#but these are pairings I’ve seen together a lot

[huggingkoalas]

out of love

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis natasha loses you three times in the worst way possible.

word count 6.5k

warnings angst, bad/angsty ending, mentions of alcohol consumption, breaking up, cursing, mentions of cheating, pet names, car accident, panic attacks, jealousy, medical rooms, amnesia, mentions of therapy

author’s note yes, this was a series. i’ve decided to make it into a oneshot instead because of how much this fic has actually emotionally affected me :') this fic means a lot to me, but it’s also a constant reminder of someone really dear to me that i lost recently. i’ve lost count of how many times i cried while writing the ending, and i’m so sorry if the ending seems rushed </3

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Natasha was always full of confidence, loyalty and fierceness. She never backed down from a fight, especially excelling in close hand-to-hand combat where her ability was nothing short of intimidating. Ruthless and exceptionally efficient and skilled at her job, she struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune to cross the Black Widow’s path.

But that was at work. And at home? There was a big difference. While her enemies were always on their knees at the end of a fight, begging her for mercy to spare their lives, she was the one on her knees this time. Natasha Romanoff — one of the founding members of the Avengers, an agent of S.H.I.E.LD., and a professional assassin, your wife — was on her knees, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, moya lyubov’ (my love). Forgive me, please.” She begged, tears gathering in her eyes. 

Your shadow loomed over the kneeling redhead. Holding your breath and trying to keep your tears at bay, you pursed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak in a steady voice.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” With trembling hands on her lap, Natasha glanced up at your face. She couldn’t control a sob breaking out from her throat as she saw the saddened expression on your face. 

“Am I… not important to you anymore?” You spoke in a quiet voice.

“I...-” With eyes filled with tears, she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. Despite her usual strength and confidence, Natasha looked vulnerable, almost broken, before you. 

“Where were you tonight? Drinking with Banner and Thor again?” You asked with a shaky breath.

The answer was already clear before Natasha even spoke. There was a faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air, a reminder of her downward spiral in recent months. It pained you to witness the transformation, to see the woman you loved slipping further and further away with each passing day. Over the past two months, Natasha had been arriving home late consistently, often in an intoxicated state. Her presence during mornings and evenings became a rarity, and you would find yourself sleeping alone in the shared bed at night, longing for the warmth of her presence. Despite consuming a large amount of alcohol the night prior, Natasha would, without fail, rise early for work the next day. 

You missed snuggling up beside her after a long day, your head in the crook of her neck as you smelled the vanilla shampoo in her hair. You missed the closeness, of feeling her heartbeat against your chest and the softness of her breath against your skin. These days, the smell of alcohol replaced the comforting and familiar scent you were used to. 

While Natasha’s current vulnerability was a display of her remorse and pain you’d never seen before, you wanted another kind of vulnerability — one where she was there for you, where she prioritised you first. You longed for her comfort, her reassurance as she held you close and whispered words of love in your ear.

With an exhausted sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of even more disappointment at the sight of the two untouched plates of home-cooked beef stroganoff on the dining table. The tantalising aroma of the beef stroganoff now made you nauseous. It bitterly reminded you and mocked you of your meticulous efforts to please your wife. The once-warm meal lay cold since you plated them up three hours ago while you anticipated Natasha to return home. Accompanying the two plates were two wine glasses, a softly lit candle, and an unopened bottle of red wine. And in the refrigerator, there was a baking tray of lemon meringue pie from Natasha’s favourite bakery.

Today held a significant meaning — It marked the second wedding anniversary with the love of your life, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Throughout the day, you tirelessly spent hours pouring your heart and soul into preparing each slice of tenderloin and delicately sprinkling the chives on the completed dish. Cooking wasn’t your forte, you had to learn how to cook it from websites. You still tried your best to make it the tastiest beef stroganoff Natasha had ever tasted in her life.

And to add salt to the injury, she never even bothered to return home early, preferring to drown herself in alcohol at the bar.

If you cooked her favourite dish and queued from early sunrise to buy her favourite dessert, Natasha would come home instead of getting wasted at the bar, right? You were sorely mistaken. You had even persistently messaged her all day, excitedly telling her about the candlelit dinner you had carefully planned for the evening. However, all of your texts went unanswered.

You almost found amusement and humour in your naïvety. Three months ago, ever since Natasha and her sister, Yelena, successfully brought down the Red Room, she changed for the worse. You expected her to shift into a more carefree demeanour after the mission, but it was the opposite. Despite your best to understand and put yourself in her shoes, Natasha remained guarded, only telling you bits and pieces of information about what happened during her mission.

“Y/N/N?” Natasha barely whispered. The vulnerability in her expression was a contrast to the loving and confident person you fell in love with.

“I need some time apart to figure things out, Natasha.” It had been a long time since you uttered her full name, always preferring to call her ‘Natty’ or, your personal favourite, ‘sunshine’. 

A pang of sorrow tugged at your heart, for Natasha had truly been your sunshine once upon a time. In the beginning, she had truly been like a ray of sunlight, her sweet smile had the power to brighten even the gloomiest of days, her laughter your favourite melody. And now, as you stood before her, the Natasha you once knew and loved had become a distant memory. In her place stood a shadow of her former self, someone who was almost unrecognisable to you. She was no longer your sunshine, but a raincloud that drenched you in loneliness and despair.

Your fingers instinctively played with the wedding ring adorning your left hand, tracing its edges and rolling it around your finger to alleviate your anxiety as you awaited her next words. You expected her to refuse and deny your words, to tell you that she needed you in her life, but all you got from her was a single word  — “okay.”

Her answer made you scoff loudly.

“That’s it? All I get is an ‘okay’?” You seethed, your hands clenched into tight fists as you let anger consume your words. “Did you ever take this relationship seriously, Natasha? Was I nothing more to you than a warm body when you had nightmares and decent fuck when you were horny?” 

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.” Natasha’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the right words.

“I can’t take this anymore.” You declared, the words spilling from your mouth before you could even stop yourself. “Fuck you, Natasha, I’m leaving. Forget taking a break — I never want to see you ever again.”

The hurt and shock in her eyes were unmistakable, but you did not regret your harsh words. The silence that followed afterwards was deafening. Natasha looked down, avoiding eye contact with you.

You slid your wedding ring off your finger, using more force than usual as you placed it on the coffee table. The sound of it hitting the table echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead of feeling a weight off your shoulders, a gnawing sense of anxiety and disappointment bubbled in your stomach. 

Is this the end of your marriage?

You love, no, loved Natasha, and the weight of the one-sided relationship had become too much for you to bear alone. You wondered if she ever truly cared about you in the first place, or if you were only a distraction from her busy life as an Avenger. You had a nagging feeling that, maybe, she was unsatisfied with being in love with an Avenger-turned-housewife instead of someone like Bruce Banner. You shook your head as the image of Bruce surfaced in your mind. Aware of his past crush on your wife, you could not help but wonder if Natasha, too, had developed feelings for him and hesitated to break your heart with the truth.

Maybe that’s why she’s been spending time with Bruce at the bar.

Was her love ever real?

And with that, you turned away. You stood before the door, your hand hesitating over the doorknob. You expected Natasha to intervene and stop you from leaving once more. With a hesitant glance back at her, you observed her entire frame convulsing with sobs, making it even harder to walk away.

You stepped out the door as you couldn’t bear to witness the pain in your favourite green eyes any longer. You knew leaving was the right thing to do, even if it tore you apart inside. As you settled into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the familiar driveway, the haunting image of Natasha’s tear-streaked face lingered in your mind

You had to get far, far away from Natasha. The only other person you trust is Wanda, your ex-girlfriend and another Avenger. She would be able to comfort you with her soothing presence and words. Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as you navigated the familiar streets to Wanda’s house. The turn of events weighed heavily on your mind, and millions of questions ran through your head.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the traffic light blaring red ahead. A car from the opposite direction ran right towards you, its glaring light blinding your vision with its intensity. With a sharp intake of breath, the screeching sound of tyres filled the air as you braced yourself for impact.

It could have been hours that Natasha knelt on the wooden floor after you left the house, or it could have been minutes. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that her heart ached. It was as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and thrown it across the room without any consideration.

She felt overwhelmed. The air felt thick and made it hard for her to breathe as waves of panic coursed through her. She lay in a fetal position, her knees to her chest and her forehead on the floor. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperately trying to calm the racing beats of her heart. Her body could not stop convulsing as tears streamed down her face, blurring the surroundings around her. 

Every shallow breath she expelled felt painful, and she felt like she was anchored to the cold ground beneath her. It was as if the room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, trapping her in endless suffering. The ache in her chest mirrored the shattering of her heart.

The events that happened after she had come home drunk had sobered her up quickly, and all she felt now was a hollow emptiness. Natasha felt like a complete asshole. She had taken advantage of your kindness and patience and trampled all over it. She took you for granted, and now she was all alone in the place she called home.

Home. It was merely a house, but the treasured memories the two of you shared with love and affection made it a home.

Once the waves of a panic attack passed, she craned her neck up to glance around her surroundings. The singular candle you prepared for the candlelit dinner was still burning on the dining table, illuminating the dimly lit living room. Even with the blinds drawn over the windows, she could see outside enough to gauge that sunrise was coming soon.

Unexpectedly, the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. shattered the silence as it echoed through the house. “Agent Natasha Romanoff. Please come to the Avengers Compound as quickly as possible.” 

Natasha groaned softly in response, slowly getting on her feet cautiously. Her knees and arms ached as she got her balance, a painful reminder of how she spent the night in an uncomfortable position.

Even when she chose to live separately from the Avengers, Tony Stark insisted he installed F.R.I.D.A.Y. into the home for ‘extra’ security. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She rarely got an announcement from the A.I. unless necessary, such as an emergency or a last-minute mission.

“Did something happen?” She called out to the A.I., her voice cracking and hoarse from the crying.

“Y/N Romanoff is in the hospital wing. She has suffered critical injuries from a car accident.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied promptly.

Panic surged through her body as she quickly shed last night’s attire. With each distressed movement, thoughts of how badly hurt you were raced through her mind. 

Shit. What has she done?

Natasha barged through the swinging doors of the infirmary in the Avengers Compound, her eyes surveying the all-too-familiar place. There were countless times when she had to prioritise tending to her wounds in the infirmary after missions instead of debriefing, as she was always someone to choose fight instead of flight when faced with enemies.

The place buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the antiseptic smell in the air nauseated her. She approached the first medical professional in her sightline, a male nurse.

“Bring me to Y/N Romanoff’s room, now.” She ordered, grabbing the nurse's uniform collar in a tight fist.

The nurse’s hands struggled under her grasp, choking out. “Y-Yes, Agent Romanoff. This way.” 

Letting go of his collar, the male nurse quickly led her down the hallways to your room in fear of angering the assassin further. Her heart raced as she followed behind him, not prepared for how wounded you would look after the car accident.

As Natasha entered the room, her fears were confirmed as she saw you. You were lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, while hooked up to multiple wires and machines that monitored your every heartbeat and breathing. Your whole body was covered with bandages and bruises, and the sight of your unconscious body supplemented the guilt in her gut.

“Agent Romanoff, we’ve done X-rays, CT scans and an MRI of her body. She has multiple transverse fractures on her clavicle and pelvic bone. She’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the car accident, and she’s been comatose ever since.”

Before she could question him further, the nurse quickly left the room. She huffed in annoyance. Shrugging off the encounter with the medical professional, she approached your bedside with hesitant steps, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Taking your cold hand in hers, her index and middle fingers quickly found the pulse point on your wrist. Your pulse was weak. 

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes, threatening to spill as she whispered through choked sobs, her voice trembling with emotion “It’s all my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Please, wake up. I need you.”

Natasha needed you. Without you, she felt lost, like she was swimming adrift in an endless sea. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. She felt like her world had become even greyer. She traced the contours of your face with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail that made you uniquely you. All she could do was hope and pray that you would wake up soon to forgive her and give her one last chance to fix everything.

Days turned into weeks into months. Two months since you got into a coma. Two months since she heard her favourite voice. Two months of replaying the same scene the day she lost you.

The disappointment in your voice. Your disappointed face. The smell of beef stroganoff. The sound of you placing the wedding ring on the coffee table. The door clicking behind you as you left the house.

Two months felt like two years to Natasha. With each passing moment, the vital signs monitor played the steady rhythm of your heartbeat in the medical room. She refused to leave your side for even a moment. Nick Fury immediately gave her time off from missions to allow her to prioritise your well-being.

Everyone in the Avengers recognised the toll it was taking on Natasha’s well-being. Wanda took it upon herself to bring her meals and encourage her to shower and step outside to get a breath of fresh air. Wanda would remind her that you wouldn’t want her to neglect her own needs. Despite being curious about what had happened that night, the brunette never pressed her for answers. The wounds were still fresh, and Natasha always looked miserable every time Wanda came into the medical room. Both of them took turns taking care of you. Natasha knew about your past romantic relationship with Wanda, but she trusted her the most amongst all the other Avengers to take care of you.

Natasha felt a deep loneliness she couldn’t shake off that only your awakening could dispel. She clung to the glimmer of hope that each passing moment brought you closer to waking up. With every conversation with Helen telling her that your body was recovering well, her heart swelled with optimism, and she found a twinge of happiness in the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest.

When alone with you, Natasha would talk mindlessly to you, sharing stories of her day and reminding you that she loved you. Even when you were unconscious, she never failed to greet you every day with an ‘I love you’. She read your favourite books, played your favourite songs, and whispered words of love, hoping you could somehow hear her.

Night after night, Natasha would drift off to sleep with her head resting on the edge of your bed. The position was far from comfortable, but the discomfort mattered little to her. All that mattered was being near you and being the first person you see when you wake up, even if it meant sacrificing her comfort.

And then, one day, as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, you woke up. Natasha was asleep when you aroused from your coma, and she stirred awake by the twitch from your hand intertwined with hers.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, a soft whine leaving your throat as you met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of relief washed over Natasha, but your eyes widened in panic and alarm as you saw the redhead in front of you.

“W-Who the fuck are you?”

Natasha swore she would be able to hear a pin drop from how silent the room became. The green eyes, previously full of hope, reflected a mixture of disappointment and pain. Speechless, Natasha met your stunned gaze as she took her time to process your words.

“W-Where am I?” You mumbled in a hoarse voice. 

Your eyes tried to adjust to the blinding light of the overhead lights as your consciousness slowly reawakened. A frown formed on your face as your eyes scanned every corner of the medical room. One of the surrounding machines beeped steadily, indicating that your vital signs were stable. You scratched your head and tried to remember how you ended up in the hospital, but you can’t.

Natasha picked up the glass of water from the nightstand and offered it to you with trembling hands. You drank the water thirstily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s me, Natasha, your wife. Don’t you remember?” She began, moving her chair closer to your bed. “You’re at the Avengers Compound. You’ve been in a coma for a while.”

“I... Have a wife?” Aside from the fact that you were in an infirmary, the fact that you were married to someone surprised you more. You studied the features of the redhead sitting in front of you — the sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of your consciousness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we got married two years ago.” Natasha explained, her tone as soothing as possible.

“But... I have a girlfriend, Wanda.” You said, tilting your head to the side. “Where is she?”

Natasha’s hands shot up to cover her mouth as her eyes watered. She rose from the chair and stepped away from her bed. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Her hands became clammy, and each breath was laboured as her heart raced. A relentless drumbeat echoed in Natasha's ears.

Was this a nightmare? 

The impulse to reach out and grab your hand, a source of comfort that calmed her down, surged within her. Yet, she hesitated.

You appeared as the body of the person Natasha had fallen in love with years ago when you were just eighteen and freshly recruited into the Avengers team. The both of you had a rocky start — she was your enemy first before she became your friend and eventually your lover. However, that chapter was a long time ago as you had retired from the front lines upon marrying her.

As Natasha observed you, a sense of unease settled within her. There wasn’t the same warmth she once found in your eyes. Instead, an unfamiliar emptiness stared back at her. The very gaze that used to ignite with love and affection now held an empty void — The same expression as the day when you broke up with her. Natasha clung to the hope that your memory would somehow seamlessly reweave themselves back into your consciousness, dispelling the thoughts that she was staring at a stranger disguised as her wife.

You wrinkled your nose as you awaited her response. You tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but your muscles weakened from inactivity and failed you. You winced as you felt a sharp pain in your chest.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Natasha’s voice was laced with concern. She gently guided you to remain lying down. “I should get Dr Helen. Stay here, don’t move.”

Before you could formulate a response, she hurried out of the room. As Natasha disappeared from your view, her heart sank as she realised the extent of your memory loss. She should have expected this — Dr Helen did briefly inform her about how you might experience a few symptoms of memory loss due to the brain injury.

But damn, did your words hit hard.

As Natasha hurried down the corridor, a nagging sense of guilt held her down. Was your memory loss a form of karma for her past actions? Or perhaps a second chance to rebuild things with you? Even though you had effectively cut ties with her moments before the accident, she wanted to be there for you every step of the way. Was she going to tell you what had happened mere minutes before your car accident? No, not yet. Her focus had to be on providing support during your rehabilitation.

She couldn’t bear to lose you again.

The intensity of her emotions became even more palpable as Natasha approached the nurses’ station. Two familiar figures gradually became apparent in the distance, Dr. Helen and Wanda. Both of them were engaged in an animated conversation, but they stopped when they saw the dread on Natasha’s face.

“Y/N’s awake.” Natasha relayed.

Entering the hospital room as a trio, your eyes ignited with a mix of relief and recognition as you saw Wanda.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I missed you.” You warmly greeted Wanda with a wide grin.

As those words slipped from your lips, Natasha’s heart tightened in response. It was a term you had reserved only for her before the accident. On the other hand, Wanda could only manage a warm smile, waving at you. Wanda was unsure of how to respond to the term you used to call her when the both of you were dating.

“Y/N, it’s great to see you awake.” Dr Helen chimed in, trying to ease the atmosphere. With a clipboard in hand, she flipped through your medical records. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused. What happened to me?” You asked.

Natasha quickly jumped in. “You were in a car accident two months ago.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Car accident? But I don’t remember anything.” 

Wanda, sensing the discomfort in the room, stepped forward. “It’s okay, Y/N. The important thing is that you’re awake now. Natasha and I are here for you.”

In response, you graced Wanda with an endearing smile. Your hand extended, seeking and finding Wanda’s. You seemed to be reassured by her presence and physical touch. Natasha, observing the scene, couldn’t help but feel a subtle pang of jealousy. She pushed it aside, reminding herself that you were only acting this way because of the memory loss.

“We’re all here to help you remember.” Natasha spoke softly. 

As your eyes flickered between the two women, there was a spark of love in your eyes as you glanced at Wanda. However, when your gaze turned toward Natasha, the same void of distance was in your eyes.

“Do you remember anything else before the car accident?” Dr Helen inquired, her pen poised over the pages as she wrote down your responses.

“No…?” You responded tentatively, a furrow forming on your forehead.

“Alright. Firstly, what’s your current profession?” Dr Helen probed.

“I’m a retired Avenger.” You uttered, unconsciously tightening your grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Your age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Do you remember these two?” Dr Helen redirected your attention, pointing to Natasha and Wanda.

“Wanda’s my girlfriend. I don’t remember who the other person is.” You confessed, looking at Natasha with a raised eyebrow.

How could you get all the questions wrong? Natasha crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Very well. Your cooperation is appreciated, Y/N.” Dr Helen acknowledged you with a nod, turning her attention to the two other women. “Agent Romanoff and Agent Maximoff, may I talk to the both of you in my office for a few minutes?”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged an apprehensive glance before nodding in unison, accompanying the doctor out of the room. In Dr Helen’s office, both women settled into chairs opposite her desk, their postures stiff. Dr Helen wasted no time, closing the door to her office with a decisive click before taking her seat behind the desk.

“I’ll need to ask Y/N more questions later to confirm the type of amnesia she’s experiencing. Based on the questions earlier, there’s a high chance she’s experiencing systematized amnesia.” Leaning forward, Dr Helen rested her elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “It’s a type of amnesia that happens when an individual experiences long-term stress or trauma. It can be from experiencing physical, sexual or emotional neglect and abuse. In response, the brain blocks out all memories about that one specific person from their past.”

Dr Helen’s statement made Natasha’s mind spin. Wanda gripped the armrests tightly, her eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. “Is that why she remembers me, and not Natasha?”

“Exactly.” She paused, turning her attention to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, have you ever hit your wife?”

“What? No, of course not.” Natasha replied with an exasperated shake of her head. “But… We did have an argument before her car accident. I haven’t been spending time with her. I was too busy drinking at the bar to spend time with her on the day of our second anniversary. She broke up with me before she got into the car accident.”

Wanda’s anger flared, her fists clenched by her sides as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “So the reason she got into a car accident is because of you?” She accused. “What the fuck, Natasha.” 

Natasha drew in a deep breath. “I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t know that she’d get into a car accident. I messed up.”

Dr Helen stepped in. “Emotions run high in situations like these, but our focus should be on helping Y/N recover and helping her navigate through her memory loss. We can’t change the past, but we can make choices to change the future.”

Wanda, her jaw clenched in frustration, couldn’t contain the bitterness in her retort. “Fine, but regret doesn’t undo the damage you’ve done, Natasha. Y/N trusted and loved you, and you let her down. She doesn’t deserve this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve you.” 

Natasha’s lips trembled slightly, struggling to hold back tears.

Wanda, unable to contain her frustration, abruptly pushed her chair back. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

She stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Dr Helen winced at the resounding sound before sighing. “Let’s regroup later. Wanda needs some time, and we’ll address these issues when everyone’s ready.”

Wanda burst into the medical room, her brows furrowed in deep frustration and a scowl etched across her face. Startled by her sudden entrance, you jumped slightly in your bed, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw her expression. “Wands?” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

As you whispered her name, Wanda’s tense expression softened. She approached your bed with slow steps, her hands reaching out to hold yours.

“It’s... It’s nothing, Y/N.” Wanda replied, her voice tight with emotion. 

Despite Wanda’s attempt to dismiss her agitation, you could sense the remaining anger beneath her facade. You furrowed your brow, concern etching your features. 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” You insisted gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “You stormed in here looking like you were ready to take on an army.”

Wanda’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement, but the weight of her distress remained evident in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, exhaling a breath before finally speaking.

“It’s Natasha.” Wanda admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this.”

As much as Wanda wanted to tell you the reason you fell into a coma, she knew that it wasn’t her place to reveal the information without Natasha’s consent. She had to choose her words carefully.

You listened intently, your heart sinking at the mention of Natasha’s name. The complexity of your relationshipwith her made you feel uncertain and overwhelmed.

How could you be married to someone you couldn’t remember?

“Is Natasha really my wife?” You asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to find any memory that you shared with the woman who was supposedly your wife. But try as you might, your mind remained blank, empty of any intimate or shared memories with the redhead.

Wanda’s expression softened with empathy. “Yes.” She affirmed gently. “Natasha’s your wife.”

“That means you and I… we broke up?” You pressed your lips together, trying not to frown.

“Yeah.” Wanda began, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. "We broke up because I wasn’t ready for become something more. Our relationship... it’s clear that you love Natasha a lot, more than you ever loved me. Even a blind man could see it.”

“Oh.” You sighed, rubbing your thumb over Wanda’s hands. “But… I still love you.”

“Not anymore, Y/N. Your future’s with Natasha now. She loves you a lot and she’s been miserable ever since you got into a coma, so go easy on her, alright?”

Your heart sank at Wanda’s words.

“Alright.” You offered her a bittersweet smile. 

A week after waking up, Dr Helen officially diagnosed you with systematic amnesia. Once you had healed under her careful observation, you were discharged and allowed to return to the home you shared with Natasha. Despite your reluctance to burden her with your care, she was the only one you could depend on. Wanda and the other Avengers had their own responsibilities, leaving Natasha as your primary caretaker.

You were still bruising and aching all over, so Natasha assisted you with various miscellaneous tasks, such as managing your medication intake and helping you with showering. Physically and mentally, you were improving, but you still couldn’t remember Natasha.

Gradually, you treated her as if she were a stranger. She understood that it wasn’t intentional, but she didn’t think she’d lose you in the worst way possible.

The way you flinched whenever she touched you, because she was used to doing it back then when the both of you were together. It pained her deeply. You kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, not trusting her enough to talk about your feelings. Despite this, outwardly, your interactions with her seemed relatively ‘normal’. The both of you never argued, never fought, and you’d spent time together.

It wasn’t the same as it used to be.

When Natasha returned home from her missions, you’d eagerly rush to her, enveloping her in the tightest hug imaginable and peppering her face with kisses. Now, you greeted her with a tight-lipped smile and a small wave.

In the past, you would cuddle together while watching late-night movies, holding her hand and resting your head on her shoulder. Now, there was a noticeable distance between you, an emotional and physical space that seemed to widen with each passing day.

She tried bringing you to a coffee place — the one she brought you on your first date. You were intrigued, but you still couldn’t remember anything.

Natasha was genuinely happy to see you making progress in your recovery. Yet, beneath that happiness, she was beginning to grow impatient. Your health was improving, but the state of your marriage seemed to deteriorate because you were unable to remember anything about her.

And, one day, Natasha finally reached her breaking point. She had prepared dinner for you, setting the table and waiting patiently on the couch for your return. But you didn’t arrive until three hours later, long after the food had grown cold.

“Where were you?” Natasha’s voice held a sharp edge as she crossed her arms.

You hadn’t mentioned going out, let alone with whom.

“I went out with Wanda for dinner.” You responded casually.

“And you couldn’t text me to let me know?” Natasha’s tone grew more aggressive.

Not only had you essentially stood her up, but you had also gone out with your ex-girlfriend — the same ex-girlfriend you might still harbour feelings for. It was ironic. It felt like the tables had turned. She was the one feeling hurt and frustrated this time.

“My phone was dead. Why are you so angry?” Your voice rose, becoming defensive as you retrieved your phone from your jacket pocket and tossed it onto the dining table.

“Because I made dinner for you.” 

“So what? I can have it for lunch tomorrow.” 

“That’s not the point. I was waiting for you.” Natasha insisted, her tone laced with frustration.

“And I promise I’ll eat it tomorrow. I’m tired, Natasha. I’m going to bed.” You said dismissively, turning away and walking towards the master bedroom.

It continued for months. Natasha almost wanted to give up, contemplating whether to raise the white flag and accept the bitter truth that you would never remember her at all. The constant arguments between you never seemed to reach a resolution. Instead, they ended with either Natasha or you walking away when things got too heated. With time, Natasha felt like the distance between you grew even more larger. You started coming home late, leaving Natasha disappointed as she waited for you to return to the place that once felt like home to both of you. Every dinner she prepared for you went unnoticed, adding to her sense of loneliness and frustration. 

Natasha felt as though you had undergone a complete transformation, like someone similar to you but not really, well, you. She was a stranger to you just as you were to her.

You were sitting on a plush chair, engrossed in the pages of a book when she finally accepted defeat. She observed you quietly for a moment, the way you were oblivious to her presence behind her.

“Are we still together?” Natasha asked, her voice breaking the silence.

You looked up to find her standing before you, a mixture of longing and sadness in her gaze. 

You closed the book slowly, placing it on the coffee table.

You chuckled bitterly, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words. “Well, legally, I suppose we are.”

Natasha’s heart sank at your response. She had hoped for affection, but instead, she was met with indifference.

“Do you even want us to be together?” Her voice quivered as she spoke. 

You studied her momentarily, leaning your head back against the headrest as you looked her up and down. Natasha looked miserable, her cheeks caked with dried tears and eyebags under her eyes from sleepless nights. 

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” You murmured softly. “I just… I don’t think we’re working out.”

Natasha felt her heart drop at your words. She had feared this moment, dreaded the possibility of hearing those words from you. Yet, the reality of it hit her like a sudden blow.

Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely on the verge of tears. “I tried. I really did try to remember you. Remember I came home late because I told you I was spending time with Wanda? I was actually walking around the places you brought me to, hoping that I’d remember something, anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asked. Her heart clenched at your words and her tears spill over her cheeks.

“Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I didn’t want to disappoint you at the end of the day.” You whispered, standing up from the plush chair and walking over to her. You raised your hand to Natasha’s cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. “I want you, but I don’t think I’m in love with you. You deserve better than this, Natasha. You deserve better than me. You’re not in love with me — You’re in love with the me before the accident.”

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning into your touch, a silent plea for reassurance. But as you withdrew your hand, the ache of longing remained. 

Just like how your love was out of touch.

“We can’t keep pretending, Natasha.” You said softly, your voice tinged with regret. “Maybe it’s time we accept that things have changed.”

With a heavy sigh, you turned away, unable to bear the pain of seeing her heartbreak. It pained you to hurt her, but you knew that prolonging the inevitable would only cause more suffering for both of you.

This time Natasha knew that she had to stop you from leaving somehow. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not again. Not for the third time. 

As you headed towards the door, Natasha’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N, please... don’t go.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when the love you once shared almost felt fake. Like it never happened.

You paused for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, before offering a final, pained glance back at Natasha. “I’m sorry, Natasha. Goodbye.”

And with that, you stepped out the door, leaving behind a redhead with a shattered heart.

In an alternate universe, maybe you could actually remember her and love her eternally.

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#lumi’s fics! #marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #angst #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

[saras-almanac]

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

Title:  What we have

Fandom:  911 (ABC)

Pairing:  Buck/Tommy

Summary:  Buck had complicated feelings after they run into Abby. Luckily, Tommy is there to comfort him. For the prompt: A figure from their past for @bucktommyweek

Notes: I have a lot of thoughts about Abby and her relationship with Buck (plus just thoughts on her character in general). And this is a part of something much longer I’d written but it was just bits and pieces—the meeting, the aftermath, Tommy talking with Athena or Maddie, this scene—just too much going on and too much to write in a day when my brain was still coming up with the actual idea for this. So this is what I’ve got.  

Tommy hadn’t thought much of this meeting Abby at the time. Apparently she was in town for some meeting or other for one of her stepdaughters and him and Evan had happened to run into her as they were leaving the restaurant they had brunch at.

Evan had gotten a bit quiet but smiled and politely introduced him as “This is Tommy,” before Abby started telling him about her life. It was about three minutes of a quick catch up before Evan and him continued on their way out and honestly, Tommy hadn’t thought it was strange.

But now It’s been over a week since he’d last seen Evan and he was trying not to worry or get caught up in his own head about what this all might mean. He was off today, so maybe Tommy could convince him to meet up for lunch or at least just talk later today.

Thankfully the doorbell rang at that moment, pulling Tommy out of his potential spiral.

He opened the door and there stood Evan, holding two coffees and a bag of food.

“I brought coffee and burritos,” Evan said.

Tommy ushered him in and followed him to the kitchen. “It’s been a minute. But I’m happy to see you.”

“Me too.” Evan set everything on the counter, dropping his duffel on the floor, and then turned to him, basically wrapping himself around Tommy.

“Is everything all right?”” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” Evan said. “I mean, it’s getting there?”

“Would you want to tell me about what you’re thinking about?” Tommy asked, pulling away and gently pushing Evan toward the stool by his counter. “While you eat a little something.”

Evan sat down but made no move toward his food. He sighed. “I told you about Abby. My ex. The one we ran into a couple weeks ago.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I mean, a little.”

“Right, well seeing her sort of threw me off—Not because I’m dating you or freaking out about my bisexuality and stuff,” Evan rushed to reassure him. “It just… I guess it just brought a lot of old feelings, things that trigged some old insecurities. And I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, it’s been years and looking back, it’s not even like we were really together together so I don’t know really what happened.”

“Feelings can be surprising,” Tommy said. “They come back around in the strangest ways sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “But I don’t even think about her anymore. I don’t. I’m not like in love with her or want her back or anything--I swear.”

“I didn’t think you did, but thank you for the reassurance,” Tommy said. “Seeing people who used to play a big part in our lives brings up a lot of emotions. And that’s okay.”  

“That’s what Dr. Copeland said too,” Evan said shaking his head. “I called her because it just triggered a lot of feelings, feelings of insecurity that I thought I’d dealt with. But when you come face-to-face with your biggest failure those feelings can come back.”

“You and Abby not working out is not a failure,” Tommy said.

“I know that. Now,” Evan said. “But it’s what happened when I saw her again. It was my first relationship where I did everything right. I followed everyone’s advice, everyone’s ideas, followed Abby’s lead. I did everything I was supposed to. And she left anyway. Which, I don’t have to tell you made me panic and worry about you, about us.”

“Well, I’d argue that we haven’t’ done anything right in the way that other people would have it or do it,” Tommy said, nudging Evan with his shoulder. “But I also can’t’ say that we’ve done nothing right because a look where we are, what we have.”

“That’s what I realized,” Evan admitted. “At least part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Tommy asked.

“So it’s like this,” Evan said, amping up and already starting to gesture with his hands. “I think I thought so highly of Abby for so long, right? She was this woman who was mature and knew what she wanted and had a whole life and still wanted me; it’s like she made me better or at least want to be a better man. And after she left, I was terrified that she’d taken that part of me with her, the mature Buck, the guy who was dependable and worthy.”

Tommy clenched his jaw because he hated hearing Evan talk about himself in terms of worthiness or usefulness. Granted, it was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, but Tommy usually operated under a “do as I say, not as I do” policy.

“And seeing her again, seeing her with you just put so much into perspective for me,” Evan said. “I always thought of her as my first real relationship, but seeing her next to you, knowing what we have, how you treat me, it finally dawned on me that we didn’t have a relationship. Or we did, but like not the one I wanted, the one I thought we had.”

Tommy gently moved the coffees out of the way. “And what was that?”

“I thought we had this amazing relationship where we could be ourselves, someone I could share myself with and someone who wanted that too,” Evan said. “But I think I was just a physical presence for her during a hard time in her life. Someone who was there, who helped shoulder some of the weight, and then someone she just left behind because I didn’t matter to her. Not like I wanted to.”

Evan sighed. “And then I just saw her standing next to you and couldn’t help but think about all the things you know about me, the things you like about me, and I realized that she never really knew me at all.”

“It doesn’t sound like she did,” Tommy said gently, carefully. “Because if she had, I doubt she’d have been able to leave.”

“See and that,” Evan said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s hand. “You’d never do that to me. To anyone really. You’d never just take off, knowing you were done with me, without telling me. Yeah, it would crush me to lose you, but you’d still at least tell me. You wouldn’t leave me hanging on, waiting for any words of our future when you had no plans to come back.”

Evan squeezed his hand between both of his. “I just, I love you so much and I feel so lucky to have you in my life that sometimes I panic that I’m not quite good enough for you. And I want to be.”

Tommy reached out, cradling Evan’s cheek in his hand. “You are good enough. You’re more than good enough for me.”

“Even when I’m having a crisis and stupidly keep myself from you for 12 days?” Evan asked.

“Even then,” Tommy assured him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

#i love supportive emotionally mature conversations so that's what we have here #might expand on this more in the future which is likely a thing i'm going to say for each of these since i'm writing them all this weekend #bucktommy #bucktommyweekend #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #my fic

[agere-fics]

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still! At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those are always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun! Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were actually lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

#age regression #agere #sfw agere #age regressor #agere blog #agere sfw #agere fanfic #agere little #little reader #bruce banner x little!reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner #caregiver!bruce banner #caregiver!bruce banner x reader #caregiver!bruce banner x little!reader #cg bruce banner #cg!bruce #cg!bruce banner #marvel agere #agere marvel

[luvrxbunny]

so much

pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara  x f!reader

summary: You give Miguel a handjob for the first time.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, handjob, lots of cum (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i blacked out again. 

Miguel stopped kissing you maybe fifteen minutes ago. He said he was getting too worked up and that you guys should stop, of course, you respected his wishes. You’re both now sitting in bed, he’s reading and you’re supposed to be doing some extra research but all you can focus on is the bulge in his pants. 

This happens a lot, you guys get heated and Miguel stops everything. It’s been six months and you’ve never seen him cum. You’ve told him you love him, he’s made you cum with his fingers and his mouth but you’ve never seen him cum. It doesn’t bother you too much, you just assumed he wasn’t a very sexual person, although you are and you love pleasuring your partner, you love him more. So you decided you could deal with it, but then you noticed that he would get hard, quite hard, and just not let you help him. You’ve offered many times and he always protests, saying “It’s fine, it’ll just go away.” 

Once he even went into your bathroom for it. He chose to get himself off instead of just letting you do it. You tried to ask Jess about it but she says that Miguel doesn't talk about that stuff, all she knows is that he’s definitely not a virgin. So your last option to understand is to just ask him. So you do. 

“Miggy?” His head comes up from his book to look over at you, peeking over his glasses like a librarian, making you chuckle. “Um… You- You’re—” You start the sentence but soon realize how awkward this conversation could be. You try and figure out ways to piece it together as Miguel sits up straight, closes his book, and takes his glasses off, giving you his full attention. Now that he’s straightened himself out he’s looming over you a bit, making you even more nervous. 

“You’re still… hard..?” It comes out as a question more than a statement and mumbles more than words but he understands you. He clears his throat awkwardly as you slowly close your laptop and cast it aside. “Y-yes, I am.” He’s looking around the room now, his eyes avoiding yours. 

“Okay. So do you not like handjobs or something? I just- I know that you’ve gotten something before I just don’t- I don’t know why you won’t let me.” You’re looking at him as you speak, he’s looking at the duvet, and from the corner of your eye, you swear you see his dick jump in his pants. 

“Cariño… I-” He takes a deep, slightly frustrated breath and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to explain himself. “I want to… Tan jodidamente mala but… you’re different.”

(“... So fucking bad but…”)

Insecurity spreads through your body at his words. Your mind is already racing, trying to decipher what he could mean.   

What the fuck? How am I different? Oh god, is he not even attracted to me sexually? Maybe I’m not his type. Is there something I’m missing? Maybe it’s something that he’s into, maybe I just need to get into whatever that is? Unless it really is just me that’s the problem…

“I love you so much…” The words instantly relax you. You believe him when he says it, but his tone implies that it’s a bad thing. “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else. So-” He sighs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “So I’m- I’m more sensitive… when- when it comes to you.”

Arousal pools at the bottom of your stomach as you process his words. ‘More sensitive’

The thought that he hasn’t wanted you to touch him because it would feel too good has you leaking between your legs. 

He’s silent as you process, he’s waiting for you to laugh. But when he looks over at you you’re looking up at him with those eyes. The ones that always have him hardening in his pants before you have to say anything. The ones that he pictures on late nights when he can’t sleep. The ones that burn into his eyelids as your name falls from his lips and he cums all over his sheets… Those eyes. 

He huffs out a breath and shakes his head, denying you before you can even propose your suggestions. “No, cariño. I- It’s embarrassing.” He protests but his voice is getting breathy, arousal leaking its way in as he watches you seat yourself by his knees, facing him. Your hand is placed on his upper thigh which has begun to twitch under your touch. “We can’t, I can’t. Habría mucho también.”

“Mucho?” You question, only understanding some of what he said. “A lot, what?” You’re focused on his face, watching it contort as he whines at the Spanish that rolls off your tongue. Your hand has begun to massage his thigh, you can feel the fabric pull tighter with every pulse of his cock. Your hand slides up, closing in on where he wants you the most. His head falls back against the headrest as pleasure shoots through him. 

You can tell he’s being honest with his reasoning as you watch him. He’s letting out tiny moans, little whines like you’ve been teasing him all day but you’re just massaging his thigh. You keep it up, just groping his twitching leg as he tries to hold his moans in so he can answer you. “C-cum, habría tanto semen.” His hips start thrusting off the bed, barely noticeable.

(“C-cum. there would be so much cum.”)

“Yeah? You’d cum so much for me, Miggy?” You move from your spot, throwing your leg over him, straddling his thighs as you begin to palm his dick. His eyes roll back into his head as moans rip from his throat. He quickly grabs your wrist, roughly, stopping all your movements. His head raises to look at you. 

“I’m- I’m a bit… nervous, cariño. It would be a lot for me. I- No one has ever seen me like that. I’m only like this for you, I- can’t help it." His eyebrows furrow, and he huffs at a breath, like he's angry at himself. "I don’t want you to think it’s… extraño, anormal, or that I’m- I don’t know.” You can see the genuine concern on his face, and the fear in his voice as he anxiously rambles. 

("... strange, abnormal,")

“Miguel…” He whines at how you say his name, you smile brightly and fondly at the sound. “I love you. In a way I didn’t even know was possible. I’m never going to think you’re-  like, weird or something. At least not in a bad way. I-” You sigh gently and look into his eyes, you wrench your hand out of his grip and place it on his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss that he whimpers into. You pull away and give him the most serious look you can manage. “We don’t have to if you’re too nervous but if you’re worried about what I’ll think? Please don’t.”

He holds your gaze, considering your words for a moment. “But there’s mucho, cariño. No importa lo que yo haga. When- whenever I think of you, there’s… so much.” He tries to express his concern but you really don’t understand.

("No matter what I do.")

“Miguel.. That just- That just turns me on even more I- I don’t see why that’s a bad thing.” You speak honestly, watching his face shift into a mix of pleasure and confusion as his head falls back again. His hips press into the air, his legs spread, opening himself up for you as a pathetic “Por favor” falls from his lips. 

You spring into action immediately. You pull his pants low enough for his cock to fly out, instantly standing straight, hitting and staining his shirt. A hiss falls from his lips as you wrap your hand around him, and his head comes up to watch you. His eyes are watery as they stare at your little hand around his huge cock. You’re watching him, you don’t move yet, you can see him taking in every detail, committing the scene to memory before meeting your eyes. 

“Ready?” You ask him with a devious smile on your face. He nods vigorously, “Sí, estoy... estoy tan lista, cariño. Por favor.”

(“Yes, I'm... I'm so ready, honey. Please.”)

You run your hand up his cock, swirling around the head before meeting the base again. His reaction is instant and extreme. His hands leave your hips for the bed as his claws rip into the sheet. His body is already shaking as tense, short, and quick moans fall from his lips. All his muscles are pulled tight as you slowly run your hand over him. His eyes are wide, staring at your hands as they pleasure him. 

You’re mesmerized by his cock, red, hot, and pulsing in your hand as you stroke him. Pre-cum is spilling from his slit at a consistent pace, making him all wet and sloppy. You hear his head hit the headboard again as his moans grow more unrestrained, shouting out into the open air. “I- I-’m not- Can’t” He lets out a frustrated whine that morphs into a genuine moan before he tries to speak again. “No voy a durar. Joder, tus manos son el paraíso, cariño. No voy a durar mucho, no puedo-”

(“I’m not gonna last. Fuck, your hands are heaven, honey. I won't last long, I can't-”)

You can’t understand the words but based on how frantically he says them, the way his hips have started thrusting up into your hand gently and the way his legs are spreading themselves wider underneath you are good clues. “You’re gonna cum, Miggy?” You finally look away from his saturated cock to observe him. His face is flushed, as he nods at you desperately. He tries to moan your name at you but he can’t form the syllables. You love it. Seeing him like this, wet and aching for you. This is definitely going to become a daily thing. 

“Yeah? You promised me a lot, hermoso. I want it all. Give it to me, baby.” He fully shouts your name at the Spanish pet name. He grunts pathetically as he lifts his hand from the bed, willing his claws to retract so he can touch you. His hand squeezes your hip desperately, shaking as his moans quickly rise in pitch and volume. Your eyes are focused back on his erratically twitching cock, you don’t see his head lift to look at you.

He’s cumming the moment he can see your face. 

You stroke him as fast as you can, listening to his breathy sob as his cock shoots out heavy ropes of cum. He’s watching your face, trying to gauge your reaction through his cloudy eyes. You’re watching his cock in awe, his cum runs over your hand, coating your fist as you jerk him through it. He’s nothing but a bundle of gasps, moans, and sobs as his cock spurts out a whole new load. He watches your face as it morphs from disbelief to burning arousal, your breathing speeds up the longer he cums. He can hear whines start to slip out of you as his hips jerk into your hand. You tear your eyes away from the cum pooling around and coating his cock just in time to see his eyes shift from you to the back of his head. He lets out one last drawn-out wail before his hips rest back on the bed. His cock begins to soften, spurting out tiny ropes as you stroke him softly, helping him down. You try to get the raging fire in your stomach and the flood between your legs under control before getting up for a towel. He was right. There was so much.

You wipe him down as he whines and mumbles deliriously until you hear a little sob and he reaches out for you. You throw the towel to a corner of the room as he pulls you into his chest. He whispers what sounds like thanks and praise into your hair as you kiss his chest. 

“Gracias, cariño. Eso- eso se sintió tan bien, te sentiste tan bien. Te amo.” You giggle at him gently. “You’re welcome and I love you too, baby. You know I can’t understand most of what you said, right?” You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle before he speaks again. “I- I know, it's just… El inglés se me hace difícil. Yo olvido. I- I’m” He laughs at himself. “You get my head all mixed up, cariño.” 

(“Thank you love. That- that felt so good, you felt so good. I love you.”)

(“English is difficult for me. I forget”)

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Oh really?” You say in a playful tone as he chuckles at you. You turn and pull him in, his lips just inches from yours. “Me encanta eso.” You had to pull all your Spanish I classes together to figure that sentence out but the reward is worth it. Miguel’s eyes widen and he gasps before smashing his face into yours, you can feel his wide smile against your lips as he kisses you and you’ve never felt happier. 

(‘I love that.”)

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara spider man #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 miguel o'hara #2099 #sm 2099 #miguel 2099 #marvel 2099 #miguel o hara #astv miguel #miguel atsv #luvrxfics #luvrxsmut

[euaphoric]

𝟎𝟏. 🥛 ✶𓏲ּ “ i want to sew all my love into you ” — [ 정국이 ]

he was comfort, security, and need, all in one. it had a name; home <3

pairing ◞⁺⊹ husband!jk x wife!reader genre ◞⁺⊹ married/domestic au, pwp, slight age difference (jk is older by 5 years)

warnings ◞⁺⊹ insane tooth-rotting fluff bc i’m in need of high dopamine levels, cute n soft smut, you’re a clingy wifey, minor mentions of anxious/sad thoughts, o/c is kinda whiny and hella attention/touch-starved, o/c just misses her bby fr, daddy kink, major impreg kink, foreplay, they get all sentimental n mushy gushy at the end agghhh, aftercare bc koo is the literal definition of the perfect husband ^_^ wc ◞⁺⊹ 4.6k

音楽 — eyes locked, hands locked by rv

i’m vv excited to be back and writing again, i missed it sm ;(( i did this poll i few days ago and this idea won but i’ve decided to write them all so this is the first of three !! (〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ+°

summer days grew humid, each was hotter than the last. though it isn’t your least favorite season, you prefer to spend most of your time indoors as the heat often makes you feel faint and the air can be suffocating. usually these lazy, torrid afternoons were shared with your lovely husband, either you two would be laid up on the sofa or in bed watching your favorite shows/movies but today went a little off schedule.

you were all alone in your bedroom, feeling a bit sulky as your husband wasn’t around to tend to your needs or give you any affection. it’s not jungkook’s fault though; he’s been toiled away since this morning, offering to help your parents move and rearrange some of the new furniture that arrived today. you decided to stay at your family beach house this summer for a change of scenery, you hadn’t been here since you were seventeen, let alone seen your parents in person since last year. spending some quality time together has been long overdue and you couldn’t be any happier about it.

both your parents absolutely adore jungkook, they thought he was the sweetest, kindest, most generous person they’ve ever met— which says a lot considering they’ve never been a fan of anyone you dated previously. when you introduced him to them a few years ago, they had slightly pre-judged him based off his outward appearance, assuming that he wouldn’t be the type to take relationships seriously or even want to settle down and get married someday. but not even hours later their perceptions of him changed drastically, your parents could tell that he was a genuine soul who loved you unconditionally and would do absolutely anything for you.

that very same day, your mom spoke with you privately to express her virtuous first impressions, saying how much she loves him already and this is who you should’ve been dating from the start. your parents had extremely high standards for your future partner, especially your mom— but jungkook exceeded every single one of their expectations, checking all the boxes off their list. “i can tell just by the glint in his eyes whenever he looks at you… he’s more than in love, he’s infatuated. the way he talks about you as if you’re the most wonderful thing to have ever came into his life— he’s definitely going to be the one you’ll marry.” your mom gets all teary eyed as she spoke those last few words, picturing her one and only daughter all grown up, in a beautiful wedding dress, finally getting to see you live your happily ever after.

not even a couple months after graduating from uni you got engaged to the love of your life, proudly getting your degree you worked your ass off for and becoming a soon to be wife. you had to move across the country for a job offer of a lifetime but it was worth it, jungkook was beyond supportive in any decision you made and was there with you every step of the way, holding your hand through it all.

shortly after moving, you two got married and the rest was history, it was stressful dealing with so many life changing events all within a span of such a short time but you somehow managed. had it not been for jungkook’s constant encouragement and willingness to work/talk things out, you would’ve been a complete trainwreck. he was the balance you needed to keep yourself afloat, you felt so lucky, more than blessed to have a caring, understanding man like him.

the more you daydream about him, the more you wished he was holding you right now. you’re feeling lonely, so empty, and a little sad, his absence fills your mind with restless thoughts, hoping that he’ll come to your rescue soon enough. before jungkook, you were highly independent, never needed anyone to take care of you because you did everything for yourself; he never gave up on gaining your trust and has shown time and time again how dependable he is. you’ll forever admire how much effort he’s put into getting to know you over the years, that no one’s ever came close to making you feel the way he does— so high as if you’re soaring through the sky, living in heaven on earth.

he was the main provider of the household, you didn’t have to worry about anything nor lift a finger, all you did was focus on your career. you had a worry free lifestyle, the perfect job, perfect husband, what was there to possibly complain about? most aren’t so fortunate to be in your position so you never took any of it for granted. you love him more than anything in this world, you couldn’t stand to be away from him for another minute, you miss your hubby so much :( you craved his presence near you, needing him around you physically, wanting his soothing touch to ease your mind.

you wanna feel his sunkissed skin against yours, his warmth, the way his scent clouds your senses as he trails kisses down the curve of your neck, tangling your fingers in his dark, wispy hair. you want to lay your head on his broadened chest while snuggling up into him, hearing the gentle sounds of his heartbeat, intertwining your small hands with his large ones. you desire for him to kiss you everywhere, leaving no surface of you going untouched, pinning your body down between him and the mattress, like a flower pressed into the pages of a book and all that’s written is his name over and over. so many different scenarios play in your head as a means to pass the time, but they can only keep you sane for so long.

you’ve grown desperate for him at this point, finally coming out of your room to see what he might be up to now, searching the entirety of the house. you ended up finding him downstairs in the living room with your mom right beside as verbal assistance, not only did he lift and move most of the furniture but now he’s helping to mount up the new TV without even breaking a sweat in the process. was there anything he couldn’t do? probably not, he was a man of endless talents. your dad was sent out to go grocery shopping so your husband was pretty much doing everything on his own while your mom simply watches in amusement.

she was yet again impressed by your husband’s handy work, “wow jungkook, you’re really strong!” he was indeed. now you’re getting flashbacks to when he’d manhandle you and lift your body with ease in one swift motion to switch positions. his hands needed to be all over you right this second or else you’ll simply die of attention starvation. “mom, are you gonna keep him busy all day? ‘m getting really boreddd.” you childishly whine as if you weren’t a fully grown, married adult. to be fair though, it’s been hours since you’ve seen him and as much as you wanted to give him some space to help out around the house, you still had your needs to. the need in question being him in your bed, immediately.

“why don’t you go sit by the pool or something? you’ve been cooped up in that room since this morning, get some fresh air!” your mom suggests an alternative to wait but you shook your head in an instant, “nuh uh, too hot, i’ll melt like an ice cream cone!” you’d rather stay locked inside your air conditioned room than having to deal with the searing hot sun baking you well done at 450 degrees. “i’m almost done sweetheart, promise.” jungkook quickly reassures before hammering one of the nails into the wall, the way his veins would protrude through his arms as he repeats the action made you mindlessly clench your thighs together. he could make anything look insanely hot, it was almost unfair.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

after another twenty minutes or so he was finally done and now free to go, thrilled to have him all to yourself once again. you practically yanked his arm off as you led him up the staircase but your mom had one more thing to say, “will you be helping us tonight with dinner? i’m making your favorite!” he turns for a second to answer, “uh- yes of course !” that enthusiastic, bunny-like smile of his that you’ve grown to love for so long never fails to make you melt, just so effortlessly pretty without even trying.

but now you realize that you only have a limited amount of time with him, great… you’ll have to wait even longer to have him exactly as you’ve imagined. there’s only so much pent up sexual frustration you can take, you’ve been patient for almost eight hours. that’s probably the longest you two might’ve gone without having sex— okay maybe that’s an exaggeration but you do have a very active sex life with your husband, you try to do it at least twice a day and if you’re both feeling a little friskier it can sometimes go up to 4-5 times~.

your sex drive used to be quite low, never really seeing it as a huge necessity for you— until you met jungkook, of course. there was an immediate sexual attraction that you felt towards him, you’ve never felt so drawn to anyone before, he was irresistible. you’ve had some internal issues with your performance in the bedroom, it took a lot for you to reach your peak but could never get yourself to finish (unless you did it yourself) but with jungkook? that’s a whole different ballgame. you could simply cream in your panties just from kissing those luscious lips of his, he ignites a fire in you that’ll never wither into ashes.

once the door to your room was closed, both his hands found purchase around your waist, caging you into him and pulling you in for a deep kiss, melting right into his hold. your bodies flowing with pure lust and greed for him, not even thinking twice as your hand travels down lower to palm him through his sweats. he let out a breathy chuckle from your sudden actions once he pulled away, “someone’s feelin’ kinda slutty tonight.” he teased, which you took no offense since that’s just your collective humor.

“mhmm, ‘m only the biggest slut for you. now stop neglecting your wifey and gimme all your love.” since he hasn’t been giving you much attention all day you were acting a bit whiny about it, jungkook didn’t like that word though, neglect? that just wasn’t something in his vocabulary when it came to you. “huh? don’t ever say that again, you know i’d never purposefully neglect you, ever.” he made sure to emphasize that, he knows you weren’t being serious but it does hurt a little to know you may secretly feel this way. he loves you and you can feel it without him even needing to say it, that’s how intense it is.

“it was just a joke koo… didn’t mean it like that.” you jut your lip into a tiny pout, leaning in to kiss him again but he turns away, denying you the void of what you wanted most. “a joke is supposed to be funny last time i checked.” he retorts before sneaking off to make a beeline towards the bed, confused when you don’t follow suit after him. “what’re you standing there for? get your little butt over here.” he impatiently demands, patting his lap for you to sit on top. you listen and make your way over to him, straddling his lap with both legs on either side of him as he brings you in closer. he wraps his arms around your waist again, tightly holding you in his grasp, your frame sinks right into his chest.

he locks his lips with yours, kissing you slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time; what’s the rush? you had the rest of the night at your disposal. needy hips languidly rock back and forth against his semi hard-on, the fabric of the pajamas shorts you wore were so thin you could feel his cock throbbing underneath. you audibly gasped when he brushes up against your weak spot, it feels amazing, your panties turned into a sticky puddle from the pleasure; moaning into the kiss as he inhales your sighs. you were more than hungry for him, you were ravenous— only the taste of him could quench your avid thirst. you’re already as close as you can be but you wish to be even closer, if it was impossible you’d crawl into his skin and fuse your bones together to become one, you’re so in love it sickens you.

“need you to touch me,” you whimper for more when his lips drew from yours momentarily, “please.”

jungkook loves seeing you like this, his pretty wife acting all hot and bothered just for him, but he’d lying if he said it wasn’t the same way for you too. “where baby ?” his warm breath against you leaves a shiver to your spine, his voice low and raspy. “everywhere.” you beg in desperation, “just wanna to feel you, need you so bad…” you continued to grind your core onto his clothed erection, becoming even whinier as time passes.

he smirks at that answer, knowing that he’s the only one that can have you in this way. “need you too baby,” his tone is nothing short of a whisper, lazily rutting his hips up to match the pace of your movement, “been thinkin’ about you all day, can’t wait to fuck this little pussy.” his middle and index finds your clit to rub through your pajamas, making you bite your lip so hard it’ll leave a bruise. you’re both so horny and desperate for each other like some hormonal teens, you’re about to explode from how sensitive you are, your whole body feels tingly.

“jungkook!” a familiar voice shouts from a distance, it was muffled but you know that was definitely your mom who just called for him. “come back downstairs, i think something’s wrong with the remote, it’s not working— help !” she sounded a bit overdramatic which is how she usually is most of the time. you groan in annoyance, getting even more frustrated that you had to stop, all you want is some private alone time with your husband but no, the universe said not today! you really wanna curse your mom for being a total cock block right now .. -_-

๑ ๑ ๑

“i’m gonna put a baby in you someday.” your husband casually says while rubbing your stomach, his inked skin splayed across your bare form. “in this cute little tummy right here.” he points near your belly button, planting a small kiss to it. you two were finally alone once again and this time it was for good. after jungkook helped your mom figure out what was wrong with the remote (it wasn’t broken, she just forgot to put a new set of batteries in) and ate dinner with you and your parents, the night was bound to end like this.

this isn’t the first time he’s said something like this and it surely won’t be the last, but you burst into a giggle, “quit kidding around kook.” he’s always playing around but you can count on one hand how many times he’s actually finished inside you, since you’re not on birth control for health reasons you have to be extra careful to not end up getting pregnant. there’s been a handful of times where he’s had to run to the store and get you a morning after pill which you’d just hope for the best and leave it up to the universe. you have noticed that jungkook has been more vocal about wanting children lately, so maybe he’s hinting at finally taking the next step.

“and if i told you i wasn’t?” he shifts slightly, eyes flickering up to stare into your gaze. “would you let me paint your walls ? give you a baby so i can see my stunning wife bear our children?” the thought of you carrying his child pops into his head a lot, probably on an hourly basis— he’s more than ready to start a family, but he’s still not sure where you stand 100% on the idea. there was no pressure on his side, but it’s important to make sure you’re both on the same page.

your hands snake up to his chin, cupping it firmly, ready to make the final say once and for all. “yes koo, i’ll let you do anything to me. i trust you, i trust us.” that’s all you need to withstand through any obstacle(s), trust and trust alone. if that doesn’t exist, the foundation will be sure to crumble— disintegrating into nothing. you’ve never trusted someone as much as you do jungkook, he’s the reason you even get out of bed at times, makes you want to push yourself to become a better person. real love is the refusal to never give up on one another, even through the toughest, most ugliest moments.

what you’ve come to realize is that you have all of him and everything he’s promised to provide is all yours; his heart, his last name, his vow to stay by your side forever— through sickness and health. he’s given every single aspect of himself he has to offer, the only thing left that’s missing is a tiny addition that carries both you and jungkook’s DNA. you’re more than curious to see what the outcome will be, harboring no regrets inside. jungkook’s smile grew wider, feeling faint tears rim his eyes at the thought of you putting all your trust in him. you have no idea just how much that means to him.

his head lowers back to your torso, imprinting a trail of kisses, slowly making his way down further and further. your skin feels as if it’s on fire, boiling hot like the scorching summer heat. he took an ample amount of time to worship your body, leaving wet kisses to your inner thighs, “i’ve wanted this for so long…” he hums against your flesh, insides buzzing with raw passion and desire. “want to finally do this together.” he gently nibbles, a faint bite mark appears to which he repeats on the other side. “your tits are gonna get even bigger, more plump and so full of milk,” he continues, elated with so much enthusiasm, “that pregnancy glow will make you even more gorgeous.” he wasn’t saying all of this for nothing, he truly cannot wait to experience it all, how your belly will grow each month, all the random/weird food cravings you’ll get, and gracefully handle any sudden mood swings.

you were aching for him, you couldn’t even answer back, your heads reeling with too many thoughts— the thought of him stuffing you to the brim with his cock. you were topless but wanted him to take off the rest, wanted him to fuck you until your body physically shakes and you can’t think of anything but him being buried balls deep into your sousing cunt. you had to savour every last bit of this though, etch every little detail in your brain to replay as a supercut one day; remembering the time you two made love to conceive your first child.

jungkook’s slender digits move skillfully to hook around the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down along with your drenched panties. “it’s crazy to me how this is all mine,” he pauses to admire your glistening arousal, scooping it up with his one of his fingers to have a quick taste. saccharine. “i have the prettiest, sexiest, hottest wife in the whole fucking world.” he’ll never not compliment you, even when you’re old and gray he will always remain the same. “stopp~” you toy with your bottom lip, cheeks turning rosy at his constant sweet talk. then you become a pile of mush, simply too absorbed with pleasure as he sunk one of his digits into you, thrusting in and out slowly. “fuck.. feels s’good- please don’t stop.” you beg for this to never end, bidding all concept of time to vanish in hopes of it lasting infinitely.

“we’re going to create the most beautiful family,” he coos, licking a stripe to your clit, swiping up and down as he continued pumping his fingers in your wetness, “just you and me.” he only came up for air to say those last few lines, diving right back in to drink up your deliciousness. his tongue adds light pressure to your overly sensitive bud, making you twitch and subconsciously jolt up— his free hand forcibly brings your hips back down, locking you in place so you have nowhere to go— forced to take all that he gives you. paradise. that’s what this is. you’re already close to the edge, the broken moans that escaped your lips are like a soft ballad to his ears, cursing under your breath, panting, crying out his name repeatedly.

“ah! s’close… don’t stop, don’t stop..” you plea so pathetically, voice getting shakier as you reach your climax, his face was soaked, fucking drenched. he’ll willingly drown, submerge himself into the flood of you, no other place he’d rather be than between these perfect, plush thighs. he drives you into further insanity when his pace drew more rapid, finding the ultimate sweet spot. the lethal combination of his fingers and his tongue working to give you a mind blowing orgasm, all you could do was utter feeble, plaintive cries, latching onto his fluffy hair as you ride out your sudden high that’s stampeding into you full force. your body goes inert, limbs pliant beneath his embrace. “you did so good for me angel, m’so proud of you.” jungkook briefly pecks both your thighs, giving it a little smack once he comes back up to face you again.

he quickly discards the rest of his clothes, but everything’s moving in slow motion. his movements are frantic yet it still wasn’t quick enough, he needs to feel you so badly. his manhood throbs against your folds, sliding his shaft between the puffy, saturated lips, making such delightful sounds. “quit teasin’,” you whine, not in the mood for prolonging this anymore. he doesn’t say anything, just twisting a smile in response, but he’ll give you exactly what you want. who is he to deny his wife’s orders? so he finally enters you, filling you up little by little, inch by inch; and when he’s fully settled in, your walls clench around his length immediately. “never fails to amaze me how i fuck this little pussy on the daily but you’re still so fuckin’ tight… always squeezin’ me babe.” his breath hitched towards the end, already sounding so pussydrunk from the way you suck in the entirety of him.

your legs hook around each side of his waist, keening at the way his cock drives into you, slow but sensual, moving your hips to match his rhythm. “be good for daddy and wait for me. wanna cum together.” he husks, to which you obediently nod at his request. your jaw slacks open wide from his cock hitting your walls beautifully, each stroke he gave sent you to a further state of delirium. he picks up his speed a little more, his brain empty with no thoughts but this warm, dewy pussy swallowing him up, groaning as you leave scratches along his back. jungkook’s sweet compliments never stop, they only intensify. ‘you’re all mine, and i’m all yours baby’ ‘your face looks so pretty when it’s all fucked out’ ‘love fucking this perfect little cunt’ and ‘i love you so much, my angel baby.’ it brings you to the verge, strings of shattered moans evade your senses.

your hands greedily come up the sides of his face, pulling him in for a frenzied, yet passionate kiss caging him in just in case he has second thoughts, trapping him with no choice but to cum inside. “shit— keep going like that and you’re def getting pregnant tonight.” he groans against your lips, this only made you clench around him tighter, “please daddy- wan’ your cum, put your babies in me..” you want him to paint your walls white, milk him for all he’s worth and some. his strokes get sloppier as his high approaches, squeezing your thighs as he plunges deeper. it doesn’t take much longer for him to shoot a hefty in load inside, planting every bit of his seed as the waves of your second orgasm ripples through you. you’re both heavily panting and gasping for air, when he pulls out you’re left empty again, but at least you were stuffed with his hot cum. he looks down at the mess he’s made, sodden and creamy, picking up some that’s spilled out of your cunt to push back in. “we can’t let any go to waste, right ?” “mm… yea.” you bit your lip, still shaking, electricity flowing through your veins.

he topples over in exhaustion, way too tired to move. well, at least for now— he’ll be able to go again in another hour or so. “you’re going to be such an amazing mom,” he says while snuggling up in the crook of your neck, “remember the day i asked you out? i thought you were gonna say no.” that was random… but also jungkook is known for saying the most unexpected shit at the oddest times. “what ?” you were so confused, firstly this came out of nowhere but also why would he ever think that? it was basically love at first sight with each other. “wasn’t nearly as confident back then, i used to practice in the mirror how i’d do it.” he chuckles at those old memories, in hindsight none of it was necessary because he didn’t say any of the lines he rehearsed. defeated the whole purpose.

“since the day we first met i knew you were the girl i’d spend the rest of eternity with.” his fingers trace down your spine as he spoke, you’re so overfilled with joy that you could cry. you regret absolutely nothing, the only thing you do is all the other men who came before jungkook, all those losers who were wastes of time, but that journey has led you here and this is where you’ll stay for the rest of your life. it still feels like the honeymoon stage with him, a never ending blissful rollercoaster. “i want to sew all my love into you,” his hands danced around your skin, inhaling your natural scent, you feel so soft and smooth. “thread by thread, seam by seam, i’ll tether our intricate souls together.” you hummed to his words, he’s a romantic at heart just like you, he still writes occasional love letters to you and is always doing something to bring a smile to your face— whether it be coming home with your favorite candy, buying you flowers, or taking you out on cute, fun dates. every day is like a new surprise, never knowing what you’re gonna get when it comes to your husband’s spontaneity.

you’re both a little sticky, sweaty, and smell of nothing but pure sex. jungkook ends up carrying you all the way to the bathroom, deciding to run a nice, relaxing bath for the two of you. he adds your favorite lavender bubble bath, making the water extra bubbly and soapy for you which he knows you love. when you're both in the bathtub, your backs facing him as he uses a pink loofah to clean you up, embedding gentle kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders as he does it. he held you for what seemed like forever, just admiring each other’s company while under the water, almost falling asleep right in his arms.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

let’s make the circle

that’s inside of us.

every day it rotates like that,

color me ☆ 彡

am trying to write longer stufff, i enjoyed writing this story a lot, lmk what you think . ! ! !

to see more chaos click here (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ♡♡♡ (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jjk smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #reader x astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #my fic #bg3 fic #fanfic #vampire

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #my fics #your honor im obsessed with him

[lovelettersfromluna]

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[auras-moonstone]

how you get the girl — ethan landry

word count: 3,654

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: because of ethan’s reputation as a man-whore, y/n doesn’t believe he wants a serious relationship with her. so, ethan and chad make a list so that he can get the girl.

warnings: fluff.

author’s note: i’ve been reading lots of hockey rom-coms, so i needed to write about it. i’m obsessed with ethan as a hockey player😫

ETHAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW BADLY HIS ACTIONS WOULD COME BACK IN THE FUTURE TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS. Being captain of the Blackmore hockey team and certified pretty boy, girls were practically—and quite literally sometimes—throwing themselves at him, and he would lie if he said he didn’t love the attention. It would be easier and shorter to name the girls he hadn’t hooked up with than naming the ones he had. That gained him the reputation of being a playboy, and he didn’t mind being called that, to be completely honest. Or at least, he didn’t until Y/N came into his life.

She was Tara’s best friend, and since said girl started dating Ethan’s best friend, Chad, the four of them began spending lots of time together. At first, the boy flirted with Y/N because hitting on attractive girls was like second nature to him, but then he got to know her better and the unexpected thing happened—Ethan was swept off his feet. But his reputation was his karma, and Y/N didn’t think he was being serious with her. She would laugh and brush it off because no matter how gorgeous Ethan was, playboys weren’t Y/N’s type, so she would decline every attempt of him to make her go out with him.

“Why not? Just one date” Ethan said on his fifth attempt of the day. They were on the Blackmore hockey rink, and instead of using his break to drink water and rest, Ethan went to talk to Y/N.

“Exactly. You want just one date, get me inside your bed and tomorrow you’ll move onto some other girl. I really like you” she said, and before he could smirk in victory she added. “But why ruin the friendship we have for sex? Besides, one night stands aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Then let’s make it an every day thing” Ethan said.

“Nice try, Eth. We know you don’t do repeats” she stated.

“I could!” he argued. “And besides, I’m not asking for sex—I mean, at the end of the date, if you want to, I’m not gonna reject the offer—, I’m done with hook ups, I want something more.”

Y/N laughed “Okay, try it, but not with me. I’m sorry, Eth”

The girl stood up and made her way towards the exit of the rink, leaving a disappointed Ethan behind. She would lie if she said she didn’t want to try things with him, but the truth also was that she didn’t trust him when it came to relationships and she didn’t want to get her heart broken by him.

Chad got off the ice to find his best friend sitting on the bleachers, gaze fixed on the stairs, looking like a sad kicked puppy. It’s not a sight seen often, Ethan was usually an over-energetic puppy, always happy and with a smile on his face.

“Hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Y/N rejected me.” Ethan played with his hockey stick, not wanting to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen you like this after a rejection” Chad frowned.

“Well, not to brag, but it doesn’t usually happen.” he said, making Chad chuckle. “But it’s different this time. Y/N is not someone I want for one night, or for something casual. I want everything with her.”

“Wow” Chad took a breath, shocked by the confession. “And she said no?”

“She says she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship” Ethan said.

Chad scoffed “Why would that happen?”

“She doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not boyfriend material. I really am serious about her, Chad. I swear. I would never hurt her. I wish she could read my mind”

“Don’t you dare give up, then. Words aren’t enough, show her you really like her”

“How?”

Chad smirked. “Grab a pen and a napkin, we are going to make a list so you can get the girl.”

one: get her favourite coffee

ETHAN WOKE UP A BIT EARLIER THE FOLLOWING DAY TO GO TO Y/N’S FAVOURITE COFFEE SHOP AND GET HER ORDER. He convinced Tara to drag Y/N straight to class, not letting her get the coffee, and to text him once they were in the classroom. Once he got the text, Ethan entered the class, all eyes on him, and set the cup in front of Y/N with an adorable grin.

“Good morning. You look gorgeous as always” he kissed her cheek and simply left the room.

Y/N stared at the drink completely astonished, ignoring the glares coming from the female population and the smirk her best friend was giving her. There was something scribbled with black sharpie—it was simple, but it made her stomach combust. Have a great day, beautiful! Love, Ethan. And three hearts poorly made—which she thought was utterly adorable—next to his name.

“You got him in a leash” Tara laughed.

“Don’t be silly, we know what he wants” Y/N brushed it off.

“Come on, Ethan doesn’t do romantic stuff for anyone, not even to get laid.”

“It’s just one coffee, Tara. Let’s not be dramatic.”

But Tara knew, and Y/N too, that the little gesture was a lot when it came to Ethan Landry. Yet, a coffee cup wasn’t enough to gain the girl’s trust.

two: show her you’re interested in her interests

WHAT IS THE THING Y/N ENJOYED THE MOST? EASY: BOOKS. Ethan knew exactly which one he should start with. In fact, he had bought it the first time Y/N mentioned it. He didn’t know what it was about, but he was sure it was a rom-com that referenced other rom-com movies.

“Ethan!” Chad said in a loud voice, startling his friend. Ethan looked up to find his best friend, Tara and Y/N staring at him. The latter had her mouth wide open.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly. He had been so immersed in the book he hadn’t heard them arrive.

“We called your name countless times, man.” Chad laughed.

“Sorry” Ethan closed the book and looked at Y/N. “Um, I may have a man-crush on Wes Bennett.”

Y/N chuckled, sitting in front of him and ignoring the way her heart was beating rapidly. She wanted to take a picture of Ethan with the book and set it as her lock screen “Welcome to the club.”

“I can’t stand it anymore, I need them to kiss. I need Wes to get the girl” he groaned.

A grin took over her features “Which part are you at?”

“They are going to hang out at Michael’s house” Ethan replied, which made her smile wider. “What’s that smile for? Oh god, what is going to happen?”

“I’m not going to spoil it! Just want to say… buckle up”

“You can’t say that! I can’t continue reading until tomorrow, I have a test!” Ethan panicked.

“Look at you, invested in a rom-com” Chad bumped his shoulder.

“I just wanted to see if it lived up to Y/N’s hype” Ethan said, making her turn into a blushing mess. “It does.”

“You aren’t even finished” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Did you know there’s a sequel coming? And its playlist isn’t very optimistic”

“What?! You just ruined my day. I don’t want to read it anymore” he crossed his arms.

Wanting to mess with him, Tara grabbed the book. “So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ she stopped talking when the boy took the book from her hands.

“Yes, I would mind”

“Wait, are you annotating it?” Y/N said when she saw the colourful post-its.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Anyways, I have to go to class, see you later at practice?”

“See you” Chad said. Before leaving, Ethan kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“What is going on with him?” Y/N asked.

“Showing you he’s serious about you. What are you waiting for, Y/N/N? I thought you liked him” Chad said.

“I do, a lot. But I’m not sure I’m really what he wants. What if he’s just interested because I’m the only girl who has rejected him? What if I finally say yes and then that interest is gone? How am I supposed to recover from that?”

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to call him mine, Chad. Trust me. But being just another girl on his list would kill me. I don’t want to lose him, okay? I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship.”

three: woo her with your hockey skills.

WHEN PRACTICE WAS OVER AND CHAD AND ETHAN DIDN’T LEAVE THE RINK, Y/N WAS CONFUSED. The boys skated towards the bleachers Tara and her were sitting in and smirked at them. Chad grabbed a bag from a corner and gave it to them.

“Put the skates on, ladies”

Y/N wanted to laugh when Ethan grabbed her hands and guided her around the ice, but she thought it was so cute that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she knew how to skate perfectly well.

“Okay, I think you’re ready to do it on your own, but go slowly” Ethan said as he finished explaining her how to slide in the ice.

“Losers don’t do it slowly, Landry.” Y/N scoffed.

“You will hurt yourself, Y/N/N. Don’t be stubborn, it’s dangerous.” Ethan sighed.

Y/N smirked “Oh yeah?” she skated flawlessly towards a corner, and came back with a winning smile. She even did a little spin to show off.

“H-how?” he asked breathlessly, frozen in place with a look of shock.

“Took skating classes when I was little” she explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I was blabbering instructions like a fool”

Y/N shrugged “I couldn’t, you looked so excited”

“You’re evil” he shook his head as he let out the cutest laugh Y/N had ever heard. God, her infuriation was just getting worse with every little action he did. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to contain herself. She needed him to stop.

So her face turned serious “Ethan…”

Ethan fluttered his eyes close and then looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I know what you’re going to say. Just hear me out. I know that my reputation is horrible, and I get why you don’t trust me. But I have never been more serious about something the way I am about you. I really wish I could erase every hook up, but I can’t and I don’t want my past to define my future. I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t been with anyone since I fell for you. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I fell for you. I want to keep showing you how much I like you.”

Y/N was speechless. He had known Ethan long enough to know he was being serious and completely honest with his words. Maybe she had judged him too much, maybe he had truly changed. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a girl in ages. Maybe diving into a relationship wasn’t the safest option, but it was worth the try.

four: get her flowers

DURING HER LUNCH BREAK, Y/N WAS SURPRISED BY THE HOCKEY PLAYER, who on one hand was holding red tulips and on the other one food. Like always, his presence brought attention and whispers, but none of them cared. Something had shifted between them since that afternoon at the rink, and they both could feel it.

“Thank you, Eth” she smiled gratefully. “You know, I had a feeling you would bring me lunch, so instead of bringing mine, I brought yours. I owe you flowers, though.”

“Thanks” he laughed. “Do you like them?”

“They are beautiful” she nodded, her cheeks the same colour as her flowers.

“When you get home, you should look for the meaning of red tulips” he winked.

For the rest of the day, Y/N had been in a haze. Every time Ethan crossed her mind, blush appeared on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lifted up.

“My god, was I that annoying when Chad and I started talking?” Tara asked when they entered their dorm.

“Yes, you were, T.” Y/N chuckled, remembering her best friend’s love-sick smile every time Chad texted her. “You still are, by the way.”

“Anyways, I love seeing you like this. And I’m glad you’re willing to give Ethan a chance.”

“Me too. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared that he’ll get bored of me, but I’m really determined to risk it.”

“He’s not going to get bored of you, Y/N/N. He doesn’t like you because he’s into the whole ‘Only girl who had ever rejected him’ thing. He’s into you because you don’t see him only as a hot hockey player, but you also see how sweet and caring he is. You’re not interested in using him to become popular, you see that he is much more than his popularity. And that is why he likes you.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for rejecting him multiple times.” Y/N slumped to the couch.

Tara laughed “Don’t. It’s understandable why you were cautious with your feelings. He knows that he isn’t a saint. By the way, did you know that Chad and him made this list with things to do to win you over?”

“Really?” Y/N laughed. “That makes sense, he’s being really sweet this week. Well, more than usual, because he’s always super sweet.”

“I found it on their fridge, they are so silly. It’s called ‘Ethan and Chad’s infallible list on how to get the girl’. I took a picture”

Y/N took Tara’s phone and laughed at the list. There were a couple of items crossed out and with a tick, and the one that said ‘Woo her with your hockey skills’ had a little note to the side that said ‘Backfired. My girl is a skating genius, made me look like a fool’, which made her laugh. Then, on the ‘Give her flowers’ there was an explanation note that said ‘My pick: red tulips. Means declaration of love’.

“Fucking hell, he’s so… ugh! I really want to kiss him”

“Lucky for you, that’s item six” Tara said over her shoulder.

“The thought of them brainstorming and writing this down is adorable” Y/N laughed.

“It really is” Tara nodded. “You should wear Ethan’s jersey to the game tomorrow. You don’t know how many times he told us he has dreamt about it.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. Ethan had shown her how much he liked her, and she thought it was time to show him how much she liked him. “You know? That’s an excellent idea.”

[💖]

five: publicly state you’re only into her.

ETHAN KNEW THE BEST TIME TO EXECUTE ITEM FIVE WOULD BE THE NIGHT OF THE GAME. The ideal scenario would be to get that puck on the net and dedicate it to Y/N, and if he wasn’t that lucky, he would settle with blowing kisses and winks at her. Though when he went out on the ice rink and he caught sight of her, his mind went blank, his body stopped working for a couple of seconds and if it weren’t for Chad steadying him, he would’ve collapsed to the ice.

He quickly skated towards her seat, which was in the first row, right behind the glass. “Beautiful, you can’t just come here in my jersey without any warnings. You want me to have a heart attack?”

A sweet laugh bursted out of her “Sorry. Red tulips are your way of declaring your love, I thought wearing your jersey could be mine.”

Ethan’s breath hitched “Um, I’m about to jump up this glass so that I can kiss you.”

The girl shook her head and laughed “After the game, pretty boy. If you win, you might get an extra reward.”

And hell if those words didn’t encourage Ethan to play his best. The game was brutal, both teams were acing it and the match was about to end in a tie, until Ethan scored the winning goal a few seconds before time was over. The Blackmore bleachers erupted in screams of triumph, and the players united for a group hug.

Tara and Y/N instantly went looking for their boys. The last one scowled as she saw a puck bunny making sexy eyes at Ethan and she clung to his arm. The boy couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, only for the girl to find another way of touching him.

“You have been acting so hard to get lately. Don’t you think a winner deserves a kiss?” Y/N heard the girl say.

“You’re absolutely right. Now, back away so I can kiss the hell out of him.” Y/N said, throwing daggers at the girl, who looked at her in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “And can’t you get a hint? He’s uncomfortable.”

Ethan gaped at her. She had never looked so hot—standing there with his number on the back of the jersey that fitted her like a dress, knee-length boots that weirdly turned him on, and with a scowl on her face as she got all territorial on him.

“And who are you?” the puck bunny scanned her up and down with a frown.

“His girlfriend. Now, can you leave? I have to congratulate my man” she said harshly. As soon as she said that, Ethan was sure he was about to drop onto his knees and let her do whatever she wanted to him.

“Girlfriend?” Ethan smirked as the puck bunny left. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good” Y/N smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, are you ready to cross out items five and six? You know, one bird two stones.”

“Hell yes”

Their lips moved hungrily, and the kiss was way too heated and inappropriate considering their surroundings. But they couldn’t stop it, their desire was diesel and they had been playing with fire for months.

“I promised you a reward if you won, right?” Y/N said against his lips.

“Isn’t this the reward? This is more than I could’ve asked for. You, finally being my girlfriend and kissing me while wearing my jersey.” his eyes were dark and lips swollen. His beauty was out of this world.

“You scored the winning goal, babe. You deserve a special reward” she licked her lips. “Let’s go to your car.”

He nodded eagerly, and as they reached the car, he dared to ask “What do you have in mind?”

She opened the back door. “One kiss isn’t enough. How much time do you have until you have to go to the bar with the guys?”

“What guys? What bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he acted clueless and she let out a giggle. “In fifteen, but they’ll survive if I arrive a bit late. I want to be with my girl for a while.”

“Okay, then get in the car so we can make out.” Y/N bursted out laughing as Ethan carelessly threw himself on the backseat of his car. “You need to learn about the art of subtlety, Eth.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the girl who attacked me in the middle of the arena.” he said grabbing her waist to guide her to his lap.

“Attack you? That’s not what I did” she scoffed.

“Yes you did. You attacked me with a kiss and then you led me to my car to corrupt me” Ethan said in a fake innocent tone.

“Corrupting the former man-whore?” Y/N arched an eyebrow.

Ethan’s eyes darkened “You’re right. Maybe I am the one corrupting you. I mean, you couldn’t even wait for us to get home to attack me again?”

“You’re insufferable. You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“I am hot?”

Y/N nodded, looking at him. His muscled arms were spread on the top of the seats, grin plastered on his face and cheeks still rosy from the cold temperature of the arena.

“The hottest. And the best thing? That you’re mine.”

“Just yours, love.” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead on hers.

“That list of yours is pretty… infallible, right?” Y/N joked.

“I can’t believe you know about the list” Ethan hid his face on her neck.

“You sticked it on the fridge and Tara took a picture” Y/N replied.

“Fucking Chad” Ethan groaned. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, it worked, right? You got the girl.”

“Yes, I did” he smiled hugging her tightly. “Should I do one on how to keep the girl?”

Y/N laughed “I don’t think you need that. Rumour has it, she’s totally in love with you.”

“Oh yeah? Lucky me, because I’m totally in love with her too.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry angst #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jackchampion #jack champion fanfic

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading &lt;3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations-014

If you wanna date someone who’s basically impossible to get to know date a Scorpio moon. I find they really don’t trust anyone. Not even close friends that have known them for years. Any sign of betrayal even if it’s small will cause this sign to never tell you certain things again. You guys need to realize not everyone is trying to hurt you.

A lot of Scorpio Venus’s/mars grew up seeing a lot of jealousy & manipulation from relationship’s (mostly from family) they normally pick up from this and carries it to their relationships.

Libra placements will flirt with people they have no interest in for attention. They break a lot of hearts. They act like they aren’t aware they do it but they definitely are. Y’all can’t mess with ppls feeling like that 😕

Aquarius sun women are either really popular and social or really outcasted and antisocial

Aquarius moons can be really mean when people become too emotional around them. I believe tho ironically this is the most emotional Aquarius placement. They hate dealing with others emotions because their emotions are so deep themselves that dealing with other’s problems can become too overwhelming.

Pisces risings are so secretive about their romantic relationships (Libra in 8th house) most people never know who they’re dating or talking too. They prefer a private love life.

Aquarius Venus’s are fashion icons. They can make some of the weirdest pieces look so expensive

Sagittarius and Geminis are the most compatible pair of opposites imo. I’ve seen these signs stay together for soooo long

Leo moons have the least confidence out of all the leo placements I noticed. They are really sensitive and the smallest ounce of disapproval can break these people. Be gentle with them plz🥺

Virgo suns all look so clean, they also smell like heaven too (ESPECIALLY with a Leo Venus) they all give princess vibes.

People with a 12th house taurus value stability sooo much but can never seem to settle their restless nature. This is one of their biggest challenges (cuz of their Gemini rising)

Whatever element you lack in your chart you’re more likely to find people that have that element. Ex: if you lack water placements, you’ll be more attracted to water dominants because they give you what you lack in a way.

Capricorn risings usually hate their smiles, even if there’s nothing wrong with it. A lot feel like their smile ruins their face.

When you have a lot of 12th house placements people normally make assumptions about you that aren’t even close to who you actually are.

Pisces men are the most confusing in a relationship you never know if they actually like you or not. They are so charming and lovey but deep down it feels kinda fake?

Taurus mars work the best when they are working with their hands or they’re working in nature

Virgo mercury’s are amazing writers and usually love reading. Many can be successful novelists.

I feel like the least compatible compatible signs are Taurus and Virgo. I’ve seen the spark die so quick in these relationships and they normally stay together because it “works” practically. But I notice they get more irritated with each-other as time goes.

I notice men that have a lot of kids from different women have a Jupiter in their 5th house. Or just a lot of 5th house placements.

Venus in 5th housers tend to have more girls than boys. Their first child was probably a girl. Also indicates very attractive children.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

[f1version]

26 BIRTHDAY KISSES ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x gf!reader ( she/her )

summary: 26th birthday, 26 pictures of you and Charles kissing. A kiss for each year.

notes: i’m back from my birthday trip!! i wrote this birthday special in like 30 minutes and it’s still charles’ birthday in a couple of places so… i’m not exactly late! enjoy <3

26 KISSES: A GALLERY

By your beautiful girlfriend, in collaboration with a lot of people but mainly Joris and ourselves.

1. DRUNK DANCING: A month after we got together, we were at Arthur’s 18th birthday. We got drunk, singing and dancing to the worst playlist in existence (Lorenzo’s) and, somehow, Arthur got to capture this moment I barely even remember.

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2018

2. AUGUST 2019: Summer break, so sweet so loving. You made me promise that if you jumped off first, I would jump too. It took me fifteen minutes to follow after you. Also your kisses were incredibly salty.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2019

3. THE MONZA INCIDENT: I had red lipstick the night you won in Monza, you told me it looked pretty, I asked you to kiss me, you did. Fast forward 8 minutes it was all smudged over your lips, you were 10 minutes late to the post-race conference, and Sylvia almost banned me that night. (I’m still kind of banned from your driver’s room)

Taken by Charles Leclerc, 2019

4. UNDER THE COVERS: 2020, what a crazy year. This one was taken the day we decided to finish moving in together. You were so excited, wanted everything to be perfect. Today I can say it is.

Taken by Me, 2020

5. WORDS: We were spending Christmas by ourselves, we face-timed our families, had dinner and watched movies. You gifted me three beautiful words I, of course, said back… and we also got a puppy!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2020

6. OCEAN BREZEE: Just a small escapade to take a breath. You were so cuddly that day, Joris was so done with you (he still took the pic though)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

7. CUTE OR HOT: I just wanted a cute morning selfie but, because of you, we ended up in a…promising mood. It was intense that’s all I have to say!

Taken by Me, 2021

8. KISS KISS KISS: 24th birthday, 24 kisses. This kind of became a tradition, let me know if you still want them this year!

Taken by Me, 2021

9. DRUNK AF: How did we got so drunk? Ask Pierre, he was the one hosting. Either way we got another amazing photo of us drunk-kissing!!!

Taken by Pierre Gasly, 2021

10. UNDER THE SEA: I’m just going to say that you and your ‘photo ideas 📸’ folder are attached by the hip. I personally love this one (even if it took half an hour to take)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

11. NEW YORK: Thought you could scape this one? Never! Arthur and I didn’t spend a week listening to your complaining for nothing, babe. You must admit that this kiss was magical, everything was so pretty that day. And then it started snowing!

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2021

12. EXPOSED: Remember how our amazing soft launch got ruined by our trip to Ibiza? Well, here it is, the image we couldn’t stop laughing at when it came out, we really thought we were sneaky.

Taken by unknown, 2022

13. HARD LAUNCH: A week later we were kissing on live TV. It’s one of my favorite memories, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Taken by F1 TV, 2022

14. BACK KISSES: Just a picture of the morning after I learned that you can convince anyone, even the CEO of Ferrari, to allow you to leave sponsor events early. I really don’t know if you knew those kisses were there, but I woke up to this, took a picture and then left you with them until we took a shower.

Taken by Me, 2022

15. SPONSORED BY AIRMAX: That time your team forgot to book us a flight and you had to ask Lando to ask Daniel to ask Max if we could go back to Monaco with them. I’ve never seen Max talk so much, Daniel laugh so loud or Lando taking so many pictures. He even asked to take one of us, here it is:

Taken by Lando Norris, 2022

16. SIXTEEN: I bet you thought this one would have something to do with racing. Number 16. Sorry to disappoint but it’s our beautiful puppy…Sixteen! I’m not gonna lie, I still hate you for persuading me into that name. Anyways if you kiss the dog you kiss the mom!!

Taken by Me, 2022

17. 25 KISSES: Again, tell me if you want those 26 kisses this year. Look at us last year!

Taken by Me, 2022

18. NEW YEAR, SAME LOVE: Sometimes the world feels unreal when I’m with you, this was one of those days. I felt in another reality, the world slowed down, it was just you and me. I remember thinking “I fell in love with the right person” and then you kissed me.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2022

19. BLACK SUIT: Remember when your fans thanked me for your “new” outfits? They repeated it was the girlfriend effect, you couldn’t stop talking about how stylish you are with or without me!

Taken by Me, 2023

20. PHOTOSHOOT: You got Joris to take these shots just because you wanted a new wallpaper. I thought it was silly, until one day all of them were hanging around our home. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Charlie.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

21. FIVE STAR CHEFS: Not much to say, just sorry for being so distracting and thank you for the amazing (stolen from Ferrari) dinner babe!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2023

22. RED LIGHTS: This year’s addition to our drunk-kissing collection. I remember you drowning shots with Carlos and Pierre, asking me to dance with you, absolutely failing at that, and then kissing me. After that there’s blurry ferrari red, giggles and a hot bath.

Taken by Andrea Ferrari, 2023

23. LAZY IN BED: Wonderful lazy days by the ocean, that’s how we spent the summer break. That morning in particular you didn’t want to get up, basically gluing me to bed. We got up at 1pm.

Taken by Me, 2023

24. JUST ONE QUESTION: Can I drive the purosangue now? Please please please

Taken by Me, 2023

20. LOVER: This day I woke up thinking about those dreams we talk about all the time, you even remembered me a couple of them throughout the day. Charlie, I do want to do this for the rest of our lives, never forget it <3

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2023

26. TWENTY-SIX: We are just 26 but I hope our story keeps on writing itself. I love you, these have been the happiest 6 years of my life. Happy birthday bébé ❤️

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

#‎ “ ࣭⸰ ★ my writings ! #cl16 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc 16 #f1 charles leclerc #charles leclerc f1 #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 drabble #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #f1 drivers #f1blr #f1 2023

[sim0nril3y]

Meet the Family

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon has the joy of meeting your family and finding out why don't you see or talk about them all that much. This brings up some unwanted memories and feelings for him too. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), family drama, shouting, very small mention of Simon's childhood, family disapproval, family arguing, reader has family, reader has siblings, family names are established but no descriptions, canon-typical swearing.

It appeared that your phone was making more of a ruckus than usual later. It seemed to buzz and beep much more frequently, each time your eyes cast down to check it they narrowed, then rolled before you pushed the device far, far away from where you had to interact with it. Yet still it actively vied for your attention. “Everything okay, babe?” Simon quizzed, pulling the cork out of the wine he’d chosen and beginning to pour you a glass. “Fine.” You short answer replied, picking up the glass and taking a large gulp.

Taking a seat opposite Simon battled internally about whether to push this conversation anymore. He wondered, if the situation was reversed if you would have tried to get more information out of him. Bloody hell. You would. “I just couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… upset by your phone.” Nodding his head in the direction of the device. “Is something up?”

For a moment you paused, mauling over the situation for a moment before letting out a low huff and answering. “My sister is having a ‘get-together’ for her anniversary…” You announced with a heavy amount of disdain in your voice. “We’ve been invited.” Of course, you’d mentioned your family before but until this point Simon had never met them and the opportunity had never been there. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m invited Anna said it’ll just be close family…”

“Well, I guess you count as close family considering you’re her sister, love.” Simon pointed out and you let out a low huff again. “Who else is going to be there?” “My mum and dad. My little brother Peter. Obviously, my older sister Anna, her husband Barney and their son Hunter.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that. It would be a lot of your family to meet at once. “And do you… want to go?”

Again, you didn’t have a response right away, eyes darting away before back towards him. “I… I don’t know…” Then shaking your head. “Anna is begging me to come, but I know that is only to get the heat off her because if I’m there then all my parent’s attention will fall to me and they will explain exactly where I’ve gone wrong with my life.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that comment, he didn’t like the thought of your family speaking poorly of you. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “Would… you want to go?” The question came out tiny and vulnerable, like you might scare him off with that alone.

“They know about me?” Simon quizzed, he’d never met them and he’d never really pressed to do that, he was in love with you and that was all he needed in his life. “They do…” You replied evenly. “They don’t approve... It isn’t because of you.” You quickly add with wide eyes. “They don’t approve of anyone outside of the family. They hated any girl that Peter brought home and they tolerate Barney, but that is only because they gave them a grandchild to fawn over.” You explained before frowning. “Si, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come…”

For a moment he mauled over his options, he could go and accept whatever snide comments and berating came from your family, or he could send you to the wolves and stay home like a coward. Simon Riley was not a coward. “Tell her we’ll be there.” He leaned over to clink his glass against her own.

It was a bit of a drive to Anna’s home she shared with her husband and their son, but that gave you plenty of time to fill in all the dirty details about your family. You had started with your older sister, she was seen as the golden child and your parents bragged about almost everything that she did, her perfect marriage, her perfect children, her perfect house and her perfect holiday home. You explained, Anna had gone to a top University to study finance, but during her gap year galivanting about the US she’d met Barney who’d promptly fallen in love with her and got her pregnant. This wouldn’t typically be too big of a problem, apart from the fact that Anna been engaged before setting off and in a desperate need to escape the monotony of her relationship and her perfect life she’d thrown it all away from another lad.

It was a blow to her parents that their perfect eldest daughter had this mishap, however the fact that Barney came from an incredibly wealthy family and owned his own tech company certainly helped ease him into the family. Then their grandson Hunter came into the picture and everything was a perfect ending from there.

On the other hand, there was your younger brother Peter who had barely scraped by in his school and your parents had to persuade Universities to accept him. He spent more times in clubs than in his classes. Your parents saw him as a typical boy, causing some trouble and chasing the ladies. Boys will be boys; they’d excused with a hearty laugh as Peter would be trotted to the cells for indecent exposer or public indecency. Still even after all the trouble he’d caused Peter was still the apple of their eyes, your mother fawned over him and your father tried moulding him into his protégé.

Then there was you. With a sister that was perfect and a brother that they dotted on that left very little time or energy for you. It seemed like you just slipped through the cracks. Even when they did have time spare for you every decision, you’d made they hadn’t approved. In their eyes, you were simply the wild little fuck-up. It pained and riled Simon that anyone thought of you as anything but perfect and good and kind.

Once they arrived at your sisters’ home Simon was surprised to find that it was an expensive looking townhouse that had been renovated to have some modern features. This strangle matched the dreamhouse that you’d muttered to him one night in your post-sex chatter, it made Simon wonder who had desired the house first, maybe it was you and Anna had simply stolen that dream to taunt you. Approached the modern frosted glass door, it opened and out stepped an older woman with a disguised smile on her face, dressed in a smart, conservative dress with sharp kitten heels. Your hand squeezed his own as you approached, announcing nicely. “Mum…” Ah, your mother, Cynthia…

“Hello darling.” Her voice was soft but hiding something, like a sickly sweet venom that was encasing you both. You had mentioned that she was high strung and highly critical, that remained to be seen. If there was one thing that Cynthia enjoyed in life it was gossiping, followed by bragging about her family, or at least some of her family members, certainly not you, you’d joked to Simon but there was a pained reality to that snide remark. “Look at you, that is certainly an interesting dress…” She observed, cupping your face then. “You look very tired, are you sleeping well?” The snide remarks had already begun, Simon observed.

You complained lowly. “Mum…” Then looked towards Simon, eyes pleading for some form of help or safety or escape but only found his own dark set that matched your own fear. “This is-” Cynthia cut you off and turned her viper grin towards at him, those dangerous eyes scanned him and searched for any little weakness or vulnerability. “This must be Simon.” Cynthia let out an almost cynical laugh. “Now, I must ask your sister to set another place, we weren’t sure that you were real…” It was another little dig that made you wince.

Cynthia then allowed the two of you to follow her further into the house, a lounge area stood before them and three men lingered inside of it. An older man sat on the sofa, drink in hand and head drooping, another around Simon’s age stood behind a small make-shift bar, cleaning glasses and straightening bottles of the labels faced out and proud and then across the room a younger man was texting on his phone. “Simon, make yourself comfortable with the men. That is my husband, Harold. This is my son-in-law, Barney.” Cynthia even gifted him a snide smile, the same she had done to Simon, they were outsiders after all, not as important as blood, simply there to give her grandchildren. “And that is my son Peter~”

Turning to you and lowering her voice, Cynthia said. “Darling, don’t worry that you didn’t bring a present, your sister understands that you don’t make a lot of money-” “N-no, I just left it at home.” You attempted to explain but your mother just chortled lowly and squeezed your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure… just like how Peter ate all your Christmas chocolate when you were 10, hmm?” Then she poked your tummy in jest. “But I think we all know where it went.”

Simon forced himself to grit his teeth, looking between and watching you purse your lips, accepting the vicious attack with a tight smile and glossy eyes. “Now, don’t make that face~” Cynthia smirked directly at you, as if knowing she was pushing your buttons. “Come, your sister will want some help in the kitchen, I’m sure you’ll survive being apart from your boyfriend for five minutes, hmm?” Then looking towards Simon and asking. “You won’t mind if I borrow her, will you?”

More than anything he wanted to deny her, snatch you up into his side and away from anymore of her cruel remarks, but her claw-like hands were already circling you and tugging you from the room before he had a chance. The next moment, a presence walked up behind him and Simon turned to see a very happy looking man stood there. “Hey man…” A thick American accent rolled from him. “My name is Barney, you must be Simon, right?” He was quick to shake his hand and comment. “Quite the grip there, you play golf?”

Shaking his head Simon followed him back to where he’d been lingering (or probably hiding) behind his bar. “Do you drink, man? What’s your poison?” Barney asked enthusiastically, very proudly gesturing to the array of bottles that were placed behind the bar, squeaky clean but hardly used. “Whiskey. Neat.” Then leaning against the bar and waiting for it to be made. Another approached, this time your brother, tucking his phone away into his pocket as he sidled up beside him, elbows resting on the bar too, matching him stance for stance. “Simon, right? The latest addition to our fucked up little family.” Peter commented, his tone just as snide as his mother’s – the apple didn’t fall far, he supposed. “I’m sure my sister told you all about me…”

“She mentioned a few things…” Simon answered evenly, reaching out to take the offered drink from Barney, drinking it down a little too quickly to appear casual. Bloody hell, he’d been on battlefields and felt less anxious. “Well, I’ve got a few stories about my sister that I’m sure you’ll want to hear too~” The young lad began before Simon glanced in his direction, testing and bothered by his presence.

Sensing the impending tension Barney let out a hearty chuckle and said. “Maybe another time, huh?” Then giving Peter a pointed look. “Simon… what do you do for a job?” He asked in a friendly enough way, this seemed to catch the attention of Harold who actually glanced in his direction, quietly accessing and judging, it felt like you were the only normal one to actually come out of this family. “I’m in the special forces.” Simon explained, keeping his answers short and sweet, not allowing too many details to slip out, it wouldn’t be professional. They all had different reactions to this little piece of information. Peter quirked a brow whilst Barney grinned and nodded. “That’s tight. Respect, man.”

“A solider…” Peter muttered. “Lieutenant, actually.” Simon corrected in a sharp tone. There wasn’t many things in life he was proud about but you and his career were among the only few.

Again, your brother seemed to stir from beside him. “So…” Looking at him, wanting to judge Simon’s reaction. “How many people you killed?” The question was so crass that it actually made Barney gasp before letting out a nervous laugh and saying. “Pete, I’m not sure you can ask questions like that, man…” Then another laugh before giving his brother-in-law a soft punch on the shoulder, followed by a pointed look, don’t push.

There was this clear power struggle that Peter was trying to win. This happened often with rich boys like your brother, they saw Simon as a threat because he was physically much more impending than them, feeling even worse when they discovered that Simon wasn’t as dumb as they thought he looked.

“Not something that I keep count of…” Simon answered keeping his face straight, remaining unbothered. It was a good answer, it was formal and dignified, not to mention filled with some honesty. It wasn’t like Simon could even keep count anymore, even if he had wanted to. Peter seemed unimpressed with that answer and simply huffed before saying. “Bet you could think of at least five different ways to kill me in here, right?” Again, this spiked the interest of Harold, glancing in their direction.

Another challenge. Another prod. Another opportunity to attempt to make Simon look unhinged. Attempting to break the tension Barney laughed awkwardly. “This joker-” “I could think at least ten.” Simon retorted, dark eyes watching Peter to see that smugness falter for just a moment as true fear sank in. From across the room for just a split second Harold smirked then it washed away as he finished his fifth drink of the night.

The room was thick with an air of tension as you stepped inside looking completely flustered. “It’s uh… it’s time for dinner.” You informed them, frowning as you tried to access the atmosphere, approaching Simon to rest a delicate hand on his forearm, wrapping yourself around the limb. The room cleared out as Barney escorted his in-laws to his dinning room. Gazing up at Simon, you asked. “You alright?”

Simon’s eyes seemed to focus on where Peter had been escorted from the room, watching that area on alert for a few moments before his gaze flittered back in your direction. “Told your brother I could think of ten ways to kill him in this room alone…”

You blinked. Slow and calculating. Attempting to understand the words that Simon had just rushed in your direction. “Excuse me?” You muttered, staring up into his eyes in confusion. “Why… why would you say-” “He was pushing me.” There was an edge of frustration to his tone. You brother had gotten under Simon’s skin a lot more than he was willing to admit aloud. Reaching up you cupped his face and looked into his eyes with such care and sincerity, it really did pain you to witness your family treating him in a way that left him so anxious and wound up. “I believe you.” You whispered. “I believe you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My fucking family… It’s my family, they make it their mission to push and prod and make your life misery. I’m sorry-”

A short huff came from Simon, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently and replying. “You don’t ever apologies for any of them.” He told you, voice firm and sure. There was no part of this that was your fault. You were born into a family of cynical fakers, wanting to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as their own. He hadn’t even been around them for an hour yet, but Simon could see that you were the only good thing to come from your family. He could force himself to survive the rest of the dinner party for you… but when this was over, he never wanted to see these people again.

“Come on, now…” Your mothers voice entered the lounge and she lingered in the doorway, big fake smile on her lips and glass of wine in hand. “You were late to the party and now you’ll be late for dinner too…” Cynthia chortled, clearly still holding that grudge. “I swear, my darling girl would be late to her own funeral too…” The comment was made as she swayed down the hallway towards the dining room, Simon simply grit his teeth and continued to bite his tongue. A few more hours, he reminded himself constantly.

The dinner that was severed was nice enough. Honestly, the only cooking that you actually enjoyed nowadays was anything that Simon served up for you and it was something he was more than happy to take care of for you. It was mundane and simple and peaceful, just for some time he could force his noisy brain to shut off, it simply wasn’t warfare.

You sat beside him, food pushing around your plate, probably each little biting comment from your mother stripped away any hunger from you. Cynthia had persuaded your siblings to list all their recent achievements to you, which they seemed all too happy to do. Maybe they knew that if all that vitriol that poured from your mother was aimed at you, then they’d continue to escape it… or maybe they enjoyed it because they were just as cruel as she was.

“Are you enjoying the food?” Cynthia quirked a soft brow at Simon, it was a strange observation but Simon noted that your mother wore a face so similar to your own, maybe more than the rest of your siblings but not even one of your expressions matched. There was so much pure and true joy and easiness in your smile, but each time your mother did the same it seemed like it might crack her face into tiny pieces. “I’m sure you aren’t used to a good homecooked meal, hmm?” Then laughing lowly. “Especially with this one’s cooking…” Pointing a fork in your direction.

“It’s fine.” Simon responded evenly, clearly not to exaggerated praise that your mother had been expecting, simply narrowing her eyes and taking back another gulp of wine. “I like to cook for us…” His hand then rests on your knee beneath the table, reminding you that you weren’t alone facing your horrid family, but that Simon had your back. “Between the two of us, I have more time to cook, anyway.” Then he shrugged, gazing in your direction and seeing your desperation to find safety and warmth within him. “With all the hours that she works and then the time she spends on her art, I like to keep her fed…” Too afraid to continue aloud, Simon thought, keep her warm, provided for her, keep her happy, keep her satisfied. Just… keep her.

A deep scoff came from Cynthia then, another big glug of wine until her glass was empty. It seemed that Simon had given Peter the opportunity to speak then, smirking from across the table. “Speaking of work…” Those dangerous eyes loomed as you sat a little straighter in your chair. “Heard from a friend that you missed that interview dad set up…” The comment was thrown out there so casually but you were left reeling as you knew the chaos that simple comment would cause. Besides, how did he even know that? There wasn’t a chance in the world that Peter had friends to be able to tell him that information, so what? Was he following you? Keeping tabs on you? Before you even had the chance to interrogate him Cynthia spoke first.

“No, no…” Placing down the wine bottle onto the table with a heavy thud, eyes fixed on you. “Please tell me that isn’t true.” Raising her brows, as if waiting for you to deny Peter’s allegations but you remained sheepishly quiet. “You lied to me.” There was a fiery rage in her eyes now and you knew that you were in for it. “You told me that you went. I can’t believe you would lie to your own mother…” Your mouth opened then, as if to defend yourself but Cynthia was much too quick to continue her tirade. “We have spoken about this again and again… I made it clear it is time to give up on this silly little fantasy that you’ve been holding onto. It is time to grow up and join the real world. You need to be more like your brother and your sister…” Gesturing wildly to them as Anna sat almost ashamed with her gaze down to her lap and Peter sat there with a smarmy smile the instigator of this.

Again, you opened your mouth, but her hand came up sharp in your direction. “Do you know the strings your father had to pull to organise that interview?” Then gesturing towards Harold who seemed completely unphased, cutting his steak into another bitesize piece whilst his wife continued to berate their daughter before the audience. “You are such an ungrateful brat and you always have been. When will you understand? You have absolutely zero desirable qualities so finding a decent job will be very difficult for you… who in their right mind is going to want to hire someone like you, hmm?”

Everyone apart from Cynthia and Peter appeared mortified, Anna looked to you with horror on her face and then Barney spoke, careful smile on his face. “She still had plenty of time to figure out what she wants to do, right? Anna took a gap year during college… Pete did the same… So, she isn’t going abroad or whatever, instead she’s trying to… to… figure out if she can follow her passion, I think it’s-” “Be quiet.” Cynthia growled at him then, teeth grit. “Don’t talk such nonsense… Peter and Anna were working hard at college and needed a break to find themselves and after returned to college and get their degrees. What does she have? Nothing. I couldn’t even convince her to apply to any colleges… She is a lazy, stubborn, silly little girl and you are chasing a hopeless dream-” “Enough.”

Every set of eyes then turned to look at Simon who sat with a furious look present on his face. At the beginning of the evening, he could maybe accept those biting little comments, he could certainly accept the way that Peter had provoked him, Simon could even accept the way that your mother had sat there bragging about your siblings but he wasn’t going to allow her to utterly humiliate you like this. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her that way.” Carefully from beside him, you muttered his name, a soft plead to try and calm the fight that seemed inevitable now. “No.” He told you firmly, quietly, gazing down at you with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. “I won’t just sit there and let her fuckin’ talk to you like this… I wont… I can’t…”

It wasn’t like Simon had grown up in a good household. It was clearly different from your own. Simon had witnessed his father completely decimate any good in his family and he was too young and too small and too scared to stop him or do anything. This is why he is the man he is today; he wouldn’t allow that again and seeing your family ripping you to shreds, tearing apart any good and hope and light inside of you was too much for him. Not you. Never you.

“Simon, please. You simply don’t understand...” Cynthia began. “My daughter lives in this word of make believe where she thinks she is going to become and artists and be able to make money and buy big houses like her sister. It’s just ridiculous. I’ve tried getting through to her, but-” “Your daughter is a fuckin’ adult.” Simon growled then, leaning into the table slightly so he could talk across at her. “She doesn’t need you to find her a job and she doesn’t need you to approve the choices that she makes in her life.” Simon growled, feeling this need to protect you and keep you safe, that very same one that had grown for his mother in his childhood. Different, but… the same. “Your daughter… your daughter is fuckin’ amazing. There isn’t a thing about her that needs to change. She’s intelligent and she’s soft and kind and she’s really fuckin’ talented and I wonder how all of that managed to happen when she grew up around you cunts-” The entire table seemed to gasp in unison.

There seemed to be this stunned silence before everyone erupted, Peter almost fell off his chair laughing, whilst baby Hunter wailed from the commotion. Cynthia stood stark upright, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Unacceptable! Disgusting! Unacceptable! He’s an animal! He’s feral!” Stalk through the house on a tirade of insults aimed in his direction with her husband trailing behind her. Anna was trying to hopelessly clean a puddle of wine from where it had teetered over onto the table. “It’s fucking vintage!” There were real tears in her eyes, much to Simon’s surprise.

Just then Barney stood up, bouncing his son in his arms and looking between you and Simon. “I think… I think it would be best if you guys left.” There was sorrow in his eyes as he suggested it, not wanting to be unkind but just not wanting anymore drama. It was probably for the best even if Simon did have a few more choice words for them.

The entire car ride home you were unusually quiet beside him. He was actually a little lost on how to handle this situation. There weren’t a part of him that was sorry for what he’d said to your family, or more specifically your mother. Simon just couldn’t handle the fact that she could talk to you in such a vile way. There was only so much that Simon was willing to take and he’d lost it. Fuck, had he scared you? Were you mad at him? Were you sad for causing a rift in your family? Had he even caused a rift? Clearly, they hadn’t thought very much of you before he’d been there…

A small sniffle from beside him caught his attention, glancing in your direction and under the glow of the streetlamps Simon saw your face wet with tears. Without hesitation Simon signalled and pulled his truck onto an empty road, clambering from the driver’s seat and around to yank open your door. A moment later his arms were around you, hand supporting the back of your head burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. “You’re alright. Shh. You’re alright, babe.”

After a few moments of allowing, you to just sob into his shoulder, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Don’t ca-care what they s-say about me-” “Well, I do.” There was a thick edge to his voice, pulling back to cup your face and looking for any sign of fight towards your family but you seemed defeated, you seemed emotionally drained. Where was that witty girl that had corned him on a night out? Where was the one that had to almost twist his arm to open up? Where was that fight for her own pretty self? “I care about what they say about you because they are dead fuckin’ wrong, babe. No one deserved to be talked to like that. I won’t allow it.”

There was something deeper simmering here behind all this. There was something that Simon didn’t want to confess or discuss. The berating. The belittling. The treatment of less than… This was something that Simon wouldn’t allow for you because he had experienced it and much worse. “You don’t deserve it.” It was like Simon was talking to all the people in his life that hadn’t deserved the fate they were given. You. Him. His mum. His brother. His friends he’d lost. The soldiers that had died in his arms. “Okay?” “Okay.”

Masterlist | Ask | 04-02-2024

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost mw3 #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost angst

[love-that-we-were-in]

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes. 

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.” 

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.” 

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see. 

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party. 

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly. 

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.” 

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.” 

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets. 

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.” 

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead. 

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick. 

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?” 

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table. 

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game. 

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win. 

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet. 

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?” 

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.” 

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond. 

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more. 

*

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this. 

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night. 

“Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.” 

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?” 

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way. 

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around. 

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap. 

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more. 

“Fancy a rematch?” 

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?” 

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.” 

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.” 

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.” 

“How many beers have you had?” 

“Three, I think?” 

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you. 

So you say it anyway. 

“I bet I could outdrink you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition. 

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight. 

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?” 

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.” 

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.” 

“Are you going to?” 

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?” 

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.” 

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.” 

*

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head. 

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once. 

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch. 

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest. 

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building. 

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting. 

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again. 

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms. 

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.” 

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway. 

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes. 

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.” 

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.” 

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.” 

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system. 

“You ever blown a smoke ring?” 

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now. 

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?” 

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes. 

“We can share.” 

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea. 

“You’re on, Castellan.” 

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular. 

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore. 

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you. 

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close. 

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby. 

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen. 

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.” 

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

*

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.” 

“I know you hooked up with Luke.” 

“Seriously?” 

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.” 

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.” 

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.” 

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight. 

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy. 

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend. 

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight. 

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does. 

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?” 

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t. 

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it. 

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter. 

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

[quirklezz]

Rumor has it | Tom Blyth

pairing: Tom Blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary: Ever since the premiere of tbosas fans of yours have been shipping you with your costar, Tom Blyth. Is it all just rumors or were they right all along?

a/n: So I recently discovered Tom Blyth and wanted to make this for fun! Mainly based on those shipper accounts who post updates on their fav couples. Might make this into a series if anyone wants more… in the meantime feedback is appreciated and requests are open!

ynusername some of my favorite bts moments while filming tbosas

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user1 yn giving us more bts content!!!

user2 loved the movie you and Tom have to star in more films together

↳ user3 ikr I love their chemistry

↳ user4 need them in a romcom after seeing tbosas

↳ ynusername a romcom you say? I’m down if @tomblyth is… 👀

↳ user4 OMG NOT HER TAGGING HIM?!? @tomblyth make it happen

rachelzegler 🖤🖤🖤

user5 look how close they are in the second pic I can’t help but ship them

↳ user2 I’ve been shipping them before the movie even came out

↳ rachelzegler I took that one when they weren’t looking sorry not sorry

↳ user1 thank you @rachelzegler for feeding us yn x tom crumbs

tomblythupdates Tom and YN spotted hanging out in New York this weekend

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user1 they’ve been hanging out a lot lately… 👀

↳ user2 looks like their on a date to me

user3 never seen Tom hang out this much with any cast member besides Rachel and Josh

↳ tomblythupdates a fan said Rachel and Josh were there too

↳ user2 so they were on a double date… interesting

↳ user3 lets not speculate anything yet they could still be friends

↳ user6 I was there and they didn’t look like friends to me… that’s all I’m gonna say

↳ user1 omg spill the tea please

↳ user3 let’s respect their privacy even if they are or aren’t dating we should still be happy for them

yntomsources New pictures of @tomblyth and @ynusername from their photoshoot

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user1 they ate and left no crumbs

user4 omg look at my parents

user2 can we talk about the HAND PLACEMENT HELLO?!?

user5 here I thought they couldn’t get any hotter but this changed my mind

antitomyn I’m sure this is just a PR stunt to promote the film they can stop pretending now

↳ user1 imagine being jealous of Tom and YN couldn’t be me ☕️

↳ user2 even if you don’t ship them together have some respect for their work as actors not everything is PR

↳ user4 you can’t fake what they have

↳ yntomsources @antitomyn you have been blocked

tomblyth happy to know I’m not the only one who enjoys croissants on set @ynusername

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user4 now Tom has someone to share his croissant pain with

user1 @tomblyth add her to the croissanicles

↳ tomblyth already did

user2 I feel like Tom got her hooked on croissants and now they’re her favorite

↳ ynusername your right I blame him for my croissant addiction

rachelzegler save me and Josh some this time please

↳user4 this time?!? what happened last time?

↳ ynusername Tom almost dropped them all last time

↳ user4 it’s giving “you almost made me drop my croissant” vibes

↳ rachelzegler 😆😆😆

user5 Seeing Tom and YN together butters my croissant

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction