wrong, but he prefers to torture himself.

Anyway, it's not like you were much bothered by the fact that you totally ghosted him back at the convenience store. 'I forgot', how horrible that sounds?

But then, all he wanted to do at this moment was to forgive you, tell you that it doesn't matter, that he doesn't really care, that it's no biggie. He can't blame you and that's so fucking stupid because all he did was eat you out.

Yet he finds himself thinking about you more than he'd like to. He even jerked himself off to you, playing back in his head the moment you were whimpering his name and pulling on his hair, clenching your thighs around him. He's not super proud of that — kind of cringes him a little bit when he thinks about it — but he got really hard imagining your pussy leaking down his knuckles.

You were a good hook-up and yes, he thought it could happen again. He hoped you two would do it a second time, maybe a third — how many you'd like to.

He likes sex and his obsession for you started because of that, but he would lie if he said hanging out with you like friends doesn't sound good to him. It sounds so fucking... nice.

In the end, he knows you two as friends wouldn't work. He works for your dad to pay his scholarship that is incredibly expensive even for a public university.

You, you don't need that. You don't need to work, don't have to lift a finger. You're treated like a princess — have the life of a princess — and you might even think of yourself as a princess too. Fuck him for liking it. Fuck him for fantasizing about possibly being your knight.

"This party fucking sucks."

Jungkook's eyes finally focus on something else than the void, laying on his best friend Taehyung. He doesn't know where he comes from, he only remembers him leaving the kitchen area when everyone was in the depth of a conversation.

"Why's that?" He asks instead of agreeing, knowing he can't really complain when he hasn't been in the mood to party at all.

Taehyung leans his back against the counter beside Jungkook, taking a sip of his soon empty beer bottle. "It just fucking sucks," he shrugs, a scowl on his face as if it's a justifiable reason. It might be because Taehyung's not so difficult to entertain.

It might be because of something else, Jungkook believes, though he doesn't have the heart to ask. He'll do it another time when he won't smell like rejection and when his head won't be filled with a woman's giggles who's out of his league.

So he only hums in agreement, silence installing between him and Taehyung.

A couple of minutes pass, Taehyung has opened another bottle and Jungkook is still quiet. Usually, he doesn't mind slipping in conversations, sharing his own perspective of things. He rarely says no to games, bringing his competitive ass over and crushing everyone's chances of winning.

Today isn't usual, that's why it fucking sucks.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Jungkook says to Taehyung and this one nods.

"I'll probably head home soon anyway."

"Be sure to take an Uber."

"Of course, you know me," he chuckles, waving Jungkook goodbye.

His friend does the same, a slight smile painted on his face as he walks to the front door, opening it and stepping out of the house.

His eyes get used to the darkness as he closes the door behind him. He notices someone sitting on the stairs, typing quickly on the keyboard of their cellphone. He approaches the figure, hearing them sniffing as if they've been crying.

They suddenly drop their phone, muttering a 'fuck' as the device lays on the ground. Jungkook decides to go reach for it so he walks down the stairs and bends to catch it, turning around to hand it to the owner.

"Here." He looks at the person's face and his heart jumps in his chest when he recognizes you. He doesn't know where to look for a second, his eyes shifting down to the screen of your phone.

He catches a glimpse of a conversation with a certain 'Jimin' and immediately looks away, feeling guilty for not minding his business.

You thank him in a tired voice, taking back your iPhone. He stands there uselessly as you seemingly give up on your previous message, turning off your phone's screen with a defeated sigh.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, taking a seat beside you on the stairs.

As you wipe your tears away with the tips of your fingers, he wonders who could have hurt a princess like you. Princesses shouldn't cry. They should be covered in diamonds, not have pearls falling down from their eyes.

He wouldn't have let something like this happen as your knight. He knows for a fact that he would have protected you, and he thinks that whomever is pretending to be your knight right now is doing a really bad job.

"Yeah, I just... shouldn't be here," you respond with a shaky voice, eyes strained down on your feet.

"Where else should you be?"

You turn your head toward him, looking at him like a poor hurt puppy. He doesn't want to compare you to something so defenceless as a puppy, but that's what your eyes tell him. It's not like you're weak, it's more like you've given up on being strong.

"I don't know," you scoff, shaking your head. "Somewhere I belong."

Jungkook thinks he understands what you mean by that. He thinks, but he doesn't know if he really does. It's complicated to relate to someone who's so different from you.

But he wants to try. Relating to someone is not mandatory to be friends, anyway. Nor is it to be in love.

He hums, leaning his forearms on his knees and looking in front of him, watching the night butterflies flying under the dim lights of the street lamps. "Wanna get home?" He proposes, thinking that's maybe where you want to be right now. "I can give you a ride."

Your reddened eyes look up at him and he looks back at you. "No, not home..." You mutter, shaking your head from side to side. "Tomorrow will come too fast," you sigh and break eye-contact, tapping on the screen of your phone to check what hour it is. One a.m..

Is it a coincidence that every time you two are alone the clock indicates one? Should he believe in coincidences or only in the ones that concern you?

"We're already tomorrow," you groan.

Jungkook smiles — he can't help it. "You can't stop the time, baby" he laughs lightly, still staring at you, at your side profile. A blessing to the eyes, a downfall to his heart. "It won't wait for your call to finally start."

You scoff again, this time because you know what he's referring to. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just bad at relationships... or whatever this is," you apologize, certainly coming out a bit blunter than intended. Blame it on the alcohol in your system.

"It's already forgotten." It isn't, but it may be forgiven. He'll surely have this one on his heart for quite a while, though it won't make him stay away from you. It possibly can't.

You send him a sad smile, having pity for him — or maybe for you — he doesn't know.

"Wanna come to mine, then?" He offers, sporting an innocent smile on his face even though he has no intentions of sharing a cup of tea with you there. Unless that's what you want.

"Where do you live?" You ask, a bit tempted by the proposition. And anyway, you need a place to sleep.

"Downtown," Jungkook replies. "We'll be there in five minutes if we go now," he smirks, trying his hardest to convince you.

It never takes too much to convince you.

"'Kay, let's go," you smile back, biting down on your lip.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

When you entered his apartment, you didn't really pay attention to the decoration, you were rather more bothered by his lips on yours. The moment you stepped foot into his place, his lips were already searching for yours and you didn't refuse him.

So now he's hurriedly leading you to his bedroom, messily kissing you and roaming his hands over the curves of your body. His fingers sometimes get caught under the hem of your dress, making the flimsy material roll up over your plushy thighs.

There's no time to think, no time to ask questions. There's only a need to discover and devour your skin, only a huge desire to finally touch what he hopes will be his one day.

"Oh, be careful," he mumbles against your lips, stopping you from entering his room, his arms wrapped around your waist. "There's a step."

He swiftly lifts you up, his hands placed on the back of your thighs. He can't help but knead them, sinking his fingers into the meaty flesh.

He walks in, making you avoid all the annoying steps to his bed, the covers carelessly thrown everywhere from this morning when he got up. You continue to kiss him, your nails gracing the side of his face as you cradle him in your hands.

Soon enough he lets your back hit the soft surface of his mattress, a soft gasp escaping your lips while he crawls to you, his lips never far away from your hungry ones. He nudges your nose, attempting to connect your mouths together. He does it again and you let him have you, exchanging your saliva like it’s a sweet nectar, him a bee and you a sunflower.

Your hands on his cheeks lower to his neck where you pull on his nair, nails scratching his skin. He groans into the kiss, palming your ass very roughly, fingers sneaking under the hem of your dress.

He has the slight impression that not only your tongues are tangled, but also your souls. Bodies colliding, clashing against each other at the pace of your heartbeat.

His knees dip into the bed on each side of your body, his arms supporting his weight beside your head. He bucks his hips against yours as you quietly moan into his mouth, feeling his growing bulge pressing down on you.

Blood rushes to his cock so fast, it's like his own brain is begging for him to just fuck you. No protection, fucking raw. Make it messy, make it unforgettable, make it so every time you're with a guy other than Jungkook you regret him.

But he takes his time. That's how he learned it; time is what a woman needs, not a prick who wants his dick wet and to get it from behind. As if doggy is a position that can make her cum.

"Fuck, I'm so..." Jungkook breathes out, his forehead laying against yours. His eyelids flutter shut as he swallows to ease his dried throat, opening his eyes again when he begins to speak. "I'm so fucking hard."

"I know," you whisper, glancing down where he grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy. "I feel it."

He groans at that and moves his hips against yours with more insistence, the material of his jeans rubbing against the soft cotton of your panties. You moan at how good it feels to have his hard cock pressing down on your clit, your hands coming down to push on his butt.

"Shit, baby," he hisses, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. He frowns cutely and looks down too, deciding to raise one of your legs up, making more room for himself. "Do you like that?" He asks, continuing to hump you as if you were both deprived horny teenagers — and he won't lie, he may still act like one sometimes.

He notices a wet patch on your panties just over your core, the area has darkened where your pussy gushes arousal out. "Oh, god- yes, Kook," you moan out, the new position creating more friction.

He almost whines at the nickname, his dick literally twitching happily in his boxers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the pace of his heart accelerating, his breath becoming irregular.

He holds your thigh up and he loves how plushy it is, how your skin looks so tender. He'd bite into it, just chew onto it to have a little taste of you.

"You smell so sweet," he states, his hot breath hitting your skin, making goosebumps run all over your skin. He kisses your neck, soft and warm, leaving a wet trail behind.

He rolls his hips against you, his erection now aching, wanting to be inside of you, but he can't seem to think about anything else than your quiet moans gracing his ears and your odour invading his nostrils.

"Jungkook," you whine, scrunching his t-shirt between your fingers, pulling on it desperately as he keeps smooching the skin of your neck.

He understands your silent request and he swiftly gets rid of his t-shirt, throwing it somewhere on his bedroom's floor. Your hands immediately travel his abs and you feel his muscles flexing under your palms.

You then pass your arms around his shoulders, bringing his lips to yours. He moans into the kiss as he keeps rubbing his hard cock against your pussy, but your little pleas make it difficult for him to focus.

He sneaks a hand between your two bodies and you grip on his hair when he reaches your puffy clit, pulsating so hard for him. "Do you want me to touch you there?" He asks in a raspy voice, his big fingers teasing your sensitive bud, his touch familiar at this point. "Hm, princess? Want me to make you feel good?"

He always finds a way to tease you even when his jeans are really tight, his cock so swollen from your dry humping session from seconds ago.

"Yes, please," you breathe out shakily, a moan escaping your mouth when he starts to draw slow, sensual circles on your clit. "Fuck, Kook." You have your mouth agape, letting out sweet moans as his digit presses down on your bud, making the knot in your stomach tighten.

He lowers his fingers to your core, feeling how soaked your panties are. "All wet for me, baby?" He purrs and you nod your head, breathless. "Good girl," he praises, a little smirk crowning his pink lips.

You pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, closing your eyes as you enjoy the pleasure he's giving you. "Faster, please, Jungkook," you beg, his finger stroking your clit sending so many tingles through your body.

So he fastens the pace of his digit, rubbing quick circles on your bud of nerves and he absolutely loves the sight of you bucking your hips against his hand, growing impatient. Your nails sink into his skin, leaving little crescent forms all over his neck. He grits his teeth at the pain, but he'll suffer through it as long as it means you're feeling pleasure.

"Yes, yes," you moan, so close to your high, your mind getting fuzzy. He doesn't stop stimulating your clit, the pad of his finger skillfully circling it over your damp underwear. "I'm gonna cum," you hurriedly say, the muscles of your thighs tensing as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Your orgasm shoots through you and you grab Jungkook's wrist, but he keeps moving his finger to drive you off your high. You tense down, hearing your heart beating in your rib cage, chest heaving rapidly.

You flutter your eyes open and they meet Jungkook's gaze. You look into each other's eyes as you slowly calm down. His hand shifts to hold your waist and you bring him in for another kiss.

You don't wait longer before sliding your panties down your legs, raising your hips up from the mattress and letting the material fall on the ground. He breaks your kiss to see your pussy totally nude, glistening in your juices. He swears it's the sexiest he's ever seen before, so cute and always so fucking wet.

He has the urge to lower down and have a taste. He could never forget your flavour, but he'd pretend to so you let him eat you out for a second time.

Exactly when he's about to devour you, you push on his chest and switch positions with him. He lets you take the top, watching you remove your dress and reveal the most intimate parts of your body to him, naked.

"You're beautiful," he compliments, the most honest he's ever been. His eyes roam over your body, scanning your breasts and your perky nipples pointing at him.

You're a pretty woman, but he wonders if his heart beating faster is really the result of your beauty or perhaps the feelings he might have for you.

"So are you," you smile, giggling when Jungkook's still staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

He's brought back to reality when you place yourself on your stomach between his legs. "What... What are you doing?" He swallows, his big brown eyes settled on you.

"Returning the favour," you respond, passing your finger on his stomach just over the band of his Calvin Klein's that peeks out of his pants. "Would you like that, Kook?"

"Yeah," he mutters under his breath, watching closely the movements of your hands, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You undress him from his pair of jeans and socks, coming back up to his crotch after.

He parts his legs wider for you and you lay a hand over his bulge, feeling how hard he is just for you. "You're so big, Jungkook..." You say in astonishment, visibly really pleased with his girth.

You palm him over his boxers, closing your hand around him, imagining how it'd be without his underwear on.

"Hm-mh." Jungkook passes his fingers through your hair, making you look up at him. "Think you can handle it, baby?"

You squeeze your grip on him, which results in him hissing. He's really sensitive, especially when he's been sporting a boner for quite a while now.

Though nothing will compare to the time you left him just after he made you cum on his tongue. He sucked it up, but fuck, nobody told him before how complicated it was to drive with an erection. It's really distracting. Luckily, his work was done, so he could go straight home, but still.

He had to jack off in the shower, thinking about you and how your pussy would close around him so tightly.

"I'll try," you smile.

You pull down his boxers, leaving them just below his ass, and his cock springs up, the head slapping down on his stomach. He lets out a sigh of relief, finally free from his briefs.

You wrap your fingers around him, looking so small compared to his penis, and bring him up to your lips. His tip is glistening in his pre-cum and it twitches in your hand, just so happy to see you.

Jungkook hasn't shaved, he didn't expect any of this to happen after all. He hopes you don't mind, but you don't seem to, quite the contrary even.

You start to gently and slowly pump him, passing the pad of your thumb over the little slit, spreading his arousal over his length. You leave a kiss on the head and he wonders if you're not getting revenge for all the times he teased you.

You tilt your head to the side and kiss his length all the way up to finally open your mouth and insert the tip in. Jungkook curses under his breath, taking a handful of your hair in his fist, making your scalp itch.

You keep eye-contact with him as you lower down, gradually taking all of him in the warmth of your mouth. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good around me," he moans, looking at you with lustful eyes. He can't take his eyes off of you, he's literally hypnotized by the way your lips slide so smoothly over his hard cock.

You hum, the sound a bit muffled by his dick in your mouth. Tears start to form in your eyes, throat burning as you get used to his size and the stretch of your mouth.

When you've reached his base, nose touching his pelvis, you gag around him, but manage to make the feeling go away. Jungkook believes he's in heaven right now, having his cock nestled deep in your mouth, some strands of hair falling down in front of your eyes.

You blink several times, trying to see clearer, but the water makes your vision fuzzy. "It's okay, princess," he sighs pleasantly, seeing that you struggle, your throat starting to burn badly. You gag another time and he has to concentrate if he doesn't want to cum right now. "Shit... Don't- don't force yourself," he hisses, pulling your head up.

His cock falls back down on his tummy, hearing a wet slap since he's entirely covered in your saliva. You catch your breath and wipe your lips with the back of your hand, immediately taking him back in your hand.

You stroke him, running your palm up and down his girthy length. You swallow to ease your throat and glance up at him with teary eyes. He pouts, cupping your cheeks and swiping his thumbs under your eyes to get the little pearls away.

"You don't have to take everything... I'm already happy to have you with me," he admits and he hopes his words don't scare you away. You don't know each other for that long, but sometimes he just has to be honest about his feelings.

You smile, nodding your head in response. He moans when you take him back into your mouth, flattening your tongue underneath him. He knits his eyebrows together as you bob your head over him, a hand wrapped around his base.

His short nails dig into your scalp, making you wince, but it doesn't make you stop. Jungkook lets out heavy breaths and moans, his hand gripping your hair and guiding you over his wet cock.

His other hand, his tattooed one, scrunches the bedsheets in his fist, the pleasure too good it becomes overwhelming. His eyes are strained down on you and every time your gazes meet, his heart skips a beat.

It feels too good to be true, yet here you are, pleasuring him like nobody else's ever did. You both like to give and he hopes it won't make sex difficult between you two. Well, if it ever happens again, which he really wishes it will.

"Yeah, just like that," he approves when you hollow your cheeks, continuing to bounce your head over his stiff erection. "Such a good girl," he adds on and loosens his grip on your hair, delicately patting you instead.

You almost purr under all the sweet praises he tells you, loving how he makes you feel confident and proud of yourself. Your free hand is laying on his thighs, sensing his muscles tensing and calming down each time he controls himself to last longer.

But even though he tries his best to not shoot his cum into you right now, your mouth does wonders and his orgasm is approaching really fast.

"I'm not gonna last long, baby," he warns you in a breathy voice. "Shit," he curses, sucking air through his teeth and feeling his balls tightening. Your tongue is so warm and wet, he can't resist you any longer.

You pull out and stroke his length, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. It breaks as you lick them, fucking Jungkook with your fist. He groans, gritting his teeth, and his grip on the covers tightens, signs that his high is really close now.

He curls his toes, the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach growing. "Holy fuck," he spits out profanities and his cock twitches, hot cum spilling out from his red, swollen tip.

You moan with him, turned on by the sight of him releasing himself on your hand. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, all of his muscles flexing as you milk him dry.

"Oh, god, Kook," you coo, lazily stroking his cock and caressing his thigh to make him relax. "There's so much," you comment, literally amazed.

Jungkook opens his eyes and looks down at his crotch, seeing your hand still wrapped around him completely covered in his cum. He bites down on his lip at the view, even more aroused when you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick the remains.

"Shit, you fucking minx," he says, but there's no intention to insult you, he's just so down bad for you.

It makes you giggle, encouraging you to do something even nastier. You sit on your knees and spread his cum on your tits, circling your nipples with your fingers.

Jungkook smiles, his affection for you growing, and takes a hold of your jaw, pulling you in for a long, sloppy kiss. You moan into his mouth, his cock brushing against your pussy, still hard and ready to wreck you.

"You have no idea what I want to do to you," he groans, looking into your eyes like they are the whole galaxy, endless so he can lose himself in them.

"Do what you need to do to me," you allow, offering yourself to him and more if he desires to.

When those words leave your mouth, he picks you up and gets up from his bed, your legs locked behind his back. You gasp when he pins you against the nearest wall, placing your arms around his large shoulders, holding onto him tightly.

"You sure? Because we're only done when I say so," he breathes onto your face, his forehead against yours, bangs slightly damp from his sweat.

"One-hundred percent sure," you grin, but lose your smile as soon as he pushes his cock into your pussy, ripping a loud moan out of you.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back to give him some of the pain he's inflicting to you by penetrating you with his big cock. He holds you up against him, his hands on your ass, touching you so sensually and lovingly, appreciating every part of your body.

He sinks his dick into your pussy, sliding in so easily without any restraint, cunt absolutely soaking wet. "God, pussy's so fucking tight," he rasps out, finally bottoming out into you. His balls touch your ass, his pelvis flushed against yours, meaning he's completely in.

You whine, feeling absolutely full, pussy clenching helplessly around him. Jungkook doesn't wait — he can't anymore — and starts pounding into you, his balls slapping against your skin. The room smells like sex, it's strong and quite obvious, but he easily ignores it, he practically can't even smell it.

He slides his cock in and out of your pussy, making you moan sweetly, a beautiful melody to his ears. He doesn't hold himself back and fucks you hard against the wall, but you're nowhere near against it, you're loving it.

Your boobs jiggle on your chest because of Jungkook's harsh thrusts, both of your skins glistening under the light of his bedroom, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"I'm so full, Kook," you moan softly and he can't look away from you, finding you so pretty and sexy.

"Yeah? Full of my big cock, baby?" He asks, darting out his tongue to wet his dried lips, passing over his piercings.

"Yes," you cry, breaking eye-contact as you close your eyes, head rolling back and hitting the wall behind you.

His hips are powerful, never missing a beat and brushing over your sweet spot repeatedly. Your pussy has adjusted to the size of his girth, some of your wetness dripping down to your butt and coating his balls that slap against you.

He pushes some of his cum into you as well, the rest you haven't licked off your fingers or spread on your tits. He still can't believe you did that, but god, did he find it hot. He never thought you playing with his cum would turn him on so much. He sure will think about this moment when he's going to be alone with himself.

His eyes shift down to your bouncing breasts and he has to put one in his mouth, even if it means tasting a bit of himself too.

He catches one nipple with lips, wrapping them around your hardened bud. You moan his name and pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing his head down toward your chest.

It sends more tingles to your belly, your walls closing around him tightly. He lets out a grunt, knowing his orgasm will come close if you continue clenching around him as if you want to suck him up.

"Jungkook!" You exclaim when he turns you both around, walking back to his bed. He lays your back down on the mattress, still in you, and continues his assault, snapping his hips against yours.

He pushes up your thighs over your stomach, getting a better view and access to your pussy. "Take my cock, baby. Be a good girl for me," he says, completely obsessed with you and your cunt. If you weren't made for you, he doesn't know how he'll trust life again.

Putting you on his way just to get rid of you... No, if you're not his, you're nobody else's and if he's not yours, then he doesn't know what life is fucking worth.

"Yes, yes, Jungkook," you confirm in a moan, or maybe your brain is too mushy to find something else to answer.

You place two fingers on each side of your hole where Jungkook keeps pounding in, watching his cock entering and exiting your sloppy cunt. You pull on your pussy lips, feeling the knot at the pitch of your stomach tightening again, a more intense orgasm waiting for you.

You bring a finger to your clit and begin to draw fast circles on it, impatient to feel the burning and euphoric sensation of your upcoming orgasm. Jungkook moans at the sight, making him more desperate to reach his high as well.

"Shit, close, princess?" He questions and you nod repeatedly, humming in agreement. "Me too..." He states, breathless and chest heaving rapidly.

He's tired, but somehow he still has the energy to fuck you. Honestly, fucking you might be the only thing he'll never get tired of, that's for sure. It's so addicting, so good, he simply can't get enough.

"Please, please, Kook. Faster," you beg, even though he's already going at a quick pace that will probably leave the skin of your thighs sore and bruised.

You stroke your clit from side to side and he pounds you so hard it makes you dizzy and kind of drunk off the hormones you're both releasing.

He hits your magic spot multiple times, eliciting loud moans of pleasure out of you, your eyes rolling back. "Yes, like that," you cry, the last thing you say before your thighs start shaking.

Your back lifts up from the mattress when your orgasm hits you, passing through you like a tsunami, leaving you out of breath. Your pussy clenches around Jungkook and he's so close, too.

He drives his cock into you, making you whine in overstimulation, and he feels the familiar burning sensation in his stomach. "Oh, fuck, baby," he moans and slips out of you rapidly, jerking himself off just over your quivering pussy. "Gonna cum."

With a last thrust of his hand, he cums on your cunt, making a dirty mess on you. You moan when ropes of white cum land on your pussy, dribbling down to your hole and ass.

Finally, little beads spurt out of his cock, falling on your sex. You collect some on your fingers, pushing them in you and Jungkook watches with lazy eyes, slowly pumping his cock to drive off his high.

He picks you up and places you both side by side on the bed, recovering from the heated session of sex you just experienced. He lies on his back while you're cuddled up to his side, one hand on his chest.

He turns his head in your direction and you're already smiling at him, drawing little forms on his stomach, following the lines of his abs. "Was good," you whisper.

"Yeah," Jungkook agrees, frowning slightly, wondering if maybe, potentially you share the same feelings as him.

The next morning, you dress yourself back up, having taken a fresh shower while Jungkook was still sleeping. He watches you putting back on your dress, his arms crossed behind his head.

When you're done, you spin around and face him. "What about..." You begin, a playful smile gracing your lips. "You call me soon?"

He looks at you, taking a moment to answer, just admiring the happiness you radiate. He compares your mood of when he's found you sitting on the stairs at the party to the one of this morning and he tells himself that you're feeling better because of him.

If you can both make each other happy, he doesn't see why you two can't work — as friends or more, it doesn't matter as long as he's the reason why you have a smile on your face.

"Sure."

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction

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viennakarma · 2 months

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Evergreen (he tears me to pieces)

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Your relationship is ending, despite you fighting for it for a while. Maybe it's time to let go.

Word count: 3.7k

Tags: Female reader, established relationship, heartbreak, neglected relationship, fights, cursing, miscommunication, misunderstandings, break up, sad ending (kinda), open ending, not beta read

Relationships: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Notes: this is a bit sad, not gonna lie, but the ending is kinda hopeful (i guess?)

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You didn’t want to believe your relationship had reached a tipping point, but the details were all there. The lack of interest, distance, coldness.

You knew you and Charles were at a complicated point in your relationship. Losing the championship the year before had taken a huge toll on him, even when he tried to pretend it didn’t matter that much.

You were home in Monaco when you came back from shopping and you found Charles dressing up in the closet. You paused.

“Where are you going?” You asked, placing your shopping bag down.

“I’m going out for dinner with the boys,” he said, fixing his curls in front of the mirror.

“Charlie! We had my work dinner to go tonight! Did you forget about it?”

“Shit, baby!” He muttered, turning to you, “I’m so sorry!”

“Can you reschedule with your friends?” You asked, but he shook his head, spraying his cologne.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you soon!” He reached for his wallet and car keys, “Don’t wait up for me!”

You sat on the bed, stunned. You thought about what you would say when you showed up at your work dinner that was made for the staff to take their partners to meet their colleagues and the work environment.

Alone at the dinner while everyone introduced their partners, you stayed only enough to not be considered rude and tried to not cry the whole drive back home.

Charles had not arrived yet when you went to bed, and you allowed yourself to shed a couple of tears before forcing yourself to sleep.

That was a bad day. Charles had crashed his car during the formation lap and you watched it with a heavy heart as he was out of the race and walking completely lost on his way back to the garage.

You waited for him to finish his press duties and after the race started, you went to meet him in his driver’s room. He was sitting on the sofa, a dreadful look on his face.

“Baby, how are you?” You whispered, kneeling beside him.

“How does it look?” He said, sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid.” You frowned at your own silliness.

“Really stupid,” he mumbled. You swallowed, thinking he was just having a bad day.

“Can I do something for you?” You asked again, but he rolled his eyes.

“How about you leave me the fuck alone?!” He didn’t raise his voice too much, but the aggression was in his tone, in his coldness, like he was fed up with your existence.

You only nodded, ignoring the flaring pain in your chest as you silently left his room.

The lump in your throat didn’t bother too much as you sat down in the hospitality and watched what was left of the race. You stayed aimlessly around until way past the race ended, thinking about when it was finally time to go back to the hotel. You knew the debriefing meetings were usually longer after messed up races, so when you went back to the garage to look for Charles, you realized his bags weren’t in his room and the staff was disassembling everything and packing it up to leave.

You walked to the parking lot and noticed Charles’ car wasn’t there anymore. Back at the motorhome, you reached for your phone and tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. You were getting nervous every minute you passed alone there.

Like a forgotten clown.

“Hey! Are you ok?” You jumped hearing the voice behind you. It was Carlos, your boyfriend’s teammate and close friend.

“Yeah, um-” you stumbled on the words, because how the fuck would you tell Carlos that your boyfriend had left you behind, “I can’t reach Charles, and he left probably thinking I left earlier today.”

“Come on, I can give you a ride,” Carlos shook his keychain, pointing toward the parking lot.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeeze out.

As Carlos drove in silence, only the radio on softly, you tried not to think, because thinking would make you cry. And you didn’t want to cry in front of Carlos. As a sad song started, a single tear escaped, and you quietly wiped it, wishing Carlos was too focused on driving to notice. But as he stopped in front of the hotel, he offered you a tissue from the glovebox, which made two more tears come down before you could stop yourself.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said, and he just nodded.

“Anytime,” he said softly.

You were grateful he didn’t ask a single thing, nor tried to comfort you.

When you got into the hotel room, Charles was fast asleep, so you just got under the shower and cried with a hand on your mouth to muffle your cries.

You were finishing up your makeup when Charles got home on a random Saturday that he didn’t have work, and you two were home.

As you finished gluing eyelashes, Charles stood behind you with both hands on your hips.

“Aren’t you too formal for dinner at my mum’s?” He asked.

“I have a work gala tonight, Charles,” you said, impatiently, and moving away so his hands just slid off you.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” He pouted.

“You were,” you opened the lipgloss, applying to your lips, “you just forgot. Again.”

You didn’t look at him to see his expression drop. It was always like this, you were the last thing on his list of priorities. When he had work functions, you were always there for him, making do with your own time and commitments, squeezing him in so you’d never leave when he needed you. Unfortunately he never reciprocated you. Your friends didn’t matter, dinner with your family was optional and your work events, he didn’t even bother to go.

“You should’ve reminded me again.”

“I did. Two nights ago on the plane when we were flying back.”

“I can call my mom, reschedule our-” he started but your scoff cut him off.

“Don’t bother,” you shrugged.

“Amour-” He tried but you just shook your head.

“Just don’t, Charles,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your clutch, “I don’t want to be late for the gala.”

Despite the sour beginning, the night was actually nice, you caught up with most of your colleagues, and sadly your boss announced she was going to retire. The night had a small award ceremony too, to celebrate the success of the year. Which ended up with you getting an award for your achievements during the year, and with a beautiful speech from your soon to be ex-boss, she announced that you were getting the promotion for the position of editor in chief, which was pretty much your dream job.

The night was one of the happiest of the year, and you only got home past two in the morning, after enjoying the company and celebrating your promotion. Charles was asleep as you placed your award, a symbolic trophy, on the living room bookshelf.

Charles never asked about the gala, and you didn’t waste any time trying to tell him, since he clearly didn’t give two fucks about your career.

When you went to the next race week hand in hand with Charles, you met Max Verstappen and Sebastian Vettel, who were chatting. You and Charles greeted the both of them. Sebastian who you knew from his time as Charles’ teammate and Max who you knew ever since you were a teen karting for fun. You knew Max just as long as you knew Charles.

“I heard about your promotion! Congratulations!” Max said with a smile. You accepted his handshake with a tender smile. But at the same time, you felt the sudden hold of Charles on your hip.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Really?! Congratulations, Y/N!” Sebastian added.

“She’s always wanted to be editor in chief!” Max pointed out, “She was always talking about it when we were like fifteen!”

You smiled softly, remembering that when you were a teen, you were obsessed with 13 going on 30, and you were very vocal about your dream of working on a fashion magazine.

“I’m glad you achieved the dream then!” Sebastian said with great kindness to you.

Charles tapped your hip twice, and you knew the signal when you had to go.

“Thank you guys, thanks! Charles and I have to go, but see you around!” You and Charles waved at them and walked off.

Charles took your hand and, in long strides, led you inside only stopping when you were in a meeting room.

“You got a promotion?! Why didn’t you tell me that?” Charles said, suddenly upset.

“I guess it just slipped my mind,” you shrugged.

“This was your greatest dream! When did it happen?” He asked, looking hurt.

“At the gala you missed,” you sounded unbothered by his sudden outburst of hurt.

“And how did they know?!” He pointed a finger outside.

“From my instagram, I guess. I made a post about it,” you dismissed Charles, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t seen your post, going to sit down and sip some coffee, “I don’t understand why you’re using that tone with me.”

“Because you should’ve told me!” He raised his voice.

“I just don’t see why, my career never really mattered to you, why would it matter now?!” You said, and the more calmly you talked, the angrier he got.

“You got to be fucking kidding me, right?” He shouted.

“Look, you need to chill. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I’m going to take a stroll around. See you in a bit. Hopefully you will have calmed down.” You stood up, leaving his room without letting him say anything else.

Despite getting calm between you and Charles, the distance only seemed to grow, and the only thing keeping you hung onto the love you felt for him were the memories of your five year relationship. You had to do something if you wanted to save your relationship with Charles.

Your fifth year anniversary happened in a day Charles was busy, but sent you flowers, and texted you a sweet message in video. It made you invigorated, and you planned to go all out on the weekend, when Charles was going to come home.

So you planned dinner with a cake, and a romantic getaway after checking his schedule and making sure you could make a quick trip to a very romantic and secluded villa in Positano. You also dressed in very sexy lingerie, and got yourself really pretty to wait for him. So you had everything planned. Dinner at 8, maybe a little love making after, and then you’d drive to Nice to get on the plane at midnight and take off to Italy.

You had told him to come home as soon as he got to Monaco, because you had an anniversary surprise for him. You texted him twice during the day to remind him.

But when the clock hit 8 in the night, the time you had told him to come home, a dreadful feeling placed in the pit of your stomach. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? 8:17 you texted him a couple of times, but he didn’t read the text. 8:42 you removed the lamb from the oven, setting it on the table. 9:58 Joris texted you talking about how Charles had met the boys and they went out for a drink that turned into a few drinks.

Your face was wet with tears as you packed the food and placed it in the fridge, then washed your face of the make up and changed out of the lingerie. You were unpacking the two bags you’d take on the getaway, when you stared at the silly romantic tickets you had made over the week to symbolically gift him the romantic getaway. You stopped unpacking the bags, changing into a comfortable attire then taking only your bag and driving to Nice.

You turned your phone off and went to Positano alone.

The couple of days you spent only with yourself were good, even though you were crying a lot, feeling abandoned, forgotten and lonely in your relationship. You and Charles had been in a relationship for so long during your early adulthood, and you knew each other ever since you were preteens. It was painful watching life taking you and Charles apart even being so close.

It was weird, you thought you had gotten over the toughest years of your relationship. The year you started dating you were living in another country to attend university, and that had been very difficult to your relationship, but still, you managed.

You mourned the loss of that Charles. The Charles that would align both of your schedules so he wouldn’t miss anything important for you. The Charles that would send you random texts with pictures of things that reminded him of you. The Charles that cared, that asked, that communicated. This Charles was different, you two had grown into people with different goals in life. He wasn’t the same, but you also weren’t the same. Your priorities didn’t align anymore, that was a tough pill to swallow.

But you did.

You went back home again two days later, tanned and tranquil, with your mind made up about asking Charles for a break.

But as you entered the apartment, Charles ran into your arms.

“I’m so sorry, my love! So sorry I forgot about our plans! I was so worried about you!” He kissed your cheek, and you smiled politely, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant tomorrow night!”

“Charles,” you tried to come up with words, you were so tired, “I’ve got work this week.”

“Yeah, but you leave work at five? And our reservation is only at seven!” He asked, “Please, baby? Let me make it up to you.”

You were so tired of trying to hold on to something that was slipping through your fingers for months now, you didn’t feel any spark at his promising invite. But since he wanted to put in the effort, you would try again at least this once. If you couldn’t find the spark again until the end of the night, you’d have to let go.

So that’s how you ended up changing and putting makeup on at work, in your office. You’d meet Charles straight there since you had to catch up with work.

You had a gut feeling when you got to the restaurant, asking about the reservation under Leclerc. When the hostess took you to your table and you saw that Charles wasn’t there, you hoped and prayed he was coming.

Nursing a glass of wine, you just stared at the empty seat across from you. Your heart finally, fully sinking into the dark deep sea of this relationship. You felt like you’d been swimming against the tide, trying so hard to be the old you, with the old Charles. But this mourning of your relationship was happening inside of you for months now.

You had to let go.

Charles was 47 minutes late when you paid for the wine and got up, grabbed your coat and left.

You were waiting for the valet to bring your car, when Charles finally showed up, quickly talking to the other valet. Your boyfriend was flushed in the face and had very obviously rushed there. It took him a second to notice you standing outside.

“Amour! What are you-” he paused, seeing the quietness in your face and the lit up cigarette between your fingers, “why are you smoking?”

“That’s the first thing you tell me?!” You scoffed. He finally noticed that you were waiting, dressed in your coat.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, confused.

“Yes, my boyfriend stood me up, can you believe that?!” You said, sarcastically.

“But I’m here, amour. Admittedly, a little late but-” he tried to say.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head, with a smirk, “my boyfriend was late. My ex-boyfriend is here.”

“Amour, no, please just-”

��Save it, Charles. It’s time to let go,” you said and briefly thanked the valet as he brought your car out, “I’ll go to your flat tomorrow, pick my stuff and leave the keys.”

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t do this to us,” Charles was teary eyed but you were unmoved. You quietly took a drag, then turned your face to puff the smoke to the other side.

“Us is done for a long time, and I’ve been trying to save it for a while but I’m tired now.”

“Can we talk? Tomorrow?”

“You won’t be here tomorrow, Charles. You’ll probably be doing any of the hundred things that are more important than your girlfriend,” you got into the car and drove away. Charles could see you didn’t want to talk, and maybe it was better to let you cool off for a moment.

He couldn’t believe how cold and detached you were being, the nonchalance in your tone, the finality of it all. Yes, he had messed up a few times, but not to the point of losing you. Right?

You ignored his messages and calls as you spent the next 24 hours in a hotel, only leaving to go to work and back. You had told Charles you were going to pick up your stuff, but you decided to do that two days later, when you knew he wouldn’t be there, traveling for his sponsor's commitments.

But when you got there, Charles was there, looking like he had barely slept.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Italy?” You asked, bringing a couple of cardboard boxes inside.

“I canceled. Was waiting for you.” He said, low.

You felt like the lump in your throat was going to suffocate you any moment, because that’s what you wanted. You wanted him to put you first once, to care for your career a little bit, to make you a priority. But you wanted that earlier.

“You didn’t need to,” you said and swallowed, starting to pick up your books from the bookshelf, placing them in the box.

“You’re what matters the most,” he said, walking up to you.

“Bit late for that, Charles,” you scoffed. You couldn’t help but feel angry and act petty when you had been begging for his attention for almost a year now.

“Please, talk to me, Amour. Tell me.” He begged, taking your hands from the books, pulling you to pay attention to him. You snapped, pulling your hands from his.

“Did you cheat on me?” You asked, suddenly, because the possibility had been roaming your mind for a while now. It would certainly explain his distance, his misplaced priorities.

“What? What kind of question is that?” He looked so offended.

“Yes or no, Charles. It’s a simple question.”

“No, I would never cheat on you!”

You sighed. Old you would’ve believed him. Present you… weren’t sure. But then, it didn’t matter if he did it or not, anyway you broke up already.

“Talk to me!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You shouted, taking a step back.

“What is going on! What you are feeling! Why are you leaving me?!” He was just as loud.

“Our relationship has been ending for a while now, are you fucking blind?! I’m alone in this! I love you alone. I cherish you alone. I fucking try alone! You don’t have the time for us, and you don’t even try to pay attention to me! You forgot me in the paddock a month ago, and you didn’t even know because you never asked! You missed the gala where I got a promotion, my greatest accomplishment! You missed our anniversary celebration! And when you promised to make it up to me, you stood me up! I’m tired, I feel like you’re suffocating us to death with your bare hands!”

“I didn’t realize you we-”

“Of course, you didn’t! You only care about yourself, Charles.”

“I take responsibility for my actions, yes. I’m so sorry I made you go through all that! But I can fix it!” He said, pleading.

“I don’t believe you anymore,” you said, voice soft and sad, “Who says I won’t get my hopes high only to be met with disappointment again later on?”

“I’m saying!”

“You’ve said that before, I’ll make it up to you, It won’t happen again, We’ll reschedule, I’m done with your excuses, Charles.”

“You don’t love me anymore? Is that it?”

“Stop, Charles. You’re being unfair.”

“Yes or no?” He pressed further.

“I don’t know!” You shouted, exasperated, “I don’t know. My love took many hits over this year.”

“So this is it?” Charles opened his arms, flailing them around, “we’re done?”

“Yes. It’s for the best,” You finally said. Weirdly, you probably made peace with the fact your relationship was ending when you were crying alone in Positano.

It washed you with a surprising sense of relief, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. You probably had been emotionally checking out for a while. His absences and the coldness had been taking such a toll on you and your mental health, that the prospect of not having to deal with it anymore made you feel at peace.

That, or you were still numb after a rollercoaster of emotions.

“No, I don’t want it, I love you. So much.” he shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

A tiny part of you still wanted to comfort him, to hug him and say he’d be fine in the end. But nobody offered you the same kindness. Charles would have friends and family supporting him. You couldn’t do that. Not when he had caused you so much pain, constantly.

“I’ll, um-” you paused, putting the books back, “I’ll go. I can come back another time, when you’re not home. It will be better this way.”

You started walking to the door, but Charles intercepted you, blocking your path. His eyes were red, cheeks wet, and he looked absolutely hopeless.

“Please, let me try! Is there something I can do to change your mind?” He begged.

“No,” you dodged him, going to the door.

You left, without looking back. And despite the pain of ending something that at some point was so beautiful and such a source of happiness, the day was sunny and beautiful, and something in the way it warmed your face told you that you’d be alright.

NOTE: I'm considering writing part 2 with reader moving on, and as I'm feeling petty, I want her to move on to another driver, teehee. Opinions on which driver?

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #Spotify

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mx-pastelwriting · 6 days

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RDR2 HC - Running away together & what would it take.

RDR2 x GN! Reader

Summary: Running away together & what would it take for them to.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Running away, Some Happy Endings

Characters: Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Hosea Matthews, John Marston, Josiah Trelawny

Dutch van der Linde

- A hard task in itself, prying Dutch away from his power over the gang, it's an almost impossible task. Though echoing Hosea's words to lie low would earn you some time in having a voice over Micah's, he would consider it.

- Nightly talks cuddled up in his arms, imagining life away from the one you have aloud; he entertains it, but not without saying some doubtful scenarios. Having to change your ways, almost manipulating him into taking that life as a real thing.

- Never leaving his side, hearing every thought, not giving Micah a chance to talk to him in private, in turn driving you crazy. Doing anything for that good life, leaving your intentions to change just to get your Dutch safe.

- Every day drained you; all that work had finally caught up to you. Slowly, you lost faith as the gang came into more trouble, making you come to a realization. You made your choice.

- A night of loving Dutch one more time, cuddled up into his arms, then having to leave them. Leaving him in a deep sleep with a final kiss. Taking your horse he had gotten for you a long time ago and what little clothes you had left from all the years of running. Finally leaving in the cold night, not daring to look back.

A year had gone by, and still you dreamt about that day and its many outcomes, but all you could do was smile at the memory of his messed hair loving him for that final night. Telling yourself over and over that it spared the both of you, there was no use to keep trying. Leaving to build your own life, living out your dream that you tried so hard to convince Dutch of so many times.

He would have loved it, just the two of you; he just couldn't see it. Getting up from your bed, dressing up for the day, and having to live off of the small land you fought to get months after. Making your way to the kitchen, readying breakfast before your day of work, but a knock interrupts you from the task.

Grabbing your old weapon, hoping it still worked, then walking slowly to the door, pointing the weapon from your hip. Upon opening the door, your mind and body went blank. Dutch was standing at your front door, looking like shit. "Dear," he says, voice cracking. Even after all this time, he charmed his way into your heart, igniting your love again.

Arthur Morgan

- You both have always talked about that kind of life and what it would be like, but it always ended as a joke and never as something to look forward to. Until you really thought about it, hearing Hosea's story of him and his wife fed into your dream.

- Bring it up to Arthur one night, making sure he took it seriously, not knowing what to say, only he couldn't leave the gang just like that. Over time, you pushed the matter, and he always listened but never said anything.

- Being with the gang for a long time, you watched it change as Dutch came into more trouble. Finally, it hit a breaking point when Arthur went missing from the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll. The camp had to calm you down, but it didn't stop the tears every night, fighting your mind to just leave, but it turned to worry that if he'd come back, you needed to be there for him.

- After days of the gang searching, you finally spotted Arthur's house with him on top, thinking you had just gone crazy. Hearing his groans of pain, you ran to him, crying aloud, causing the camp to spring into action, with some having to hold you back so the rest could work.

- After an hour of working on him finally letting you see him, never leaving his side as you waited for him to wake. Hosea brought you something to eat every day, knowing what you had been going through.

Snapping from your exhausted state as a groan came from Arthur, watching as he stirred from his rest. Tears once again spilled from your eyes while grabbing his hand and placing it to your cheek. Waking fully, he whispered your name, running a hand through his hair earning a hum from him as he rested his eyes once again.

"I thought you were dead," you whispered, kissing his hand earning another hum. "Okay," he whispered weakly, making you look at him meeting his blue-green eyes. Taking a minute for you to understand, you nodded, "Tonight." You responded, getting only a weak nod back. Quickly getting up to then plant a kiss on his lips before preparing your leave.

Javier Escuella

- Being so loyal to Dutch, as soon as you'd bring that idea of life up, he'd tell you of the time he tried to find that kind of life, with it ending with Dutch saving him, in turn needing to repay Dutch with his life. A life for a life.

- Still, of course, you stayed with him, but it didn't stop you from trying. From mentioning small things, such as telling him to look at the homesteads as you passed them or talking to couples who owned their land, hearing the stories of home life making sure Javier was near you to hear.

- Wishing aloud to love him behind closed doors, but he brought up the suggestion of a hotel quickly you shot it down with wishes of loving him in your own home. Unknown to you, it wasn't till the end that he would change his mind.

- Seeing as he buddied up with Micah breaking your heart, seeing what Micah did to Dutch, there would be no way he would sink his claws into your Javier. Realizing it even more after hearing Arthur's words confirming your Javiers changed, solidifying your thoughts. Having to do the only thing that was left.

- Grabbing a bag, you started to stuff your things into it. Hearing footsteps come closer, you didn't look up, knowing who it was. When asking what you were doing, you told him you were leaving him. Shocked, he begged, but you gave it to him in the end, giving him an ultimatum. You or Dutch.

Pain washed over his face. He looked to the floor, hoping it would have the answer, but you continued packing. "Amor," he begged, but you kept your back to him as much as it pained you. "I can't do this, Javi," you say, tears stinging the brim of your eyes. "Tell me," he says, putting a hand on yours.

"All of this, you hate Micah. What changed?" You asked, making him look away, but you brought his face back softly with your hand. Cupping his face, "I know you see it. He's not well. I'm not going to stick around anymore, Javi," you say, turning to zip up your bag.

"It's your choice," you say before grabbing a few more things. "I can't," he says weakly. "Okay," saying your final words before walking to the horses, putting your things onto yours before hopping onto your horse.

Taking a last look at the camp, not caring who chose to look. Hearing as the horse next to you stirred, looking to see Javier hop on his with his belongings behind him. Smiling at each other, you turned away from camp, taking off quickly to start your new life.

Charles Smith

- Having been in the gang for a small amount of time, he had never shut down the idea, though never did he start to make plans on it. Figuring it was from his friendships with Arthur and John or him just settling in having run with him before the gang, you were of course thankful for them taking you both in, but shaking off the idea was never going to happen.

- Taking long rides on the days he got off, hugging his waist while resting your head on his back, talking about many things: camp gossip, your past travels, the future. Sometimes passing by a homestead watching as the people worked away at their land, imagining out loud how that would be, it would be better than always running.

- He loved you dearly; it pained him whenever leaving you to do a job with the gang, but you hated it more when he came to you from a watch stumbling on his tired feet to then crashing into your arms falling asleep before he could even mumble, "I love you.".

- Making his choice after the bank job that had gone wrong, having to bury Hosea and Lenny's bodies, the both of you talked about the decision ending with a kiss and the start of packing your things. Though quickly interrupted by the law, causing you to run once again, making you both stick around the gang a little longer.

- Knowing it put the both of you in more danger, he tried to make it quick by using the gang to help the tribe, only meeting them once by going with him, you understood. Finally, the day came telling only Arthur and John and those closest to you, getting hugs and wishes of luck to your new life.

Waking to the cooing of birds wrapped in the warmth of Charles's arms, hearing him snore softly, kissing his scared cheek, waking him from his slumber earning a smile. Looking at you with tired brown eyes, taking a moment to admire your well-rested faces.

Wiggling out of his arms with an objection as he tightened them, making you both laugh before you headed off to the kitchen in your homestead, but not without getting dressed first from the night before. Having been years since that day, leading to a new life, though the past caught up a year later, causing Charles to go with John just to make Dutch and Micah pay for all those years ago.

Of course, coming back to you with a bullet in the shoulder and a promise to never leave you again, from John's home, you both made it up to Canada, living out your dream of a homestead. Ending your reminisce on the past as Charles wraps his arms around you once more, kissing your neck softly while you readied the morning drinks.

Bill Williamson

- It had never been an idea to the both of you from all the years you ran with the gang until going into town. Seeing how a couple talked about their lives after getting that first taste of that kind of life, you never looked back.

- Not telling Bill at first, wanting him away from Dutch a bit before springing it upon him after one of your hotel nights away, he entertained your thoughts, though laughing at some parts until he realized you were serious.

- His first feeling was anger at how he could never do that to Dutch, but you argued that Dutch doesn't control your lives. Finally, he calmed down, telling you he looked up to Dutch. Knowing how he wanted the limelight that Arthur and John had, you convinced him that even if it was painful to say and hear, he would never be them. His obsession can't control him.

- Even though he listened with understanding, even agreeing, he told you the time wasn't right. Giving your understanding back to his reasoning, you stayed with him. But things didn't stay still for forever.

- The bank job had gone wrong with the law running you out of Shady Bell, feeling as if it was years before you got Bill back in your arms after hearing tales of him on Guarma. Having enough, you started to pack your things, causing Bill to freak. Hearing none of it, you gave him a choice. Hoping he would pick the right one.

Standing in front of your horse, holding your bag tightly, "I've hit the end, Bill; I-I can't. I can't stay up every night hoping you're alive; it's not fair to me or you." You choked through your words, causing a scene for the whole camp to see, but you didn't care; you were done.

Seeing his hesitant look back at Dutch, who watched on calmly, you had your answer. His continuous seek for approval from Dutch would never stop, and you weren't going to be around to watch it kill him or you.

Hosea Matthews

- Having left before he would hear the idea once again, not shooting it down immediately though ending your talk with how his story ended, right back where he started.

- As time went on, his coughs had gotten worse, as well as his attitude towards it, helping with his cough fits earned a hand wave and a choked-out "I'm fine." But you kept pushing, knowing if it was the end for him, it should be anywhere but running with the gang.

- Bringing it up more, he entertained it a bit more, but other reasons would always pop up after, trying to understand you let it go after every talk. As the gang settled into Shady Bell slowly, you noticed that he became even worse; he barely came to bed, but when he did stumble in, smelling of booze, giving you a slurred "I love you" before snoring away.

- Not waiting for his final say any longer, you slowly packed your things over the days, making sure both of your horses were ready to go in the night. Thankfully, you met a couple who knew of a cabin not too far away at a cheap price. Saving up quickly, you bought the cabin, leaving it to wait for you. Taking note of when the watch shifts change and when the camp dies down for the night.

- Finally, you made your move. As Hosea stumbled into being his familiar drunk self, you went into action, calling his horse over by the back door quietly loading on what little you had left. Then, waking Hosea leading him to the horse with false words, finally, you were ready with Hosea in a drunken sleep on your back, fleeing into the dark swamp.

Riding through the night, keeping Hosea on the horse, with luck, you made it through the swamp and into the forest on your way to the cabin. Not knowing how long this would last not even sure if this was a new life. "Just enough for you to rest," you whispered into the cold night air.

Making it to the cabin, using all your strength to get him in the cabin, laying him on the bed, tucking him. Going back out, taking your things from his and your horses, then letting them rest in the small stable for the next few days.

Waking into the morning still hearing Hosea's snores with his warm arms around you. Slowly, you get up, readying his medicine, hoping he'll understand your actions. Being all for him in the end.

John Marston

- Having entertained the idea only came up two times. The first was for one of Hosea's cons, having you and John play as a married couple that lived on a farm just for another couple who actually lived on a farm to come along to buy into Hosea's con.

- As years went on, seeing how the gang dwindled, thankful for not taking your John, but not without a scare and a promise to stay with you. Getting out of the snow, helping John to Horseshoe Overlook, fighting to keep him down, and resting. John made a joke about you being his spouse and having a little farm. That was the second time.

- John wasn't the only one with that joke; being protective over him, Hosea started to joke about how the con act ended long ago, but you were still acting the part.

- Finally, John was ready for jobs again, so you loosened your protection, though you weren't afraid to give it to Dutch if he came back with so much as a small scratch. Furthering that joke in the camp led you two to talk. John agreed to the possibility, but it was different in his mind. You saw it coming sooner than him.

- Sadly, it wasn't until the very end you could live out that idea. The gang fell apart, pushing you both towards Strawberry, but not without making a rule for yourself. Never to live that life again. It was easier said than done. John helped the framer, and you fled, leaving your John behind.

Reading the letter over again as the carriage hit every bump on the road, making your impatience worse. Finally stopping, not wanting to look out the window, needing to see him up close, you hurried out.

Standing there face-to-face with your John, having been gone for so many months, your eyes stinging as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. "It's over," he whispered into your ear, making the threatening tears spill, tightening your hold, not wanting to let him go again.

Josiah Trelawny

- Living that dream already in Saint Denis, but unbeknownst to you, Josiah had dealings with a gang. Hearing the name of the gang from officers around town yet not thinking anything of them. Not even questioning his absence at home as his "office work" makes him travel a lot.

- Loving the stories of his travels made you susceptible to listening for things, but never did you think you'd hear about your husband from an officer's mouth on the street. Then the next day, another questioned you on your doorstep, being very hostile and pushing past you just to find nothing, but before leaving, accusing you of dealing with the "Van Der Linde Gang.".

- Hearing nothing from your Josiah in the few passing days got you worried—maybe you didn't know the man you married. Though finally, you saw him as he crawled up the stairs of your Saint Denis home, the sight brought you to tears.

- The damage to him was heartbreaking. He groaned and hissed through his teeth as you cleaned up his bloody wounds, then bandaged them up. Saying nothing, you let the silence fall with his story quickly following, but you didn't let him finish.

- Saying the name of the gang, seeing how his face turned pale. Telling him of what transpired days before, hit you hard speaking of what you knew out loud to him. Starting with a sigh, he told you everything with a voice filled with shame.

"Stop," you said, interrupting his explanation, doing as you said, looking to you. Not being able to handle the sight of him knowing every cut or possible broken bone was because of his deals with the gang. You started to question whether the life you built was even real; was the love you got from him even real?

"Love," he pleaded, placing a hand on yours looking into the eyes you fell in love with so many times. Still, you held your ground. "No more J," you say, making him look down watching as he nodded. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his upper back and shoulders, hugging him as he sat in your home, where he belonged.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

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sunny44 · 9 months

Text

Business party

Pairing: Max Verstappen x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: couple fight.

Summary: The night of the company party has finally arrived and Y/n was super excited to introduce her boyfriend Max to her work friends but unfortunately the night doesn't end as she would have liked.

Next Chapter

It was the day of the party for the company you worked for, you were super excited to attend since you would formally introduce your boyfriend Mason to your friends but at the last minute, Mason decided that he is no longer going.

Finally the day had come.

I was super excited for this party and even more excited to officially introduce Mason to my friends from work.

He was away training but would arrive on time to get ready, meanwhile I was getting ready for the party.

After showering and washing my hair I dried it and did some curls and as I was finishing my makeup I heard the noise from downstairs.

I finished with my lipstick and went downstairs wrapped in my robe to find my boyfriend in the kitchen.

"Hi love." I smiled and gave him a kiss. "How was the simulator?"

"It was good, tiring but good."

"Are you going to shower now so we won't be late."

"Late for what?"

"For the party."

"Oh I'm not going to the party." Just as he says this I feel the sadness hit me.

"What do you mean you're not going? I warned you months ago and you promised you would go with me."

"I know but I changed my mind, I don't want to go anymore. I'm tired."

"But Max you promised and..."

"I'm not going, can you just leave me alone? I'm tired from the day and I don't feel like going to this stupid party." He says rudely, and I shut up.

"You always do this, when it's something important to you I have to support you and go to those stupid Redbull events, but when it's something important to me you let me down like I don't matter to you. I always prioritize you and support you in everything so why don't you do the same thing for me?"

"I never made you go."

"I go to support you, and as my boyfriend I expected you to do the same thing for me."

"I already said I'm not going."

"Then I'll go without you."

I went back to our room and put on my skirt and blouse, the one that I had bought just to match his tie. I grabbed a jacket and my purse, went downstairs and got the car key from the door.

"You don't have to wait for me, I'm not coming home."

I slammed the door behind me and headed for the party.

I had to hold back tears many times tonight just because all my friends were asking about Max and I had to lie saying that he couldn't come, I didn't have the heart to say that he let me down because he was tired.

"So where is the much talked boyfriend."

Stacy, for sure one of the people I wasn't the least bit interested in introducing Max to, she hates me for some reason unknown to me, it's always been that way since I joined the company.

"He couldn’t make it, he got tired of the simulator."

"Oh yeah, he's an F1 driver." She says wryly. "What's his name again? If he even exists."

"It's Max and I don't have to prove anything to you, if you'll excuse me."

I left there and went to the bar, I honestly had lost all excitement about the party, the reason I wanted to be there was an idiot with me. And once again that night I felt like crying.

“Are you ok?" My friend Kylie asks.

"Yeah, just bummed Max couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry, I know you really wanted to introduce him to us."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore." She smiled sadly and I took the last sip of my drink.

"Are you okay to drive later?" She says pointing to my drink.

"Yeah, not only is this night sucking, but I'm still drinking a non-alcoholic drink.” She laughs. "Actually, I’m going home.”

"Are you sure? We can still dance and have fun."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up but I'm really not in the mood."

"All right, see you Monday."

"See you."

I didn't want to go home, I was mad at him and also because I said I wouldn't come back but my sister was traveling so I couldn't go to her apartment. When I arrived I left my heels on the door and locked up, went upstairs to our room and when I opened the door Max was lying down watching TV.

"Guess you weren’t so tired after all."

"Can we talk?"

"No, I’m too tired to talk." I said walking into the bathroom and locking the door.

I took off my dress and put on my pajamas, took off all my makeup and when I was done I left the bathroom taking my cell phone and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sleeping here."

"Baby I'm sorry I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses Mex, when I wanted you to listen to me you didn't, so I'm not going to stay here and listen to your stupid excuses after you ruined my night." He doesn’t say nothing. "I honestly still don't know why I’m still trying."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't stand feeling like I'm the only one who values this relationship anymore. I'm tired of F1 always coming ahead of me in this relationship.”

"That's not true." He stands up.

"Then why didn't you go today? Oh yes because you were tired of driving an imaginary car in that stupid simulator." He still in silent. "I work just as hard as you do Max, but I've never let my work get in the way of our relationship. But I don't think you care about me as much as I care about you. So maybe we shouldn't be together.”

I wiped the tear that ran down my cheek and left the room, slamming the door and going to sleep from the guest room.

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername stories

“It suck’s that my night was ruined.”

This will have a part 2 so let me know if you want to be tagged

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

Prefacing this with I haven't read the comics I just dip in and out like the canon is a pool and I'm trying to climb onto a pool floatie.

So y'all remember that weird fucked up mind game test Bruce pulled on Tim in the beginning of their bullshit? The real fucked up mindgame that made Tim quit being robin for a bit, before coming back and being all "I know I'm not gonna get an apology." And Bruce was all "good."?

What if Tim realized it for what it was.

Tim realizes the test is a test and decides to get back at Bruce in his own game.

Bruce wants to act like he doesn't care about him in an effort to protect himself from grief if another kid ends up dying? That's fine.

Bruce resorting to psychological mind games to drive Tim away from seeking any support??

Not cool.

Tim realizes, and pulls a Hamlet.

He likes Dick, doesn't want the man to go through what Bruce is about to, and goes to Bludhaven to directly tell Dick not to believe ANYTHING Batman says for a month if it relates to Tim, that he's gonna teach the old man a lesson.

Dicks like "uhhhhhhh okay? U know we can just tell him whatever he's done is wrong, right?"

And Tim's just "nah, I'm past that point. See u in like three weeks to a month. This conversation didn't happen."

He leaves a copy of Hamlet in his locker in the bat cave, the only clue he's gonna drop until all is said and done, and gets to work.

Pretends that Bruce's mind fuck has driven him mad, pretends that he's sneaking off to chase down leads, pretends to talk to people that aren't there, visits the joker just to learn how to mimic his laugh, (side bar, joker has no idea why the new robin is visiting him and disabling the cameras, or why the kid just copies what he says and when he laughs, but after like two weeks of it he may be slightly uncomfortable around the kid no lie) uses makeup to make his eye bags look worse and trashes his own house (his parents are gonna be so pissed but he's already angrier than they could ever hope to be, so they can suck it), acts so unhinged Bruce calls it off and tries to tell him the truth, only for Tim to pretend like he doesn't believe him and steal the robin uniform and run away, and then goes and sneaks away from his own house (he knew he was being watched) to a warehouse he predetermined with a conspiracy theory board and string in his room (he needs to make sure Bruce knows where Tim wants him to go) and the conspiracy theory is just an amalgamation of the bullshit Joker spews (again, joker is really confused by this strange child hero and very slightly unsettled, what the fuck Batman where the fuck did u get this robin, maybe return him to the robin store? This one's defunct), makes sure it's abandoned, and blows it to hell with the robin uniform inside

He knows Bruce will be too jarred, to lost in the major trauma buttons Tim is pushing with the warehouse explosion, to do a proper analysis. He KNOWS Bruce will want it done as quickly as possible, and try to bury Tim as quickly as he can. He knows his parents won't get any phone calls for at least a month.

Then he goes to ground for a week.

Walks back into the cave after that week, corners a grieving and broken Bruce, and asks him how he likes mind games now.

After all, it was just a TEST. There was no need to skip basic steps like DNA analysis, that's just SLOPPY Bruce.

Dick, who had been warned by Tim early on and kinda knew the kid was gonna pull a fast one of Bruce, had NO IDEA it was gonna be this depraved, and is very highly Shook. Nor did he realize Bruce had tried a mind game first, and is...disappointed but not surprised, really.

But holy shit Tim Bruce started at a 9 and you escalated to a goddamn 25.

Bruce, realizing that they may both be a bit fucked up, acquiesces to therapy. For all of them. Holy shit for all of them, because that was NOT a normal teenage response and he is beginning to sense some distinctly villainous red flags from this kid.

Next time the joker breaks out he flat out refuses to believe that Tim is a Robin, and joker is the one that starts the whole Cuckoo thing, and asks Batman if he's gonna send the kid to Arkham early or if this is a weird intervention program he's trying.

Then he tries to murder like fifty people cuz he's the motherfucking JOKER.

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firstkanaphans · 7 months

Note

I heartily concur with your interpretation of the Ray/Mew no-sex scene - it absolutely wasn't about sex, it was about Ray pleading with Mew to just give him a sign that he's actually genuine about this 'relationship' - at this point I think Ray wants to be with Sand, but as long as there's a chance Mew is being sincere about this, Ray feels bound to stay with him, not because he's in love with him, but because a) he begged for this (even though I still maintain he wouldn't have had Mew not brought it up again) and b) I don't think he has it in him to actively reject Mew (which in itself is part of the reason they don't work), so imo in this scene he's thinking 'show me something, anything, that allows me to convince myself I did the right thing playing it safe/not going after Sand' and THAT'S why he's so angry - it's not about sex, it's not about Top, it's not even about Mew not being able to love him. And it's not about him just being mad at not getting what he wants. It's about Ray realising that he's thrown away the possibility of real love for the lie that is this 'romance'. And like you said, Mew as good as confirms as much in the final convo. I appreciated Mew's maturity and honesty so much in that scene - it made me do a complete u-turn on his character. Mew realises that Ray wants out of this non-relationship just as much as he does, but he also knows that Ray will never be able to be the one to say it because of the power imbalance between them, so he does it for the both of them, which is a true act of love and friendship. I think for some ppl Ray 'choosing' Sand had to be an A or B scenario, aka Ray could have Mew but chooses Sand instead. But because Ray is a messed up raw wound seeping trauma and addiction and self-loathing and confusion it was never going to be that simple. What we get is more complicated but just as valid - Sand isn't his second option, Sand is who he WANTS to be with, Sand is who he loves, and who he WOULD be with if a) he was better equipped to recognise and understand his own feelings ('when I'm with you I'm so damn happy') and b) he didn't have such a longstanding and complicated (and unhealthily co-dependent) history with Mew. He doesn't drive off hoping to hook up with Sand because Mew turned him down. He seeks Sand out because, if we agree the Ray/Mew fight is the moment they both accept on some level their relationship is fake, then that's the moment Ray allows himself the chance to go after what his heart really wants, which is Sand. Ray doesn't have the emotional toolkit necessary to be able to articulate all this to himself, let alone to anyone else, which is why Mew very gently does it for him. But Mew being the one to break this to Ray doesn't mean Ray's feelings are any less his own. I think of it more this way: Sand is Ray's first choice, but Ray's own happiness is Ray's last choice, because on some level he doesn't believe he deserves it, and so without intervention - from Mew, from Sand - Ray would always continue to self-sabotage (as talked about in the tweet Jojo reposted a few days ago). And slightly but not entirely off topic: I also think nuance is often lost in translation - I might be wrong but I wonder if his words ('why won't you let me have it') are less...yeesh in Thai. Just part of a general thought I've been thunking about deep analysis of foreign language shows when you're reading so much into everything and yet relying on what are often serviceable at best subtitles (for which I'm still eternally grateful!) - SO MUCH can be misinterpreted by just a single word choice, and I sometimes find myself having to choose between taking subs at face value vs retranslating them in my head to what I think better suits the acting/story/characterisation. Apologies for the indecent length of this - I got carried away! Long story short: I agree with you!

Honestly, I agree with all of this and couldn't have said it better myself. I don't have much to add, but I will pull out some of my favorite lines for a TL;DR:

"At this point I think Ray wants to be with Sand, but as long as there's a chance Mew is being sincere about [their relationship], Ray feels bound to stay with him, not because he's in love with him, but because a) he begged for this...and b) I don't think he has it in him to actively reject Mew."

"So imo in this scene he's thinking 'show me something, anything, that allows me to convince myself I did the right thing playing it safe/not going after Sand' and THAT'S why he's so angry - it's not about sex, it's not about Top, it's not even about Mew not being able to love him....It's about Ray realising that he's thrown away the possibility of real love for the lie that is this 'romance.'"

"I think of it more this way: Sand is Ray's first choice, but Ray's own happiness is Ray's last choice, because on some level he doesn't believe he deserves it, and so without intervention - from Mew, from Sand - Ray would always continue to self-sabotage."

As for the question of translation accuracy, I actually did a little digging into this. The line that was translated as "Why won't you let me have it?" was literally บอกกูมาได้ป่ะว่าทำไมมึงถึงไม่ยอมให้กูเอาสักทีอ่ะ (bòk goo maa dâai bpà wâa tam-mai meung tĕung mâi yom hâi goo ao sàk tee à), which can more accurately be translated as "Can you tell me why you won't let me have it?" I know that's not a huge difference, but it turns an accusatory statement into a legitimate question. Ray's not just stomping his foot because Mew won't give him sex. He's asking for an explanation. [Insert disclaimer about me not being a native Thai speaker here.]

#only friends the series #asks #my anons are so smart 🥹#the "sand is ray’s first choice but ray’s happiness is ray’s last choice’ line goes particularly hard

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footballfanficwriter · 7 months

Text

The Break up

Summary: I love you but, you hurt me and I can't take it anymore

A/n: requests are open

"Where were you?" I ask getting up from the sofa that I've been sitting on for the past 3 hours

"Out" he says

"Are you drunk?"

"No" he says trying to stand up straight indicating that he is in fact drunk

"Is that a hikey on your neck"

"No...w-w-what are you even doing up at this time" he asks

"Waiting for you to come home so we can go on our date that you promised me we'd go on" I say

"Shit that was today, i forgot"

"Ofcourse you did, like you always do"

"You look very beautiful in that dress by the way"

"Stop, manipulating me"

" I'm not, I'm just complimenting you"

"Oh cut the bullshit Jude, you don't care about me, if you did you'd remember our date and that hickey wouldn't be on your stupid neck"

"Babe I love you, you are my world, I can't live without you"

"I love you too Jude, but how many times have we been down this road?, you Fuck up, you promise not to do it again, I forgive you and you do it all over again"

"Ok fine I promise this is the last, the very last time"

"That's what you said last time"

"Babe please"

"No, if I continue like this, you are literally going to drive me to my death"

"Y/n, please don't do this, I love you"

"I love you too Jude, but you hurt me and I can't take it anymore" I say

I walk to my room and start packing all my clothes in suitcases

"Y/n, you're being dramatic, your blowing things out of proportion"

"I'm blowing things out of proportion?, you know how many times I've cried because of you, how you've made me feel like I can't live without your love, making me feel emotionally dependent on you?, I guess that's my fault cause of how fast I fell for you, how I based my whole life on you"

"Y/n, please darling, I'm begging you, please don't to this".

"It's ok Jude, I understand you've lost feelings for me"

"No I haven't"

"If you haven't like you claim, then you wouldn't have cheated"

He's silent like he's trying to think, that's when he grabs his phone out of her pocket and makes a call, the line connects after a few rings and hear my mother's voice

"Hello?, Mom Y/n is at it again, I can't get her to stop, she's threatening to leave in fact she's packing her clothes right now"

"Give her the phone, darling" she says

He hands me the phone

"Hello"

"What are you doing?" She ask

"Leaving" I say

"But why hunny?"

"Jude has been cheating for more than a year now, and quiet frankly I've reached my breathing point"

"Were you giving him some?"

"Mom, that's private"

"Well judging by your answer, I'm gonna assume it's a no, no wonder why he's cheating on you"

"You're justifying his actions?"

"Just stay darling, a women never leaves her mess, fix your relationship, try harder if you must, do everything in your power to make him happy"

"I can't believe you, you're taking his side?"

"He's very reasonable"

"I can't do this with you mom,I'm coming home"

"No, you're not, if you step foot outside that house, and drive here I will kick you off my property" she says

"You're disowning me"

"If that's what I have to do then yes"

I hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed and continue packing.

I'm leaving, even if it means I'll be living in my car then so be it

"What are you doing"

"Leaving"

"But your mom just sai-

"Get away from me Jude"

"Where are you going to go if you leave the house then"

"That's none of your concern"

I finish packing my things and make my way downstairs, but Jude stops as I'm about to leave the front door

"Get out of my way"

"I love you"

"Get out of my way Jude"

"Darling I love you"

"Don't lie to me, I said get out of my way" i give him a look and he steps aside

And I make it out for the door, but not before and turning back

"So this is really the end?"

"Yeah, it is" I say

"I'm sorry for how I treated you"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't enough for you"

"I love you"

"I love you too" I say and close the door and head to my car

I sit there for a while and and the tears start running down my face eventually I'm a sobbing mess

After slightly composing myself I start the car and leave.

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simpingland · 7 months

Text

The little lights// Osferth x fem!reader.

Summary: Osferth has many reasons to keep his love for you a secret. But there is a limit to everything, and if can't marry you, then he will make his bows during a secret handfasting ceremony by the river.

A/N: fluff and so much fluff!!!! Osferth does inappropriate things here but not specified.

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

Osferth found it hard to keep secrets, but since it was you, he always did his best, knowing that the consequence of not doing so would drive you apart. However, you always took care to give him a reprimanding look when he got too close or whispered things in your ear.

It had all started when Uthred and his party had let you get involved in their adventures when you were orphaned, you knew how to ride a horse and you were a quick learner. So taken in by father Beocca and Thyra, you soon became something of a niece to the Danish-English leader. To the rest you did not think you were too important. True, Sihtric and Finan were fond of you, as if you were fond of a friend, and Hild also helped you in the few things Thyra could not understand. But from the beginning, with Osferth everything was different.

The instant you rode beside him, his eyes stayed with you as much as the afternoon went on. And though it was Uthred who gave you water and bread to fill that empty stomach, it was Osferth who had accompanied you in prayer to watch over your parents. He knelt beside you, and his concentration inspired yours for hours. You had never been a devout Christian, and Osferth assured you that none of that mattered if you were good at heart. Even he didn't know at first if that would be the case for you, but he soon discovered that it did. It was when you tended his wound after the battle of Beamfleot that you watched over him day and night.

"Aren't you going to sleep at some point?" he would ask you when he regained consciousness.

"When you wake up. I have to watch to see if you suddenly stop breathing."

"And what would you do if that were the case?"

"Punch you so hard I'd make your light soul go back to where it was."

That managed to make him laugh, causing him some pain too, but after that the baby monk regained his colour.

"Everyone here wants to hit me..." he was referring to Finan and his threat to kill him if he died, and though he said it with a smile on his face, you felt a little sorry for him.

"I guess... I guess we're not all as sweet as you. You're always clear about how you feel, and you know how to say it."

"I disagree. My mind is constantly collapsed with thoughts and my heart is in knots."

"Because of faith?"

He nodded slowly. It took you quite a bit of courage to take his hand and stroke it. The coldness he conveyed was short-lived as he squeezed your hand back.

"I have seen true evil, Osferth. And I do not fear it, but I do hate it. And in you I see the opposite of hate. You are...all love."

You needed only the nearby rustle of leaves to let go, hands away again, and you lost yourself as Osferth's heart filled at your words. If this was a test, God knew he would not pass it. The days following his recovery were meals together, walking on your arm, letting him smell your hair, which you washed in the river. And he imagined you bathing with soap made by Thyra. And thanks to the soap it all really began.

He asked you, blushing, if you could wash his hair. His arm was sore and he felt dirty. The others he didn't trust, for they liked to laugh at his monk-cut, and threatened a few times to cut it off for fun. And you took him to the river where you bathed. Holding your hand, he followed your footsteps, without that oppressive sound of metal, for the weapons were outside, that place was pure comfort.

"Lie on my lap" you asked him. And his doubtful face made you question if that was a good idea. "Oh if you prefer, put your head down..."

He sat down next to you, but changed his mind. With the subtlety of a fawn, his head rested in your lap, and he watched you for a moment before closing his eyes and letting the water run over his head. Tenderly, the foam formed on his head and you rinsed him with a small glass. Your hands almost made him fall into a deep sleep right there. But when you wiped a wet bandage over his face he opened his eyes again. Concentrating on removing the stains, you tried to avoid the blue eyes staring at your lips. A moment of weakness and you looked back at him.

Who it was, it doesn't matter, but your noses brushed and your lips followed. There in the river, with the waterfalls dreaming and the frogs croaking, the soap disappeared in the water, but the butterflies in your stomach flew looking to burst into the air. That's what an Osferth kiss felt like. Immense, fresh, pure. From then on, the soap did not smell the same, it smelled like that sweet moment, repeated in a thousand different ways every time you and him were even the slightest bit alone.

You never noticed the looks the others gave you every time you laughed at everything Osferth dared to whisper in your ear. He tugged at your sleeves to hold your hand in the moments when your nerves ate at you, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders when they marched far away and you were not allowed to accompany them, and by letting him take you by the waist, Osferth needed a whole world to let you go. Only Thyra would remove the tears that fell from your eyes at night when you did not hear from him. He always came back, and you saw his smile grow wider each time he was made proud among men, when he could bring you a small relic wrapped in simple cloth. His hanging cross was the only thing he kept when you went to the river. And there he would tell you everything he had seen, and everything he had suffered. He enjoyed washing your hair too, and he kept a lock of hair that he asked you for his travels. He cried on your shoulder more than once, and though he tried not to kiss you beyond your face, he soon reached your neck, and you could feel his hands wandering through the seams of your clothes, through the knots he imagined himself removing at night.

"I don't understand, Lord, why if I've been faithful to you so long you put me to this test. Put anything else in the way, I will overcome it, but it is only she who now occupies my mind..." Osferth prayed in his sleepless moments. "I ask you not to use her to break my heart. I feel that all her pain will be mine too."

The prayer could not avail him much, or perhaps it was precisely heard, when one night, one of those merry ones where the ale is quickly drained from the cups, Osferth and you led a secret dance, and where you went, he went. The music was secondary and a mere excuse to touch Osferth's hands so that he could cling to you. And the heat of happiness set your cheeks on fire and you stepped out into the cool of the night. In the courtyard of your house, near the tavern and where no one was yet around, you and Osferth lay looking up at the sky.

"You are a surprisingly good dancer, dear Osferth," you teased.

"That's not much credit coming from such a lousy dancer as you, my lady..."

Surprised by his comment, you gave him a gentle nudge and pushed him to the floor.

"I never expected such treachery from you.... This is not the monk I adore."

He turned you around, leaving you wrapped in the straw, and tickling you somewhat with his gentle grip. The cross hung down and brushed your neck. In the gloom, his face was still as distinguishable as in your dreams.

"I may never have told you..." he sounded sweet and serious, and his hand caressed the bridge of your nose. "But when you were in my care, I thought...I thought I was on the verge of death, and all I could feel with pain and fear was your presence beside me. I thought the Lord was preparing me to go in peace...sending me an angel."

Crickets chirped as you felt the excitement fill your eyes. You smiled like a fool at the sweet thought, and found it hard to believe. You could feel his slight embarrassment and you kissed his cheeks and could not help but giggle with pure joy. What to say to that? That you loved him? That it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you? He was the man of words. You only wanted one thing. And that night you got it. Starting with a kiss, the moon saw you finally shed your clothes and he let you explore his flesh. And out of that night came the biggest scare of your life and your greatest blessing in turn.

The news of the pregnancy nearly stopped Osferth's heart while it kept you in a state of disbelief that made you awkward all week. You needed to go cry in the river to come to terms with what was to come. You would never let go of that baby if you were healthy and had the money to raise it. But everything felt rushed and Uthred would not look kindly on this strange union between people he considered family and people he considered a team. Besides, Osferth would soon be off on a dangerous new adventure, and he himself had moral doubts about the whole life. What was clear to him was that he would not abandon you. There must be some middle step to bring you together and make that baby more than a bastard, for he had certainly sprung from the purest love.

"Marry me, please," he said as he brushed your hair away from your face, trying to wipe away your tears as well."

"No, Osferth...not like this."

"Why not?"

"For many reasons...Uthred will get angry with us, and if you depart married then you can die peacefully and I want you to stress yourself so much that you force yourself to survive long enough to come begging me to marry you..." that made me laugh, though you were quite serious.

"Then let's get married in secret."

"No!"

"Why?" he was beginning to stress. You took a moment to find the words.

"Because I've already hidden for too long how much I love you and this is the only thing I have left to give you! I want Beocca to walk me down the altar and I want Thyra to make me a wreath. I want everyone to see me happy because of you. I don't want there to be any doubt in your mind that I'll be happy because of you. Let there be no doubt in your mind that...as much as you're crazy about me...I'm pretty much in love with you too."

Smiling and thinking, Osferth enjoyed your little jokes that served to tell him the things that really mattered to you. And yes, he agreed, he wished to see Finan and Sihtric drink in honour of your union, and receive the full blessing of the man who had brought you together in the first place, Uthred. He needed everyone to see how beautiful you were and how happy you made him without contingency. He took your hand and caressed it, looking at it with a throbbing thought.

"There is a ceremony...less than a marriage, but it will soothe my conscience, and I hope yours."

In the sunset, on that river where you first kissed, a kind-hearted priest agreed to offer ceremony. Witness Hild, the first to have noticed your pregnancy symptoms and who did not question your actions. You bought a yellowish ribbon, like Osferth's hair, and with thread of a blue that reminded you of his eyes, you wove him a cross that stretched to resemble a sword. He, on the other hand, chose a greenish cloth, like that of the plants that grew in the river, and with white thread he had depicted outstretched wings, like those of an angel. When you exchanged them, Osferth kissed the cross while you caressed the weft of the thread, both of you with your souls full. Then the vows began.

In the handfasting ceremony, one did not join his soul to the other, but promised before the loved one that they intended to remain by eachother side in an uncertain future. Perhaps your child would be born a bastard, but the ceremony, in the eyes of god, and in your own eyes, was a promise of good intentions and love.

"I promise to become a man worthy of you and our family. I promise to try with every breath I have left to return to your side. I promise never to leave you uncertain of how much I want to live with you. I promise to cherish the protection I know you give me."

You were somewhat lost in the trance, and it took the priest to mention your name to get your attention. Osferth's cheek, occupied by his smile, was too pretty to look away.

"I promise...to wait for you calmly, to receive you with the gentleness you deserve. I promise to take care of everything we harvest, and I promise to always, always tell you the truth. I promise to help you whenever you ask. I promise to let you know how much I want to see you every moment of every day."

The priest speech was not that important for the last part in your humble opinion. There were many other things to look at and to listen to. And Osferth's gentle caress on your hand made noise. And your little discomfiture of joy that made you sway in your place was to Baby Monk a lovely dance. Though the kiss was not part of the ceremony, when the man fell silent, your arms leapt to his shoulders and Osferth. With bonds forgotten, you tugged at his hand and both of you hurt each other through inertia.

"Forgive me," he said tenderly.

"Forgiven."

With his loosened hand he was able to grasp your cheek and deposit at last the kiss you had spent the night dreaming of. Hild clapped her hands and withdrew soon after you thanked her for her discretion. And then you didn't quite know where to begin your life with Osferth, though really, it hadn't quite begun. Strolling along the river as the day wore on, leaving others to wonder about your whereabouts, neither you nor Osferth cared about anything beyond what happened on that river.

Your good soon-to-be husband held out a hand for you to walk through the water, and when he saw the beautiful fabric of the skirt you were trying to protect, he picked it up before it got wet. And he followed you carefully as you told him how much you would miss him.

"I will pray day and night for you to come home and meet our child," you told him sorrowfully.

"Don't pray for me, pray that they bring the baby to us healthy and strong...I will pray for that, and for you. And I will ask him, if it is not too much, to let me see both of you in my dreams."

You turned to cling to his rib, and he nuzzled the back of your head as you absorbed his scent.

"Oh, Osferth, please tell me you will never hold a grudge against me for derailing you from your calling as a monk? I can't help but feel guilty."

That revelation hurt him a little, empathising with the woman he loved most in this world and the one who would make him the happiest man in a few months. He lifted your face, stopping the walk, and kissed your eyelids.

"You didn't derail me, you led me. This is the life with which I have been rewarded for so many years of dedication. To be with you is not to forsake God. In fact, I can be nothing but grateful to him. If he sees everything, he will be unable to lose sight of all that I am moved by you."

You had to keep walking to hide the silly redness that filled your face, and Osferth's hand on your belly made you slow your pace. And though you were afraid of a thousand things, that feeling was indescribable. The purest state of happiness.

"I think it's going to be a girl," he said, stroking the fabric against your belly.

"I think it's going to be a boy," you contradicted him mischievously.

"They say that boys make pregnant women beautiful. And I see you looking the same as ever."

You gave him a shove as he laughed, but he didn't see the branch behind him and ended up falling awkwardly as he laughed almost completely. Now you were laughing as Osferth tried not to perjure himself from the cold.

"That's what you get for being an idiot..." you continued your walk, your dress starting to get soaked. Something in her look and half-smile made you suspect a thousand things. "Osferth no..." He stood up slowly. He approached you soaking wet and dripping. "I can't swim and you know it."

"Can't a man give his wife a hug?"

"Give it to your wife when you marry her."

"I can't resist, my lady!"

He pounced, instantly drenching you with his big body and wet clothes. And coldness mingled with laughter as you tried to escape him.

"Osferth! You're going to drop me, and I'm going to get soaked and catch a cold!"

You said it in jest, but something clicked in the Baby monk's head and he let go of you. He then ran to get the cloaks you had brought with you and helped you out of the river. He put yours and his own your shoulder. He helped you dry off and turned a deaf ear to your suggestion that he should dry off too. You gave him a kiss on those lips, and he seemed to calm down instantly.

The sun had already set by the time you returned to the house where your friends awaited you, your feet marking distance, but your eyes following each other's like a light. And perhaps, you were just that, lights on the other side of the room, endlessly tinkling, guiding and simply beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @slytherincursebreaker

#osferth x reader #osferth #osferth x you #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom osferth #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #osferth x fem!reader #fluff

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holylulusworld · 24 days

Text

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, a little Brit's bashing? (it's Dean), almost car accident (not really, just in case)

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Dean, stop fidgeting!” Sam tuts. “It’s an airplane. Nothing will happen. It’s more likely that Y/N will stab you to death for following her home.”

“It’s called a romantic gesture, bitch! Maybe I was too chicken to look for her after she left without as much as a note, but this won't happen again.”

“If you wanted to find her, you’d found her in no time, Dean. Do not lie to me. I’m your brother, not someone you can easily lie to. I know you inside and outside.”

“That sounded wrong,” Dean snickers. “Anyways. I didn’t know that she left a message. Back then, I believed she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Excuses again, Dean?” Sam sarcastically says. “You gave up so easily on Y/N because you let Mother feed you with lies. She wanted you back with Lisa, and you eagerly agreed.”

“I wasn’t with Lisa after Y/N left. That’s a lie,” Dean grunts. “I was with other women, but not Lisa. No relationship worked out for me, though.”

“Maybe no relationship worked out for you because none of the women was Y/N,” Sam looked Dean straight in the eyes. “Just saying. She was the one.”

Dean tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Sam is not wrong. Deep down inside Dean knows that letting you go was the worst mistake he ever made.

“Let’s not talk for a while. I need to prepare a speech and make Y/N talk to me,” Dean looks at the ring in his hands, swallowing hard. “Do you think she will give me a chance to at least talk about what happened that night?”

“Honestly,” Sam sighs deeply, “I don’t know, man. You hurt her deeply and she had to raise your child alone.”

“I didn’t like that guy,” Dean huffs. “Ketch. He was always sneaking around Y/N, and he wouldn’t leave her out of sight.”

“Maybe he’s just attentive,” Sam grins. His brother is jealous, and this gives him a little hope that Dean will get his shit together and fix what he broke years ago. “You know. Y/N is an attractive woman. A single mom. Maybe he offers to help her repair things and clean her pipes.”

“Not a word about her pipes!” Dean points his index finger at Sam. His nostrils flare, and his eyes darken. “If that sonofabitch touched Y/N, he’s dog food.”

“Dean.”

“Do not Dean me!” Dean snaps at his brother.

“You’ve got no right to be jealous or angry at that man. Y/N is single because you let her slip through your fingers.”

Sam leans back and closes his eyes. It’s a few more hours before they’ll arrive in London. He will try to get as much sleep as possible before he must, help his brother get you back.

“DEAN! FUCK! You are driving on the wrong side!” Sam screams at the top of his lungs as his brother curses left-hand driving. “Christ, Dean! I told you about left-hand driving.”

“Fuck left-hand driving,” Dean flashes his brother a smirk before focusing on driving on the right side of the street. “Brits, they are crazy. Why would you want to drive on the wrong side of the fucking street! They are lunatics! All of them!”

Sam releases a shuddery breath. His life flashed in front of his eyes for a split second. “Just drive carefully, and on the right side of the street. I want to survive this trip!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Dean grins. “I’ve got this. The only problem is, I miss my Baby.”

“Well, at least this way you won’t total your car,” Sam huffs. “Please just slow down and drive us to Y/N’s home safely. I don’t want to face her with my pants soaked with pee.”

“Aw, my baby brother still pees his pants. Cute.”

“Yeah, if his brother drives on the wrong side of the street, almost killing them in a car accident!”

Dean snickers. “Sammy pees his pants. Sammy pees his pants.”

Sam punches his brother’s upper arm. “Stop that shit. We are here to talk to Y/N, not for you to make stupid jokes. Cockiness and bad jokes won’t help you win her over again.”

Dean’s smile falters, and he nods. Sam is right. You will not fall for his charms and cockiness again. Not after he let you down when you needed him the most.

“Mommy, I want eggs! I want eggs,” your son chants while you try to focus on reading the newspaper. “Mommy!”

“You’ve got the pancakes you wanted, Michael Joseph,” you fold the newspaper and give your son a stern look. It’s one of your rare days off, and you want to start it in silence and enjoy the day. “We talked about wasting food.”

“But—” he puckers his lips and batts his eyelashes. Mimicking his father. You gasp as he tells you that he’ll be a sweetheart all day if you make him eggs now.

Sweetheart. The pet name makes your heart ache.

“Please, I want eggs and bacon! Real men eat bacon,” he sniffles. “Please, Mommy. I’m craving eggs and bacon.”

“Real men?” You frown. “Where did you hear that term?” You take a sip from your cup, wondering where your son heard that term.

“Oh, I talked to your friend Dean. He called when you were asleep,” your son grins, making his cheeks dimple. “He loves pie and talks a lot about you and food. Dean said bacon and eggs are breakfast for champions. Especially when it comes with pie.”

“Dean?” You drop your cup. It chatters on the ground, making you flinch. “When did you talk to him? Why did you talk to him at all? I told you not to talk to strangers.”

“He called,” your son sniffs, unbeknownst to the pain he just caused. “And, Dean said he’s your friend. I only tried to be polite, Mommy. Dean was friendly, and I liked talking to him. He sounded like a cool guy.”

“A cool guy?” You shake your head. “No, he’s not a—” Your son looks at you, a big smile on his face when he talks about Dean. So, you bite your tongue and ignore the aching in your chest.

“Mommy, can we call him? I’d like to ask him a few questions about cars,” your son excitedly tells you Dean knows everything about the Impala he loves so much. “Please.”

“We’ll see,” you hastily say. It’s a lie, but you cannot tell your son why you don’t want him to talk to Dean ever again.

For now, you’ll do anything to keep Dean away from your son. He doesn’t know your son is his son. If he calls again, you’ll come up with a believable lie.

“Fuck, I should’ve bought flowers, right?” Dean looks at the model car in his hands. It’s a model of his car. The one his brother found online years ago. “Shit, what do I do now? I need flowers for Y/N.”

“Dean,” Sam hisses. He doesn’t want to draw attention toward him and his brother. “The neighbors are watching us. Ring the doorbell before they call the cops!”

“Not cops,” Dean snorts. “They call them Bobby here! Bobby! He’d so love this!”

“It’s a nickname,” Sam slaps the back of Dean’s head, earning a grunt and a few curse words. “Now stop wasting time. We are here. All you gotta do is ring that bell…”

Part 6

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #Designed by pain (5)#angst #dean winchester x female!reader

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ellitx · 3 months

Note

I think yandere Venti would 100% steal his windblumes voice if they refuse to comply with him. He just takes his zipper and zips your lips just like that, and not even a peep can come out. Like yes it’s very against his morals but you’re just driving him off the wall! He’s not going to hurt you…physically. But when you wake up one morning after leaving him scorned,refusing to sing for him even though he’s PLEADING to hear your pretty voice…

You just don’t have a voice.

“Well, Windblume, what’s the point in having that angelic voice of yours if you won’t sing for me? You didn’t want to, so I did you a favor!”

Nonnie 👁️ the possibility venti can do while your voice is lost GRR

yknow how ursula stole ariel’s voice? Something like that and now that you’re mute how are you going to ask for help? Well you CANT.

whenever you try to approach any bypassing citizen about your current situation, they’d quickly run away bcs they thought you were a beggar. Parents will immediately pull their children close to them and whisper to ignore you.

As for the knights of favonius, they have now given you a warning that you’re scaring everyone and it irks you that you cant speak. They were kind enough to give you a pen and paper to write your explanation but the wind keeps ruining your plan. If you try writing inside, the windows were somehow open and the winds surge through that yet again made all the papers fly all over the place.

Venti then “came in time” to explain your situation. He has that fake smile, apologizing to the knights for causing a commotion on your behalf.

“I’m really sorry if my partner here is causing you trouble. She’s unable to speak and I assure you she was just seeking help for directions since she easily gets lost.” He explains. His hand slithers to your sides and your skin crawl when he gives you that warning grip you know well.

You hate Venti does all the talking for you. You hate how he can lie so easily. You hate how his face carries such fake sincerity whenever he comes to take you back after getting the chance to get away from him. You wish this was some cruel joke. But its not. It feels as though there is no escape for you anymore.

#ellianswers #anon ask #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader

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plus-size-reader · 1 year

Text

Never Ending Proposals

Steve Harrington x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2267 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Steve really wants to marry the reader, and will NOT give it up but at a certain point, he has to face reality.

—————————————————————————————————

“Steve…no”

“No”

“No Harrington”

“God, what is wrong with you? We are not getting engaged”

With the way you just kept repeating yourself, you were sure that someone was going to have you committed but it wasn’t entirely your fault.

He just wouldn’t drop it.

No matter what you tried to tell him, Steve refused to accept that you weren’t ready to be his wife yet.

You got it, you really did. You had heard his fantasy over and over again, about all the kids and the camper van and all that.

It sounded nice… after you had secure careers and could actually afford a camper full of Harrington's. Until then, you were just going to keep saying no, and it didn’t matter how sweet Steve was, or how much he genuinely meant each proposal.

As far as you were concerned, Steve Harrington was still a child, and so were you. Neither of you had any business getting married or starting a family yet.

Just last week, you’d lost Dustin in the mall, and you were confident he was easier to handle than an infant. At least, you hoped he was, considering how much trouble he caused the two of you all by himself.

How were you supposed to juggle everything you already did on top of marital responsibilities? You couldn’t.

There was no way to feasibly make it work.

Not that your partner saw that as clearly as you did, as evidenced by the fact you were once again talking about it, this time driving down the road.

“I just think it would be nice, y’know?” Steve hummed, getting that dreamy look in his eye again, even though you’d already shot this particular fantasy down once this week.

You smiled in spite of yourself, enjoying the fact that he’d clearly given the more romantic parts of his plan some decent thought. In every way except the practical, he knew exactly how it would go down if you agreed.

Unfortunately, you had your focus placed firmly in reality, where there was no ring on your finger and you liked it that way-for the time being, at least.

“It would be nice, but we aren’t ready” you reminded, resting back fully against your chair, turning your head to meet his gaze before he returned his to the road.

That wasn’t he wanted to hear.

Part of you felt bad for shooting him down so readily. You understood the sentiment, and it would be a lie to say that his insistence on being with you was romantic but it was also crazy.

If you went through with it now, it would be like playing house. It wouldn’t actually be something you could sustain all on your own, and that was just the marriage part. You were even less ready to be parents.

You didn’t even have reliable parents of your own. You wouldn’t know how to be them.

“Why not? We always make it through, together,” he kept going, muscle memory almost entirely driving him now, as he ran his left hand through his hair, only partially focusing on the road.

From where he was sitting, it made perfect sense.

Sure, getting married young like you were was a little unorthodox, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon, especially in a small town like Hawkins. Besides, if anyone had any hope of making it work, he was sure it was you.

The two of you, getting through things together and making it work, no matter what. That was who you were and who you’d always been, for one another.

Marriage was just a formality.

A way to make it permanent, forever.

“We could definitely handle marriage” Steve shrugged decidedly, taking your silence as as much of an answer as he was going to get for now.

He knew you weren’t ready, but it didn’t bother him. You were worth waiting for and if waiting was what you wanted to do, you would do it.

…but he wasn’t going to stop proposing.

Steve made up his mind. He wanted to marry you more than he’d wanted anything in a long time and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

Not that you could even dream of something like that.

You were painfully aware of the situation at hand, sometimes to the point that the pressure nearly crushed you. After all, Steve had dated a lot of girls before you, and of all of them, you were the one he chose to propose to and not just once.

He had proposed to you more times than you could keep track of, though the most memorable ones had certainly carved out a place in your mind.

The first time, for example, you and Steve had gone to the park and halfway through your walk, he’d made up his mind, and dropped to his knee right there.

Then there were the most elaborate schemes of all; like the time he’d sent a single slip of paper to your house every day for a month, all with the same proposal penned into the paper in blue ink, or when he’d hidden his grandmother’s diamond in a soda can.

Each and every one was crafted with so much effort and care, and he’d put so much time into every individual moment and detail.

It was a beautiful testament to how much he cared for you, and part of you wanted to say yes.

…but you couldn’t.

Wouldn’t. Not until you knew the time was right.

“We could. But first, we have to handle the video store” you reminded, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek before ducking out of the car entirely, leaving the man you loved to once again ponder over another failed conversation.

“I can handle the video store” he muttered, content to enjoy another day by your side, even if it was just as your boyfriend.

“Hey Steve” you called, rounding the corner to the horror section where he was restocking inventory, finally making up your mind, once and for all.

As endearing as he was, and as genuine as his feelings were for you, something had to change.

The pressure of all this marriage and babies stuff was going to drive you crazy, and you couldn’t feel like he was just constantly waiting for you to say yes, like you were keeping him from the one thing he really wanted.

Like being his girlfriend wasn’t enough anymore.

As soon as he heard your voice, the man stopped dead in his tracks, glancing at you over his shoulder, a huge grin on his handsome face.

“There’s my favorite girl. How were the romantic comedies?” he hummed, referring to the section you’d been assigned for the night.

Right now, it was just the two of you on the floor, given the fact Robin had drawn the short straw and was currently locked in the back room. Normally, that would mean a fair amount of sneaky kisses and misquoted movies, but not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t stop thinking about the talk you’d had on your way in and you needed some closure, before you drove yourself crazy.

“They’re fine. I was just thinking and I wanted to run something by you” you tried, watching as Steve immediately put down the box he’d been working on and turned his fullest attention to you, as if there was nothing else in the world.

Which, to be fair, there may has well been, in Steve’s mind.

“Sure, what’s up?”

His words hung in the air for only a moment before you finally blurted out what you’d been thinking about all day, without any of the tact you’d been hoping for.

“I need you to stop proposing to me” You started, slightly panicking now that it was all out in the open. Almost instantly, you felt that weight on your chest, no doubt punishment for crushing whatever happy family dream your boyfriend had for the two of you.

Understandably, there was silence between you for a moment as Steve tried to process what you were telling him.

Thankfully, you stepped in again before he could let his brain run wild with this new information. You wanted to make sure that he understood that you weren’t telling him no forever, or ending things, all you wanted to do was wait a little bit longer.

After all, you had ever intention of marrying him, as soon as you reasonably could.

“I love you, more than anything, and one day, you will be the most amazing husband. I just want to wait a little while longer” you cooed, speaking as quickly as you possibly could.

More silence.

By this point, you were sure that you’d upset him, maybe more than you ever had in the course of your relationship.

There was no way to know for sure considering Steve, the most expressive person you’d ever known, wasn’t actually saying or doing anything.

Until, of course, he did.

All at once, the man you loved was standing in front of you, holding your hands gingerly in his own as if you may actually slip through them if he wasn’t careful.

“What is it? Are you worried about your parents? Or my parents? Is it money? Because I can take more shifts. I’m just saying, I could definitely support you, we can figure it out” Steve assured, squeezing your hands, his face so close to your own that you could see the slight flecks of green in his eyes.

Which, of course, nearly melted you.

While you knew it was a bad idea, it was moments like this that made you want to marry him that much more.

He was so amazing.

You knew that there was nothing Steve wouldn’t do for the people he loved, and somehow you’d found yourself in the middle of that…you were lucky to be in love with him, you knew that.

All you were asking was to be with him, in this moment, instead of constantly yearning for a future that you weren’t prepared for yet.

“It’s none of that. I just can’t handle the pressure of it. I don’t want to feel like I’m letting you down” you sighed, deflating at his earnestness.

You loved him so much, and you just needed that to be enough for now.

Steve nearly scoffed at that before forcing it down. Clearly, even though it made no sense to him, that was how you were feeling and he had no right to take away from that.

“You could never let me down,”

Say what you may about Steve Harrington, but he was nothing if not determined to be happy and nothing brought him more happiness than his girl. You were his everything, and if he had to give up every other one of his vices to make you his, then he would just have to learn to live without the rest of it.

It was unbelievable to him that you were actually his girlfriend, and even a smile from you could brighten his whole day and send away the rain.

No matter what you two went through together, you had always been by his side, and the truest love he’d ever had.

The least he could do was try to return that favor for you.

That being said, this morning when he brought it up, he knew that you weren’t going to be happy with him but he didn’t really care. He wanted you to be his wife, and would do whatever it would take to get to that point.

Which wasn’t fair.

At some point, he should have considered the position he was putting you in, and since he hadn’t, Steve was grateful you’d brought it up.

The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, or make anything harder for you. That was quite literally the reason he wanted to marry you in the first place, so that he could make sure you were always content.

“I love you, that’s what this whole thing is about. So, if you aren’t ready, we’ll wait” he decided, a flood of relief washing over you in an instant.

That was all you needed to hear.

That he wasn’t angry with you, and that he was okay with putting off any greater life planning until you were actually prepared for them.

Steve wasn’t thrilled about it, of course, but he knew what you were saying. In fact, this was one of the reasons he loved you so much. You were so much more realistic than he was, and if he didn’t have you, it was possible that he wouldn’t be able to function even half as well.

“I love you” he repeated, wrapping his arms around you fully now, in what had to be the most comforting hug you’d ever shared.

Not that you could be shocked, even now.

Everything that Steve ever did made him feel that much more irreplaceable to you and he really was. It warmed your heart to know that he was so serious about all of this, and that he really did love you as much as he claimed to.

“I love you! We’ll get there. I promise” you whispered back, giving him a strong squeeze before pulling away almost completely, though not far, considering the fact that you could still feel his breath fanning your face.

“Okay, then I have a promise for you,” Steve grinned, tapping his chin, almost as if deep in thought, before he finally made up his mind.

“I promise that the next time I propose will be the last time”

#steve #steve harrington #stranger things #st #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x ps reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #steve harrington imagine #st x reader #st x ps reader #st x plus size reader #st imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x plus size reader #stranger things x ps reader #stranger things imagine

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

can you do one where the reader breaks down because she feels like all her and klaus do is have sex and he doesn’t value her so he takes her out on a date to prove how much he loves her? thank you so much if you can, i know you get a lotttt of requests!!

I love you

I was currently sat in a hair salon with Rebekah, she said she was trying to make Marcel jealous so she needed her hair done, i decided i’d have mine styled too, Klaus would be more likely to notice me if i make myself prettier.

Sometimes he doesn’t really seem to pay much attention to me…he sort of just walks past, it’s kind of like i’m a ghost. Well until he’s horny and suddenly i’m the most interesting thing on the planet. If i wore something tight he’s already got his hands on me, mouth on mine and he’s telling me how much he loves me. I’m just not sure if it’s me or my body that he loves, would he leave me if he find someone better? Somebody with a little more curve to their shape? clearer skin? softer hair? maybe if i wore a little more makeup he’d be more appreciate?

“Hellooo?? Y/n you there? Hi, hey, thought i lost you for a minute there…are you okay? You’re um well you’re crying…” Rebekah’s eyes were wide and she had a tissue held out for me which i quickly took and dabbed my eyes

“no yea i’m fine sorry, was just lost in thought or whatever” she nodded but i knew she didn’t believe me, thankfully she moved on and we pretended that it didn’t happen

On the drive back home we fell into a silence which unfortunately she broke

“why were you upset earlier? You know you can tell me right? i can keep my mouth shut every now and then”

i sighed and glanced out the window silently debating whether to lie or not

“don’t lie, you know i can tell when you lie”

brilliant.

“it’s not a big deal” i muttered, i could already feel her eyes burning into my head

“it’s my stupid brother isn’t it? did he do something? say something? look whatever it is he probably didn’t think before he did it” her eyes rolled and she continued her ramble as i blanked her out and stared into space.

By the time we got back she seemed to be coming to an end of her rant

“…point is i think Marcel is lying to himself because he is so clearly in love with me” she stated as she jumped out the car. I stayed sat there for a second trying to comprehend how we went from me being upset to her and Marcel but ended up just shrugging it off and following her inside.

Later that day Klaus had come home, a brief glance my way before he made his way to his art room. I didn’t see him again until i was headed upstairs to sleep, he was already sat in the bed with his phone in hand and shirtless. Once i closed the door his head perked up and he tossed his phone to the side, a smirk forming on his face as he reached over and pulled me to sit next to him

“you look unbelievable today my love, utterly ravishing” he whispered huskily, already pinning me down so i was flat on my back and he hovering over me.

Despite the fact he was complimenting me i couldn’t help the way my eyes began to sting with tears.

His lips were on my neck and his hands sliding under my top, hips rolling against mine while i quietly wiped my eyes hoping i didn’t smudge my mascara.

“i wish i could have you like this forever” he whispered. While trailing his mouth further down my body. His eyes were focused on my breasts and hands smoothing over my thighs.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

He spread my legs wide and undid the button at the top of my shorts.

“i love you” he murmured while kissing down my torso and that seemed to do it. I sniffed a little too loud, a fear tears falling as his head shot up. Eyes wide and lips parted as he quickly redid the button up and fixed my top

“love- did i hurt you? what’s wrong?” he asked quickly, his hands holding my face as he sat up both up with me in his lap straddling him. My hands swiped at my cheeks aggressively to rid the myself the tears

“nothing, you didn’t do anything, i’m sorry i’ll just fix myself in the bathroom a second and we’ll carry on” I hurriedly pushed myself off of him and rushed into the bathroom, i went to lock the door but he was already pushing his way inside.

“y/n…you don’t have to be sorry for being upset…can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly moving to touch my face but i automatically took a step back which instantly made me feel bad as i watched the hurt sink into his expressions

“nothing’s wrong just go back to bed and i’ll come back in a second, you can undress yourself to pass the time” i muttered looking at the floor, the sour tone i used made me wince and shut my eyes with a sigh

“did i touch you somewhere you didn’t like or something? love you need to tell me if i’ve hurt you, i’m not going to leave you when you’re crying, i love you” He was walking towards me and i couldn’t stop from moving back

“no you don’t” i whispered as my back his the wall and he came to a halt in front of me

“what? of course i do- Y/n would you look at me, i’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do, if you want me to keep my hands to myself fine but please you can’t pretend i’m not here”

“why not? you always pretend i’m not there” my gaze returned to his, he was shocked, confused and somewhat annoyed which made me more pissed off than sad

“when have i ever acted like you weren’t there?” he asked a little harsher this time

“literally all the time Klaus! you barely speak to me, look at me, we don’t do anything together until you want me in your bed. I am not your personal whore Klaus, it’s the 21st century, if you just want a sex service you can go pay for it, heaven knows you can afford it” i could feel myself building walls back up around my heart, i wasn’t crying anymore, i wasn’t against the wall, we were in the middle of the room, i must’ve stepped forward a few times.

I waited for him to yell back, to call me a liar or to storm off but he just stood there silently, his eyes slowly softening and his brows pulling together as he took a step back to put distance between us

“y/n, i don’t think of you as anything like that…i’m sorry that i don’t pay you much attention, it’s not that i don’t value our relationship or don’t want ti be around you. I do love you, i love your body yes but i only learnt to love that after i had already given my heart to you. If you don’t want to have sex then we won’t but you have to tell me, i don’t want you saying yes because you feel like you have to, i ask for a reason. And spending more time together would be lovely but you forget that you rarely approach me either, you could join me in my art room whenever you like, i could paint you or draw you as well.”

“the only times i’ve come to your art room, you’ve painted me naked, please Klaus if you don’t actually love me just tell me i can’t do this, please don’t make me do this” i whispered, my hands now on my face as i felt the tears coming back.

Two arms were around me, one rubbing my back and another lightly scratching my scalp

“I love everything about you. I love the faces you pull when you silently judge people, i love how you deny that you do that and then gossip about it to Rebekah. I love that you throw a fit whenever there’s a spider and i have to kill it while you cling to my back, i love that you play your music unbelievably loud when you’re in the shower to drown out your own singing which isn’t as bad as you think. I love when you dress up but i also love when you wear sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup and your hair a mess, i love the way your face rests when you sleep, the way you mutter random sentences when unconscious. I just love you”

my arms were now around his neck as i breathed him in, i wasn’t sure how much i believed him but i also knew that i loved him and he wouldn’t say everything if he didn’t mean it, he wouldn’t pay enough attention to those things if he didn’t care. If i was just there for his pleasure then he wouldn’t let me live in his house, become close to his family and do what i want.

“How about i take you out hm? We can do anything you want, we can go somewhere fancy if you’d like, a restaurant or something. Of you’d rather we stay in and eat greasy food in our pyjamas we can do that too” he offered while lifting me so my legs were around his waist while he picked out one of his tops and a some of my comfier underwear before placing me on the chair in the bathroom and pulling out the makeup wiped from the drawer

“can i think about it?” i asked quietly while he gently wiped at my face, i could see the foundation coming off on the cloth and i looked away, i had been wearing a lot more recently, and i could feel his distress as well

“of course you can, take as much time as you need” he whispered as he pulled out my pot of clay face mask. He carefully put my hair into a low ponytail and pushed the stray hairs back with the headband as he adjusted it on my head. He applied an even amount across my face before moving to take my top off, he faltered and hesitantly looked to me

“i won’t touch, i was just going to change your clothes, you can do it, i’ll wait in the other room” i grabbed his wrist before her could leave and kept him seated

“it’s fine, you can do it” i mumbled and he nodded with a small ‘okay’ before slipping my top off, eyes trained on my face as he made sure not to let the face mask on the new shirt he was pulling over my head. He then pulled my shorts and thong down my legs and into the laundry hamper before pulling the softer underwear up my thighs. He suddenly vanished before returning, now wearing joggers and a t-shirt.

“what would you like to do for fifteen minutes while we wait for this to dry?” he asked glancing at the pot to check he had the time right

“i dunno… you wanna read a book or something?” i think the disinterest if that idea was clear in my voice as my nose scrunched up

“well don’t you sound excited? Come on lets go get something to eat” He laughed as he scooped me into a bridal carry and ran at a human speed down the stairs to the kitchen making me giggle as i bounced in his arms. He spun me a few times before placing me on my feet and opening the fridge and humming

“we have…limited choices…we need to go shopping” he muttered, his voice showing disappointment as he closed the door and opened the cupboards

“biscuits? um…oh we have some chocolate, i can see marshmallows?” his head was basically in the cupboard as his hand dug around

“how’d you feel about making a hot chocolate with marshmallows for me to dip my biscuits in?” i asked with a big smile, looking at him with big eyes

“i can do that, let me just…” he shoved his entire arm to the side as he seemed to knock a bunch of things over before pulling it back out revealing the hot chocolate powder, he pulled everything he needed out before getting the milk pan out and pouring some in it. He turned the hob on and picked out two mugs.

We were now lead upstairs, my face mask had been washed off by the hybrid himself and he was now feeding me hot chocolate covered biscuits in bed.

“i think i know what we should do for a date” i told him as he stuffed a biscuit into his own mouth. He gestured for me to continue as he munched away

“well i think that- seeing as i always dress up and you turn up in jeans and a henley- that you should dress up in a tuxedo and i get to wear whatever i want, we’ll go to a restaurant for dinner and then come back and eat a shit tone of sweets for dessert, cakes, ice-cream whatever. Absolutely no sex, it’s off the table, we will watch a film and go to sleep, maybe a bath or shower if you can contain yourself around my naked body” he slowly nodded his head while he licked the remains of chocolate from his fingers

“tux, restaurant, dessert at home, no sex, bath, sleep. I can do all of those. When do you want me to book it for, and which restaurant? Also do you want to do online shopping or in store?“ he asked pulling out his phone and handing it to me, i pulled up my favourite place to eat and glanced at the dates available

“are you free Thursday?” i asked glancing at him

“i’m free any day you want” he mumbled as he ate another biscuit and i rolled my eyes, a smile pulling at my lips

“okay you wanna go at 6 or 7?”

“6, we can be there for up to an hour, takes 20 minutes to come back, we can get all the snacks together, bring the duvets downstairs and watch a film or two before having a bath and going to bed” he leaned over and clicked 6pm, we got the confirmation email and i switched over to do the online shopping

“online?” he questioned

“do you want to go in store? you hate when you get suck in the aisles because two people are chatting, a child is throwing tins of soup and an old person has left their thing in the middle” he blinked at me for a minute before smiling slightly

“i love you” he whispered, a grin now forming making me smile aswell

“i love you too”

By Thursday morning the food delivery had arrived, Klaus was filling the shelves with one hand and flipping a pancake with the other, i silently sat down at the kitchen island watching as he rushed about to grab different fruits from the fridge and cutting them up to put on top the pancakes, he quickly put some whipped cream on and some syrup before putting the kettle on. He slowly turned around placing the plate down before spinning back round to make two drinks, he was softly muttering to himself as he adjusted where everything was on the counter, still not realising i was there until he looked up. A small yelp left him as he jumped backwards making me burst out laughing

“jesus- how long have you been there!?”

“not long” i smiled and he pushed the plate towards me

“i don’t want you hungry but i also still want you hungry enough later for a luscious meal” he sat down opposite me watching intently as i took a bite of the food. To be fair it was pretty good and the pancakes had chocolate chips in them

“did you make ‘em or did you buy a mix?” i asked while covering my mouth with my hand

“made them of course, gosh who do you think i am?” he questioned dramatically with a hand over his heart

“my bad, my bad i forgot you were such a professional” he hummed and sipped his tea

“are we getting ready separately or together later?” he asked after i’d finished and we’d argued over who would wash up before Kol walked in and threw the plate on the floor declaring that it no longer mattered, Klaus made Kol clean it up.

“we can get ready together” i nodded and smiled at him slightly

“do you feel better…about everything?” he asked quietly while playing with my fingers

“i do…but i still worry that it’ll just go back to the way it was before..you know?” i looked down a little but his hands were now holding my face encouraging me to look at him

“i’m never going to treat you like that again, and if i ever were to make you feel less than you are i hope that you now feel comfortable enough to talk to me” he tone was soft but still somewhat firm while i rested my head in his warm hands

“thank you” i whispered, he leaned forward and kissed my head

“don’t thank me” he murmured

Finally it was time to leave, Klaus was very well dressed with his hair done properly and everything while i came down the stairs in jeans and a jumper, no makeup and my natural hair state.

“ready?” i asked and he practically beamed

“very much so” he whispered offering his hand for me to take

Once at the restaurant we ate, spoke about everything that had been going on in the world and payed we went for a small detour just wondering around the streets of the city. Neither of us had actually taken the time to appreciate it properly.

Once home we watched two films, my pick and then his while eating our chosen snacks before going upstairs

Klaus wasn’t sure about getting in the bath with me because he felt that id feel objectified if he looked at my body, i assure him that it was okay and we laid together for a little while, savouring the warmth of the bubble bath.

We now clung together in out bed, slowly drifting into sleep

“i love you y/n” he whispered against the top of my hair, his voice cracking slightly making me turn my head up, his eyes were glossy as he held onto me a little tighter

“i love you too…is everything okay?” i asked softly, wiping the stray tear that fell from his lashes away

“i’m really sorry you thought i was using you” he whispered and i pressed my lips to his

“it’s okay, just live in the now Nik, be happy for today, and everything that we’ve got right now”

“i love you”

“i know, i love you so much too”

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strscrossed · 4 months

Text

kiss of death — part i

and here i present the ballerina/mafioso au. it's a slow start but i always like having a setup. anyway, eren's a mafia underboss along with his brother zeke. grisha is the boss and women are kept out of the family business. thanks @likesunsetorange for reading this over and also enabling me! 💕

eremika. 2.5k. explicit.

“And what do you mean you won’t be joining us for dinner?”

Eren glances at his father for a little assistance. His mother’s voice is low, something dangerous stirring behind the calm. At this point, Eren would rather be in enemy territory, without a gun, than deal with Carla Jaeger.

“It’s last minute but a business associate's daughter has a ballet recital and he’s treating us to dinner after. Sorry, mom. Can I take a raincheck?

The key to a good lie is a half-truth. He does, in fact, have to attend a ballet tonight. Not with a business associate but his mother isn’t to know that under any circumstances. He worries for a moment because his mother is quiet. Too quiet, in fact.

“Always with the rainchecks,” she mumbles, shaking her head. She glares at him for two seconds, narrowing her eyes before sighing, conceding defeat.

When he was younger, he had a tell. His ears would turn red and his mother had a habit of pinching them whenever she would catch him in one. But adulthood has turned him into a seasoned liar.

“And you couldn’t handle this because…?” Carla glares at her husband, who sits on the sofa cross-legged, reading a newspaper. Grisha Jaeger is afraid of no one. Except, maybe, his wife.

“I’m close to retirement, dear. The boys are grown now, it’s time they got involved in matters of the family business. If I keep doing it, they’ll never learn anything. And I’m not getting any younger.

Zeke, who stands a few feet away, snorts quietly. Grisha’s “fragile old man” shtick would be laughable to anyone but his wife. Carla shakes her head. Again, a sigh of defeat as her husband gives her those weary eyes. Eren has to bite his tongue to keep the laugh from escaping.

“Eren’s hardly around anymore,” she says, shaking her head. “Can I at least have a meal with my boy once a week?”

He can’t say no to her.

“Of course, mom.”

She sits back in her chair, teacup in hand. She mourns time lost with her son but unbeknownst to her, she is living comfortably because of all this. And to keep all this, he has to break yet another promise to his mother.

“I need to head out now,” he tells everyone, with Grisha and Zeke nodding and Carla sighing.

“Who is going with you?”

“Armin and Floch,” he answers. At the mention of Floch’s name, he sees her face pinch a little. No, he’s not having this conversation again. She’s made her distaste for that young man abundantly clear. He doesn’t want to stick around to hear her ask his father, yet again, why he keeps him around.

“Bye,” he says and he’s out the door before his mother can get another word in.

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

The fresh air fills his lungs as he closes the door behind him. His mother still doesn’t suspect a thing and that’s how he wants to keep it. It’s a dirty, grimy world that only the men of the family are privy to. If she really knew what the real family business was…

He doesn’t want to even entertain that idea. These are the rules. They exist for a reason. And he stopped feeling bad about lying to her years ago. It’s a lesson that’s been beaten into him since he was sixteen years old.

Eren slides into the front seat of the car. Floch is driving and Armin takes his place in the backseat. Neither man makes an effort to converse with each other and that’s fine. Their bickering is a source of Eren’s frayed nerves too often.

“Ackerman soldiers were spotted frequenting the ballet, huh?” Eren asks. It’s a rhetorical question.

“Quite a few of them actually,” Floch responds, his eyes glued to the road.

“It’s because one of their own is this year’s prima ballerina,” Armin adds. “A large number of them are said to be in attendance this evening.”

“Frequent the ballet, Arlert? How do you even know that?” Floch asks.

Eren stays quiet as he glances at Armin’s unamused expression in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he’s not the explosive type.

“Well, if you must know, knowing about different things helps me navigate and infiltrate a number of different circles. You might want to culture yourself a little more, Floch.”

Oh, here they go.

“So, one of their own, huh? Old Kenny’s extorting ballet companies now?” Eren snorts. “His niece wanted to become a ballerina so good ole Uncle Kenny made it happen? Never took him to be such a fucking softie.”

No, actually, if that is the case, it’ll be easier to get under the old fucker’s skin.

“Actually, I hear Mikasa Ackerman is a once in a generation talent. And just in case, tonight’s performance is a ballet called Giselle. It’s about a young woman who falls in love with a nobleman and when they can’t be together she dies of heartbreak but that’s not where it ends—”

“I don’t care, Armin,” Eren cuts him off. “I don’t care about ballet or the girl. We’re going there for one reason and one reason only — to watch the Ackerman’s every move. Everything else is worthless and irrelevant.”

He hears Armin sink back into his seat, sighing.

Eren does his best not to twist his face in annoyance. A ballet of all places. He never thought he’d be caught dead at one of those…

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

Kenny Ackerman is nowhere to be seen. Naturally, his old ass couldn’t be bothered to show up anywhere someone could see him. Levi Ackerman, however, is seated in the very front row. Armin manages to get them balcony seats so they can see everything.

It’s the most boring observation ever because the Ackerman associates and soldiers are just seated there.

This is why soldiers and lower level soldiers are sent to do this crap. Now he has to sit through a two hour long ballet and pretend to know what’s going on.

Occasionally, the man to Levi’s right will lean over and whisper something to his ear. He simply nods, giving nothing away.

“What are they saying?” Floch mutters to himself, squinting as if to read the lips.

Armin, meanwhile, is observing their surroundings. It’s entirely possible that they’ve been spotted.

“None here,” he assures Eren after a while.

Before he can say anything, the theater lights dim.

Eren knows jackshit about ballet. He doesn’t care to know what’s going on. The arts, the gentler things in life, were things he never cared to become acquainted with. So when the lights dim and the sound of violins fill the theater, he groans. He hears a lady gasp and jump behind him and he can’t help but scoff. It’s nothing compared to the sound of gunfire, bones breaking, or knives cutting through skin.

The Ackerman party, however, stops talking. Their eyes are glued to the stage and, unwillingly, Eren turns his attention to the stage. The whole production is colorful. Too colorful. It’s an eyesore.

He has no idea what’s going on. There are several dancers on stage at the beginning and then it’s just two guys. No one’s talking, obviously, it’s a ballet not a play. Armin’s probably watching completely enthralled, but he’s not impressed. He leans back in his chair, bored out of his mind as he watches them prance around the stage.

He’d never willingly show up to these things. But, when his father received word of a large gathering of Ackerman, of course he had to show up for it.

If the Ackerman are here, he needs to keep an eye on all of their activities. They might be here for the girl, but that’s immaterial for Eren.

He doesn’t care about ballet.

He doesn’t care for the girl—

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when a young woman appears on the stage. She looks around, and prances around the stage. And just like that, Eren is drawn right into the performance.

She’s graceful, her movements are so natural, so effortless. It’s like she belongs up there. Whatever she’s doing — whoever she’s playing — she embodies the role perfectly.

If he knows nothing else about ballet, he knows this much.

“That’s Mikasa Ackerman,” Armin leans in to whisper in his ear. “This year’s prima ballerina.”

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on but it gets sad pretty quickly, he assumes. He hears sniffling behind and near him. Floch looks endlessly bored and Armin, as predicted, is really into the performance.

Eren is focused on his dancer.

If he could compare her face to anything, it would be the moon. It is the illuminated beauty in the dark of the night and even from here, her eyes light up like the millions of stars. Only hers are brighter.

It goes on for two hours, which Eren decides is not long enough. He’ll watch her perform all day and night if that’s what it takes.

When the curtains close and everyone stands up to clap, he cannot bring himself to do so. His beautiful dancer is no longer in front of him and he finds no reason to celebrate that.

“Well, that was uneventful,” Floch mutters disappointingly. “I thought they might actually try something. I thought we might actually gain an advantage over them.”

Oh, right, they had a job to do.

“Floch, if you thought they were coming to a ballet, which by the way one of their own is performing at, to try and pull something you’ve set your expectations way too high.”

“Yeah, well if you haven’t noticed, this is our territory—”

“—technically, no it’s not.”

“What? Are you secretly on their side, Arlert? Because it sounds to me like you are.”

“Would you two shut up?” Eren growls, prompting the two of them to shut their mouths. “Armin, is she set to be in any more shows?”

“I can check but if she’s the prima ballerina, you can bet on it.”

Well, he is a betting man. And he always wins.

“Then we’ll keep coming back. Sooner or later, they’ll start conducting business around here. We should watch for that.”

He receives no protest. He does his best to keep a poker face but as he exits the theater, the corners of his turn up slightly…

➽───────────────────❥ ➽───────────────────❥

“So?” Grisha asks, closing the door behind him. Eren and Zeke stand side by side as Grisha walks back to his desk, settling down and making himself comfortable before Eren allows himself to answer.

“Nothing special. The Ackerman girl is part of the ballet, so they were serving as glorified bodyguards. The three of us watched them the whole time and nothing happened.”

Disappointing news to say the least. So much for this being a golden opportunity to strike against the Ackerman. As always, they manage to elude them by doing absolutely nothing.

“Even so, continue to watch the ballet,” Grisha instructs. “One evening will tell us nothing. And if the girl is part of the ballet, well they’ll frequent that theater. Perhaps, old Kenny Ackerman might show up.”

Fat chance.

“And Zeke,” he turns to his eldest son. “Are the girls of any use?”

“Nope,” his brother answers. “The men don’t frequent brothels. In fact, the girls haven’t heard of either of them.”

“Damn it!” his father curses, pounding the table with his fists. The whole thing is a little over dramatic in Eren’s opinion.

Weaker men cower before Grisha Jaeger. He is someone that you don’t want to piss off. In all fairness, the Jaegers in general are people you don’t want to piss off. The two brothers are the only ones immune to their father’s fear tactics. Though, he is certainly not just talk. He wouldn’t be in this position otherwise.

“It is decided then,” Grisha mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Reiss and the Tyburs agree that this cannot continue.”

There is a tenuous peace between the families. Initially, each family controlled a third of the island and conflicts broke out through the generations. Eren’s grandfather realized there were more benefits to keeping these families as allies than enemies. Though tenuous is the best way to describe whatever alliance they had going.

“And what does that mean?” Zeke questions.

Grisha responds with a small smile.

“I won’t keep you as you two have more work to do. I have arranged it. Zeke, you are to marry Rod Reiss’ eldest daughter, Frieda. And Eren, you are to marry Willy Tybur’s younger sister, Lara. You are to meet with them, court them, and the official engagement will be two months from today. It is done. You two will honor it.”

What century was this?

“What the fuck, old man?” Eren growls and two pairs of eyes are on him.

“What was that?” his father asks, daring him to repeat it.

“You just sold us to the Reiss and Tyburs? You just want us to go along with it? What the fuck?”

Grisha’s not used to having his authority questioned. Sometimes Eren is going to whine but usually he doesn’t have an issue doing his father’s bidding. Extort the local jeweler? No problem. Take care of a guy and dispose of his corpse? Done. Spy on a couple of low level Ackerman associates? He can do that in his sleep.

Marriage though? Fuck no. That was different. That is something sacred and just for him.

“You don’t have a choice. You’re going to go through with this, Eren. I’ve given you way too much freedom. You’re marrying Lara Tybur. End of discussion. You have dinner reservations tomorrow night at 8 pm. Make sure you’re not late and I’ll know if you two fuck this up. Now get the hell out of my office.”

As the door closes behind the two of them, Eren is prepared to stomp down the hall but Zeke’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Careful, Eren,” he warns. “Step out of line and the old man isn’t going to hesitate to give you the kiss of death.”

Eren scowls, “And when did you become the obedient son? ”

“You didn’t seem to have an issue when he decided that you’d join the family business. You don’t have an issue doing his dirty work. But you draw the line at marriage. Interesting. Is there someone?”

“Fuck off, Zeke! It’s entirely fucking different and you know it! Does there have to be someone? And you’re one to talk! Pieck Finger is it?”

“Watch it, Eren,” Zeke warns him, all amusement vanishing from his face.

“Hit a nerve? Does the old man already know? Is that why you’re so okay with going along with it?”

Zeke narrows his eyes, “I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.”

“Whatever. I’m tired.”

He stomps off. Zeke might be okay with this, but he definitely isn’t. He’ll do anything for this family but this was too much! And without even consulting the two of them. Shouldn’t he have a say in who he marries?

As he silently rages, images of Mikasa Ackerman moving gracefully around the stage flood his mind. And all the rage dissipates into thin air…

#ballerina/mafioso au #eremika #fic #em tumblr fic

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theshippirate22 · 10 months

Text

so i started a fic for this a while ago and it got lost in my wips but then @henderdads posted this and i got right back on my bullshit to finish it! also on ao3 tw: panic attack

November 1985-

Steve had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel of the Beemer while he stared out at the theater ahead of him.

Just looking at it, just thinking about what he was about to do, made his skin crawl. He felt guilty and dirty and miserable, but he didn’t really have any other choice.

Okay, that was a lie. There were definitely a million other things he could be doing. He really needed to clean his room, he was falling desperately behind on movies Robin said he needed to see, and he was supposed to be writing an essay to help him get into Ohio State. There were tapes to be listened to, people to check on, God, his car needed an oil change.

But here he was, anyway, neglecting all of it.

The dashboard clock switched to 11:35 and his stomach burned. He’d gotten himself so freaked out, he was going to throw up in the gutter and drive home before anything even happened. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of what waited for him. The dark, cold, empty house, his relentless nightmares, and his sleepless night.

11:40. His hands were getting cold against the wheel, but he still didn’t will himself into the warm oasis that was the theater. Not yet. He still had time.

He felt like an addict, lying to his friends and family before relapsing back into heroin. He knew it wasn’t like that, that if they knew, all he’d get was funny looks and maybe a snarky comment directed at his intelligence (or lack thereof), but that didn’t make it any better. He still hated himself.

He’d promised to give this up a long time ago, to abandon the lifestyle entirely. Actually, he had turned into something of a doormat at this point- always driving the kids places and covering any of Robin’s shifts when she bailed and offering his house and money up to whoever took advantage of it- because anything he did that didn’t help somebody else felt selfish. He wasn’t allowed to be selfish anymore. He had to repent for when he was selfish.

11:45. Steve groaned softly and got out of the car, attacked by the cold air as it seemed to soak through his sweatshirt.

Way to put the guilt into guilty pleasure, moron, he thought to himself, pushing through the doors to the theater. His inner monologue was starting to sound more and more condescending.

The teenager at the counter glared up at him through her eyelashes, popping a bubble with her gum decisively, clearly annoyed to be running midnight showings at a shitty theater. He slid a five-dollar bill across the counter to her and took a deep breath before forcing out the words.

“Rocky IV, please.”

She looked at him like he was stupid, and he was about ready to run back to his car and pretend none of this had ever happened. This was just another stupid nightmare to haunt him while he tried to sleep.

She handed him a ticket, the bright red DRAGO VS. BALBOA staring up at him-mocking him really- and passed over his change without saying anything at all.

Okay, that was the hard part. That was the part that made him interact with someone, a live actual person, made him admit his sin out loud, make it real and out there.

As soon as the ticket was in his hand and he was walking to the specified theater, he could breathe again. The guilt still writhed heavily in his stomach, but he could fight down the nausea enough to function. Half his brain, the half that had been in control for a good while now, was screaming at him that this was wrong, he was sick and twisted for wanting this, while the other half kept reminding him softly that it was just a movie. No one had to know about it. It would help him tonight- maybe he could get some sleep when he got home- and then it could disappear forever, and he would never think of it again.

It’s just a movie.

Steve was ten when the original came out. His dad had paid for him and Tommy H. to go one Saturday and God, they loved it. They’d gotten in a playfight in the parking lot waiting for Tommy’s mom to pick them up, mimicking the final match between Rocky and Apollo (Steve was Apollo every time they played; Tommy refused to be anything less than the hero, even if technically he was the loser) and Tommy had accidentally knocked him in the face and made his nose bleed. That might’ve been one of the best days of Steve’s childhood if he thought about it.

Three years later, he and Tommy went back and saw Rocky II the first night it was out, and watching Rocky win lit something in Steve on fire, and he convinced himself he could do anything, like how Rocky could still get up even when Apollo had beat him to shit.

Steve got into his first fistfight that summer. He lost, because he had never actually fought before, and his punches were loose and messy, but he didn’t even care, staring up at Jack Donahue through a black eye, because Rocky lost his first fight against Apollo, but he won the second, so next time Steve would win.

He went to Rocky III on a date in 1982 (still waiting to win that second fight, although now it was really Fight 8 or 9 because he’d gotten his ass kicked a good number of times since Jack Donahue). The girl he was with got bored halfway through the movie, climbed into his lap and convinced him to make out instead, but he kept getting distracted by Clubber Lang, and Apollo’s training advice, and Rocky and Andrian’s big house and their happy family, glancing over her shoulder absently as she trailed her mouth up his neck. There wasn’t a second date with her. He didn’t even remember her name.

He remembered what color dress Adrian wore to the final fight, though.

He hadn’t watched any of them since September of ‘84 when he’d rented all of them and binge-watched them one night, mostly to remind himself that Billy Hargrove was just a watered-down Clubber Lang who came to steal his title and insult his (nonexistent) wife and mess up his life. Rocky beat Clubber Lang. Steve would beat Billy.

Within the next few weeks, however, Billy ended up on the ever-growing list of people who had whipped Steve, his Heavyweight-Champion-Of-the-World belt that manifested itself as King Steve of Hawkins High was stripped from him, and he’d started his proverbial pilgrimage to salvation.

He didn’t get to like Rocky anymore. King Steve liked Rocky. Just Steve didn’t have any reason for that luxury. Rocky was athletic, and mindless, and masculine, everything that everyone hated about King Steve, so Just Steve didn’t get it anymore.

It’s just a fucking movie. He reminded himself. No one has to know.

They had unfinished business anyway, Rocky and him. Maybe it was fate, or some shit that IV should come out like five months after Steve did get his first win against the Russian soldier.

Hey, old friend. I did it. I won. I got back up. I won.

We won, Rocky.

Steve hid in the back of the theater, in the dark, where no one would recognize him. There were only maybe a dozen other people in there anyway, but in the dark, he could relax.

He almost felt safe, even, when the opening montage started. There was something so familiar about it, like returning to the house you lived in as a child, but the same sort of estrangement from time. Watching Rocky best Clubber again, knowing Rocky would win, was such a comfortable thing. God, these movies were so good.

He almost didn’t feel like such an asshole anymore.

Rocky was a dad now, you know. Had been since the second one technically, but only now was the kid old enough to have a personality. Watching him with his son was maybe when the six-nugget thing really solidified for Steve. He wanted that, he wanted the house and the kid and sparring with Apollo-the friend who knew- and Adrian.

God, he wanted someone to love him the way Adrian loved.

She was always just there, in the very best sort of way. As if at any moment, Rocky could look over and she would be there, grinning at him, helping him back up, fixing things. And she would shake her head and laugh at her moronic boxer husband and still sing with him when he started up out of tune and flush when he flirted with her.

The reminder of the slump in Steve’s love life manifested itself as a sort of sad aching in his stomach. He redirected his attention out of his thoughts and back to the movie.

The plot was a little mindless; he’d admit it. It was basically the same premise as the last one: Some Big-Bad-Boxer popping up out of nowhere to whip Rocky’s ass just enough in the first half to build a vague sense of suspense as to whether he was going to win the final fight or not, but the only difference now was that he was sparring against Communism or something as a metaphor for the mini-Red Scare happening.

Steve didn’t mind. He knew enough Russians to be pretty psyched about Stallone wailing on them for a few hours.

It’s Apollo Creed, however, who first takes his place across the ring from Ivan Drago. Steve was fine. He was well aware of the fact that whatever happened during this fight would mean absolutely nothing in comparison to whatever happens at the end, except maybe deciding the intensity of the training montage (That was the other thing; Survivor was doing a bunch of the music, how could Steve miss out on that?)

Apollo put on a show, with dancers and lights and that stupid flag robe he’d had in the first one, so this would be good. Mediocre writing, good entertainment.

“You will lose,” Drago growled.

They danced around each other in the ring. Apollo threw a good number of jabs in the beginning. It felt good. Steve almost smiled.

But something happened when Drago started fighting back. Apollo stumbled against the ropes, dripping sweat; Rocky yelled something. Steve missed it- he could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, suddenly a little too aware of his clothes and where they clung to him.

Drago kept fighting. He punched and punched, each one landing hard and solid against Apollo, against flesh, in a rapid thunk, thunk, thunk.

Steve’s hands started to shake.

Apollo leaned back against the corner post as the bell rings-end of the first round- looking dazed and far away.

Rocky begged. “I gotta stop you. This fight’s finished.”

Apollo’s answer thudded through Steve’s head. “Promise you won’t stop this fight. You don’t stop this fight.”

Bell. Second round. Apollo looked stoned, tripping over his own feet as he tried to dance. Steve knew the feeling. Then Drago had him in a corner and it won’t stop, fists pounding against him again and again. Sweat flew off Apollo’s head and fell against the mat like rain. He doesn’t go down.

There was so much blood. Steve couldn’t breathe. He felt the adrenaline in his sweaty, trembling hands, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t movie excitement, it felt real.

Apollo fell back against the ropes, their support being his only saving grace. His wife screamed from the audience “Stop the fight!” but they won’t, the Russian won’t stop, the fight is still going.

Steve must have started hallucinating. For a moment, all he could hear was his own breath, exhausted and wheezy with pain.

“Scoops... I... I work... Scoops...”

Robin is screaming, sobbing, wailing, voice pounding through his aching head. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

A final blow to the jaw. Apollo swung backwards toward the horrified faces of the audience, then lunged forward in depletion. There was blood in his teeth and on his face and staining the white rags and his eye was swollen shut. And the Russian’s wife smiled.

The doctor grinned, white teeth glimmering against the dark beard. He demands something in Russian, and Steve doesn’t understand, but he wants to, he wants to make it go away.

The soldier leans in a final time, delivering a solid blow to his temple.

Steve’s sight fizzles in and out like a kaleidoscope as he falls.

His head hits the concrete floor, and he feels it, the burning pain at the back of his head, seeping up through his brain until his sight goes black.

Apollo was on the floor. His body seized with fatigue and Rocky grabbed him, cradling him in his lap, and he was screaming, crying out for something, and the Russian was still talking but all that gets through to Steve is the grating accent and the fear.

“What did you do to him?!” Robin screams, pulling his weak body towards her with bound hands. “Steve, wake up! Steve, oh my God, wake up, Steve!”

It felt like someone had shoved cotton in his ears. He couldn’t hear anything but his own pulse and his own breath, but somehow, Drago’s last couple words made it through.

“If he dies, he dies.”

Steve got to his feet before he realized he was doing it. His legs were moving, and he wasn’t telling them where to go, but they knew somehow. All he was aware of was the nausea sweeping through him like a tidal wave and the trembling, paranoid fear taking over his entire body.

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops Ahoy. The ice cream place.”

Thud. His face burned.

“Who do you work for?!”

“Scoops!”

His head flew to the side, pulling something in his neck and shooting white-hot pain down his spine.

“Hit him again.”

Steve collapsed against the bathroom floor. He didn’t even have it in him to make it to a stall and lock himself in; he just melted there against the wall.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his back, drenching him. He couldn’t breathe; his sweatshirt was too tight around his throat and his jeans were touching too much of his thighs and he couldn’t get his chest to move.

Every muscle in his body was too tight to move. Maybe he was having a seizure or a heart attack, but it didn’t even matter, because his head ached around a phantom black eye and a scar on his temple that had taken much too long to heal. His eyes felt massive and dry, like if he didn’t get air soon, they were going to pop out of his head.

He knew he needed to breathe, get the air in and out in a timely manner, but every time he tried to open his mouth, he would just wheeze out “Scoops,” or “Robin!”

The Russians killed Apollo. He was laying on the floor next to him and Robin, in those stupid Americano shorts that were the same color as Steve’s uniform, and Steve knows they’re coming for him next. He played Apollo with Tommy; he is Apollo and he’s about to receive the same fate.

He watched the door to the bathroom in terror like Dolph Lundgren was going to storm through at any moment to try and fight him next. Steve couldn’t win. He wouldn’t win. Not against a Russian, not against Drago.

They were going to kill him. Drago was coming, and as soon as he found him, he was going to beat him to death just like Apollo.

Maybe Steve was sobbing. That would explain the burning in his throat and the noise making his head throb. He couldn’t stop it though; he couldn’t seem to control anything except to pull his knees to his chest and curl in on himself to try and protect his head and his ribs.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, suffocating, shaking, anxious hands tearing through the hair at the back of his head, partially to cover his neck, partially to pull at the roots of his hair until he felt something other than fear. Eventually, he stopped crying, the tears were gone, but he still couldn’t breathe, and his whole face felt clogged up with whatever was left of his sobs.

That only made him panic more, realizing he wasn’t getting any air, and his hands moved down his neck to claw away at his throat and open something up. His nails were dull and harsh, tearing up the skin as he pawed at his Adam’s apple, hyperventilating so loudly, it filled up all his senses so that was all he could hear for a good long while.

“Hey... You alright?”

The voice felt far away and soft like it was spoken by someone who had never experienced the harshness of sensation. God? Steve thought stupidly, carefully acknowledging that to be the first thought he’d had in a long while that wasn’t about his own demise via Russian cruelty.

“Harrington. Can you hear me?”

Steve forced his head up, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, glancing skittishly from wall to wall, trying to remember where he was.

“Right here. You’re okay. Try and breathe for me, Harrington.”

Steve’s shallow breaths continued, hands trailing back up to pull his hair again. He didn’t get there, however, because warm hands clamped softly around his wrists and pulled them away. “Careful. Don’t hurt yourself, honey.”

Steve could see his hands, when he moved his fingers a little bit so he could comprehend that they were his, then followed up the foreign hands- now gripping higher up on his forearm to keep him from falling backward- along pale arms and black sleeves, then up along the corner of a tattoo peeking from underneath the collar of the shirt. Higher up, face-to-face with him, although he hadn’t actually seen it until now, was a tangle of messy curly hair and choppy bangs framing the darkest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“Adrian?” He choked out. Relief surged through him at the recognition, despite the nagging at the back of his mind that that actually couldn’t be Adrian, because Adrian was here with him, and she was gonna take care of him and fix things like she did for Rocky. “Adrian...”

“Sure.” She mumbled. “Deep breaths, Harrington. Like you’re swimming.” She took a few exaggerated deep breaths for him to mirror, and he nodded weakly, trying to force his lungs to expand entirely.

For a few seconds-or minutes; time really had no meaning for Steve anymore- this went on, Adrian taking one breath and Steve copying until he could do it on his own. She loosened her grip on his arms, eventually dropping them completely. “There you go. Feeling okay?”

Steve hesitated while he assessed. His scalp burned from tugging on his hair, and he was sure he’d scratched his throat up pretty bad, but his hands weren’t shaking nearly as much as they had been a minute ago, and he could unclench his jaw finally- he hadn’t realized it had been so tight; the tension was probably the root cause of the headache- so yeah, he decided. “Better.”

“You ever had a panic attack before?”

He shook his head, choosing not to speak again because of the pathetic gravelly sound of his voice and blinking quickly to fight off the next wave of tears- exhausted ones this time.

“Pretty scary, huh? But it’s okay, it’s not forever. It always goes away. You’re safe, okay?”

He nodded weakly, gazing off over her shoulder to be sure the Russians weren’t coming. God, he was going to have to protect her if Drago came. He could fight, he could protect her...

“You aren’t quite back, are you, Harrington?”

Steve startled, darting his glance back toward her. “My...” He choked out, frustrated that his voice didn’t sound right yet; still too wet and broken to be his own. “My name is Steve.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are, Steve. I’m glad you know.” She brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes. “Can you tell me where we are?”

“Bathroom,” Steve mumbled. “Starcourt.”

“Starcourt? Like the mall? No, it burned down months ago. Remember?”

Steve swallowed hard, staring at the tile. It wasn’t like Starcourt’s- instead of red, green, and orange, this was green, blue, and black. It wasn’t Starcourt. Starcourt was over. Gone. He took a deep breath. “ShowTimez. Theater.”

“Hey, there you go.” She shifted her knees out from under her- it was painful to kneel for so long- and settled cross-legged across from him. “Do you... do you know who I am?”

“Adrian,” Steve whispered quickly.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, almost disappearing under dark bangs. “Like from the movie? Gee, thanks, Harrington, you know how to woo a guy.” She tore her sight away, almost blushing, and continued self-consciously. “Not quite. You... you probably don’t know who I am. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Steve felt bad for getting it wrong. And if it wasn’t Adrian... who cared enough to be so gentle with him? Panic started to fill up inside him again. Who had caught him? Who knew he was here, worse, who had seen him crying? He looked back up, trying to reassess, figure out the right answer.

Upon better inspection, it very much wasn’t Adrian. Besides the hair and the eyes, they didn’t look at all similar. Actually, it was a man, which should’ve been his first assumption given that he was on the floor of the men’s bathroom, but he also forgot his own name for a second there, so he would let it go. He had thick, steel rings that Steve couldn’t coherently recognize into any shapes yet, and tattoos on his arms that Steve hadn’t noticed in his first sweep either. But the face was familiar. Tommy had hated him, loved to pick on him in high school. Maybe Steve had had gym with him junior year. But really, Steve knew him because he was always in the background of whatever place he was driving Dustin to. The party joined Hellfire in September; Steve had been seeing this guy vaguely for months. The name was slow coming to him- everything felt lagged- but eventually, he managed, “Munson. Eddie.”

He grinned. “Yeah! See, I knew I wasn’t that forgettable. Go ahead and call me Talia Shire though, that’s the best name I’ve been called in a while.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. Maybe it wasn’t Adrian, who he knew he could trust- She's not real, moron, he reminded quickly- but Eddie was harmless. Dustin talked about the guy so much, it was like Steve already knew him anyway.

God, Dustin. What if Eddie told Hellfire and the kids found out he’d been here, and worse, that he’d freaked out? He didn’t know if he could handle it if the kids ever found out he wasn’t as strong as he pretended.

“You can’t tell Dustin.” Steve blurted out.

“What?”

“He can’t know I was here, that I was...” He struggled for the words.

Eddie nodded softly. “Yeah. Okay. I won’t tell him.” He lowered his voice as he said it like it was already a secret. “What the little shit doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Steve nodded haphazardly to communicate that he agreed, but he just felt like he looked stupid.

“Hey, uh, do me a favor, and don’t tell the kids you saw me here, either, actually.” Eddie continued. “It goes against my code and everything to watch...” He trailed off, suddenly aware of his audience and needing to watch himself.

“Sports movies.” Steve finished. Eddie grimaced, so he added, “Yeah, no, I get it.”

Eddie nodded, forcing a smile, but it was still tainted with guilt like he’d said something wrong.

Steve was quick to stifle the awkwardness. “How come Rocky makes the cut then?”

“Oh, I don’t really know.” His shoulders relaxed a little and he admitted, “I rented the first one on accident. I was looking for Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the tape said Rocky and I’m a fucking moron, and thought they were the same thing because whoever labeled the tape didn’t bother to write the whole thing, and then I’d already paid for it so I just... watched it and... kinda got sucked in. I love a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.”

Steve grinned. “Me too! I only cared about the boxing when I was younger, but now...”

Eddie tipped his head and stared at him bewilderedly.

“What?”

Eddie shook his head dismissively, tentative smile pulling at the side of his mouth, mumbling, “Never would’ve guessed.”

Steve felt horribly seen, like he’d said too much, flush creeping up his face, and he reached up to pull on the hair at the back of his neck again. But Eddie just laughed softly and pushed himself over next to Steve, leaning back against the wall and brushing his shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay to drive home?”

He nodded, starting to shift to his numb, tingly feet, stumbling and having to prop himself on the wall. “Yeah, I should probably go.”

“Hey.” Eddie grabbed his wrist, softly; he could pull away if he really wanted to. “Calm down, give it a minute. You just started breathing again, let’s make sure you’re good to go.”

So Steve didn’t pull away. He slumped back against the tile, legs sprawled forward to get the blood flowing again.

“Does your head hurt?”

Steve glanced over. “What?”

“Just... uh,” He shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to find a different way to address what he was thinking of. “You were pulling your hair. I wondered if maybe you... you know, what? It doesn’t matter.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little white bottle of Advil. “If you want some.”

“Why do you have that?” Steve chuckled softly, taking it from him thankfully. “I mean, I’ve heard your drug-dealer reputation; I just didn’t realize this is what they meant.”

“Har har.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s for Sinclair actually. He’s been-”

“Bitching about his ankle? Yeah, I keep telling him I’ll wrap it for him but he’s-”

“Being a shithead about the whole thing. He’s gonna drive me to do something drastic.”

“Seriously!” Steve cried. “I’ll hold him down, you can punch.”

Eddie laughed, a real, actual laugh and Steve thought he was going to have no choice but to implode. He was so pretty; he understood the Adrian-mistaking suddenly.

Steve wanted to say something, wanted to make him laugh like that again, but before he could grasp anything, the door shoved open and shattered their perfect privacy.

It was the bubblegum girl from the front desk. She popped the wad of pink obnoxiously, huffing out “Dude, the movie’s been over for like twenty minutes. We’re closing.”

Steve and Eddie shared a conspiratorial Ah-shit-we’re-in-trouble look, before getting to their feet. Steve was still holding the Advil bottle, somewhat uselessly because he’d forgotten he had it. He popped it open and swallowed a few, handing it back to Eddie who banished it back to his pocket.

Bubblegum Girl stared them down the whole way out into the lobby, the pair of them giggling as they went, until eventually they stepped into the cold darkness outside the theater, and the spell was broken. Here they were again, in real life, where things were not so great as that bathroom floor or the world within Rocky.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked softly like he was afraid something had changed the second they’d passed through the doors.

Steve nodded vaguely. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

He shot him a peculiar look and turned off towards where he was inevitably parked, calling out, “Stay safe, Harrington.”

Steve laughed out loud.

March 1986-

Steve hovered over Eddie, who was sitting on Steve’s bathroom counter with his legs over the side, cleaning up the blood on his face with antiseptic wipes Nancy had pulled out of nowhere. His stitches were soft and pliable still, and Steve hated how bulky and thick his fingers were for a moment because if they were small and slim it would force him to be gentler.

Eddie cried out as he brushed over the top of the gash and Steve cringed, yanking his hands back softly to avoid hurting him anymore.

“Sorry,” Steve murmured.

He was afraid to reach back to finish the job- Eddie was in enough pain as it was- so he stood there, watching him for any more signs of discomfort.

Eddie lifted his head languidly, glancing at the slash of bright red on Steve’s forehead, the angry crimson chain around his neck. He tentatively traced his fingertips along his skin, not along the scab, but just below it, and Steve hummed out a low sound in relief.

“You alright there, Balboa?”

It came out a little more slurred than he would’ve liked, but he was on a good deal of narcotics for God’s sake, and it must’ve delivered itself well enough because Steve offered him a small smile.

“Feel like a large wound,” he offered in his best Stallone accent.

Eddie laughed, and it hurt like a mother on his broken ribs and the stitches in his side, so it quickly delved into a whine, and Steve instantly reached out even if there was nothing he could do.

He caught his hand, pulled it into his lap, just to hold it there. Steve didn’t say anything.

“Steve.”

“Hmm...”

Eddie let go. Took Steve’s face carefully in his hands, even though the stretch sent pain shooting through his torso. “I understand now. Everything. Robin told me about the Russians.”

Steve swallowed thickly, head dipping almost in shame, as if it was too much to meet Eddie’s eyes and risk finding his pity there.

Eddie just tipped his head back up gently. “If I had known... I... I wouldn’t have let you go home alone that night. That’s... that’s not what Adrian does.”

Steve tipped his head just a little like he didn’t quite understand the sentiment.

Eddie swallowed. “I’m gonna kiss you now. You ain’t gotta kiss me back.”

He properly grinned this time, leaning in to meet him halfway, hands placed carefully on Eddie’s knees as he pulled in his face.

And he did kiss back. What can he say? He loves a good suave-athlete-falls-for-a-freak plot.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: panic attack #steddie hurt/comfort #steddie fic #alternate meeting #rocky references #rocky iv spoilers #ficlet

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theodorecanaryhood · 3 months

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The coffee shop guy and the Red Hood: Stalkers and Protectors

Part VI

Arkhamverse! Red Hood x Male! Nerd reader,

Reader has a stalker that he met in a bar, it gets a little dark in some parts.

It had come time to start a new chapter and begin a fresh start.

The High School was under construction so you had to find a new job in the time it would take, you began substituting. You’d been doing it for a while and found you’d made a better living off of it.

‘Right, I think this is better’ you said to yourself, Jason snapped his head at you. Giving a confused look.

‘Huh?’ Was all he said, you had realised you’d spoken out loud.

‘Don’t worry, I’m just overthinking everything’ you smiled, pushing your glasses up your face.

Jason went back to his book as you got lost in thought again.

Your bank account was more than you’d ever seen before, in fact it was healthy. You never complained about the money you got paid teaching, you’d always thought of it as a calling rather than a job. But the pay rise was welcomed.

You kissed Jason goodbye as you got into the car and drove off to the new school you were going to be teaching at for the two week period.

Jason stood and waved you off, him having mostly housework and patrol later tonight.

You’d thought so long about the change in environment, you’d never really thought about the change of pace. How quickly and dramatically things can change.

You met up with some friends that night, only to catch up as you hadn’t done that in a while.

‘No Jason tonight?’ Harry asked you, your friend from college.

‘No, he’s out with his brother tonight’ you replied quickly, not really a lie. But you couldn’t really say Red Hood and Nightwing are roaming the streets.

You were gonna keep it light tonight, teaching teens with a hangover is never a good idea. Especially as they’re just as cranky as you will be.

Harry and his girlfriend Jessica were ordering a couple more drinks, you sat quietly going through your phone as a distraction.

You thought best not to text Jason, he needs the attention on tasks at hand, so you thought best to just watch some TikTok videos.

‘Hey’ a man’s voice caught your attention, you looked up to find a handsome man smiling at you.

He had light brown hair, brown eyes, tattoos all over his arms, a tight shirt to show off his results from his daily trips to the gym.

‘Saw you sitting here all by yourself, thought maybe you’d like some company?’ He continued, looking into your eyes.

‘I’m not alone, my friends are just grabbing some drinks. Thanks’ you were polite, the man stroked your arm.

‘Uhm’ you stammered as you gave the stranger a quizzed look.

‘Oh god, don’t tell me you’re straight. That would so embarrassing’ he said, pulling his hand away.

‘I’m not’ you reassured as the man nodded, gesturing to the seat opposite you.

‘Y/n, I got you another Pornstar, Hope that’s ok’ Jessica said as she placed the drink in front of you, you smiled.

‘Y/n, that’s a lovely name’ the man winked, you nodded at him as you pointed to your two friends who were now seated in front of you.

‘Well y/n, I’m Mitchell. If you need some company, I’ll be over at the bar’ the man said, walking away from you as you felt a chill go up your back.

Not a good chill, it was a chill that left you feeling uncomfortable.

‘Who’s the hunk?’ Jessica asked, teasing you about the unwanted attention.

‘Some guy, offering me a spot on his onlyfans no doubt’ you laughed, trying to hide the fact that you were uncomfortable.

Harry was a gentleman and helped keep the man out of your view, realising that you weren’t happy about him, Harry kept you covered.

‘You sure you’ll be ok to drive home?’ Harry asked you, rubbing your shoulder.

‘Yeah, only had two, besides gotta be up for school’ you laughed, Harry is also a school teacher however, he teaches young children.

‘Cool, text me when you get home and we’ll figure out a date for the three of us again. Maybe bring Jason next time buddy’ Harry smiled as you gave him a quick hug.

Walking to your car you heard a voice again, catching your attention.

‘Your boyfriend is sweet’ Mitchell smiled, appearing from a dark corner in the parking lot.

‘He’s my friend from school, he’s straight’ you chuckled nervously.

‘Do I scare you or something? Why you in a rush to get away?’ Mitchell asked, you couldn’t work out a quicker way to unlock your car door.

‘Just in a hurry to get home, my boyfriend will be wondering where I am’ you said sternly, almost emphasising the word ‘boyfriend’.

‘You have a boyfriend?’ Mitchell asked, you nodded, getting the car door unlocked and throwing your jacket inside.

‘Yeah, he should be home from work now’

Mitchell appeared right next to you as he placed his hand on the roof of your car, you feeling his hot, inebriated breath on you.

‘Can we fuck in your car?’ He asked, all of a sudden.

You pushed your glasses up your face with your finger, stunned by the question. You didn’t even want to answer it.

‘I need to get home’ you stated again, trying to slip into your car without the man noticing as he looked away.

‘I asked a question’ he asked again, this time louder and less friendly.

‘No’ you answered quick with fire in your voice, you got into your car and started the engine.

Driving away without even caring if Mitchell had taken his hand off the roof or not.

You didn’t really give much thought to what had happened until you got into bed, finding Jason was already there and fast asleep.

Your head lay on the pillows as you felt Jason lean in and wrap an arm around your waist, you smiled as you slightly pressed your back against Jason’s front.

Allowing his scent and presence to knock you out into sleep, with Mitchell in the back of your mind. For now.

Jason’s day was busy as usual, he had too much stuff in and decided to take a little break. He found himself walking into the coffee shop where he first met you those years ago.

A memory so distant yet so vivid and precious, Jason found himself thinking back to all those times when he would go, creating stories with his coffee shop crush in his head. The guy who sat opposite all those times, a guy that stole Jason’s whole heart.

‘Hey’ you said with surprise as you wandered into the coffee shop, grabbing a quick caffeine fix before the afternoon.

Jason grabbed you and held you tight, his smile so bright it would’ve made a good light of a power cut came.

The two of you chatted quickly as you headed for the door, you were so distracted by the sudden presence of your boyfriend, you hadn’t even noticed your surroundings.

‘Hello again’ you heard a voice, a voice you’d never forget. A voice you heard a few nights back in the bar.

‘Hi’ was all you said as you took Jason’s hand and took him outside with you.

Jason shot you a funny look as you both ended up outside.

‘What was that about?’ Jason asked, you shook your head.

‘Just some guy that I met in the bar, he gives me creepy vibes’ you replied, sipping your coffee as you headed for your car.

Jason gave you a quick kiss goodbye as you got in your car to drive back to work. Neither of you noticing that Mitchell, the creepy guy, was still watching from the coffee shop window.

You were right where you wanted to be, out on the streets with your man Jason, a double date was nice as you guys needed more couple friends. Harry and Jessica were the best fitted as they were basically a straight version of the both of you.

‘I’ll get us some beers, you girls chat’ Harry joked as he walked over to the bar, leaving you, Jason and Jessica.

The three of you listened to the sound of the music, you guys talked and caught up. Jessica getting to know Jason better.

You excised yourself as you went to the bathroom, finding that you weren’t alone as a stall was in use.

You cleaned your glasses on your shirt as the other person in the bathroom made an appearance.

‘Hello you, twice in one week. I must be dreaming’ Mitchell slurred, having already had a few drinks obviously.

You laughed nervously, rushing yourself into a panic as you dropped your glasses on the floor.

‘Here’ Mitchell said as he bent down to pick them up, handing them to you.

He handed them to you whilst he held onto your hand for a few seconds, in those few seconds your mind ran through a whole bunch of scenarios. None of them ended well.

‘I better get back’ you announced as you walked to the bathroom door.

Jason saw you looking a little flushed and could tell straight away that you weren’t happy, but you didn’t mention anything.

The night wasn’t so bad as you managed to let your hair down, you and Harry having a great time while Jessica and Jason were the self designated sober people. Staying sober to make sure the drunk ones get home.

You couldn’t remember much from last night as the sunlight hit your face, you just remember going home with Jason.

Like most people, you checked your phone first thing when you saw Jason was already up and facing the day.

‘What the?’ You muttered out loud as you saw a load of texts from an unknown number.

Creepy texts like ‘you looked so cute last night’ and ‘drink some water’. But what really caught your eye was two texts that were sent together a minute apart.

One read ‘glad you got home ok’ and the other, ‘you look so adorable when you sleep’.

You freaked out, seeing you hadn’t replied to any of them, and knowing it wasn’t anyone you were with as you have their numbers saved.

I mean, it couldn’t be, but it had to be, it made sense…did Mitchell send you these? How’d he get your number though? You would never give it to him. Was he watching you?

For the day you tried your best to ignore all the messages and had a good day with just you and Jason. Going for lunch and then to a movie.

Getting home after grocery shopping and watching Netflix until dinner time.

‘Something you want to share?’ Jason asked as he stood behind you while you started up the stove.

You turned around, eyebrows raised as you pushed your glasses up your face. You knew what Jason was getting at, you knew straight away.

‘Something has been bothering you, what is it?’ He asked, you shook your head.

Not because you were in denial, but because you didn’t know where to start. Jason is protective, and you felt dumb for not saying anything.

‘Fine, I’ll just figure out what I’ve done to piss you off’ Jason huffed as he walked out the kitchen.

You walked into the hallway after him and grabbed his hand, getting his attention.

‘You haven’t pissed me off, somethings happened and I need you to stay calm’ you said, softly with a little crack in your voice.

You finally admitted that there was a problem and stopped ignoring it.

You told Jason about everything, the first night you met him, the coffee shop interaction and last night. And the texts, Jason saw them and flipped.

There were options for you now as Jason knew the truth, and he was willing to be by your side at all times.

Of course, when you were at work he couldn’t be as you needed to do that by yourself. The plan was for you to call Jason as you were about to leave.

You’d stayed later this particular day as there was still things you needed catching up on. However, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

You heard a strange noise outside as you looked out the classroom window, but you couldn’t see anything.

You began walking towards the exit to make your way home, however, Mitchell had found his way inside the building and had you cornered.

‘Hello baby’ he smiled, as he began walking toward you, you turned around and began heading the other way.

Running the other side of the building you made it outside, but still had to find a way to get to your car.

Mitchell snuck up behind you as he grabbed ahold of you, throwing you in the floor. Your glasses flew off your face, now you couldn’t see too well.

‘You belong to me you little fucker’ Mitchell growled as he grabbed your ankle and dragged you toward himself.

You spun around onto your back as you kicked Mitchell in the crotch, causing him to let go of you.

Finding your glasses and running to your car, only to not make it all the way in before Mitchell had ahold of you again.

‘You disobey me, you disrespect me, you don’t get to live’ Mitchell screamed as you saw the handgun in your glove compartment.

You flashed back to all those times you went to the shooting range with Jason. He was big on your being able to protecting yourself when he wasn’t around.

He gifted you the handgun at some point in order for Jason to feel better you were able to defend yourself. You grabbed the gun, clicking the safety off and shooting Mitchell in the leg, then the arm. Kicking him the face.

Jason was there in a flash as he got a call to say there had been an attack, he ignored red lights and stop signs, disobeying the speed limit to make it to you.

‘Babe’ Jason called out, running over and placing his hands on your face, kissing you gently.

You were sat on the back of the ambulance, the paramedic was checking you over.

Mitchell was being taken to the hospital after you’d shot him, along with then being arrested after.

‘He’s had a long night, think best for him to go home’ the paramedic smiled as she gave you a wink.

The next few days were going to be tough as you were still dealing with the ordeal, but as long as Jason was there, you didn’t care much.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood x male reader #jason todd x male reader #horror #stalker

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