#exactly the kind of angst i signed up for

[enjolraspermettendo]

Les Miserables Fanfic recs✨️

I tried to make a selection, my absolute favourites have a heart next to them ❤️, but my les mis fics bookmarks have 17 pages, so you know, there are still other amazing fics that i didn't include (part 2 maybe?). I also realised while making this list that most of these fics are actually very well known, but still, they're great 🤷‍♀️ I'm an angst enthusiast, be warned.

( I'm trying to also tag the tumblr accounts of the authors: if you are one of the authors and I missed your url and want me to add you or if you want me to remove you dont hesitate to contact me! )

❤️ World Aint Ready by idiopathicsmile @idiopathicsmile

Enjolras presses his lips together. He already looks pained, and Grantaire hasn't even opened his mouth yet. That's got to be a record, even for them.

"I need a favor," he says at last.

"With what?" says Grantaire. "Ooh, are you forming a cult? Can I join? I'd be awesome at cults, I just know it." He ticks off his qualifications on his fingers. "I love chanting, I look great in robes—"

(High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.)

Part 1 of World Aint Ready-verse

To Fold the Sheet by Lyres

“Can you say one good thing about the season?”

Holding out his soap-sud covered hands until Grantaire tosses a towel on top of them, Enjolras hums in thought. “Not really,” he says, once he's dried off. “Just don't have a lot of happy memories of summer, I suppose.”

(In which Grantaire attempts to make Happy Summer Memories, and Enjolras is endlessly patient.)

History of Melancholia by Squash (JeSuisGourde) @meta-squash

Grantaire deals with his depression by documenting it through photography as he and Enjolras try to wade through life with mental illness. It doesn't make it any easier for him or Enjolras, though. It's the blind leading the blind as they try to navigate the waters of depression.

A series of moments in no particular order, showing the paths that Grantaire's depression and addiction has taken him on and the ways he has tried to survive.

Submission (Going Down, Down) by ddeadkennedys

anyway, enjolras hated grantaire at first. enjolras isn't an asshole, he's not a gatekeeper or some sort of shitty elitist, but grantaire was uninspired, hopeless despite all that potential. a waste. but then that whole thing went down, and shit changed, and if grantaire thought he couldn't get enough of enjolras' attention before, now that enj is only mean to him for fun he's a fucking junkie for it.

Part 1 of the revolution is my boyfriend

Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right by lady_ragnell @theladyragnell

“You aren’t going to ask me if I’m okay?”

“You aren’t. Believe me, I know the signs.” Grantaire sighs, and his breath mists in the air like cigarette smoke. “They love you in there.”

“And out here?”

“You know that’s not a fair question.”

Forget Me Not by Opium_du_Peuple @just-french-me-up

Enjolras loses four years worth of memories after a nasty car accident. Though he still remembers who Combeferre and Courfeyrac are, he also finds himself with a herd of friends he doesn't remember meeting. Friends who are exactly what his blank mind needs to recollect his missing memories.

or : the amnesia fic no one asked for.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade @serinesaccade

“The amnesiac has questions,” says Grantaire. Boyfriend grips the wheel. “Don’t worry, we’ll start with the 200 dollar Jeopardy trivia.” A semi roars past them. “What’s your name?” The perfect sinew and bones of his fingers relax. “Oh,” he murmurs. Just like that, defenses lowered. “Enjolras.” “Cool,” Grantaire says. “I’m Grantaire.” Something happens to Enjolras’ face which, if you zoomed in, might be considered a smile. “I know.” “How long have we been dating, Enjolras?” The almost-smile is gone. The gameshow metaphor has become too apt; someone’s lost it all. “That’s complicated.” Well. Grantaire should’ve known some part of this fairytale was too good to be true. He’s best friends with a streetsmart renegade and someone who wrote him a welcome-back-to-consciousness poem in godawful blue icing on an orange frosted cookie cake. There are nearly ten people who were waiting for him to wake up in a hospital room. Of course his inexplicable relationship with his supernova hot, socially conscientious boyfriend is ‘complicated.’

thirteen days and fourteen hours and a dozen minutes by Potoo

"Enjolras,” Grantaire gasps as delicate fingers brush over his chest, an airy quality to them, “what do you want?” Because Grantaire would serve him the whole world on a silver platter, and it would never be enough.

“You,” Enjolras states, his voice clear and severe, “I want you.”

Enjolras discovers one by one what his friends think about Grantaire. He is rather surprised by their words.

Also: body worship porn.

Metropolitan Art by ryssabeth @avagueambitioninyourerection

Paris is his home.

❤️ Wrap your fingers round my thumb by Ibbyliv

When Éponine leaves in the morning, he’s already feeling much better. No really, he is. He makes a cup of coffee and even showers. The sun is shining brightly –even though it’s mostly late in the afternoon than morning but he has no one to apologize to, no reason to excuse himself for being a lazy ass and not finishing that painting for ages- and he’s humming a catchy tune that has been stuck in his head while he wipes his hair dry with a towel. He opens the door because he feels good enough to take the trash out, and everything’s alright, even the odor coming from the plastic bag, until he hears it.

It’s a cry, a wail, desperate and heartbreaking as if something tiny is trying to cause its lungs to explode and is on its way to success. Grantaire looks around, not willing to accept what he feels coming, before lowering his eyes on the floor. In this moment, Grantaire swears, he's so fucking wasted. * Enjolras leaves to work abroad for a year. When he returns, he finds out that there has been a new addition to their group.

A Series of Progressions by AnnaBolena @annabrolena

Modern AU in Paris in which most of Les Amis are students and all of them are sort of slow on the getting together aspect of relationships, with sociopolitical commentary and medical jabber peppered in between.

how sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame by Tegami @furtherfish

He could have shrugged and that would have been it. Say that he just found it precious. But Grantaire was Grantaire and he never could keep himself from oversharing and he was already dizzy with the way this night was going, so he told the truth. “The first thought I had when I read that poem was ‘If someone would ever call me “sweet boy” and mean it, I would probably pass out.’” OR: E & R are being ""casual"". Grantaire attempts to break some of their habits. Enjolras reads some angsty notes R left in his copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. Then they fuck

❤️ Hotel California by sunflowerbright

'You can check out, but you can never leave' - Reincarnation!AU

❤️ Paris Burning by thecitysmith @thecitysmith

In a world where cities are personified, the City of Paris has been missing for centuries, driven away by the horrors of war and the worst humanity has offered him. Enjolras dreams of meeting Paris, and leading him to a better tomorrow. What he doesn't know is that Paris is now a cynical drunk who calls himself Grantaire.

❤️ Thirty-Two Times by Ark @et-in-arkadia

Marius, looking chastised but sad, says, “Is there nothing then for romance, Enjolras? It seems a strange emotion to be struck with, distracting as a fever, if it means nothing.” It is Grantaire who answers first. “Nothing means anything, Marius,” says the cynic. “Yet who would ever die for his country if he did not love some person who lived within it?”

❤️ Once We're Kings by raeldaza

Their kingdoms have been at odds for centuries, so what will be a greater 'fuck you' than to send hapless knight Grantaire as their representative for Prince Enjolras's queen choosing ceremony before he is crowned King? Grantaire disagrees, but he doesn't seem to get much of a say in the matter. No one is really expecting anything to come of it, but trust Enjolras to defy expectations.

❤️ Your Heart on Your Skin by zade @racetrackthehiggins

Grantaire’s first flower appears when he is two years old. It’s late, for a First Bloom, considering some children are born with their First already etched above their hearts, but Grantaire’s parents are warm and loving and wait to see what sort of child they have born unto the world. His First Bloom, when it comes, is vibrant patch of yellow carnations. He is too young to know what it means, and his parents don’t tell him, just—withdraw, and a much smaller patch of yellow carnations appears on his mother’s ankle. -- Soulmate AU where things in your life appear as flowers on your skin, and people with hard lives have a lot of flowers to show for it

Tetris by chapstickaddict

Cosette is Enjolras' half-sister. His father slept with Fantine and then buggered off to be with his wife. Then Enjolras found out. One day he sees her- and he knows its her- and doesn't know what to do. Enjolras is Cosette's half-brother. Her mother slept with a married man and died of a broken heart and weary soul. Then Cosette found out. One day, she finds him-and she knows its him- and doesn't know what to do. Then Marius happened...

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell @theladyragnell

Grantaire's life has a pattern: he pays his respects to Aphrodite, he goes to work, he loves Enjolras and provokes him because he can't bring himself to do otherwise. That seems unlikely to change, at least until Enjolras speaks out against the gods and ends up cursed. Grantaire does his best to help him, but it turns out it's just as hard to love Enjolras up close as it is from afar.

Part 1 of The Speech of Love

❤️ I Believe In Nothing but the Truth and Who We Are by Whreflections

"Under the wine, Grantaire smelled like smoke and summer nights. His dark hair curled in a chaotic mess around his face, his neck below pale and soft. The first time they met, the first time he drew the scent into his lungs, he ached with the need to mark that stretch of skin, to card his fingers through Grantaire’s hair so very gently before tilting his head back so Enjolras might mark his bared throat and make his claim. He resisted then, telling himself that to act on instinct alone was the arena of an animal; he was a man of intellect, and he could choose." As an alpha, Enjolras has known Grantaire to be his mate since he first came to the Musain, a truth he does his best to bury. With his devotion already promised to France, he tells himself he cannot risk dividing his loyalties, cannot risk a bond that would pull so heavy on his heart. This is what he's told himself a thousand times, but when Grantaire needs him, his careful resolutions may not be able to hold against the strain.

His Love Letter by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade @shitpostingfromthebarricade

Your Wednesday regular appears right on time and orders the same thing as he does every week, but something's different today.

❤️ Here's looking at you by illuminate

“So domestic trouble rather than treason?” Floreal said. “I’m not saying one precludes the other.” Enjolras said, which came out more pained than he had intended. “Are you suggesting Grantaire sold national secrets to a crime lord because you were a bad boyfriend?” Floreal asked. Her tone was bemused, but there was a glint in her eye that turned the comment into mockery. “No.” Enjolras snapped, stung, and then didn’t say more. Spy AU. Grantaire removes his tracker and disappears the same night Lamarque is killed in his office. Enjolras is left behind, trying to figure out what happened and why Grantaire didn't tell him anything.

❤️ Meanwhile, A Glacier by standalone

“I’ll go.” He says it without brashness or deference. Just a statement. “Where?” “You want to climb the Forty,” he says, and Enjolras can’t deny it. “I’ll go with you.”

❤️ It's Not the Same Anymore by ShameDumpster @shamedumpster

Grantaire is a bookstore clerk in his late twenties, and to everyone’s eternal disbelief, a father. It’s been years since he’s seen anyone from his former group of friends, after a falling out cleaved him from the ABC, but everything changes when Enjolras walks into his bookstore. Can they rekindle their friendship, or something more, while they both come to terms with how their lives have changed over the past decade?

Part 1 of INtSA-verse

❤️ Combeferre's Tattoos by standalone

Enjolras clunked down three lowball glasses of whiskey and a bottle of soda water. “We have already established, ‘Ferre, his freedom to leave us. Can you please stop bringing it up and instead give him some incentive to stay?” Combeferre cocked his head to the side, as if amused at Enjolras’s crankiness. “Such as?” “He seemed to like you shirtless.” ‘Ferre nodded. “Then perhaps someone should take my shirt off.” or When the universe gives you Enjolras and Combeferre, who the hell are you to ask questions?

Part 1 of Tattoos AU

❤️ In Defiance of all Geometry by idiopathicsmile @idiopathicsmile

Amis House might not be the biggest student co-op, or the fanciest, but it's got something all its own. Specifically, smoke damage on the kitchen ceiling from that time Courfeyrac lit a political pamphlet on fire. In which there are secrets, pining, pancakes, and revelations, and sometimes the shortest distance between three points is not a triangle but a circle.

Part 1 of IDOAG-verse

❤️ We still got time (Raise your hopeful voice) by RavenXavier

“Excuse-you!” came Grantaire’s offended voice from the other side of the room. “I would make an excellent wife, Monsieur Lesgle, should I choose to! I have all the qualities of one!" (In which Enjolras slowly falls in love, and Grantaire takes the time to explore what feels right.)

Musagetes by defractum @defractum

"You've had sex," says Grantaire, just to clarify. He gives Enjolras an obvious look up and down, as if he's trying to imagine it right now: Enjolras having sex, Enjolras in the act of having sex. The curve of his mouth gives away his smirk; it's Grantaire though, so his smirk is two-thirds mocking and one-third self-deprecating. In which Enjolras has sex, has casual sex, and doesn't talk about it; in which Grantaire speaks better through art.

❤️ Through the Narrow Place by revolutionbarbie

“What brought you to Paris?” Montparnasse asked. “A train, ostensibly. And a bus.” Grantaire leaves Poland for Paris, content to remain alone forever if it means that he'll be safe. He goes to work and he comes home and he doesn't think about how few people there would be to miss him should he disappear. When he meets the Friends who gather and plot at the Cafe Musain, he realises how much he has been missing and though their leader is reckless and arrogant, Grantaire can't help but be drawn to him.

❤️ A Thousand Miles by kjack89 @kjack89

Some couples had a morning breakfast routine. For Enjolras and Grantaire, it was coffee. Come rain, shine, or hectic schedules, they still made time every morning to have a cup of coffee together. Sometimes that time saw Grantaire perching on the counter in the bathroom while Enjolras gulped his cup in the shower; other times, it was the two of them in bed long past when they were supposed to get up, wrapped in blankets and each other. Some days those precious few minutes were the only time they saw each other, and they treasured it. Even when Enjolras was out of town on business, they called or Facetimed each other to share their morning cup of coffee. It was the one consistency in their lives that Grantaire could count on.

❤️ Hēbē by illuminate

“You cannot feed on a citizen without their consent, because that would be an attack on their person - and their Rights, I am sure. But you cannot risk revealing your nature and so you cannot ask for permission. Luckily, you have me, who am already aware and quite willing.” The chair screeches loudly as Enjolras pushes himself away from the table. ”Come now, Apollo, let me be your cupbearer.” Grantaire implores; his tone somewhere between teasing and honest. “No, we are not doing that.” Enjolras growls. (In short: Enjolras has trouble feeding himself, because he is too busy planning the revolution. Grantaire finds out and is more than willing to help.)

Part 1 of cupbearer

Enjolras looks down at where Grantaire’s hand holds the pack against him and doesn’t bother to take hold. “If you were Combeferre,” he says, “this would be the part where you tell me these things will kill me.” “If I were Combeferre, I’d be inside and you’d be bothering someone else,” Grantaire snaps. He snatches the pack of cigarettes back and extracts one, leaving just two inside. It is with sharp, savage movements that he jabs it into his mouth, lights it with the silver Zippo, and then offers it to Enjolras.

love is in the air, i just gotta figure out a window to break out by tamquams

#les miserables #les mis #grantaire #enjolras #combeferre #bahorel #courfeyrac #joly #feuilly #marius pontmercy #cosette #eponine #bossuet #gavroche #jehan #fanfictions #fanfic

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

#astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 cazador #hes such a piece of shit #but I feel like this is something he would totally do #happy ending #but god damn that was rough #angst #a lot of angst #its there #front and center #long fic #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #im feeling spawn astarion man #i started this side blog for the ascended version but... #spawn is bae #female tav

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #wednsday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday (2022) #jenna marie ortega #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #wednesday x y/n

[megxplryxb]

Romance is Dead, Isn't it?

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Notes: Sweet and fluffy, little bit of angst. Based around Valentine’s Day because I’ve had this is in my drafts for a minute.

The smell of cheap, overused aftershave and five dollar bouquets, currently lingered throughout the aisles of Family Video. Loved up couples filling the store, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings and pressing kisses to their lovers blushing cheek as they scanned the shelves of the romance section.

Love heart decorations hung from the ceiling, pink foil curtains draped over the entrance and Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time blared from the speakers while you completed sellotaping the balloons you’d only finished inflating ten minutes ago. You weren't exactly sure why Keith was making Valentine's Day such an extravaganza this year but you were absolutely hating every second of it.

February fourteenth had never been kind to you. Not when you were ten years old and the card you thought had been from your childhood crush was actually written by your Mom. Not when you were fifteen and you went to the movies with Jackson Taylor, who made up a rumour that he had gotten to second base with you and definitely not last year, when Derek Cooper had taken you out for dinner, only to be caught by his girlfriend that he had surprisingly forgotten to mention.

Yeah, Valentine's Day could suck it.

“If one more person asks if we have another copy of Sixteeen Candles, I swear, I won't be held responsible for my actions.” You warn, jumping down from the step ladder with a loud huff.

“Yikes, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch today babe?” Robin questions with a teasing smile on her face as she serves the next customer.

“My panties are not in a bunch thank you very much. I'm just saying, what kind of moron waits until Valentines Day to rent the most sought after romcom?" You ask, taking a gulp of water in an attempt to erase the taste of rubber from your mouth.

Fake laughter echoes from the other side of the store where some girl has been flirting with Steve for the past fifteen minutes. You'd noticed her outside before she walked in, glossing her lips and pushing her boobs up just enough to get the attention she was obviously desperate for. She's annoyingly pretty, with perfect hair and sun kissed skin and when she raises her well manicured hands to rest on his bicep, you can’t help but grit your teeth at them.

"Is he planning to do any work at all today?" You point, rolling your eyes as Robin looks over at her other best friend and then back to you with a frown. She can sense the irritation in your voice and she knows why, even if you would never admit it. The signs have been there for quite some time and she wonders how much longer you can keep up the charade of not having feelings for Steve Harrington.

"Hey Dingus! A little help over here?" Robin demands, directing him to the queue of customers waiting for assistance at the counter. Steve nods his head, apologising to the girl who makes sure to write her number on his arm before waving goodbye.

“Yeah, thanks for calling me over, I've been trying to get away from her for like, the last ten minutes.” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, gesturing for the next customer to approach.

“Yeah, you really looked like you were being held against your will there, Harrington.” You scoff bitterly, stacking up a pile of returned tapes.

“Seriously, did you guys not see me trying to signal for help when she started touching me? I mean come on, desperate much?" He jeers, shaking his head.

"She did seem disgustingly eager." Robin interjects, scrunching her nose.

"Since when has that ever stopped him?" You reply, motioning towards Steve, who seems a little bit offended by your words.

"Jesus, why does it look like Cupid came all over this place?" Eddie chuckles as he enters the store, getting his jacket caught in the foil curtain, almost ripping it off of the door.

“Hey, careful Munson, don’t mess up my masterpiece!” You warn, carrying the tapes into the back as he slowly untangles himself.

"Because dear Edward, it is the day of love and romance!” Robin squeals excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Can you tell she has a date with Vickie tonight?” You tease, her cheeks turning pink at the mention of her new girlfriend.

“Alright, way to go Buckley.” Eddie high-fives the girl who couldn’t contain her happiness.

“We’re just going to the movies but I’m so nervous! Like, what if I make a total doofus of myself around her? She might not be as accepting of my clumsiness as you guys. I could fall up the steps when we’re walking to our seats or choke on the popcorn or…”

“Robin relax, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” Steve interrupts, hearing the conversation from the till. His eyes meet yours, both of you sharing a disapproving look at your friend’s lack of confidence in herself. It was something you often discussed between yourselves, trying to figure out ways to help her see just how great she really was. Robin had always been good at hyping other people up, telling them how awesome or pretty they were but it was a completely different story when it came to herself.

“Steve’s right, you need to chill out. Vickie’s already heard you doing god awful karaoke, not to mention witnessing you hurl all over the bathroom floor at the Hideout and she’s still drooling over you. The girl is putty in your pretty little hands.” You jokingly reassure with a smile and it seems your light hearted words put her somewhat at ease as she takes a relieved breath.

“Hey, do you guys have a copy of that new movie with Molly Ringwald? Sixteen something?” Eddie shouts from the romance section of the store earning a scowl from you.

“Shit out of luck Munson, we’re totally sold out.” Steve replies, the curly haired metal head letting out a dramatic groan as he walked back to the counter, causing some of the other customers to flinch.

“Didn’t take you for a romcom kinda guy Eds.” You mock as he gives you a toothy grin. “Sweetheart, if it helps me get laid by the end of the night, I’ll watch anything.”

“Ew, gross Eddie, I really don’t need visions of you and Chrissy getting it on.” Robin shivers in disgust.

Although you share the same sentiment as your best friend, you can't help but think how nice it is that Eddie finally found someone that truly loves him for who he is. You couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy and a little part of you was jealous that you didn't have that with someone too.

"Harrington, did you get a tat dude?" Eddie quizzes, pointing to the digits on Steve's arm. You're taken out of your thoughts upon hearing the question directed at your coworker. Steve's eyes fall to you for a brief moment but you busy yourself with some paperwork, trying your best to pretend you're not paying attention to them.

"Oh, um no man, just a customer earlier, gave me her number." Steve brushes off with a shrug.

"Sweet, you gonna call her?" The hellfire leader interrupts and you hate yourself for wanting to know the answer too.

"God no, she was way too forward." Steve says, shaking his head, hoping that would be the end of the conversation as you relax again.

"What's wrong with forward? Come on man, it's Valentine's Day, call her, ask her out." Eddie encourages, wondering why Robin was shooting him a killer look as Steve shifts uncomfortably.

"Actually, I kind of already have a date tonight." He states, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The relief you felt moments ago, quickly vanishing, being replaced with a gut wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach. Steve had someone and it wasn't you. It would never be you.

“You do? Since when, why wasn’t I informed about this?” Robin quizzes suspiciously.

“I don’t have to tell you everything, Robin.” He huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Do we know her?” Eddie smirks and you wish you were anywhere else right now.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.” He answers coyly before serving the next customer.

“So what about you sweetheart, who’s the lucky guy that’s taking you out tonight?” The metal head grins, raising his brows suggestively.

You see Steve and Robin turning their heads, attention on you as Eddie waits for your response. For a moment you consider lying, trying to think of a name and a place just to save face on being the only one without a date for tonight and maybe a little part of you wanted to see what Steve’s reaction would be too. But Robin already knew you had no plans, she had probably already told Steve the same.

“There isn’t one.” You answer, looking down at the ground, wanting it to swallow you whole.

“Bullshit, every time I’m in here there’s a guy asking you out.” Eddie spits, frowning at your response.

He’s right, guys do ask you out. It’s not like you were some sort of prude who never had a sex or never went on dates but lately, you just hadn’t been feeling it. Not when your heart belonged to someone who didn’t even know they had it and until you could get over Steve Harrington, it wouldn’t be fair to start something with someone else.

“Yeah, just not the one I actually want.” You reply, refusing to look Steve’s way as you walk to the back.

You figure now is a good time to take you break, needing a moment away from your friends to regain your composure. The restroom door locking behind you as you drop to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest. How had you gotten here? How had you been so stupid to fall for your friend? How had you allowed this to happen?

You secretly wondered who Steve’s date could be, knowing there was a number of viable contenders. Was it the brunette from last week who asked him to explain how The Lost Boys wasn’t a Peter Pan spin off or the blonde that always laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t even funny. Or maybe it was the raven haired girl who openly discussed her recent porno rentals with him every week.

One thing you knew for sure, it certainly wasn’t you.

The sound of footsteps brings you back to your shitty reality and the sudden knock on the bathroom door has you standing on your feet again.

“Hey, it’s just me. Are you ok?” You hear Robin ask from the other side. You straighten yourself up, wiping your clothes down before unlocking the door to face your friend.

“Yeah of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You question, doing your best to give her a reassuring smile but she sees right through you.

“I honestly didn’t know dingus had a date, I would have told you if I did.” She mutters nervously as you shake your head.

“Why? It’s not like I care what he does.” You state as Robin gives you an unconvinced glance.

“Babe, it’s me you’re talking to right now, no one else. You forget I used to be the master at hiding my feelings, so I know all the signs. You’re totally crazy about him aren’t you?” She quizzes, as you shrug your shoulders. There was no point in hiding it from her anymore, she could read you like a book.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” She suggests as you let out a bitter laugh. “Did you not just hear what he said out there? He has a date, Robin.”

“Yeah but maybe if—”

“No. I’m not telling him alright? So please, just drop it.” You beg, letting out a deflated sigh.

Robin decides not to push you any further, realising you didn’t want to talk about it right now but you know this won’t be the end of it and eventually you’d have to answer the many questions you were sure she was going to have, taking a mental note to purchase alcohol before you talked about your feelings for Steve with her. But for now, you were grateful that she was leaving well enough alone so you could get back to work and pretend that everything was fine.

The remaining hours went by painfully slow, the romance section almost bare and you were counting down the minutes before you could go home to your bed and shut out the world while you waited for this shitty day to be over. Once the store got a little quieter, Steve offered to man the counter while you did Robin’s make up in the back, helping her get ready for the long awaited date before her girlfriend picked her up.

By 7:45, you were left with Steve and Keith who had been in his office doing paper work since he ordered you to decorate the store earlier. Steve had noticed you were quieter than usual, trying his best to joke and make light conversation but all he was met with was one worded answers.

“It was really cool of you to do Robin’s make up, y’know?” You hear Steve mumble as you restock the confectionery stand.

“That’s what best friends are for, right?”

“Yeah of course but you saw how nervous she was all day and I think you helping her out by making her look all pretty and stuff, just gave her the confidence boost she needed for tonight. I just thought it was really sweet of you.” He compliments, a warm look on his face that has your frosty demeanour melting.

“Alright, I’m done for the day. You two ok to lock up?” Keith asks, dousing himself in cheap cologne as Steve shoots his boss a glare knowing it was his night to close.

“No, not really. I have a date.” Steve argues as Keith grunts unsympatheticly. “You’re not the only one lover boy.”

“Online chat rooms don’t count, Keith.” Steve fires back as you try not to laugh at the expression on your boss’s face.

“You want to be out of a job, Harrington?” Keith threatens, looking less than impressed.

“No, but I really need to—”

“That settles it then, you two will lock up. Happy Valentines Day.” He smirks, throwing Steve a set of keys before exiting the store.

“What an asshole!” Steve groans, throwing the keys on the counter, putting an irritated hand through his signature hair while his plans hang in the balance.

“Now I get why he wanted me to decorate so badly.” You mutter, thinking back to how you spent the first couple of hours of your shift, blowing up balloons and getting sticky tape stuck in your hair. Keith was loved up like the rest of your friends. Cupid had gotten another one.

“Do you actually believe he has a date?” Steve asks, frustration still apparent in his voice as you nod your head, groaning.

“As much as it pains me to say yes, given that I myself don’t actually have a date, when have you ever seen him put on cologne?” You question as Steve lets out a heavy sigh.

“Good point. I hope she stands the son of a bitch up though.” He grins playfully and you can’t help but smile back at him. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and you kind of hated him for it.

“Hey, look at that, I finally got a smile out of you.” He teases, poking at your cheek as you lightly push his hand away.

“Steve, quit it.” You giggle as he shakes his head.

“Not a chance, you’re just so pretty when you smile.” He admits, cupping your face momentarily, locking his eyes with your own and your breath hitches as his warm hand rests on your face, his thumb carefully caressing your cheek and you hope to god you’re not blushing right now. Your eyes wander to his lips, pink and plump and a little chapped from the cold weather Hawkins was currently experiencing and you couldn’t help but wonder what lucky girl would get to kiss them later on.

For a moment as Steve gazed at you, you considered telling him everything. How you’ve been crazy about him since you worked at Scoops Ahoy together, falling hard for him when you saw how kind he was to the kids he watched over, knowing he wasn’t the same selfish guy you’d known in high school. Steve Harrington was selfless, brave and caring and as you looked into his caramel coloured eyes, all you wanted for him was to be happy because that’s what he deserved more than anything, even if it would never be with you.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” He whispers, looking at you in a way that made your knees weak.

You knew this was your chance to tell him, the perfect night to admit your feelings but previous Valentine’s Day disasters prevented you from saying what you really wanted to, afraid Steve would have to let you down gently or worse, laugh in your face.

“You should go home and get ready for your date, I’ll lock up here.” You swallow hard as he finally removes his hand from your face, seemingly taking him out of his own thoughts.

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t ask me, I offered.” You reassure, feeling guilty for how you had treated him all day.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. The place is quiet now anyway and there’s only an hour left. Plus I’ve been looking forward to destroying all those damn decorations all day.” You joke, attempting to hide the sadness you were currently feeling from him, terrified that you’d break down in tears if he stuck around much longer.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He grins as you playfully roll your eyes at him. “So I’ve been told.”

“Got any advice for a successful Valentine’s date?” He questions, grabbing his car keys as you let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You’re really not asking the right person. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good Valentine’s experience. Why are you so nervous anyway, you’ve been on hundreds of dates?”

“Yeah I know, but I really like this girl, like a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anybody and I really don’t want to mess this up.” He sighs and you wonder if he can hear your heart smashing into pieces.

“Wow, she must be really special.” You breathe as he nods his head looking like a schoolboy with a crush.

“Yeah, she is.” He admits and it’s like a fresh bullet to your chest.

“Well then I hope she knows how lucky she is. Any girl who can’t see what an amazing guy you are would have to be a complete idiot.” You reply honestly, almost certain you see a hint of pink in his cheeks.

“Thanks, honey.” He whispers, before walking towards the exit, the nickname causing your brain to short circuit. Honey.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, walking out the door as you feel a tear slide down your cheek watching his car pull out of the space, taking your broken heart right along with him. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, cursing under your breath, pondering if you were really doomed to face every February fourteenth in utter misery.

The last hour of your shift had gone by quicker than expected, having no customers during the final thirty minutes, giving you plenty of time to dispose of the shitty decorations that had mocked you throughout the day. When you finished vacuuming the floor, you wondered how your friends were fairing on their dates. Had Eddie gotten through a rom com without passing out? Did Robin make it up the steps of the movie theatre without falling? Was Keith really on a date with an actual woman? Had Steve already managed to get his new girl into bed?

That last thought made you want to throw up.

At 8:50 you decided to call it a night, dreaming of your warm bed and the cheese pizza you were going to order the minute you got home, wanting nothing more than to wallow in self pity. The money had been cashed up, the shelves were organised and you figured you had earned the extra ten minutes after everything you had endured today. Once you grabbed your handbag and jacket from your locker, you did a final check of the place before clocking out, switching the open sign to closed before you shut the door behind you, turning the key in the lock and pulling the shutters down, thankful you were off for the next couple of days.

As you tossed the keys into your bag, pulling on your jacket to prepare for the short walk to your apartment, you noticed a familiar maroon BMW parked up and Steve Harrington leaning against the hood, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Steve?”

“Hey you.” He smiles, eyes sparkling in the glow of the moonlight.

“Is everything ok?” You worry, wondering if something had happened to one of the kids or your older friends.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve reassures as you let out a sigh of relief.

“Well for starters, aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” You quiz, confusion apparent in your tone.

“I was just waiting for her to get off work actually, I’m picking her up here.” He smirks confidently, pushing himself off of the hood.

“You’re meeting her in the Family Video parking lot? Isn’t that a bit creepy?” You tease, raising a brow at him, trying not to focus on how good he looks in a grey sweater that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Well yeah, I guess it would be a little creepy if she didn’t work there.” He jokes, hoping he’d given you enough clues to figure out the rest for yourself. When your eyes begin to widen, mouth parting as you try to speak, he knows the penny has finally dropped.

“Steve I—”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, repeating the same words he'd said earlier, handing you the prettiest bunch of daisies you’ve ever seen and it’s not until his fingers brush yours that you realise it isn’t a dream. Steve Harrington was here, waiting for you.

“These are for me?” You ask, breath catching in your throat.

“Of course they are, who else would I get them for?” He teases as you try to hold back tears.

"Steve, I…I can’t believe you got me daisies. they’re so beautiful.” You smile, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

“I know I probably should have gotten you roses but I remember last summer when we took the kids to the park and you made Max and El daisy chains. You said they were your favourite.”

“You remember that?” You blush looking up at him as he nods. “I remember everything about you, honey.”

Your stomach is doing somersaults now, palms sweaty and shaking with the way he’s looking at you and it takes everything in you not to kiss him silly.

“Did Robin know about this?” You quiz, wondering if you were going to have to murder your friend tomorrow for letting you go through a shift thinking Steve was going on a date with someone else.

“Are you serious? You know she can’t keep secrets. I couldn’t take the risk that she wouldn’t telll you. Plus, I was afraid she’d never let me live it down if you rejected me.” Steve jokes, flashing his pearly whites at you. How could you ever reject him?

“I don’t understand, if Robin didn’t tell you, how did you know I had feelings for you?”

“Not to sound totally arrogant but I’m not completely stupid. I see how flustered you get around me sometimes and how jealous you get when a customer tries to flirt with me, like today. But mostly I’ve seen the way you look at me and then I knew for sure—cause it’s the same way I look at you.” He whispers, his warm hand cupping your cheek.

“And how exactly do you look at me?” You challenge, swallowing hard as his lips inch closer to yours.

“Like I’m totally crazy about you.”

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #king steve #steve harrington imagine #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #djotime #djo #joe keery #gator tillman #kurt kunkle

[hiraethwrote]

just come home - satoru gojo

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[satoru gojo - f!reader] ✧ summary: you've prepared a nice dinner for the two of you to have a nice date night, but when he never shows up, you've had enough. ✧ cw: angst, cursing, breaking stuff, betrayal, Satoru not being the best boyfriend, mention of insecurities, no use of y/n, somewhat proofread ✧ word count: 2.7k

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

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For weeks and weeks, you had expressed a desire for the two of you to have a date night but there was always a reason for why he didn’t have the time; I’ve got a mission. Shoko needed my help. I already promised Suguru I would go. Not tonight darling, I’m too tired. It broke your heart a little every time, but you knew the kind of responsibility that rested on his shoulders. You did not have the conscience to start complaining, even though you so desperately wanted to.

However, whatever he had planned this time fell through and he finally had an evening available. You had jumped at the opportunity and made a casual request while you were doing the dishes. “How about I make us a nice dinner instead? Make an evening out of it?” You'd been somewhat nervous when you’d made the request, scared he’d have some other reason not to be able to attend. But when you’d turned to look at him with hopeful eyes, you’d been met by his kind ones and a gentle smirk on his lips. Carefully, he had grabbed your chin between his fingers and pulled you closer. “I’d love to, darling,” he answered genuinely and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Your stomach had instantly been filled with familiar butterflies.

So when the day arrived, the two of you had arranged for you to have dinner ready when he got home at seven and your timing was impeccable as you placed the finishing touches on the dinner five minutes before Satoru was supposed to walk through the door. Giddy with excitement, you lit the two candles you had placed on the table and sat down in your seat. Your excitement quickly turned into worry when fifteen minutes passed and there was still no sign of him. It didn’t have to mean anything, he wasn’t exactly known for being on time. It wasn’t until an hour had passed you felt the sadness and disappointment take over you. Then another hour passed, and another, and another. For nearly four hours you sat on the dining chair, staring at the door, waiting for your boyfriend to come home.

“Fuck it,” you whispered to yourself as you finally stood up, throwing your napkin on the table. The candles you’d lit had nearly burned down, and the untouched meal you’d prepared had turned cold long ago. As you noticed the apartment had turned dark, you felt the sadness wash over you and the tears started to well up in your eyes. Quickly you blew out the candles and made your way straight to bed. You wrapped yourself in your blanket and tried to blink away the tears, taking one last look at your phone to see if you’d missed a text or a call. Nothing.

It had always pained you when he hadn’t been able to make time for one evening for just the two of you, but you never found it in yourself to blame him. He was the Satoru Gojo after all. It was more than understandable that he was needed and wanted at all places all the time. However, somewhere inside, you felt as if he could have been able to take one night off. But you would never argue with him on the matter because, truthfully, you were beyond terrified he would toss you aside the second someone better came along. You felt so extremely lucky to be able to call Satoru your boyfriend, but there was no hiding the fact he could have anyone he wanted, but he had you. Satoru wasn’t just the most powerful being in the universe, but he was also so extremely gorgeous and had enough charisma for all of Tokyo.

But this was it. You couldn’t do it anymore. This was the moment you realised you wanted someone who would undoubtedly match your devotion. You’d held onto the hope of that person being Satoru for too long, but you’d made enough excuses for him now.

With this thought in mind, your heart ached and the tears fell quietly against your pillow, you eventually fell into a calm sleep.

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You woke up with a small jolt at the sound of the front door being close shut. The clock on your nightstand showed 01:37, nearly seven hours after he was supposed to be home. You heard his footsteps come closer and closer, until you felt him lay down in the bed beside you and snake his arm around your waist. When you felt him place a soft kiss on your temple, the anger began to fill your body. “You awake?” He spoke softly, his voice slightly muffled against your hair.

Unbelievable. Fuelled by anger and frustration, you wiggled out of his grip and immediately exited the bedroom, desperate to find somewhere to put all your emotions. Looking over at the failed dinner, you decided to start cleaning it up, reminded again it had all gone to waste. Not even two minutes after you’d left him in the bed, he was standing in the doorway behind you.

“Babe, are you okay?” The audacity of his question made you drop the plates in the sink, causing a ruckus before turning around to face him, resting a hand on your hip.

“Does it seem to you that I’m okay?” Your voice was already quivering from all the emotions you were feeling, but you were determined to not break just yet.

Satoru was taken aback by the intense tone of your voice and couldn’t remember you ever talking to him this way. Carefully he began to approach you, but the look you gave him made him stop in his tracks instantly, staying put by the doorway. “Look, I’m really sorry about tonight.” His voice wasn’t disingenuous, but there was a simplicity in it that made you scoff.

“If that’s what you’re starting with, you can save it.” He felt himself flinch just the slightest at your voice and he began to feel worried what might come out of your mouth next.

“I was hanging with Suguru and Shoko. Shoko had to show us something and I couldn’t just leave. But it’s just dinner, we can do it another night.” His tone showed you he wasn’t by any means mocking the situation, but he was more interested in explaining why he didn’t show up than show consideration.

“Just dinner?” He instantly knew what he had said was a mistake. “Is it just dinner that I spent hours preparing this for us? Is it just dinner that this was supposed to be our first date in nearly a year? Is it just dinner that you’re seven hours late and couldn’t even bother to let me know you weren’t coming home?”

And awkward silence filled the room where you just stood there looking at each other. Satoru couldn’t keep his eyes off you, who had now crossed your arms over your rapidly heaving chest. He searched his mind to find the right words to say, but just felt his mouth run dry. He now understood how much he had screwed up, even though he himself had genuinely only thought of the evening as “just dinner”.

“What, no snarky comment? No funny comeback?” You spoke, waiting impatiently for him to open his mouth. “Fucking say something!” You caught him off guard when you grabbed one of the wineglasses you had served along with dinner and hurled it in his direction, hitting the wall beside his head and shattering on impact. “You always know exactly what to say and now it the time you finally decide to shut up?”

“I’m sorry,” he forced out, his voice slightly cracking. You just looked at him, taking in the sight of your boyfriend who now looked so unlike himself. Normally, he stood so tall and proud, his smile never faltering. But now, the person staring back at you, was a fragile human being who didn’t know up from down. You felt your anger begin to turn back into sadness again at the sight of him and it took every ounce of willpower not to surrender yourself to him.

“Don’t be sorry, Satoru! Be better! Be my boyfriend!” As your emotions had shifted, so had your tone. There was no anger anymore, just a desperate plead. It wasn’t just in your voice one could tell how upset you were, it was also evident on your entire body. Satoru had noticed how your frame had turned less hostile towards him and saw his opportunity to approach you. When he wasn’t met with yet another look that could kill, he kept going until he was standing in front of you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can have the dinner date tomorrow, I’ll stand for the cooking,” he spoke softly, carefully sliding his hands along your upper arms.

“This isn’t about the dinner,” you burst out, shaking away his hands and stepping away again. “It’s so much bigger than that. Can’t you see that?”

He could hear it in your voice you were choking back the sobs that were harbouring in your throat. Throughout your two year relationship, he had never seen you this upset before. And if he had, he had never been the reason for your sorrow. Just the idea of being the cause for your turmoil broke his heart, and he could feel his own tears fighting their way to the corner of his eyes.

“Satoru, I deserve to be with someone who is dying to be with me as much as I am dying to be with you.” He saw the first tear fall down your face. “I don’t want to be in a relationship where I give everything of myself, and not receive the same in return.”

In the middle of your speech, you found yourself reminiscing of how he used to be in the relationship. In the beginning, he worshipped the ground you walked on. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his friends grew tired of how he wasn’t able to shut up about you. There was no doubt that you were his world, and he made it known to every person he came across that you were. You couldn’t recall when it had changed. Maybe it had happened gradually, making it harder to pick up on.

“When did you stop caring for me?” Your voice finally cracked, and a small sob escaped you. He instantly felt his shoulders fall, and his mouth slightly agape in shock.

The answer to your question was easy; never. He remembered being captivated by you the very first moment he laid his eyes on you and he knew he had to get to know you. It didn’t take long until he knew he wanted to be with you, forever if he could. There wasn’t a single thing about you he didn’t love with his entire being. He loved how your nose scrunched when you laughed, and how you subconsciously hummed to yourself while you were making dinner, how you took the quickest showers ever but still ended up spending two hours in the bathroom doing basically nothing. He also admired how kind and understanding you were, always sacrificing your own needs and desires for others. If anything, he only cared for you more and more as time went on.

But now he was looking at you, seeing your shoulders bounce with every sob and sniffle. Even with your makeup smudged, hair messy from sleep and tear stains running down your cheeks, you were beautiful. You were easiest the most beautiful girl he’d ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. All he wanted was to pull you into his arms and comfort you, promising everything was going to work out. He was desperate to feel your body against his, but he knew you wouldn’t allow it.

“Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. I’ll fix it.” Now he was the one pleading, making it even harder for you to not give in and let it all slide.

“You can’t,” you whispered. He felt his breath begin to quicken and he sensed where this was going. “Satoru-” he closed his eyes at the sound of his name leaving your lips so softly.

“Please,” he whispered back before opening his eyes again to meet your gaze.

“I have given you absolutely all that I have to offer, and it still doesn’t seem to be enough. There’s not a single living creature on this planet who has seen all the sides of me that I have showed you. I have given you my mind, my heart, my soul, my body-” you were cut off by one of your sobs. “And you can’t even make it home to dinner.” As the severity of the situation had set in, Satoru had also begun to cry.

He knew it was unfair of him, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. He walked right up to you and grabbed your face gently with both his hands and forced you to look at him. He stared into your wet eyes and felt your body shake from crying. “Please don’t do this,” he rushed to say, never having uttered a more desperate plead in his life. His heart skipped a beat when he felt your hands graciously wrap around his wrists, reminding him it was the first time that evening you had touched him. As a response, he instinctively leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m not waiting around for you to find a better option and leave me-“

“That won’t happen!” Satoru interrupted you. “I promise, just please, please, please don’t do this.” He felt you pull away from his forehead as you crouched away. At the same time you reluctantly removed his hands from your face. Every inch of his body wanted to fight against it, and never have his hands leave your face ever again. He knew he had messed it up for real this time. Once you let go of his wrists, he’d lose the one girl he had truly loved.

“I want it so bad to be you. But I can’t continue to ruin myself for you, Satoru.” The silence hit you, and it was as if you were both too scared to say another word. It was only Satoru’s quiet sniffles that filled the room.

It was a bittersweet sensation to have him stand so close to you, but having such a sad scenario play out. You still had a loose grip on his wrists, knowing you had to let go of them sooner or later. But you just didn’t want to. It felt as if as long as you stayed quiet, you could stay in this form of limbo where you didn’t have to face what was to come. Some part of you wished you could accept living this way, because you wanted nothing more than to have Satoru in your life. But you knew it wasn’t fair to yourself to keep going like this.

“I’m going to stay with a friend tonight,” You broke the silence, causing Satoru to start crying again. Hesitantly, you finally let go of his wrists and took a small step back, letting you get a better look at him. The intensity in his cerulean eyes had only been amplified by his tears. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued to speak. “I’ll have someone pick up my stuff sometime this week.”

Satoru continued to plead, beg and cry for you not to leave. You had to actively block him out to be able to leave the apartment. As you made you way to the door, he followed you close behind, the tears falling like waterfalls.

“I’m sorry,” you said, barely a whisper as you opened the door and left him. The second the door closed, it felt as if you were sucked into a vacuum without a single sound to be heard. It was only disturbed when you heard a loud smash come from inside the apartment, bringing you back to reality before you ran down the stairs and left.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: sooo i am a sucker for angst. its definitly the genre i read the most, so probably expect a lot of angst lol. doesnt mean i wont write other stuff

Plagiarism not authorized

#⋆⭒˚｡⋆ hea writes #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru imagine #satoru gojo imagine #satoru oneshot #satoru gojo oneshot #satoru gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #saturo gojo x y/n #jjk satoru #jjk saturo gojo #gojo satoru / reader #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu jaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen oneshot

[inuyashaluver]

just read your newest alexia fic and it was fantastic!! please write more for her (ideally rivals x lovers but I don't really care what trope because both your alexia fics are fantastic so I'm sure I will be happy with any alexia fic you write!)

past reminders - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which you and alexia rekindle a old flame you both thought was completely destroyed

warnings: angst but happy! mentions of past situationships, heartbreak, swearing, spanish in bold italics! suggestive content, long - BUCKLE IN

a/n: i’ve been itching to write this lmao, thank you so much, my love!! i’m a sucker for enemies to lovers no word of a lie, please enjoyyyyy xx❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone was to describe the relationship between you and alexia, it was simply pure hatred.

to put it quite simply, you fucking despised each other, and you both thought it was for good reason.

—

even though yours and alexia’s pit of hatred ran deep, it wasn’t always like this. you and alexia were originally best friends, going back to years and years of friendship ever since the both of you were 7.

the two of you were inseparable, playing football together, going to school together, spending each and every afternoon together. it was the best, you truly had so much love for each other, twin flames that couldn’t be put out.

as the years went on, you and alexia grew older. and as the two of you grew together, so did affection bubbling under the surface. you and alexia had feelings for each other and never said anything of it.

well until one day at 19, you and alexia were hanging out at her house after training for barcelona, both of you getting signed at the same time after your booming success in the spanish teams.

you and alexia were side by side on her bed, the both of you giggly as you chatted and debriefed, even though you saw each other at every moment.

you weren’t exactly sure how the conversation started but alexia brought up that she hasn’t slept with anyone yet. your eyes were so wide at the conversation and her forwardness, not really comprehending what was going on out of pure shock.

you both knew you hadn’t your first times yet and alexia proposed something that took your breath away.

“if we sleep together for our first time, it’ll be good practice for later” alexia said like it was nothing, turning her head to look over at you. your cheeks were bright red, refusing to look her in the eye,

“ale” you breathe out nervously, “it’ll just be one time, friendly sex, nothing more” her body moved to perch up on her elbow, looking at you expectantly, “i trust you the most”

you glance over at her and harshly swallow the lump in your throat, alexia’s eyes drifted to where your neck had movement and smirked gently.

“one time?” you say so softly, alexia almost couldn’t hear it, she chuckles with a nod, her finger lightly tracing along your arm, smirking when goosebumps trailed on your skin.

“mhm, nena (babe), one time” she grabs your hand gently, her smirk only growing when you nod slowly “okay”, she kisses the corner of your mouth,

“mamá and alba aren’t home tonight” she whispered, reading your mind before her hand slipped up your shirt.

“don’t be nervous, it’s just me” she smiles softly, your breath hitched when she presses her lips to yours, moving together messily before her tongue licked into your mouth, a groan escaping the back of her throat when your hands carded through her hair and gently tugged.

—

and to put it simply, it wasn’t a one time thing. it was regular. very regular. almost every night. especially when she moved out of her mother’s house and had her own apartment.

alexia refused to put a label on anything. you were her best friend and nothing more, it was casual, platonic sex in her mind. and unfortunately for you, your heart yearned for her. you loved her, how could you not?

your heart would lurch at how kind she was after sleeping with you, kissing you affectionately and always cleaning you up afterwards with utmost care and diligence.

“so beautiful” she’d whisper, pressing gentle kisses along the length of your nose before pecking your lips multiple times.

alexia would send you suggestive smirks when she saw you at training, her eyes lingering as you changed and making sure to wink at you whenever you’d watch her change.

she would touch you more than necessary yet no one caught on. her hands would linger on your hips or waist as she moved passed you, giving you subtle kisses when you’d get a goal or just played well.

alexia was a very affectionate person, so everyone just thought the two of you were doing your regular best friend routine, unaware that alexia would drag you to her apartment almost every night to leave you breathless, marked up and shaky at the knees.

she was still your best friend of course, she just saw it as an added bonus. but for you, you wanted to call her yours, for you to be hers but the catalan didn’t want that.

she’d tell you almost every moment she could, “you’re my best friend” a chip in your heart that only grew bigger as the years progressed.

this went on for years, almost 5 consecutively and it was shocking no one caught on. she didn’t just sleep with you, she slept with other girls and you knew that but she’d always come back to you.

“they’re not you, they don’t know me like you” she’d tell you like clockwork, always making your heart a little fuzzy when you knew it shouldn’t.

it was torcherous for you, you tried to stop giving into her every time, but she’d give you those puppy dog eyes as she interlaced your hands together and you were done for.

and funnily enough, everything came to a stop when alexia got a girlfriend. when alexia got a girlfriend, she threw you away at the expense of her girlfriend’s words, “why do you need a best friend when you have me?” and because alexia ‘loved’ this girl, she dropped you.

she never returned your calls, she only talked to you at training when it was necessary. she wanted nothing to do with you. it killed her and you.

the once happy, bubbly duo went through an extremely dark stage at this point. you filling the void with random girls from team bonding nights at clubs and always regretting it later.

and whenever you would, alexia would fucking rip you apart over it. even after weeks of not talking.

“you look a little desperate, no?” she spat out as she walked up next to you at the bar. “fuck off” you glare at her, about to move away before she grabbed your wrist and pulled you back,

“it’s pathetic” she stares down at you, you roll your eyes in response. alexia could be with other people but god forbid you did.

“you’re pathetic, you can be with someone and i can’t?” you laugh humorously, alexia’s gaze growing colder by the second, a contrast from the warm alexia you loved so much.

“i have a girlfriend, i'm not throwing myself at anyone” another chip at your heart. from then on, alexia was truly nothing to you. you pushed her away harshly, promising that she wouldn’t have to see you anymore.

you left in a rush that night, making an effort to text your manager that you wanted to transfer in the upcoming window. so when the contract for madrid came along, you accepted.

—

you didn’t mind madrid, it was good for you. you were away from alexia and were actually strengthening your playing style and making some friends. and for you, a bonus was how mad it made alexia.

whenever madrid and barcelona would verse each other, people would definitely notice how much you and alexia hated each other.

the filthy looks said it all and not to mention the harsh words and dangerous tackles that would be made by the both of you.

when your spanish teammates would come over to you with bright smiles and warm hugs, you loved to watch alexia’s pissed off expression.

she’d get pissed when you wouldn’t even hug her as congratulations, you would shake her hand dismissively and take yours back like hers was made of fire. and yeah, maybe you were being a little childish, but she was too.

“you won’t die if you touch me, you know? but it’s fine when you fucking push me to the ground everytime i get the ball” she’d grit out, only make you grin in satisfaction,

“poor alexia, tell your girlfriend to kiss you better” you pout sarcastically, making an effort to bump her shoulder with yours as you walked past. you knew alexia was currently single, but you knew she hated when you brought up the girl. so you did it frequently.

you’d both get worried expressions from teammates after each time you interacted with each other, gaining a dismissive wave from both of you.

no one knew what happened, and you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, and neither would alexia.

so everyone had to deal with the two of you being insufferable whenever in the same vicinity.

—

during camp for spain, you’d both give each other hell. it didn’t matter if you were on the same team, the arguing actually got worse.

“your passes are sloppy” alexia would say when you touched the ball, making you roll your eyes with a groan.

“okay, la reina (the queen), sorry we’re not all perfect” you narrow your eyes at her, making a show of kicking the ball harshly to her, hitting her shin as you sent her a sticking sweet smile.

she hated that that nickname when it fell from your mouth, wanting to just wipe that fucking smile off your face.

“don’t be jealous” alexia says smugly, you scoff at that, crossing your arms over your chest, “i would never be jealous of you” you look her up and down, the two of you approaching each other slowly as the argument heightened.

“oh really? isn’t that why you moved to madrid, couldn’t handle that i was better?” she’s up close to you now, your chests mere centimetres away from each other.

you breathe heavily as you look up at her, “yeah, i did move to madrid to get away from you” you argue, making her chuckle condescendingly, “good to see you have no loyalty” she darts her eyes between yours, trying to rile you up and it was certainly working.

“you want to talk about loyalty? remember you dropped me all those years ago?” you laugh in disbelief, body tingling with how close alexia was to you, a vast contrast to what you would do in the past at this proximity.

“i had my reasons” she says warningly, not wanting to get into this subject in the middle of training. “yeah, don’t worry i remember the texts, ‘i can’t be around you anymore, sorry’” you mock her,

“all because of that fucking girlfriend of yours, you dropped years of friendship with me” you send her an icy glare, one she was quick to return, “again with the jealousy” she mocks, you’re quick to give her a shove, “fuck off, putellas” you grit, alexia comes right back, her eyes boring into yours.

“you’re a child” she challenged, “excuse me?” you bite back, “you’re. a. child.” she breaks down each word intentionally, making sure it lingered in your ears. you’re both heavy breathing at this point, faces dangerously close to each other.

“i’m the child? you’re the fucking child, alexia!” you exclaim, now mapi and jenni coming over to separate the two of you.

“you’re both children, enough” jenni warns, pushing alexia by the chest away from you as mapi held you back.

“best friends for years and now you can’t even talk to each other like adults” mapi scolds, you and alexia sending each other glares and mouthing insults at each other.

“she knows what she did” you spat out, letting ona drag you away. alexia watched as you left, sighing heavily when her mind raced with all those good times you had. she missed you, dearly. she was just terrible at showing it.

—

it was childish for the both of you, but alexia had broken your heart so many times, you felt like you were just protecting your peace.

alexia did feel bad for the way she dropped you, she did love you, truly as much as you did with her. but she couldn’t bring herself to put a label on things with you just out of pure fear.

at first, she didn’t want to lose you, alexia wanted to shield you from everything bad in the world and tell you everything was going to be okay with a kiss.

but alexia thought she fell in love with her ex girlfriend and listened to her, even when she had feelings for you.

she didn’t know how harsh the consequences would be. losing you completely tore out a piece of her soul.

—

it was during a random match between madrid and barcelona in 2020 where things took a shift, just before off-season. the score was neck and neck, a typical harsh match between the rivals.

you and alexia still ‘hated’ each other but were much more tame about it, just choosing to ignore each other rather than outwardly argue.

you were on the ball when a defender from barcelona came up from behind you out of no where, making you attempt to dodge around her until a sharp pain shot up your knee. a pop.

you went down with a piercing scream, the sold out stadium going quiet at you clutching your knee in pain. and funnily enough, the first person to you was alexia.

“move away from her” she spat out, her hand coming to the back of your head and placing it on her thigh. you weren’t even comprehending who it was at this point, just enveloped by the comforting scent that once gave you a sense of home.

“you’re okay” she breathes out, cradling your head to her stomach as you cried out, “ale, my knee” you choked out, alexia hushes you, her thumb brushing your cheek as she held you close, waiting for the medics to come arrive.

once they were assessing you, alexia was about to move but you clutched her hand, “no-” you start, “just, stay for a second” you look up at her pleadingly, she nods, her hand giving you a gentle squeeze.

once you got told the dreaded three letters, your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks as you held onto alexia. she welcomed the contact like a second nature, both of you gaining a sense of security you hadn’t had in years.

“breathe” she says softly as you get situated on a stretcher, “you’re okay, i promise” she says while looking right into your eyes.

you feel like you’re 19 again, absolutely head over heels for this girl, some of those old feelings lingering in the pit of your stomach.

you get carried off and barcelona wins the match, alexia comes to find you without a second thought. she takes a deep breath before you she knocks on the door of the physio room, hearing a sniffle and a soft “come in”.

“hey” she swallows, hovering near the door as she saw you with your knee braced and iced. “you can come inside” you chuckle, alexia stiffens but walks in, sitting in a chair next to you as you stare up at the ceiling.

“i have surgery in two days” you blurt out, alexia never takes her eyes off you, watching as some tears still roll down your cheeks. “who’s taking you?” she questions softly, you let out a deep sigh.

“i haven’t gotten that far yet, my knee just popped” you tease, making alexia smile softly. the both of you never thought you’d be this civil after all this time.

“i’ll take you” alexia said simply, your head snaps to where she was, “i can’t ask you to do that” you stumble out,

“you’re not, i’m offering” alexia shrugs, “then i can’t accept your offer” alexia huffs in annoyance, “fine, it’s not an offer, it’s happening” alexia says sternly, you knew there was nothing to argue about.

there was no way you could go all the way to madrid in your condition, staying in barcelona for surgery was just a no brainer at this point.

“are you sure?” you say hesitantly, “positive” she says earnestly, smiling at you gently while you returned an appreciative one.

alexia forced you to stay at her house, getting your stuff from the hotel and setting you up in her guest room. it was a little awkward, not really knowing how to converse with a girl you’ve known for years of your life yet was your borderline enemy for years as well.

though with a little help of your injured knee, alexia and you managed to chip away at that awkwardness.

when you woke up extra sleepy from surgery, alexia gave you a comforting smile as you came to your senses, only leaving the hospital room if it was completely necessary.

“how are you feeling?” alexia said softly as she adjusted the pillow behind your head, fussing with the blankets until you swatted her hand away with a soft laugh.

“i’m fine, calm down” alexia drops the blanket with a sheepish grin and sat down on the chair next to you,

“ale?” you breathe out, she hums as she looked up at you, “thank you” you look over at her, her eyes are a little glossy but you chose to dismiss it.

“you don’t have to thank me, you’d do it for me” she smiles, you nod slowly, it was true, no matter how much you thought you disliked her throughout the years, you would help her in a heartbeat. no matter the time or place.

suddenly you start laughing and alexia gives you a questioning smile, “sorry i just,” you start, turning your head to look at her properly, “i didn’t think this would be happening after all these years” alexia nods along with your words with a little chuckle,

“i’m surprised you haven’t bitten my head off yet” she teases, “never say never, putellas” you warn teasingly, both of you laughing together in a little moment of solitude.

—

alexia was incredibly patient with you when you got discharged from the hospital, walking beside you with your crutches at your pace while sending you encouraging words and smiles.

“take your time” she says as she hovers next to you, ready to catch you if you fell. she helped you into the car and literally carried you into her apartment despite your protests to save time, wanting you to rest on the couch as soon as possible.

she was grateful about the time off, she doesn’t think she’d be able to train or play without you clouding her mind. she finally felt like she got you back, even if it was just a tiny piece.

she elevated your knee and tucked you in with warm blankets, making you a tea and sitting next to you as she encouraged you to put on something to watch.

her heart warmed when you put an old childhood favourite of both of you. a wave of nostalgia hitting you both. she kept glancing at you every couple of seconds,

you both laughed with each other at the movie, subconsciously quoting some parts of it with each other and recounting old memories. suddenly a wave of sadness hits alexia because she realised how much she’d lost.

when you realised she stopped laughing along with you, you glance at her nervously and give her a worried expression.

“are you okay?” you say softly, alexia shakes her head, tears pricking at her eyes seeing your soft features, you gesture to her to come closer and she sits on the couch facing you, the tears rolling down her face as she sniffled.

“ale, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she flinches, you pull it away slightly but she holds onto it instead.

“i’m so sorry” she chokes out, looking at you tearfully, you can feel your heart break a little at how she was crying, your eyebrows furrow in concern,

“what-” you start before she interrupts, “no, please let me speak” she sniffs, gripping into your hand tightly,

“i’m so stupid, there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry i am for letting you go the way i did, you didn’t deserve that” she begins,

“i was clueless for listening to my ex, you were there for me through everything and i put you aside like you were nothing” she blubbered, each word clutching your heart.

your own tears begin to escape your tear ducts, “but you’re not nothing, you’re everything, you were my everything and i let you go when i wanted you, i’ve wanted you forever” she pronounced, looking right at you to make sure you heard everything she said.

“i love you, i always have” she expressed, your mouth hung open a little at the three words. silence settled over the two of you, hands still tightly interlaced.

“i love you too” you admit, alexia’s face lights up, only you shake your head for a moment, “alexia, you need to understand that you really hurt me, and i know i fucked up too, we both did” you start,

“if we were to give this another try, it needs to be slowly” you fiddle with the blanket on top of you, the two of you are still crying, still not believing this situation was real.

she agrees without hesitation, “i’ll do anything you want me to, hermosa (beautiful)” she breathes out.

her free hand moves to wipe a stray tear off your cheek, making you give her a wet laugh before you pulled her into an awkward positioned hug but you both didn’t mind, you’d both finally woken up to yourselves. you loved each other.

—

for the next few weeks, you and alexia grew closer and closer, finally falling back into that special relationship you had with each other.

it was going slow for about two days until the both of you broke under pressure and just gave into each other, acting more like a couple than you ever have.

“hi, bebé (baby)” alexia cheeses out when she sees you sitting on the couch, you crane your head back to look at her, giving her an affectionate smile that she was quick to return.

she presses a sweet kiss to your lips, a languid kiss that had you both sighing into each other's mouths.

she pulls away from you with an exaggerated peck to make you laugh, plopping down beside you and directing your head to her shoulder, you cuddle into her with a satisfied smile, her scent calming you down instantly.

—

it wasn’t a surprise that once you were fully recovered from your acl, you made your return to barcelona. once you made your comeback, you and alexia weren’t hiding anything anymore.

it felt good to claim each other as your partner, an endless amount of support sent your way.

you and alexia were quite literally joint at the hip once you finally moved in together, barely any time wasted when it came to the two of you, alexia claiming you needed to make up for ‘lost time’.

with the amount of devotion alexia gave to you, you forgave her, it took a while but you both wanted to move on from it, a fresh start for the both of you.

some of your teammates in the spanish team still found it hilarious when they found out why the two of you hated each other, still finding it a little baffling to see you so loved up at training.

—

“ale” you send her a half hearted glare as she sat in her cubby watching you get changed for a national game.

“yes, bebita (baby girl)” she grins at you smugly, you cross your arms over your chest, walking over to her and giving her a challenging expression. she grabs your hips and tugs you forward, making you sit sidewards on one of her thighs.

“not funny, where is it?” she chuckles at your mock anger, pressing tender kisses to the underside of your jaw,

“where is what?” she mumbles against your skin, you squirm slightly when she reaches your pulse point, slapping her hand that was now squeezing your thigh.

“my jersey” you groan, alexia lets out a little laugh, kissing your cheek repeatedly, “it’s right there” she points out, suddenly you stand up, grabbing her hand and making her stand in front of your cubby, looking at her expectantly.

“what does that say?” you point at the jersey hung up, “putellas?” she grins, “smart girl, who’s jersey is that?” you try not to laugh, “yours” she smiles wider, her hand dropping yours to wrap around your waist, making you stand in front of her as she continued to kiss your cheek softly.

“in case you forgot, that’s not my last name” you say amusingly, feeling her smiling against your skin as she gave you a gently squeeze.

“it will be soon” she grins, flipping you around so you could face her, “propose first” you say cheekily, patting her cheek with your hand. she turns her hand to kiss your palm, a silent promise that it was happening soon. (happened a week later)

“you’re no fun,” she pouts mockingly, reaching above you to retrieve the jersey that actually said your name on it, giving you a shit eating grin as she watched you get changed.

“children” mapi and jenni say at the same time, watching as alexia pulled you into another kiss that took all the breath out of your lungs.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily jenni x

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alexiaputellas: she thinks she’s the boss

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yourname: i am the boss

↳ alexiaputellas: it’s so cute how you think you are bebita (baby girl)

↳ yourname: i literally am?

↳ jennihermoso: oh she definitely is

↳ marialeonn16: 100% is

↳ alexiaputellas: a bunch of traitors

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond x oc #aemond x female #aemond x fem!oc #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #hotd smut #hotd angst #aemond targaryen angst #modern aemond #modern aemond smut #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond angst #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond fandom #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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[tamurilofrivendell]

Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno​​, @achromaticerebus​​, @coopsgirl​​, @birbixo0912​​, @desert-fern​​, @ancient-rime​​, @lady-of-imladris​​​, @weepingdreammarvel​​​, @asianbutnotjapanese​​​, @deadlymistletoe​​​

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

"What is?" You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Thranduil looked up and met your gaze. "The guards you have picked." He gestured to the paper in his hands as if it should be obvious. "They are not of a high enough level to guard the Queen." 

“Oh.” You gave him a quizzical look, tilting your head. You weren’t entirely sure about levels and the like. Nobody had said anything yesterday. Nobody had even really told you much at all, in all honesty, you had been sort of left to fend for yourself. “I... didn’t know anything about that. I just had to watch them fight and pick, you said. They appeared good enough for me. I think they would do just fine.”

The Elvenking blinked at you for a moment, his thoughts more critical than he would have liked. If you had not been sure, why had you not asked? Deep down, he knew that you could not possibly have known to ask because he had not told you that you could, or should. He’d told you to pick your own guards and then left you in the training grounds to attend a council meeting. However, Thranduil had simply assumed you would have asked for help or clarification if you had needed it. And clearly you had if this list was anything to go by. As it was, you had not wanted to cause a fuss, or look foolish, or add more work to the king’s heavy load. The soldiers showing off their skills had seemed capable enough and that had been all you’d thought you needed to look for. Besides, how would you know anything about their levels? You still did not yet know everybody here.

Thranduil’s silence was uncomfortable but then he simply tsk'd and lowered his gaze again. He shrugged, almost to himself, but he did not sign off on the document. He simply scored something out before setting it to one side to go back to later. He would pick, he decided. If he let you choose low levelled guards, how would they protect you?

She would have chosen better, he thought, though it was there and gone again so quickly that he did not notice he’d thought it at all.

You eyed him for another long moment before you moved to leave the library, heading away down the corridor. He had been in a fairly strange mood all day and you supposed you should leave him to it. Not bad, exactly, just... distracted, perhaps.

Most likely he was still struggling a little with this entire situation and you couldn't really blame him for that because it was still so very strange for you too. To have wound up in an arranged marriage with the King of Mirkwood. You yourself were from Lothlórien, daughter of an important elf in the Lord and Lady's court.

While unexpected, you could see the positives in such an arrangement and, truthfully, you liked Thranduil. He had been kind to you, at least when you first met and agreed to this. However, now that you had actually moved here, it seemed a little like he had been taking offence to every single decision you made. He’d give you things to do and then seem unsatisfied with the way you had done them. It was frustrating but you could only assume he was stressed and that he would soon relax.

You went to sleep that night hopeful that tomorrow he would be in a better mood.

You found him in his study the following afternoon and felt relief when he looked up and smiled at you. "I hope you slept well. Are you prepared for the feast tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out to bid you closer.

"Mostly. I just have to decide what to wear." You told him, moving into the room and seating yourself beside him. “It is still between two dresses.”

He sat there looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher and it was almost as if he was studying something in your very soul. “Oh? You are not... set by now?” It seemed far too late to not have the entire outfit prepared.

You shrugged, always having been a bit more carefree and lazy in your decision making. You were a bit of a procrastinator and did not altogether mind if you left things to the last minute. Sometimes this was simply because you just... forgot. A far cry from the King beside you, of course. Also unbeknownst to you, a far cry from the Queen who had come before.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. His displeasure, however, radiated from him in waves in the silence that followed as he looked back down at the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Thranduil?"

"What?" He did not look up.

“Something troubles you.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt and you frowned at him, watching as he pretended to read whatever was on the desk but you could tell his mind was now elsewhere. You sighed and stood to leave the room. 

As you turned, Thranduil’s hand suddenly reached out and grasped your own. You turned to find him looking at you, a soft smile on his lips once more. “You will look beautiful whatever you wear.”

Returning his smile, you ducked your head to hide the blush you could feel about to spread over your cheeks, and quickly took your leave.

Thranduil watched you go and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He liked you, he always had, but you were not quite what he had expected when he had finally relented to the pushing of his court to take a new Queen.

He had obviously agreed you would be a good choice. Your station in Lothlórien, your family tree, put you in a very good position to knowing how things worked... yet not entirely, it seemed. Something was a little... off now that you were actually here in Mirkwood with him.

Oh, you were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. You made him laugh. He enjoyed your company. There was simply something niggling at him in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

The feast came quickly, too quickly for you as the time just flew past. You had gotten caught up doing something completely unrelated and frowned when a maid rushed in to find you. Her relief was palpable but you didn’t understand it until you realised the time and she had ushered you back to your room to get ready.

Thranduil was irritated. There had been a delay - nobody had been able to find you - and you were not ready for the feast. You were not here, and it took so long that he had to walk into the room alone and act as though nothing were amiss. He had promptly sat down and thrown back a rather large gulp of strong wine, irritated by the hold up.

When you entered the room - finally - you were a vision. He took in your hair, the ornamentation in it and around your neck, and the royal blue dress with pleased eyes that did much to allay his frustration.

Then, you went and tripped over the hem of the damned thing because you had not bothered to see that it had been properly fitted.

Luckily, you were close enough to the table at this point for him to grab you by the arm and keep you upright, but his irritation only grew at the scene that your little stumble had caused. The attention you caught was not the type he wished for, nor were the titters of laughter around the room.

She would never have left the fit of the dress to chance, nor would she have embarrassed him as such.

This time, Thranduil did catch the thought, but he quickly dismissed it as a simple stray musing that did not mean anything.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little tersely, as he refilled his glass of wine.

You nodded, hardly noticing his tone yet as you willed the embarrassed flush in your cheeks to go away. You felt like the entire room had seen that and you cursed yourself for not even thinking that the dress might need proper attention. It just had not occurred to you.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He grunted and you finally looked up at him and noticed the frustration he was trying to bury shining in his eyes. You frowned, feeling even worse. He could not be... angry at you? Could he?

After picking at the food on your plate and watching one dance (you dare not join in with your dress!), you rose and made your way from the table out of the room without a word. You were not in the mood now. Reaching up, you tore the circlet from your head as you walked down the hallway as quickly as you could.

“Where are you going?” Thranduil’s voice came from the door you had just exited and you realised that he had followed you out.

Turning, you eyed him cautiously for a moment, trying to ascertain his mood, but once more he was quite the mask. “I am tired, Thranduil. I am going to bed.”

He nodded, moving closer. His gaze dropped to the circlet in your hands. “You could not have waited until you were behind a closed door?”

“What does it matter?” You asked, shrugging at him.

Thranduil didn’t respond but his brow creased just the slightest bit. Did it matter? He began to walk down the hallway and you turned to walk with him since it seemed that he was heading in the same direction you were anyway. 

“Are you upset?” You ventured after a while, watching him come to a halt as your question reached his ears.

Thranduil blinked. Was he upset? He supposed that he was feeling frustrated. Annoyed. Angry, perhaps. Why? He turned his head to look at you, a soft frown of confusion on his face as he shrugged. “I suppose I am. A little.”

“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer right away because, truthfully, Thranduil could not fully put into words what his problem was. What had gotten him so riled up over something that, logically, he told himself did not truly matter. Thranduil shook his head. “I am not rightly sure.” He offered his arm then. “Come, I will escort you to your room.”

But you would not be shut down quite so easily, and you shook your head. “You must know what is wrong.” You insisted. “How can I help you if you do not tell me?”

Thranduil frowned at you, his frustration growing once more. “I do not need your help.” He stated firmly, moving his arm closer so you would take it, but you still did not take it.

“Well, you need something. You-”

“Stop. Please.” He snapped lightly, dropping his arm since it had become clear that you were not going to take it. He turned around and took a step away, not wishing to engage in this right now.

“Thranduil!” Was he truly going to just turn away and leave? In the middle of a conversation? You could not quite believe it. “Just tell me what is wrong! Tell me!”

“She would not behave thus!” He thundered as he spun back to face you, and then immediately fell silent. Horror seemed to fill him as he realised what he had just said.

You frowned softly back at him, shaking your head. “Who-” Your mouth snapped shut as you stared back at him, suddenly understanding with a sick sort of certainty.

She. Her. His deceased wife.

She would not behave in this manner. She would not behave how you were behaving. She would do things ‘the right’ way. She would do better.

You could not hide the hurt that bled across your face as the two of you stared back at each other in the long, deathly silence that followed. Thranduil seemed to be frozen, utterly stricken, but you did not see it past your own dismay. Then, you were gone. Turning and fleeing from him, away down the corridor towards your own rooms.

Thranduil did not see you for two days. 

He tried to seek you out that same night but he had not been able to find you and, so, retired to his chamber to wait until you were ready to talk. However, it seemed that you were not willing to talk at all as, two days later, he received word that you had been seen sneaking into the stables with a bag full of your things.

Had it not been for you carrying your own belongings, Thranduil might have dismissed it and told them to simply follow you from a safe distance to keep you safe. As it was, he was immediately up from his chair and out of the door before the guard who reported to him could blink.

He rushed to the stables, finding you still trying to attach a bag to your horse, clearly frustrated that you could not get it secure. The animal, too, seemed unamused with your attention - blowing air through its nostrils and scuffing its feet.

“Going somewhere?” He asked quietly from the doorway, causing you to jump because you had not even heard him arrive, too focused on your irritation.

You stared at him for a second and found that looking at him hurt. You did not respond, you just turned your attention back to the horse and continued fiddling with the bag but nothing would attach the damn thing to the animal so you eventually huffed in exasperation and let it drop to the floor of the stall.

A silence followed.

You could feel Thranduil’s eyes on you but you did not look up at him.

“I never meant to hurt you” Thranduil said softly after another moment and you could hear the regret in his voice but you still didn’t look up at him.

Instead, you shrugged. “But you did.”

“Yes.” He agreed quietly, sighing. “I did.”

Of course, you did not resent him thinking of his wife. How could you ever? She had been a good Queen and an even better wife from all that you had heard of her. You had never met her, not even on a trip she’d taken with the King long ago to Lothlórien. But you had heard a lot about her and she sounded amazing. She was the love of his life, the mother of his only son, and you truly had never expected to replace her but to have him compare you in such a way... it had hurt, you could not deny that.

You were so different, you understood that, but... you were two completely different people and it did not feel fair for Thranduil to hold you to this standard that you had not even realised you had to meet. Yes, you were to be a queen and yes, you had a lot still to learn especially about Mirkwood and its own politics... but you were trying. You really were! All you needed was his help, not criticism. How could he not see that?

“Please just talk to me.” He said, his voice full of obvious unhappiness. His eyes dropped to the bag on the ground. “Where are you going?”

You held in a sharp comeback about why you should be expected to talk to him when he did not wish to do the same two nights ago. At his question, your gaze turned to the bag and you sighed, shaking your head. You bent down to pick it back up and began once more attempting to fasten it securely to the horse. “Home.” You said.

Thranduil blinked. “This is home.”

You frowned and your head snapped up to look at him. “This is your home... and clearly I am not welcome in it.” You hated how your voice shook just a little. You wanted to sound brave and firm, not like a hurt little girl. “I am returning to Lothlórien. You can call off all the arrangements.”

Thranduil stared at you then, watching while you struggled with the bag, as the reality hit him. You were going home, you were... calling off the wedding?

His arm shot out and he took hold of the bag, wrenching it gently but firmly from your grip. You gave a sigh and lifted your eyes to his face. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? You shook your head at him, throwing your hands up in a defeated manner.

“Do not leave.” He said, his voice quieter than he would have liked. He was certain it shook a little... but you did not notice.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, scoffing a little as you shook your head again. “Why should I stay here, Thranduil? I did not come here because I have no other options, I came here because I... I like you and I trust you and...” You trailed off, lowering your gaze for a moment, one of your shoes (which were absolutely not suitable for riding a horse in the first place) kicking at the straw covered ground. “I will not... settle for a life where I am never good enough, where I am always second best. A life in the shadow of a memory. A beautiful memory, do not misunderstand, and one I would never want you to forget... but I am not her, Thranduil! I am not her and I never will be and I am sorry but... I cannot stay here, not like this.”

Another silence filled the stable. 

You looked away, at the horse, running your fingers through its mane. The animal was no longer in a mood now that you had stopped messing with the bag. You watched as it lazily chewed on some hay. Thranduil still had your bag in his hands, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap, his eyes on his hands. He felt ashamed and for a long moment he could not speak.

“You were never second place to me.” He whispered eventually, his eyes filling up with tears as he realised just what he had done. What he had made you feel. What he had made you think. “Never. You are not. I...” He faltered, grasping for the right words but he could not find them. “I know... what I said, what I have done, it was wrong. I cannot excuse myself, I do not even know why I...” He paused, frowning. 

You didn’t look up, though you could see him in your peripheral vision. He seemed to be struggling. He was not always good with words when it was not about politics or battle.

“I did not realise I was doing it at first,” he continued after gathering his thoughts once more. “There is no excuse and I do not say this to make one. I simply... she is the only queen to have ever graced my rule. I was thrust onto the throne so quickly... and I was grieving and she had to... truthfully, she had no choice but to take control of many things until I was more... present.” More in the moment after watching his father die, after that dreadful day, after suddenly becoming a king. “My mother died long before I even began to pay real, proper attention to anything... royal. I... my wife was the only queen I have ever known here, I remember how she did everything, I grew used to it. I forgot that you... do not know and I did not help you properly when I know that I should have. So I compared you to her and it was not fair of me. You did nothing wrong. I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He did not really expect forgiveness, he did not feel that he deserved it, he did not feel that he should receive it. To have hurt you... it pained him. “I love you.”

You turned your head from the horse to Thranduil’s face, the shock evident as you stared back at him for a few very long minutes. Had you heard that correctly? Did he... did he say...? 

Over this time, you had developed your own feelings towards the king. He was not perfect, though to outsiders he may look it, but that was probably part of why you’d fallen for him in the first place. You had not been able to help yourself. 

In the beginning, after he had approached you and your father with the idea from his council of an arranged marriage, it was not something either of you had rushed into. He had spent some time getting to know you better, for he did not wish to wed somebody he did not at least get along with. He’d been clear on that with his councillors and advisors. He’d written you letters after he returned to Mirkwood, he arranged visits for you to come and spend time with him. He showed up in Lórien once with no other reason than to offer you a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself, then he took you on a walk through the forest and the two of you just... talked. After all of that, it had been so easy. To say yes. To agree. Though you had known, you had known, that he would never love you. He cared for you enough, you knew that, but as a friend. He would never love you as he loved her. At least that’s what you had presumed.

“You...?” Was all you could say, still staring at him in absolute shock.

Thranduil nodded, the tears in his eyes that he’d managed to keep at bay finally beginning to spill down his cheeks as he blinked. He glanced down, embarrassed, lifting his thumb to his face and swiping away a tear. “Yes.” He whispered. “I... I should have said it before, I should have... shown it better. I am so sorry... but please.” He lifted his head again, his eyes wide as he looked at you quite desperately. “Stay. Please... do not leave me.”

You were staring at him, frozen for what felt like a long time, and Thranduil began to lose hope. You would leave and he would never see you again all because of his own stupidity. He knew you did not love him that way, that you had agreed to this as his friend, but he needed you to stay here, he could not bear to lose you.

When your voice finally came, it was but a whisper, and there were now tears in your own eyes to match Thranduil’s. “...I love you too.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to stare at you. He looked like he could not comprehend what had just come out of your mouth. He looked like he did not dare believe it. You stepped towards him, your hand dropping from the horse as you reached for the bag in his hands. He let you take it and you swung it up onto your shoulder out of the way, taking one of his hands in yours. You were still hurt but you could not believe this had happened... and maybe this was just something you both had needed to go through, to be able to get past it. Something his mind had needed to work through.

“I love you.” You said again, a little louder. You felt his hand squeeze yours and you lifted your free one to his face, wiping away his tears. He looked like he dared not even hope that what you had just said was true. 

“You do?” He asked then, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you while you wiped his tears away. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest as he looked back at you. He was not fully sure he had even entirely admitted to himself that he loved you until right now. He’d felt it, he’d been aware of how fond he was growing of you despite those other thoughts, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings - he had not felt such love in a thousand years.

You nodded, your anger fading away, leaving both your hurt and your love behind. “Yes... I do.” You confirmed, sighing as you took his other hand. You heard his breath catch in his throat and you gave him a sad little smile. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Thranduil said immediately, shaking his head firmly as he cut you off. “Do not. You have nothing to apologise for, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am the one who was in the wrong. You will make a good queen. I should have told you this... I should not have gotten upset over such trivial things. Dresses...” He scoffed at himself. “None of that matters.” He said, glancing down shamefully. “I do not want you to think that I... that I do not appreciate you for who you are or that I wish you to be somebody else... because I do not.” He shook his head. “I love who you are, I love everything about you. I am so sorry.”

You could practically feel your heart soaring to the heavens. You simply could not believe that Thranduil felt this way about you and, despite your hurt over his words, you were quite overjoyed. You finally smiled and Thranduil took a steadying breath before he moved. He leaned towards you, slowly so you could turn or pull away if you did not wish it, but you stayed perfectly still and waited for him to kiss you.

When he finally did, it was like electricity. It was like something you had been missing your whole life suddenly clicked into place and you removed your hands from his to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His own tentatively moved to hold you gently by the waist. When he broke the kiss and you opened your eyes again, you could tell by his expression that he truly felt the same, that he was floored by all of this, and you could see how deeply he regretted hurting you, making you feel inferior, second best.

“You will stay?” He asked then, still sounding a little uncertain, despite the fact you had kissed him and admitted you felt the same way. He was worried he might have ruined everything before he even got the chance.

You gazed up at him and you nodded. “Yes... I will stay. Of course I will.” 

There was still a sadness in your eyes that broke Thranduil’s heart to know that he was the one who put it there and he vowed to do everything in his power to make up for what he had done.

“I will never make you feel that way again.” Thranduil told you, his voice extremely firm, his gaze sharp but loving. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “I promise.”

You smiled and he kissed you once more before he took your hand, leading you from the stables and back into the palace, back to the future with you that he was more grateful than he could ever express to have not forever ruined.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo fic #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fic

[g1rlken]

⊹ ࣪˖Dreadful Birthdays⊹ ࣪˖

Felix catton x rich fem!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: angst, shitty father, death of a parent, hurt comfort, childhood trauma, curse words?

Summary: start of a friendship on a lie to umbrella issues with opening up, fluff?

Standing outside, away from the party in a quieter atmosphere to attend a phone call in the small of the currently empty smoking zone garden outside the pub. Wearily y/n paced around in small steps as she talked on the phone, “But why?” She asked in distressed as voice on the other line seemed to reason something. “My break’s not that long I can’t come next month! You said-“ she was cut off with a reply on the call midway.

“Why do you always do this? Why does it always have to be this way?” She argued yet a faint softness remained in her tone despite her frustration. “This is really unfair-you can’t do this to me last minute-“ the ongoing call was declined from the other like halfway through her sentence as she heard the monotone beep. She felt like throwing her phone on the ground, instead she kicked the metal vase instead. “Fucking arsehole!” She cursed to herself as a clearing of throat made her turn her head.

“Everything alright out here?” Felix asked her, he’d came out for a cigarette in the smoking zone but happened to listen the last of whatever ordeal she was going through with someone on the phone and seemed hugely upset about it.

“Oh-uh yeah.” She nodded hastily somewhat embarrassed he may have heard that and her swearing at the metal vase. Felix didn’t exactly know her, but y/n did. Like everyone’s dynamic with the ever so charming Felix.

“You’re..” he trailed off trying to remember her name because he did recognise her from some of their past meetings and he’d seen her around campus often, “Y/n? Yes y/n right? You were the TA last semester who returned assignments with stickers.” He mentioned and chuckled slightly.

“I’ve gained a reputation with the English majors?” She joked raising her brows with a small smile, surprised he remembered her.

“Rightfully so.” He nodded smiling, “I’m Felix.” He introduced himself lending out his hand for her to greet as she accepted but let out a huff.

“I know you.” She said in an obvious tone and reciprocated the smile on his face.

“So who was the fucking arsehole on the phone?” Felix inquired curiously given she didn’t seem so composed just a few moments ago.

“Oh that-“ she paused taking in a deep breath for a second, she contemplated a whole coursework worth of thoughts and stories on wether or not to tell him the truth. “It’s was my boyfriend…” she trailed off, lying. “Stupid argument.” She added feeling awfully strange what it was that came over her to outrightly lie.

“What happened?” He asked, now interested as he leaned by the table and lit a cigarette offering her the second puff.

She took him up on the offer for his cigarette as she took a moment to think through her supposed lie “It’s nothing huge really…” she said trying to downplay is so he would maybe not be interested in it.

“Come on, honour the cig.” He urged her with his charm as she took another drag and retuned his cigarette to him.

Coming up with a hastily put together story, “I’m long distance with my boyfriend currently, he’s uh studying code in Estonia and he was coming here so we could spend the summer break together” she sighed. “But he signed up on a project there and bailed on me last minute.” She briefed him feeling proud and miserable of herself for having a peculiar story like that right off the top of her head.

“What an arsehole indeed” he replied matching her frustration as he scoffed “How dare he sign up a stupid project with a girlfriend as pretty as you?” Felix gave her his chivalrous smile, knowingly flirting with her but her boyfriend was a douche so it was alright.

“How awfully kind of you.” Y/n said playfully rolling her eyes at him as their night progressed in dumb conversations of here and there it was 4 in the morning by the time the pub waiter asked them to leave. They talked until sunrise and that is how y/n befriended Felix.

Despite the lie that the actual phone conversation was with her father and not a fake boyfriend in Estonia like she told him, “Then you can fly in for the weekend after this month, we’ve got a big launch for the company and if you’re here then the PR team will want you at the inauguration and I don’t want that. I don’t want you around on big company occasions, too much trouble as it is.” Her father said sternly on the phone, the rich were shallower than it seemed.

“Why do you always do this? Why does it always have to be this way?”

“Stop being so dramatic and grow up for a second” he told her off sighing, “You are not wanted here. You can’t come home now, I don’t want you to be associated with the company whatsoever. I don’t want the ‘dad’ rep on me with you. Simple as that.” He said to her harshly as he pronounced the word you in an exaggeratedly disgusted sense. As she tried to whine more about how unfair it was to her last minute he simply declined the call not wanting to handle any more of her tantrums.

-

Those two weeks of her friendship with felix blossomed and proved to be rather wholesome. Y/n was genuinely glad for his company, the charm of him could never make one feel unwanted. Felix hated not having his new friend for all of summer, it took quite a lot of convincing and begging on his side to get her to come to saltburn with him. Firstly y/n was really unsure if she could do so given they had been friends for just two weeks despite the closeness of their bond. Secondly if her father found out about her rendezvous, not that he’d care whatever she was upto but he would be mad if it could somehow bring a bad light upon him. Which in itself was a rare case because as felix stated his estate was in a remote place and she felt she could live her summer on her terms.

“You are crushing my eyes!” She exclaimed giggling as felix tightly held his palm over her eyes and his other hand guiding her through the large hallway to the decorated living room, for her. It was a well planed surprise so he didn’t want her looking through the gaps of her fingers at the last moment before the whole thing.

“Just a second” He told her as y/n felt him guiding her into a room where the conversations silenced themselves when he entered with her. Finally he pulled his hand away and held her from her shoulders. “Surprise!” The entire room echoed as confetti spread across the elegant happy birthday decorations. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out if you didn’t tell me?!” He exclaimed laughing as leaned forward from behind her and wrapped his arm around her.

Y/n was overcome with emotions as everyone cheered on happy birthday and surprise, Farleigh still bursting the confetti cracker. Felix attempted to walk across the room to take the covered plate from his hands,“How’d you know?” She held his wrist to stop him and asked him, hugely struck with the surprise.

“Your TA, I-card which you wore around like a badge of honour, it had your birth date mentioned.” He told her as he laughed and gave her a side hug when Elspeth approached her. Felix paced away for a moment to get the cake from Duncan.

“Felix shall throw you a godawful themed party or so later but I wanted to cherish you in a more traditional manner.” She said warmly as she held her by her face and kissed her forehead, the traditionalism of birthdays was long lost with the children growing up into party animals however the grand hall could have used a soft and sober gathering of the occasion of a birthday. Besides she really liked y/n, amongst all of felix’s wild friends she was awfully gorgeous and tender of heart.

“Thank you-“ Was all she could reply, extremely overwhelmed at this moment. “Really-“ she added feeling her gratitude shortening but nobody in this room would realise how big this was for her. She was soon pulled away with all the birthday hugs and warm wishes, a room full of people..gathering at 12 to celebrate her? With her? This was the hardest breakdown she had ever had to fight back.

Venetia pulled her to the table where Felix rearranged the candles on her cake for the final time. The sight of the cake with her name, the hugs she was receiving. She couldn’t hold it in anymore as tears brimmed her eyes. “Hey” Felix noticed as he leaned a bit lower to look at her eyes when she looked away confirming tears welled up her eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh, it was adorable to note how sensitive she was. “Hey…come here!” He pulled her into his embrace with his arms holding her from the side.

“Come on!” Venetia laughed along as she fixed y/n’s hair “don’t cry, you want your pictures perfect.” She said trying to cheer her up.

“God I’m sorry-“ she said shaking her head and pulled away from felix’s embrace as they sat next to each other by her birthday cake and everyone around them, “I’m just—I’m really touched by this, I-I don’t think I can come up with words that could hold my gratitude right now…” she said through her tears as felix chuckled wiping them “Truly, this means the world to me-you’ve all shown me such affection and-I-“

“By the time you finish that speech we’re all going to be in dentures” Farleigh said growing impatient and received an elbow via Venetia.

“Im sorry-this is just very thoughtful of everybody…” y/n said with a chuckle as she wiped her tears yet the hurt in heart where they came from lingered alongside the joy of such experience.

“Blow the candles!” Felix encouraged as he rubbed her back. She was about to when she was urged to make a wish. Closing her eyes with a big smile on her face she did so and the celebration furthered. Just another cake cutting at saltburn was going to be the most treasured memory for y/n.

-

Later that night, almost two in the morning the birthday giggles hadn’t yet died down as y/n lounged with felix in her guest room. She sat legs crossed by the stone bay window as the moonlight reflected through the room. “You really love that cake don’t you?” Felix commented leaning back on the chair across her as he laughed.

“It’s my birthday cake!” She exclaimed emphasising on the word my. It was as it is her third plate of the night.

“Whatever the birthday girl wants.” Felix said chuckling and remembered “Hey has our Mr.Arsehole called yet?” He asked and leaned backwards to look at the time on the clock, as her boyfriend he should’ve called her when the clock struck midnight.

Her face fell at the mention of it, she was planning to tell him sooner or later that she made that up. But she was looking to end that facade at a better time, it had been over a month now searching for that better time. She couldn’t keep her best friend in the dark like this. “Look I have to tell you something about that…”

“You guys broke up?” He asked almost instantly as if he was hoping for it however he kept his tone neutrally curious.

“I don’t have a boyfriend who’s studying in Estonia” she breathed as she sat her plate aside “I-I made that up when we met.” Felix was dumbfounded for a second he couldn’t wrap his head around what she was trying to say. “Look…when we met I just wanted to seem like an interesting person to you I didn’t think we’d become friends like this-“

“And this whole time you didn’t think you should tell me?” He inquired sternly as a frown fell on his face. Felix felt as enraged as he did hurt, “I’d never have considered you to be a two faced person like that!” He scorned standing up from his seat to account for his frustration.

“I’m not!” Exclaiming she replied sensing the rightful hurt and anger radiating off of him, “Felix, seriously I was planning to tell you about this.”

“When? When were you planning to tell me huh?” He asked as he rested his hands on his waist demanding an answer.

She didn’t have an answer for that because she knew this conversation would lead a follow up conversation which would require her to explain about her father to him, that situation is what she was running from. “I..I am sorry felix.” She said. She felt awful not being able to say ‘hear me out.’ Because he so clearly wanted to, he wanted the rational explanation she had but couldn’t tell him.

“Sorry?” He scoffed looking away for a second, “Who was it then? On the phone that night?” He seethed and waited for her to reply, everything within him begged for her to come up with an explanation which would make his feelings for her warranted for again. He had those this entire time, he’d known her boyfriend and her would eventually break up. He was looking forward to this moment ever since he met her but this was the most unideal situation.

Y/n’s silence agitated him even more so, he couldn’t stomach he’d have to let go off his feelings for her. It had been a long while he’d felt like this for someone, this deeply and unwaveringly and he could feel his heart having to say goodbye to it all soon enough and he hated that she couldn’t even reply or meet his gaze. “You owe me an explanation y/n! Just tell me who was on the phone.”

Her gaze as fixated on the floor as she felt the world crumble around her, it felt like standing in the ruins. She created herself, the pattern wasn’t unknown to her. “It was my father.” She told him, however much she wanted to lie with something else she felt like she’d reached a dead end. “I’m not on the best terms with him” and I didn’t want you to see me as another spoilt brat that night, I didn’t want you to think I’m another awful ungrateful child, I didn’t want to open up then as I don’t now.

“And? How so” He asked, it felt like he had to push it out of her to speak but he would, with two strides he reached upto her seat and held her face in his hands, “I am not asking a lot of you am I? Why are you doing this to me? I want your hurt and your truth as raw as it is, I want it as I want all of you, fairly I deserve it. Please. Please talk to me y/n.” Tears brimmed her eyes as she held his hands in hers and pulled them away from her face. The desperation in his voice made it worse as she stood out of her seat.

“I was..I was supposed to go home, back to New York for summer. But my father cancelled it last moment.” She told him with a sigh turning slightly to the side from him, she could not say this to his face without breaking down. Opening up felt like being knifed from the inside. “And I was talking to him about it on the phone, I just didn’t want to tell you then.”

“Why did he cancel it?” He asked and moved her to face him.

By now she realise she couldn’t beat around the bush this way, he wouldn’t move past this and she couldn’t lie now “He said I’m not wanted back home.” She told him redirecting her father’s words. “He had a big launch for the company, it’s bad PR for him and he doesn’t like me around on big occasions.”

“What about your mum?” He asked softly and noticed how she felt silent to muster up proper words.

“My mum’s not—“ y/n breathed “she died giving birth to me. Labor complications at the hospital” she said as mildly as she could, this was her truth, the loss that defined her and it was strange how it hurt the same narrating it each time.

Felix was speechless as his gaze softened it took a lot in him to fathom her grief because she never looked it, “that’s why you got emotional back there, with the surprise.” He thought out loud.

“Yeah my dad forbade it…celebrating my birthday.” She mentioned, she’d grown up to digest it too. Who would deserve a celebration on the day their mother died?

“What about as a child?” He asked really shocked, he got the idea she was emotional and probably didn’t have the best birthdays but absolutely none?

“Not really, my nanny would get me cupcakes with candles till I was six and I was a sheltered kid so that was an ideal birthday to me” she said plainly “But I was-I think I turned 11, the house help with our kitchen staff organised me a small party it was on the kitchen table, balloons and chocolate cake…but my dad got home early that day, he tore down the happy birthday banner, threw the cake and the gifts, fired the staff and I was grounded, I haven’t really celebrated since.”

“At eleven?” He said taking in a sharp breath, it was more than a difficult life for a child to grow up without their mother and have a father like hers. “That’s just cruel”

“My birthday is a dreadful day for him, he loved my mum very much” she said trying to give him the reasoning she gave herself. Both of them were sitting on the floor cross legged leaning by the wall.

“You were a child. He resents your birthday’s enigma in the shadow of his grief.” Felix told her.

“He was a different man once, before me” she tried explaining it to him, despite of how resentful her father was to her how uncaring she wanted to be at the end of the day it was the only parent and only family she’d known all her life. Even her father yelling at her was the sound of her home. “The enigma of my birthday..” she repeated his words with a dejected huff “won’t change the fact that I’m the reason his wife isn’t in this world.”

Felix personally took an offence in that. Her father’s indifference had seeped that poison into her “Absolutely not.” He told her sternly and took her hands in his, “none of it was your fault. You didn’t ask to be born, but as his daughter you’re his daughter. His blood. He treats you with resentment that is a lack in his character. With the loss of his wife he also gained you…a daughter he was supposed to cherish.” He told her what she had to hear but he didn’t mean for her to cry again, opening up was difficult enough for her as it is. Enlacing his arms around her he pulled her into his lap and rubbed her back as she wept in his arms. Soothing sweet nothings he kissed the top of her head rocking her back and forth. “The world gained one of the purest souls with you.” He told her and pulled away to look at her face. Her eyes were full of tears as he wiped them again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “and if it wasn’t for you I’d have never felt this deeply for anyone.” He told her as it warmed her heart with all the pain through it and in his arms, for now, the world seemed just fine.

—

HIIII this is a new acc and English isn’t my first language also I’m a struggling stem major who writes to get over a bad test, pls be kind🙏

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND GO DRINK WATER NOW

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #Felix catton x reader fluff #felix catton angst #saltburn #saltburn x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x you #jacob elordi x y/n

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down and grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

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#Wake Me Up #Part 1 #Familiar Territory #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #Soldier Boy/Ben #the boys #the boys AU #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #soldier boy fanfiction #billy butcher #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Break Me Down #BMD-verse #zepskies writes

[chereus]

Oblivious Boyfriends | D. Winchester

Summary - Dean had been neglecting his boyfriend bedroom duties and you were getting frustrated [set in season 10ish, they’re fully moved into the bunker]

Pairings - SoftDom!Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Dom Dean, daddy kink, if you squint there’s angst before the blinding smut, spanking, choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, hot angry Dean, sexual tension, talk about love and marriage??? Kinda??? It was done tastefully though I promise!!!

Cherry’s notes: Whew! That was spicy—in honor of my new phone I decided I’d post this as a thanks to people who’ve supported me throughout my writing journey <3. I’m still getting used to this writing format that tumblr has so pls be nice!!!

P.S ~ This may have been sorter than intended due to tumblr deleting half of this while I wasn’t looking. Still upset about that. Also sorry for the time delay because of said tumblr issues, had to rewrite most of it + an ending -_-.

Word count: about 1.2k

You were kind of being a bitch today. But in your defense, your boyfriend Dean had been so busy with work that he hardly had time to satisfy your in the bedroom needs. When you’d try and communicate that this was becoming an issue you’d been brushed off every. single. time. So naturally you started to get frustrated and decided to take control into your own hands for the time being.

“Y/n, have you seen my gun?” Dean announced himself as he stumbled into the library. You just continued to sit there and do your research without so much as a morsel of acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Y/n have you seen my gun?” only this time he got a small clench of the jaw and a silent flare of the nostrils. Still with no response he decided to try a third time when you suddenly just got up and left leaving him completely alone in the library.

Wondering what he did he promptly followed you, but once he realized he wasn’t getting far by just following in your footsteps he bravely spoke, “Okay, seriously, is this how we’re acting today?”.

This immediately caught your attention but you showed no signs of making a huge scene so you quickly and calmly stopped while turning around to face him while replying with, “I don’t know Dean, is it?”.

He really didn’t like the passive aggressiveness in your tone. It hadn’t helped that you’d quickly spun around and once again resumed ignoring him. Being ignored was one of his top ten pet peeves and you knew it. That’s exactly why you chose this method to piss him off. Get him all worked up, he’d have to take his frustrations out on you then.

“What the hells’ that supposed to mean?” He countered, following you into the kitchen.

“It means that if you don’t know then it’s not worth talking about.” You said truthfully. Suddenly Dean found himself recalling the days to see if he’d missed a birthday, a dinner, an anniversary, anything that would constitute this type of treatment and he came up empty.

As you noticed Dean sitting there dumbfounded you took it upon yourself to grab one of his beers from the fridge and march back out successfully initiating phase one.

You’d been toying with the idea for quite some time but never had the means or justification until now, you were going to go around the house and dump all of the alcohol.

This was seemingly easy considering after your and deans little spat, he’d decided to give you some space to cool off seeing that you were angry with him. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do what you needed to do. This was phase two.

Phase three was to just sit back and watch the anger seep from deep within Dean Winchesters veins until he couldn’t see anything but red.

Sam had been on a hunting trip for the last couple of days and you were thankful because the things he would’ve heard…

“Y/N! Where is all the beer?!” Dean hollered as you passed him in the kitchen.

“I dumped it.” You simply said. Deans face went slate.

“You-you…dumped it.” He said as both a statement and a question. You could see the vein on the side of his neck start to pop and you knew he was close to blowing a gasket at how he had been treated.

“Yup. I dumped it. Decided that we’re now alcohol free. Have fun with your green juices and detox tea.” You were beginning to walk away when he grabbed you and spun you back around so that your chests were touching and he was holding your wrists on both sides of your head.

“Is there something that needs to be sorted out? Cause’ I’m getting’ real tired of the way things have been going around here.” He seethed. He probably just wanted a nice cold beer after working a long hard case all day but you weren’t about to let that happen. You were horny and determined to do something about it.

You got closer to his face and begun to look into his eyes while simultaneously brushing your lips together with his. Nudging your nose against his you whispered, “if there was a problem you’d know.” And you ripped yourself away from him and swiftly dropped out of the room beginning to feel yourself getting wetter by the instant.

Not even ten seconds later Dean came marching out of the kitchen behind you demanding that you work this out by pushing you against the hallway wall. You responded by grabbing him by his belt loops and smashing his hips against yours. He’d finally gotten the hint.

“Is this what you wanted? Was my pretty baby just horny and desperate for her daddies attention?” He said as he grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. You whimpered at the gruffness of his touch, desperate and craving more.

“I need you to answer me, y/n. You know daddy doesn’t like it when you go silent.” Dean enforced. You let out the tiniest little ‘yes’ lost in your own world of pleasure and fulfillment.

“Louder, y/n.” He commanded putting slightly harder pressure onto the sides of your throat that were sure to bruise later but you didn’t care. The feeling of his body on your body was enough to drive you wild.

“Yes!” You deeply moaned wrapping your hands around his hips and flushing your pelvis’s together. Dean leaned down and planted an earth shattering kiss on your lips, tongue swirling around with your own while he still held the position of holding your neck firmly in place without making you dizzy from the lack of air.

“Up.” Dean forced. Slipping his hand under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his torso. When you were situated your hands found their way to his hair to gently tug at the roots.

Hiking you up by your ass you were looming over him with every adjustment. Your hands made their way to either side of his face while you ferociously kissed him. He started to stumble his way down the hallway, careful not to drop you. You moaned as his grip on your ass got tighter the more aroused he was getting.

The warm smell of cinnamon from your hair, the combined scent your vanilla bourbon perfume and your honey body lotion, it reminded him of home. Although you’d been getting in spats and arguments all day you’d still somehow made him feel loved and cared for by the way you’d responded to his touch.

It was at this very moment he decided that he wanted to marry you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or hell— maybe not even next week, but someday If you’d let him.

Finally stumbling into your shared room dominant Dean was back in action. He gently put you down and then shoved you back onto the bed signifying the fact that he was done playing the game you’d been playing all day.

When you adjusted yourself on the bed he immediately ripped your pants off annoyed at the extra fabric keeping the two of you apart. Dipping down he gently put his right hand to your jaw and repeated what you had to him earlier. Brushing your lips together your noses tenderly touched and he gave you one last affectionate kiss before looking down at your tank top and ripping it in two.

Your eyes widened with desire, you’d never seen Dean like this and it was extremely sexy. The mix of softhearted kissing and rough manhandling was driving you insane. Kissing down your stomach the torn shirt was quickly discarded never to be seen again.

Only in your bralette and underwear you start to feel cold with Dean still fully clothed. Grabbing him by his hair you pull his head up from your panty line. Giving him a single peck on the lips you start to peel off the layers of flannel and cotton until his top half was fully nude.

Reaching down to undo his belt buckle he stops you with a questioning glare. He shoves your hands away and moved away from the bed and to the closet where a medium sized black box was laying on the top shelf. Getting that box down you knew that something freaky was about to happen.

Pulling out four long black ropes he looks back at you with a smirk. You gulp and back away slowly, however he was faster and started tying your left wrist tightly to the headboard. Positioning you in the middle of the bed he ties your right to the other side of the headboard.

Deciding to discard the last two ropes, he resumes your playful foreplay now teasing you at the fact that you can no longer touch him in the way you wanted to.

“M’ gonna fuck you in this pretty little bra. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Been walking around all day getting on my nerves so I’d have no choice but to fuck the aggression out. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.” He says menacingly pulling off your underwear.

Leaving your bare pussy in the cold Dean jumps off the bed and begins to slowly undress. And I mean slowly. You thought you were about to combust when you finally saw Dean unbuckle his pants and slowly drop them.

Getting back on the bed Dean slides his hands up and down your curves on your sides, trailing down to your hip bones and finally your throbbing heat. It really was no surprise that you’d gotten worked up so easy considering you and Dean hadn’t had really any sex in almost four months. Orgasms, yes. Sex, no.

It was killing you not being intimate with Dean like you used to. So when he finally put his cold hands on your warm aching pussy you could’ve cried in relief even though it was only through your panties you could feel his fingertips rubbing up against your clit causing you to softly moan in delight.

Gripping the tightly tied ropes Dean tormented you by pulling off your panties and just sat there. Staring. It would’ve made you insecure had you not known that Dean would’ve loved you no matter what you perceived your vagina to look like.

“Would you let me put a baby in you?” Dean asks out of the blue. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched, “In the future of course. Your still on birth control, right?” He thought out loud. You were speechless so all you could do was nod and let out a small ‘uh-huh’.

Dean could tell you were now really tense after that question so he took his hands and smoothed them over your stomach and said, “Don’t worry. Not until your ready. But until then, I’d like to practice.”

Your muscles were slowly untensing as Dean assured you there would be no baby making until your ready. “If we’re practicing, do you mind going in raw? I’d like to be closer with you.”

Dean was now blushing but tried to hide it through dominance. He spread your knees apart and quickly dove in licking and sucking your clit. Pulling at the ropes, you moaned and groaned until you were so close to cumming that you could cry.

Dean could tell how close you were so he sped up his tongue motions and hooked his arms around the base of your thighs so you couldn’t move anywhere.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as your first orgasm took over you. Dean wasted no time in sliding his manhood into you with great force.

Putting his hands at your hips he began roughly thrusting into you at an angle that kept hitting your g-spot over an over again. As you were getting louder and louder with your moans Dean reached down in between your legs and rubbed your clit. He was fucking you so hard at this point you were seeing spots.

“Yeah. Your such a good girl. Taking it so good for me. Gonna be doing this to make a baby one day, huh sweetheart. Look at me.” He said as your eyes were starting to droop. Your eyes tiredly opened and you seen Dean look at you like your the queen of the world. His world. With adoration and love.

“Gonna let me fill you up, hmm? Gonna let me take care of you while your carrying our child? Gonna let me go out at three am to fill some ridiculous request of bread and butter pickles from that grocery store half an hour away?” Dean asks with a fond smirk on his face. Like he’d be so excited to be able to do those things for you.

Just hearing how happy it would make Dean to be your caretaker in your time of need makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not just because he’s still fucking the life out of you.

Once you get close enough to the edge Dean starts to get greedy. He wants you to cum and he wants it now. “Give it to me y/n. Now.” He says wrapping his hand around your throat and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Seconds later it felt like fireworks had been let off in your stomach with how hard you were orgasming. At one point you were certain that you were seeing stars.

“Fuck! Dean!” You moaned as you made other noises that you had no idea you could even make. Before you could even come down Dean slipped out of you and was undoing the ropes.

“All fours. Now.” Was the command. Still a little dizzy, you comply wanting to see where this was going.

Upon getting on all fours dean was already behind you thrusting upwards at a new angle. Letting out a deep groan you dropped to your elbows and grabbed the sheets.

“Having that attitude all day really drove me nuts all day, y’know that? Now I get to fuck it out of you and I couldn’t be happier.” He said slapping your ass hard. You yelped and tried to go forward but his hands at the crease of your hip and thigh bone wouldn’t let you.

“Your not going nowhere. Your gonna sit here and let me breed you like a good little slut.” You couldn’t deny hearing those words made the sex ten times hotter. When you leaned your head back to moan deans hand was there to grab you by your hair and continue fucking your pussy until you exploded.

Pulling your hair was the final step in your third and final orgasm. Pulling away slightly at the overstimulation Dean speeds up, chasing his own climax. With one last grunt Dean came spilling into you with force.

“Oh God,” you shuddered, suddenly very cold. Goosebumps lining your skin, you get off the bed leaving Dean to fend for himself.

After you cleaned up you got back in bed with Dean. “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want kids with me?” You asked as you lifted up the covers where Dean currently resided.

“Well yeah, I’d also like to put a ring on your finger too whenever you’ll let me.” Dean said shyly playing with the edging on the covers.

You quietly smiled and kissed Dean as you settled down. “I love you, and I want to marry you. But kids are out for a while. At least until I’m sure one of us isn’t going to end up dead with the shit we deal with on the daily. I won’t put another generation of kids what we went through. I just won’t.”

Although Dean was disappointed, he understood. His childhood sucked and he’d do anything to make sure that his kid didn’t live the same life.

“But we can still practice though, right?” Dean asked cheekily. You laughed, “yes Dean we can still practice.”

You both chuckled when you heard a voice booming from the kitchen, “Dean, where is all the beer?!” It was Sam.

“You were kidding though about the beer weren’t you?” He asked and you laughed harder.

“No, I wasn’t. I was committed. I really dumped all the alcohol in the house. Sam will understand given his healthy lifestyle.” Dean groaned and sunk into the mattress. You were still cracking up at the whole situation now that you felt better after your release.

#dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #jack kline #team free will #sam winchester #spn crack #the empty #sam and dean #kevin tran #deancas #dean and cas #castiel winchester

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

COD Sex Bot Au - General and Character Specific Facts

Requested: Yes. By uh…..pretty much everyone. SO many people begged for something and while this isn’t exactly a part 2, I hope it will help tide you all over til I can get that completed.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Child Abuse, Adult Abuse as well, Mention of Murder, Mention of Self-Destruction (Robot Suicide), Mentions of Knives, Mention of Blood, Spice, Probably very incorrect Spanish

A/N: So! A lot of people, along with requesting a part 2, have also been begging me for Price as well. I know I’ve only done the 4 characters for all of my Cod works so far but I do want to expand the character list! That being said, I’m just not entirely comfortable with writing them yet. I am looking more into Gaz, Price, and Roach specifically and I promise to let you guys know when I feel comfortable enough to write for them! But until then, please enjoy!

✨General✨

Their eyes get this kind of colored sheen to them sometimes. Different colors for different things.

Yellow is absorbing new information

Pink is the color during sexy times

Red is malfunctioning/in need of repairs (but can also be a sign of embarrassment or shyness)

Light blue is curiosity

White (still) is powered down

White (pulsing) is powering down

White (flickering) is low power

Grey is rebooting/charging

Black is enraged

Lilac is contentment

Plum is upset/hurt

All the boys come with their uniforms on but what’s underneath depends

For Ghost’s model, simple black briefs

For Soap’s model, silly patterned boxers (think hearts or something)

For König’s model, usually some fancy lace panties since he’s very popular amongst Doms who like that sort of thing

Alejandro’s model? Absolutely nothing

Ghost

Ghost’s model was MEANT to be a scary bad guy kind of deal, to be marketed towards fans of slashers and the like. But he…..didn’t end up being that way.

At least, not your Ghost. Many of the other Ghost models are that way, but not yours. For some reason.

Granted, that programming is definitely still in him, though not exactly in the way it was meant to be.

Instead of it being just for fun rough sexy times, it’s more…….actually will kill for you. And has, in fact, killed for you.

Something that he’s NOT supposed to be able to do.

“Gee, I wonder what happened to that Barista that insulted me the other day.”

“Gee, I wonder.” *cleaning a bloody combat knife in your sink*

Speaking of knives!!! Ghost’s model does come with a lot of fun knives! Granted, they’re dulled into being just (mostly) harmless kink knives but he made quick work of making them a lot more harmless by ordering a knife sharpener.

So uh, yeah. You have received not just a sex robot, but one that borders on Yandere and will probably self-destruct if you reject him.

Have fun with that!

Fun fact: YOUR Ghost actually used to be a child bot MANY years ago, bought by a man who only wanted to be able to legally abuse a child. So he was broke down and put back together so very many times. And when they recycled and reprogrammed his AI chip, the scarring from that was still imprinted into him.

Soap

While Soap’s model is marketed more towards romantic oriented people, he’s generally seen as a Jack of all trades.

Doms, subs, romantics, first timers, just about any kind of person. He’s good with all of them, though he thrives with Romantics since that is his programming.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

He doesn’t want to be seen as just a sexual object, he wants to be yours. And you to be his.

König

Ah yes, the gentle giant that was supposed to be marketed more towards Subs but ended up being a bit….Soft.

None of the programmers can explain it but every model of him is just inexplicably shy and quiet, thriving in an environment where he has no control.

So now he’s more marketed towards doms. Usually soft doms.

They once tried to change his model to be smaller and more petite and people started BOYCOTTING.

It affected their sales so much that they very quickly changed him back.

People still seethe when they think about it.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Just because of how quiet and meek his model is, how they almost never fight back when hurt.

Alejandro

Alejandro’s model is VERY popular among submissives so he’s programmed to be pretty dominant and also to have a caring nature.

Due to said caring nature, many mistake his model as good for beginners.

I can assure you, he is NOT.

So SO many of his models have been returned cause he’s brought them to tears from so much pleasure, absolutely overwhelming for any beginner.

“Cry for me, Amor. That’s it, just like that.”

His model is one of the only ones that isn’t returnable unless something is malfunctioning and even then, they’ll try just about anything to fix the model instead of just taking them back.

If you’re the type to forget meals and such (I’m not projecting, shut up) then he will literally drag you away from whatever you’re doing and make you eat.

Will set up a rewards system if you have trouble with personal upkeep as well, like household chores and stuff (again, not projecting).

How much pleasure you get throughout the day is all dependent on how well you follow the schedule he makes based on your personal life.

He can and will have you call him Papi, in and out of bed.

“Be a Good Little Cachorro and get on your knees for Papi.”

You only get called Amor when you’re good or when you’re upset. Anything else and it’s Cachorro (Puppy).

#Sex Bot Au #cod #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #mwii #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #König #könig x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader

[novalpha]

𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝐎𝐓𝟏𝟑 𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙨

[ Contains poly, single member at once x reader, and others..]

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ✹ Humor|| ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The Xperiments ⌗♡୨୧ -> @gamerwoo

Synopsis : Growing too strong to stay at the lab you grew up in, you’re shipped off to South Korea to continue your life in their much bigger and more high-tech lab. That’s where you meet thirteen other experiments who are just like you, only knowing life inside the labs which consists of constant inhuman studies and awful mistreatment. However, being kept solitary for your whole life, you find it difficult to trust even the experiments who know exactly what you’ve gone through. But the labs simply creating these experiments because they can may not be the only reason for your existence, and trusting the other experiments might be your only way to freedom – assuming you can stay hidden from the white coats.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Play along ★⌗ -> @xddaengx

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 , Pt 4 , Pt 5 , Pt 6 , Pt 7 , Deleted Scene , Pt 8

Summary: Your boyfriend proposes the idea, that he shares you with his 12 best friends.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Challenge Me ♡୨୧★⌗✹ -> @seokgyuu

Synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Horanghae ⌗♡★ -> (Hoshi centric, OT13) @horanghaejamjam

Summary: Everyone knows that Soonyoung loves tigers. The term Horanghae literally means “I tiger you”. Needless to say, the Seventeen members shouldn’t have been as surprised as they were the night he came home with a very timid white tiger curled against him.  

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Kitten ears ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @hansols-yoda-boxers

Synopsis: Your first family wasn’t terrible, but they weren’t very loving either and they didn’t have much space for you so you were happy to leave. Except that you were useless when it came to working so the shelter was really your only option. After a lot of waiting you were happy that you might finally be getting a family that really wanted you and cared about, despite how painfully shy and skittish you could be.

Now you just had to worry about how to handle your next heat.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ And the universe said ⌗♡୨୧♤✹ -> @thepixelelf

Synopsis: When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Under the Sun ⌗♡୨୧♤ -> @wooahaes

Summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ thief | ʇsᴉǝɥ ★⌗ -> @meltwonu

synopsis: Working under Jeonghan had it perks. On most days, he was kind and even a little lazy; opting to let you approach certain projects on your own while letting you keep half of the profit. But on the days you royally fuck up are the days that remind you that he’s the one in charge, despite him giving you some semblance of authority.

Seperate member x reader (OT13)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Tales from the pack ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @gamerwoo

Summary: The adventures of werewolf!Seventeen as they try to cope with finding their mates, and try their best to stay hidden from the eyes of the humans who want them dead.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Imprinted ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @gamerwoo

Summary: How the thirteen boys met their mates in a modern day world where werewolves must try to blend in with society but keep their secret hidden.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Tales from Camp ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @kwanisms

Synopsis: Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Don't listen in secret ♡୨୧★⌗ -> @j6shua

imagine being best friends with idol group seventeen! very fun! and you get to sleep with them as a friendly favor! yay... hold on,

in order words, adventures as all of seventeen’s fuck buddy organized into a series masterlist

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ SVT hospital ♡ꗃ୨୧ -> @taeyegu

summary ━ four different departments, four different love stories, all in one hospital; hospitalplaylist!au

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ In pursuit of wedded bliss ♡୨୧⌗ -> @fantasyescapes17 (A Seventeen Regency!AU Series)

It is the season- and London is full of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, waiting to be swept up in a whirlwind of romance, passion and matrimony as they each fight their own battles for happiness in London's elite society.

Single member x reader (ft OT13)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Fate and desire ♡୨୧⌗✹ -> @gamerwoo

You know you’ve found your soulmate when your pendant turns red. It’s just your luck you meet an entire host club of 13 boys – save for your best friend, Jeonghan, and his boyfriend – all at once. Your pendant is now red, and all of theirs are always hidden in their shirts. But one person in particular kind of makes you want to forget about the whole “fate” thing.

[ More ot13 fic recs will be updated ]

Want more seventeen fix recs? -> Click here

#seventeen fic recs #svt smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #dokyeom smut #hansol smut #vernon smut #vernon x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jun smut #scoups smut #hoshi smut #woozi smut #dino smut #joshua smut #seungkwan smut #seventeen fanfics #fic recs #svt fic recs #seventeen fic rec #seventeen hybrid au #seventeen recs #ot13 x reader #svt ot13 x reader #seventeen ot13 #ot13 recs

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (16/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: You know what's coming - they don't call me queen of slow burn for nothing.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: thank you all for your kind words on my engagement! and I'm sorry for this part! love ya. feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so close to you that you can breathe him in. His warm breath gently brushes your face, you feel the pressure of his big hands on your back and the thought that friends shouldn't look at each other like that makes your heart beat faster. 

Because Charles is looking at you just like that. As if you weren't friends, as if the connection between you was more intimate than a friendship could ever be. As if he's willing to cross the invisible line that separates his lips from yours. 

Your hands, resting against his hard chest, feel the strong heartbeat beneath and your fingers lightly claw into the fabric of the thick sweater as a sign for him to please be bold. 

Take this step with me, it's supposed to say. Take this step and come to me. 

And Charles even seems to understand. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth, and you're so close you can almost feel his tongue against your mouth as he licks his lips. 

And then his hands disappear from your back as he takes a big step backward. Your touch slips from his chest, his scent disappears from your nose, and a distance is created between you that you can not only physically see, but also emotionally feel. 

When you look up into his face - a little confused - his features are harder than they were just seconds ago. 

"Let's go," he says coldly, tucking his hands, which a moment ago had you pressed against him, into the pockets of his sweater. "I need some sleep before I leave tomorrow, and like you said, we also need to grab a bite to eat and head back home." He turns away from you, takes the few steps to the door, and leaves the store without looking at you again. 

Puzzled and admittedly repulsed, you look after the man. 

He had been so close to you just a moment ago - and all of a sudden there is an uncrossable ocean between you. What has happened that he is now withdrawing like this? Did you do something wrong? Forced yourself on him? Crossed a line? 

No, after all, he sought your closeness first, pulled you closer to him, and whispered all those affectionate words to you that fogged your head and made little butterflies flutter around in your stomach. 

But maybe that's exactly the mistake. Maybe you've completely misread the situation. Maybe he behaves similarly with his other friends. While you can't imagine how he would pull Pierre into such an embrace, every friendship is different, after all. 

And lastly, you don't know how Charles behaves with his female friends either. The thought of him hugging other girls like that, too, and whispering such flirtations in their ears, makes your stomach tighten involuntarily. A nasty feeling that you didn't even feel when Raphael was flirting with other girls in front of you back then. 

You suppress the nausea rising in you and follow Charles, who is waiting for you in front of the store, typing on his cell phone. You lock the door behind you and toss the key into the mailbox, which hangs hidden by ivy vines on the wall of the house next to it. Without looking at your roommate, you start moving. "Well, let's go."

The icy Nice night wind blows in your face and ruffles your hair as you walk back to the car, but Charles doesn't seem to mind in the least. "What do you want to eat?" he asks nonchalantly, still staring at his phone. He seems so far away, as if the moment just now didn't even happen.

You shrug, unsure how to handle the situation. "I don't care. You go ahead and pick something."

"We don't have a lot of options at this point," he counters as your car enters your field of vision. "It's really late and a lot of restaurants have already closed." He continues typing away on his phone as he unlocks the Renault. "According to Google, I think there's a bistro nearby where the sandwiches are supposed to be good. Would you be okay with that?"

"Like I said, I don't care," you reply to him, getting into the car.

"What kind of sandwich do you want?" he asks after plopping down in the driver's seat. "I guess they have one with lettuce, chicken, and avocado." He raises an eyebrow. "I think I'll order that." He tucks his phone away and starts the car before letting it roll out of the parking lot. 

"I'll settle for a plain ham and cheese sandwich," you say, looking out the window. 

The fact that Charles is pretending you didn't almost kiss just now unsettles you so much that you can barely look at him. And the fact that you wanted to kiss him - actually wanted to kiss him - almost makes you disappear into your seat in shame. 

Because, as it seems, he doesn't want to. He draws the line between friendship and something more much more clearly than you do. And he doesn't seem to shift it to suit him. To him, you're his friend, his roommate, a means to an end until he can move into his other apartment. 

You are his friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. 

"Here we are," Charles breaks through your train of thought. He's already parked the car and points to the bistro on the street corner in front of you. A young man is tidying up the few chairs that are in front of the building and wiping down the tables with a rag. "I'll just get us something to eat. Do you need anything else?"

You look over at him with raised eyebrows. "I don't think we can get anything to eat there anymore."

"Why not?"

Confused, you look at him and point to the young man. "Because he's closing up store?"

Charles shrugs. "Just let me try it. It'll work," he smiles, and when you don't reply, he gets out. He jogs the few feet to the bistro and greets the man with a handshake, then points to the place. A little confused, but very pleased, the employee escorts your roommate into the building. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you think Charles would want something more from you than friendship? After all, it's Charles - funny, caring, and so handsome that it partially takes your breath away and he sneaks into your dreams. Why would someone like Charles - someone who could really have any woman on the planet - want more from you when you couldn't even keep someone like Raphael?

You've known each other for three fucking days. What makes you think he could even feel anything else for you after such a short time? How delusional do you have to be to even have a thought like that?

You're on the verge of jumping out of the car and walking home. 

How are you supposed to look him in the face now? Charles is not stupid, he would immediately notice that something is wrong. And you can't lie to him either, because he would see right through you. You don't want to face your feelings either, because that would mean that you have feelings for him that go beyond your friendship - and you are not ready for that pain. 

When Charles steps out of the bistro onto the street with two bags in his hand, you feel sick. Your appetite is abruptly gone, and just the thought of eating something makes you scrunch up your nose. How are you going to be able to eat anything after what happened?

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself. That's not a solution either. 

The only reasonable solution is obvious. The line that you've been pushing back and forth more than frequently over the past few days must stand nailed between you from now on. And it must be drawn up so that you can't cross it as you please. You have to protect yourself, protect your heart - especially after the thing with Raphael - and that's the only way without banning Charles from your life. 

Because that's the last thing you want. And you'll do anything to stop that from happening. 

"Here," Charles says as he rejoins you, handing you a bag. "I wasn't sure which ham you liked, so I just picked the one that looked the best." He places his own bag on the center console before steering the old Renault onto Nice's streets. 

Silence settles between you as you drive home. While Charles takes a bite of his sandwich in the meantime, you pick apart the bread with your fingers. 

To build this wall that is supposed to protect your heart, you need distance, which is definitely not possible in your small apartment. And the fact that you share a bed doesn't make matters any better, of course. For sure, it would be smarter if you reinstate your old deal - one of you sleeps in the bed, the other on the couch. 

But how are you supposed to set that up after you just agreed on the new arrangement at noon today? Snubbing Charles would be too obvious. He'd notice something was wrong, and he'd definitely be able to conclude that it had something to do with your almost-kiss. 

The fact that he will be out of the country for the next few days could be an advantage. The physical distance and the fact that you won't be spending every single second of the day together could build the wall between you up brick by brick. After that, you could claim that you are used to sleeping alone again - humans are creatures of habit, after all. And by then you will have shared the bed only twice. 

That shouldn't really be so obvious - right?

"Don't you like it?" asks Charles as you cross the border to Monaco. His gaze lingers briefly on your sandwich, which by now looks a bit messy. 

" Um, yes I do," you answer quietly and bite off a piece of it. Under other circumstances, the sandwich would actually taste delicious, but now it seems to have no taste at all. You chew on it a bit before choking down the dry lump of bread. "Thanks for getting us something to eat."

Your roommate smiles at you. "I'm sure my nutritionist would scold me if he saw me eating an entire sandwich in the middle of the night." He looks at the rest of his meal. "Even though it has lettuce and avocado on it." He tucks the last corner of his sandwich between his teeth, then grins at you with his mouth open. 

You roll your eyes. "You're disgusting."

His grin widens even more. "You love me," he teases you with his mouth full before swallowing. 

You don't even think to respond. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, and even when you arrive home, you remain silent. The silence is not uncomfortable, but the tension between you is still palpable. As you stand side by side in the bathroom brushing your teeth, you avoid Charles' gaze in the mirror, which you can clearly feel on you. 

The silence, however, gives you the opportunity to prepare yourself for what is about to come. It will be the last time you share a bed with Charles - which sounds like something you've been doing for years. The fact that your friendship feels like this doesn't make it any easier. 

If Charles comes home from Italy and you tell him you prefer the couch, he will surely feel put out. And rejecting your closest friend in such a way may not feel right, but keeping you safe is a priority. One thing you had to learn from Raphael. 

When you enter the bedroom in sleeping clothes, Charles is already in bed. He's lying on his side, facing the center, and apparently the man doesn't own pajamas, because his bare chest glows warmly in the light of the bedside lamp. He scrolls around on his phone, his upper arm resting on his side so that his biceps look even beefier. 

"I set an alarm, hope that's okay with you," he says as you lie down on your side of the bed and slip under the covers. "I have to get out on time, and then we can have a proper goodbye."

You plug your phone into the charger and then place it next to your pillow. "It's all good. We'll be fine." You pull your blanket up to your chin and snuggle in deep, trying to block out the fact that Charles is lying shirtless next to you. 

The brunette sets his phone aside, then flicks off the bedside lamp. As the room is in darkness, it feels like he's lying skin to skin next to you. You can feel his closeness, his warmth, and you would love to build a wall of pillows between you to bring the imaginary boundary into the physical world. 

You turn onto your back and stare at the ceiling, hearing Charles move under his covers as well, and hold your breath as you feel him rest his hand on your bedding. It's like he's reaching out for your hand. 

"I was with my ex yesterday," he says quietly, as if he doesn't dare say it out loud. 

You try to suppress the tugging in your chest. You have no right to feel this way when at the same time you wish there were countless pillows between you. You have no right to it when you're trying to protect your heart. You have no right to feel this way about your friend. 

"With Annika?" Your voice mirrors his, quiet, calm, hesitant. 

You hear his pillow ruffle. He nods. "She's the reason you and I share the apartment. She's living in my first apartment right now. Well, I'm still letting her live there." 

You purse your lips. "Your buddy from yesterday - he said he heard about you two and that he was sorry." You fight the urge to reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. Him revealing himself to you is something you didn't expect.

"Yeah, that was Nico." He takes a deep breath. "Annika cheated on me."

Confused, you turn in his direction, even though you can't see him. "And then you still let her live there?"

He turns as well, facing you. "I wasn't a good boyfriend during the years we were a couple. My job was always my priority, I couldn't give her what she needed. She tried - really tried - but I never really got into it and -" He rubs his palm over his forehead. 

"- and then she cheated on you." You feel like wrapping him in your arms. "Are you letting her stay in the apartment because you feel guilty?" 

"I - I don't know - maybe -" His breath catches and you can clearly hear him struggling with himself. "Maybe if I had paid more attention to her, this wouldn't have happened. If I had taken more time to be with her. If -"

"Stop," you interrupt him harshly, "We're not going to continue this spiral of thought. There's no point going through the ifs, ands, and buts because you can't change it now. You can't change the fact that she cheated on you, and you can't turn back time to make it better. The only thing you can do is do better next time."

The thought of Charles eventually having a new girlfriend and making a real effort with her makes you feel sick. You don't like it, this fucking jealousy that's spreading through you, creeping through your veins like battery acid and leaving a sickening taste in your mouth. 

You try to mask it, even as tears spring to your eyes. "I don't know how exhausting your job in the car industry is, but maybe you can find someone who can walk the road with you. Who can travel with you when your job requires it. Who will stay by your side and support you when things get tough and stressful." Your voice trembles, and you hope Charles can't hear it. 

"Do you think there's someone like that for me? Who's willing to give up that much for me?" he asks, scooting a little closer to you. 

The voice in your head almost screams at you - "me, me, me" - but of course you can't repeat that out loud, so you nod. 

In fact, you'd be willing to give up everything for him, even though it's not much, of course. You have no job, no responsibilities except for the apartment, whose rent you don't have to pay, and you'd give anything to explore the world. 

But Charles is your roommate, your friend. You want someone for him who can make him happy. Even if it's not you. 

"Of course," you answer quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I believe that there is a person out there for everyone. A soulmate to share everything with. Someone who's there for you and with whom you don't have to pretend to be somebody else."

"Hmm." You feel Charles' breath on your face. Only then do you realize how close he is to you. "So there's someone for you, too. Someone who will make time for you, won't let you down, and will take care of you. And most importantly, someone who doesn't fuck other women."

You have to smile. "The latter would be enough for me. But even that seems impossible. After all, look at us. We've both been cheated on."

Charles shrugs. "But if that hadn't happened, we wouldn't be living together now. We wouldn't even know each other, we wouldn't be friends." He exhales. "The fact that we both got cheated on really sucks, of course - but we found each other through it. And I wouldn't trade that for anything in this world."

Something tugs at your heart. You place another brick on the imaginary wall between you. 

"I don't want to go to Italy."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Charles exhales a breath. "You said you were just going to sit here and wait for me to come home." He sounds concerned. 

"I was kidding," you try to lighten the situation. "I'm going to work, of course." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. "And I still have Kika and Pierre." You pause. "And Lando."

You can feel your friend stiffen beside you at the mention of the Brit. "I thought you're happy with the tiramisu you had here on site?" His voice sounds colder and more bitter than it did a few seconds ago. 

"I am." You turn away from him, onto your back, to put distance between you. "But there are other desserts to try, aren't there? Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else. I've got to get these few days over somehow."

Unlike you, Charles notes that the meals you listed are all things you've already eaten together. That you would want to possibly top those few memories you have with him with Lando leaves a sickening taste in his mouth.

"Well, if you have to work and you're meeting with Kika and Pierre and we're facetiming in between, you might not have that much time to try other dessert. Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else," he repeats your words. 

"We'll see. If there really is someone suitable out there for me, I'm definitely not going to find him on our couch." When Charles doesn't answer, you declare the conversation to be over. You close your eyes, snuggle deeper into your blanket, and try to block out the fact that the person you want - the one who might be right for you - is lying shirtless next to you. 

You already have, Charles answers you in his mind, taking a deep breath. Your scent still clings to his bedclothes from noon today, his skin tingling as he breathes it in. Me. Me. Me.

next part

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