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reiderwriter · 5 months

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can i request for a mean!spencer x bau!reader? like they are not enemies but there's just this really intense sexual tension with prompts 2, 30, 48, and 49? thank you!

#2 "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last person on earth.” #30 "You're not as hot as you think you are.” #48 "You belonged to me before I even made you mine.” #49 "I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took almost an entire season to get it done 😭 I hope it's as good as you expected it would be :D

Warnings: slight BDSM themes, Dom!Spencer, dry humping, choking, thigh riding, finger sucking, cum play, facial, penetrative sex, use of contraception, probably more that I don't remember right now... 18+ Minors DNI

There was no one you wanted to spend the night with less than Spencer Reid.

He was annoying, and frustrating and most importantly never knew when to shut the fuck up.

No one was better at getting under your skin, and no one seemed to relish it quite like he did. It wasn't that you hated the man, just that he had the presence of an unkillable mosquito in your life.

He was irritating.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

“I try not to make a habit of it,” you rolled your eyes, pushing past the man as you both finally made it to your motel room for the night.

You weren't sure if this was divine punishment or Emily's idea of a joke, but you'd ended up with Reid as your roomie for the next week.

As your case location was remote and as back waters as it could get, you'd ended up needing to bring Penelope Garcia along with you physically. And with only four rooms available, the eight members of your team had to all scramble for acceptable roommates and, having gotten off the jet last, you'd drawn the short straw.

Rossi had been quick to pair up with Luke, citing Spencer's snoring habit as reason enough, and the girls had happily fallen into two pairs. It was your lucky day.

With your hands busy with your bags, you tossed the key to Spencer quickly and waited for him to unlock the door, eager to escape the cold chill of the night.

“Hurry up, Spencer, or we'll both turn into popsicles out here.”

“Not only is that physically impossible, but it also isn't that cold out here, Y/N. Don't you think you're being a bit sensitive.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and he let out a sharp chuckle as he finally managed to unlock the door.

Despite your best wishes, stepping over the threshold didn't solve your problems. Instead it seemed to present even more.

“Fuck, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” You said, shivering violently as you stood in the doorway. If you thought that was reason enough to cure though, you thought you'd practically spit fire when you saw the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your body forgot its fight to keep warm, letting your blood run cold as you found yourself face to face with one singular, though large, bed. Another cursory glance around, and the heart motifs on the walls and pink themes cushions on the bed suggested that this was likely the motels joke of a Honeymoon Suite.

“Emily did mention that we booked out their last four rooms.” Spencer said, walking up beside you and frowning deeply as he took in the same scene you did.

“She said nothing about the rooms being igloos though, Spencer. I never thought hypothermia was going to be my cause of death after spending the night with you in the room.”

“You think I'd shoot you.”

“I think I'd shoot myself.”

He scowled a little at that and moved to check the room's thermostat. Although it was presently reading 215° so you didn't know how much good that could do.

“There's no sofa,” you grumbled as you watched Spencer move to the small bathroom.

“And there's no hot water. And according to the sign on that table, there's nothing we can do about it until the morning.” You picked up the sign yourself, just to verify and practically moaned in frustration.

“This is insane, we'll freeze to death.”

“It has to drop below 32° in here for us to even possibly freeze death. There's no wind, rain and we have blankets, so maybe you should focus less on being dramatic and more on what we can be doing to warm up.”

“I'm sorry, Doctor Genius, whatever can I do to warm up? Please impart some of your wonderful knowledge on me, I beg.” His eyes flashed with some annoyance and you quietly enjoyed the expression, happy to have affected him as much as he affected you.

“You can start by stripping.” It was his turn to enjoy the abject look of horror that crossed your face in that moment, and you were convinced that of he let even a hint of a laugh out, you'd throttle the man.

“I'm sure you'd just love that,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, there's no water, no thermostat and no other source of heat, so if you're so worried about hypothermia, there's only one solution viable to us right now.”

“You're joking. You want us to huddle together for warmth?” You backed yourself into a corner as you tried to distanced yourself from him as he suddenly began divesting himself of clothing.

As soon as he reached the top buttons of his shirt, you let out a quick squeak and turned around.

“Unless you want me to watch you get undressed too, I suggest you hurry up and do it before I get into bed.”

You quietly cursed and started unwrapping each of your layers, fingers fumbling with the cold already seeped into your skin.

“I am not getting naked, Spencer Reid.”

“I didn't ask you to. Just get comfortable.” You turned around to shoot him a glare, but when you noticed his back was turned - and bare - you lost all memory of the purpose of the movement.

You'd never quite realised before how broad his back was. His shoulders looked strong despite his lithe frame, twisting rather attractively as he pulled his nightshirt over his head. You were almost disappointed that he wasn't facing you, suddenly curious about Spencer Reid's happy trail.

You snapped yourself out of it and continued to change, wrapping your coat around your waist to hide your legs as you switched your pants to your sleep shorts. It was an awkward fumble, but at least the lights were low.

When you were finally ready, your steps back to the bed were hurried and near painful as you felt colder than ever.

Spencer was already there, and without a second thought, you pulled the quilts up and plastered yourself to his side. He was the only thing in the entire room offering you a modicum of warmth, and you weren't going to let your personal hot water bottle go just because everything that came out of his mouth was hot air.

“So you're a big fan of this now, huh?” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in. Your back was pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides, piles of duvet and blankets laid out on top of you. You hated to admit it, but this position was comfortable.

Maybe it was just months of working cases non-stop and perpetual singleness, but the feeling of a man at your back was infinitely pleasing.

“Don't expect anything more Spencer Reid. I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive.” The words were harsh, and if you were being honest, a little bit untrue. Your small peak at his back earlier had definitely sparked an interest in you that was bubbling up in your throat. Like bile.

“You don't have to worry about that. You're actually not as hot as you think you are.” His words were tinged with the same faux bitterness as yours, but you refused to hear it. Instead all you felt was another unpleasant heat spreading throughout you, quiet anger plotting in your stomach.

You knew you probably shouldn't push it, but you needed Spencer to eat those words. Desperately.

Your mind ticked through a few options before landing on one. If you were so unattractive, then surely there's no way he'd physically react to you.

Scooting your body closer to his, you take advantage of the less than comfortable bed, making each of your movements similar to ones you would make when getting comfortable. Except, of course, with the added bonus of making sure your ass pressed directly up against his crotch, moving up and down and grinding into him.

You felt him slightly stiffen behind you, and decided that a few we'll time groans of frustration could go a long way to spurring him on.

So you began letting little gasps and sighs out, graduating to moans when you thought he wouldn't question it, each small movement rubbing against him deliberately.

What you'd failed to remember though, was his hand on your waist. Although you knew he was awake beside you, despite the now late hour and somewhat comfortable bed, his hand held you firm. Or it did until you risking bounced yourself gently against him, and his now limp hand slipped underneath your shirt.

The moan you released then was genuine, the cool touch of his fingers against your burning skin causing you to flush and shiver at the same time. You cursed your earlier self for valuing your comfort over your general peace of mind, because as Spencer's hand once again settles centimetres away from the edge of your boob, you desperately wished for your bra back.

You stopped moving, hoping that if you just pretended to sleep for a few minutes, his hand would reach higher and he'd prove to you that he did think you were attractive. He didn't though, showing off how gentlemanly he was. It pissed you off. Most of his good qualities pissed you off, and you were sure that said more about you than him .

You tried your best to just give in, to even out your breathing and let the black haze of sleep take over but his hands on you were maddening, and you found your body reacting in much the same ways you'd wished him to react.

It didn't help that he'd casually shifted his lower body away from you slightly in your stillness, letting himself fall onto his back rather than his side. As he made this shift, his hand trailed across the expanse of your body before cutting all contact with you altogether.

So much for huddling for warmth if all he had to do to return you to record heats was stroke you like that.

You needed to feel him again, so, feigning the most realistic sleeplike movements you could muster, you turned your body in his direction, and placed your head over his chest. You weren't finished, just proceeding with caution. Your hands obviously fell over his chest, if slightly lower than you'd expect.

It was only when your leg finally came up over his that he broke his silence.

“I know you're awake, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, a solid hand on your thigh holding it down right over his crotch. You felt your prize and grinned in your sleep.

He was hard. You'd won. It was time to play.

You opened your mouth to purr victoriously at him, but he moved so abruptly you were never expecting it.

Shifting his hands to your ass, he hauled your body over him, letting his hands stay on your hips as he began to help you shift them back and forth. You moaned at the friction, even as your head stayed rested on his chest. The movements were shallow, just a teasing but you already felt more aroused than you had in months. Slowly, your hips started moving for themselves and his hands moved onto more important things.

“Am I suddenly the last man on Earth, Y/N?” He smiled, tipping your head up so you could make eye contact with him.

“Go to hell.”

“I think we're already there, don't you?” With that, his large hands sat you up, meeting with no resistance as you let yourself become pliable.

“Show me.” He whispered, hands right on your hips, pushing into your flesh just a touch part forceful.

“Show you what?” You narrowed your eyes, but you knew exactly what it was he wanted and that you weren't going to out up much a resistance before giving it to him.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me. Since your mouth isn't honest, I'm going to have to listen to your body.” You let your hands fall to his chest, pushing lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. He'd pushed the quilts off of your torso, letting the cold air attack your upper body, so you knew your hands were cold, and the hiss he let out at the contact was satisfying enough to shut up and actually start following his directions.

You shifted your body up and down, grinding and dry humping his crotch, wishing for him to stop being a tease and just get it over with.

He wasn't letting you compromise, though. Each small sound that left your body met with a soft smirk from him, each halt in your movements a prod from his hands. You'd tried to still your hips entirely once out of frustration, but he'd delivered a slap to your ass that had you gushing, desperate to reach a release even if he'd only allow you it this way.

“I don't think you're trying hard enough.” His voice was lower than before, something gravelly to it as he began pulling your clothing off one item at a time. Your sweater went first, before he flipped your positions and shimmered your shorts off your body, taking underwear soon after and then you were bare to him and he was rolling you once again.

“That's better. Now, where were we?” He moved your hips for you again, but his eyes stayed focused in the rigid peaks of your nipples, bouncing with each rock of your hips. You weren't sure if it was the cold temperature of the room or your sheer need to cum that had them reacting, but you knew he was seconds away from wrapping his tongue around one and giving into you, so you just accepted it.

His hands stayed put, still on your hips, though the direct contact was heating you slightly more. If you looked down, you were sure you'd see a wet patch against his sweat pants, so you didn't.

You just moaned and whimpered searching for your orgasm on top of him.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Do you need my help to finish?” He noticed your every insecurity, your weakness and exploited it. You were running close to inconsolable, desperate to hit that climax now, more than ever before, so you just nodded at him profusely, desperate for him to touch you in whatever way he could.

It wasn't his hand you felt on your clit, though. It was your own, he wrapped a hand around your fingers and bought them up to the correct stop, showing you exactly what he'd like to see.

“Touch yourself, Y/N. Touch yourself and wish it was me.” With the friction from grinding against him for so long, the satisfaction from the rigid tent underneath you and your hands taking his guidance, it was really not long before your pussy finally twitched familiarly and sighed, soaking his pants underneath you as you shuddered in delight.

He had to ruin your moment of bliss by talking.

“Is that enough, slut? Or do you really need to be filled right now?”

You didn't care if he saw you sticking your tongue down his throat as you collapsed on top of his chest as an answer to that question, or if he saw it as what it was - a desperate attempt to shut him up. All you knew was that he tasted sweet and hot, and that his hand wrapped around your throat was also hot as he pulled you up and off of him.

“Let me be clear. I am in charge.” A simple shift of his legs was enough to flip your positions, landing on top of you ungrateful, but you didn't care.

Using his new high ground, he wedged your legs open and slid a single finger inside you as you moaned. He too found success in silencing you by sticking his tongue down your throat, forcing you to battle him for dominance you knew he'd never allow you.

Having cum only moments before, you truly believed that there was no way he was going to push another one out of you after so little time. The night was full of surprises though.

As you relaxed into his intrusion, he opened you up with a second finger, then a third. You already felt yourself building towards your end goal, but it was his head dropping to tour cold nipples that finally had you cumming around his fingers. His mouth was wet, tongue warm against your skin, and he toyed with you so effectively, you practically forgot your previous qualms.

“See? You belong to me before I've even made you mine.” It irked you that he was right. Had this been any other man, you're sure you'd be bragging about such passionate sex for weeks with your friends. You were resentful that it was him, but you didn't want it to end yet.

Your arms pulled up to hide your face as he traced kisses up and down your chest, fingers coming free to pay attention to your since abandoned nipples.

“I can't wait to fuck you. You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your arms away from your face, making sure your eyes were focused on him before his next line.

“You have no clue what you started. I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

His hands fell to your face, where his thumb pushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth where you sucked on it, getting it wet as his cock teased the folds of your pussy, running up and down with each gentle push of his hips. You entertained him for a moment before pushing up slightly, his thumb falling from your mouth as you blindly reached for the bedside table. Pulling it open, you were relieved to find what you were looking for.

“If you're so fucking obsessed with me, Spencer, show me.” Carefully unwrapping the package, you grabbed his dick and gently slid the condom onto him, making sure it was secure before you propped yourself back on the pillows, waiting for him to initiate once again.

“Pillow princess. You're acting like I haven't been dreaming of exactly this for the last 12 months.”

You couldn't waste time processing those words before he again ran his cock through the folds of your pussy, then sank himself deep inside you. And you meant deep.

The sudden impact robbed you of your thoughts, pushing out every miserable thought and leaving you with just Spencer and pleasure. The two concepts soon became synonymous as his hips lazily sent him careening in and out of you.

His strokes gained speed gradually until the only words shared between you were the animalistic pants of pleasure, his voice driving you insane as you tried not to get overstimulated before you could cum for a third time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, Spencer-” your moans turned to screams as your orgasm rolled over you, his dick hitting just the right spot inside you that forced your nails to bite his skin, and forced your voice to scratch at your throat as it pushed up from your gut.

Noticing your relentless twitching, Spencer immediately pulled out of your cunt, allowing you a moment of reprieve. Pushing up to his knees, he moved to your side, his crotch parallel with your face as he rolled the condom off his dick.

Stroking himself to completion, he came right over your lips, your eyes dripping with lust as you licked them clean, catching the dribbles that fell down your chin with your fingers and popping them into your mouth as well.

After your whorish display of desperation, it took a full ten minutes for your brain function to resume.

In that time, Spencer had cleaned both of you up speedily with a hotel towel, wrapped an arm around you and began spooning you once again, his chest warm and comfortable against your back, his scent intoxicating.

It didn't stop being so when you finally came down from your post-cum bliss.

“You're not allowed to tell anyone what happened tonight,” you said, turning over to look him in the eye.

“Nothing from tonight, got it. What about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I allowed to tell them how I plan to wake you up tomorrow, and how your current state of dress made it possible, if not directly invited it?”

You flushed at his words, tingling already at the mention of tomorrow.

“We're sharing a room, Y/N. If you think I'm not going to be inside you whenever were both free, you're entirely mistaken.” His voice was clear - not even a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“I'm not letting you go that easily, Y/N.”

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

Text

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part three❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.

♡ Warnings: language, fluff, angst, death threats, stalking, daddy issues, hints to anxiety, mentions of alcohol

Part 4

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was the next day, early in the morning. You were still asleep while Bucky was downstairs moving in his stuff, with Steve’s help of course.

Steve was in charge of the perimeter guard team around your house, and found some free time to help his pal Bucky move in. He also was curious about you, never having met you face to face. But the stories he had heard from your Father— scared him.

Steve plopped down a bag at the front door, wiping some sweat off his brow.

“So Buck, what do you think so far?” Steve asked him, both of them chilling by the doorway.

Bucky shrugged, leaning himself against the frame.

“It’s fine. I’ve done this before an—”

“I meant, what do you think about her so far?” Steve corrected himself, and Bucky bit his lip— deep in thought.

“Shes fine.” Bucky answered shortly, and he could tell by Steve’s brows raising— that he wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

“C’mon Buck, give me more than that! Is she as bad as Pierce makes her out to be? Or worse?” Steve rambled on, while a bucky was getting annoyed.

“Ya know— she’s actually not bad at all. She’s pretty quiet, keeps to herself— extremely polite.” Bucky told him defensively, he didn’t know why but he felt the need to stick up for you.

He felt awful that you were made out to be this— monster. When you were far from it.

Steve gave him a ‘really?’ look and still wasn’t buying it.

“You’re not messing with me? The whole perimeter team is afraid of her because of bosses stories.” Steve pointed out.

Bucky huffed, clearly annoyed with Steve’s rambling.

“I’m serious.”

“Huh. Wonder why Pierce gives her one hell of a warning. Think she’s just pretending?” Steve persisted, causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

“Seriously Steve, I don’t have time to talk about her all day. I have a job to do.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll let ya be. Just let me know if there’s anything interesting that goes on.” Steve told him, making Bucky chuckle.

“Sure thing.” He responded sarcastically.

“Is she pretty?” Steve asked one last time, pausing his step to leave.

“Fucking hell— seriously?” Bucky scoffed, watching Steve walk down the stairs laughing.

He was glad he was walking away, that way he couldn’t see the blush that had dusted his cheeks at the thought of you. Well yeah— you were attractive. But it was strictly professional, and he’d never see you anything more than his mission. But with Steve’s words, he couldn’t help but think otherwise for a slight moment.

He closed the door, sliding all the locks in place— making sure it was safe and secure. As he was leaning down to grab his bag, he heard the tiny echoes of footsteps approaching.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky turned to glance up the stairs, at the top was you— still in your pajamas. He hated to admit it to himself, but even just minutes after you’d woken up— your hair evidence. He still thought you looked pretty.

“Morning (Y/n).” He breathed out, hoping that his cheeks were back to a neutral color.

You smiled wider, loving it when he said your name. You wondered for a second why, but perhaps it was because you were so forgotten on a daily basis— no one ever seeking you out— speaking to you. It felt nice to be called, even if it was something as simple as ‘good morning’. You felt appreciated.

“Did you sleep okay?” You asked him, walking down the stairs to meet him.

He shrugged, not sure if he should tell you the truth. That he didn’t even sleep in the bed at all, instead making a makeshift bed on the floor.

“It was fine.” He lied.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, a knowing look that alerted him that you knew something.

“Really? I peeked into your room, looking for you and I saw blankets and a pillow on the floor. The bed didn’t look like it had been touched.” You said softly, being careful to not make him feel embarrassed.

His jaw was clenching, the thought of you going into his room looking for him. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was a bad one or good.

“Yes really, I slept fine.” He repeated, hoping that you’d be convinced somehow.

You giggled, making to the second to last step.

“Okay, whatever you say. You can always wake me up if you ever can’t sleep. Sometimes it’s good to talk to someone about what’s on your mind, so you can go to bed with a clear head.” You suggested.

He fought the smile down harder this time, your sweet demeanor almost infectious. Every time he saw you smile, it caused the corners of his mouth to twitch.

He nodded at your suggestion, deciding not to respond verbally.

“I’m going to make breakfast, would you like a plate? I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet.” You asked him, fully down the stairs now standing in front of him.

It was only now that he could see the height difference, he was towering over you. You looked so tiny from his view— you looked adorable.

As he was about to decline your offer, his stomach growled— echoing through the main entrance. You laughed, clutching your own stomach. The tune of your laughter had his chest warm again. He forgot a time in his time where he was around so much laughter. He had missed it.

“I’ll go ahead and make you a plate and leave it in the fridge. You can decide if you want it now or later.” You told him, turning to walk away— towards the kitchen.

He felt very welcomed here. You were so inviting and sweet, he couldn’t help but want to break down his walls a bit.

“Thanks (Y/n).” He spoke out, causing you to turn.

“No need Mr. Barnes, I’d be happy to do it.” You assured him.

Bucky bit his lip for a moment before speaking out again.

“James.” He spoke out, watching your expression grow confused for a moment. “You can call me James.”

You sent him a smile, your own cheeks dusting pink.

“Okay James.” You tested out, and you couldn’t help the way it felt rolling off your tongue.

Bucky on the other hand, didn’t know he would like hearing you say his name so much. It was a name he didn’t let people use too often, but for some reason he allowed you to.

You turned and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. You were slowly wrapping him around your little finger. He hated it.

Later that day, Pierce had sent one of his men to your home. Informing Bucky that Pierce wanted to meet with him. He was still unsure why, but knew not to question the boss.

That’s where he found himself standing in Pierce’s office again, while you waited outside the office patiently. Bucky couldn’t help but feel bad when Pierce asked you to wait outside, not even sparing you a warm greeting or hug. It wasn’t very Fatherly of him.

“Mr. Barnes I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you in today,” Pierce started, walking around his desk, “We’ve received some… interesting photos recently. Thought you should take a look.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, grabbing the folder in Pierces outstretched hand— opening the file up to see many pictures of you. They were all from a far away perspective, all photos you were unaware were taken.

It seemed you had an admirer— more like stalker.

He pushed around the pictures, his eyes focusing on one photo in particular. You were sitting on a bench reading a book, with the words ‘she’d look so much prettier dead’ written in red across the image.

The message had Bucky’s stomach flipping, the looming threat that now rested over his head, over yours. It definitely wasn’t an admirer, more like someone trying to mess with you— to get to your Father.

“These were just dropped off here?” Bucky asked on edge.

“No, they were found by one of the perimeter guards near her house. I’m just glad we found it before she did.” He explained, rubbing his temples in stress.

“Are you going to tell her?” Bucky wondered.

“Hell no— her knowing would only make her a paranoid mess. For your sanity— it’s best she’s kept in the dark.” Pierce suggested, while Bucky wasn’t so sure that’d end well.

Bucky wanted to say something but chose otherwise, Pierce seemed to notice the judgement on his face.

“Listen, my men are handling this situation as best as they can. All I’m asking is for you to continue to do your job, and keep your mouth shut about this.” Pierce made himself clear, not giving Bucky a chance to speak— walking back around his desk to sit.

“Yes sir.” Bucky nodded, though he felt indifferent about the whole situation.

You were clearly in danger, and Bucky of course wasn’t doubting his ability to protect you— but he was more concerned about the lack of concern Pierce had for his daughter.

“That will be all.” Pierce dismissed him, sliding his glasses back on.

Bucky turned to walk out, and when the door opened, he wasn’t expecting you to barge in. His hands hovered over your arms, wondering if he even had the right to stop you from coming in.

“Hi Dad, I was wondering if we could talk.” You tried, shifting nervously on your feet in dread of his answer.

Bucky watched uncomfortably from the doorway, unsure if he should leave or not. Hesitantly, he stayed.

Pierce ripped off his glasses, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“Who let you in?” He asked calmly, though he was far from it.

You took a deep breath, trying not to let your hurt show. You hadn’t even been in the room for a minute and he was already sick of you.

“I- I did.” You uttered out.

Bucky couldn’t help but notice how small you were trying to make yourself, how you were nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Pierce scoffed, trying to focus on his papers— pretend that you weren’t there.

“Dad, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight? We could go to Sarah’s restaurant.” You asked him, biting your lip anxiously— waiting for his response.

Pierce glanced up, looking you over for a moment trying to come up with an answer.

“I have a lot of work that needs to be done (Y/n).” He breathed out, massaging his temples.

“It doesn’t have to be for long!” You argued, your heart beating faster— knowing deep down what his answer would be.

“I just can’t. Please understand that?” He pushed, his tone growing more aggravated.

You glanced behind you, sneaking a look at Bucky. He stood silently, pretending he wasn’t listening and merely watching over you— as it’s his job. But, he had heard everything and was quite invested into this conversation. On the other hand, you felt embarrassed that he was witnessing your Father letting you down.

Facing your Father again, you sent him a pleading look.

“Dad please… I miss you.” You whispered, hoping Bucky wouldn’t hear your pathetic voice.

He did.

Pierce looked at you, almost right through you. It was clear that your begging did nothing to convince him— that you solemn state didn’t concern him. He ran a hand through his gray hair, closing his eyes in thought.

“I’m sorry peanut, maybe another time.” He said so softly.

The words did nothing to comfort you, instead filling your body with frustration. It was funny that the only time he ever used that tone, or that nickname that you used to love— was when he was sending you away.

It almost felt like he was teasing you, jabbing at your inner child. Like things were supposed to be better, that letting you down wasn’t supposed to hurt as much because he was using the nickname. If anything, it only reopened the wound. The sweet tone like salt sinking into the wound. It forced you to remember a time where he had loved you. Past tense.

Blinking back the tears you felt approaching, you took a deep breath, giving him a fake smile.

“It’s okay, you’re right maybe some other time.” You lied to yourself, you knew this was an empty promise.

Pierce sent you a pitied look, and in a second focused back on his papers. Going back to ignoring your presence.

You couldn’t hold the tears back for much longer, and decided to leave the room calmly. Your goal to make it out of the building before the tears could fall.

You passed by Bucky without a word, not that he needed to ask where you were going— knowing he’d follow you. He watched as you pressed the elevator button, your leg bouncing in impatience. Your hurried movements were causing Bucky to frown in concern.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” He asked quietly, not trying to bring any attention on you.

You looked his way and nodded your head without a word— which was unlike you.

Before he could ask again, the door opened and you stepped in. Bucky stepped in behind you, pressing the ground floor. The elevator ride was filled with thick tension, an uncomfortable energy flowing throughout the small space.

Thankfully, the room dinged, and the doors opened for them to exit. Bucky was leading you to the car that was waiting for you by the curb. He hurried and opened the door for you, watching you slide in quickly.

He could sense your discomfort even as he shut the door and glanced at your figure through the tinted glass. He figured he’d get you home as quickly as he could, seeing as that’s what you wanted. Not a word had been spoken between the two of you, but it was almost like you knew the routine already.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he risked a glance in the rear view mirror— his heart aching at your dull expression. You were staring mindlessly at the headrest in front of you— lost in your thoughts.

He focused back in front of him, shifting the clutch until he was accelerating forward, heading home.

He wasn’t going to glance back again, that was until he heard a sniffle. Glancing up, he quickly regretted it. He frowned at the sight of your wet cheeks, watching you attempt to wipe them dry— but the tears kept coming.

He suddenly felt anger towards Pierce, the way he dismissed you like you weren’t his daughter— someone of importance. It saddened Bucky, your kindness doing you no favors.

He didn’t realize he was staring, until he felt your eyes on his. He focused through the mirror, holding your bloodshot eyes with pity.

You were looking at him with longing— for comfort that had always been pushed away from you. You didn’t know why you searched for it suddenly from him, maybe you were desperate. Yeah, that’s it.

“Just relax, I’ll let you know when we’re home.” Bucky said the only thing that came to mind, although there were thousands of things he probably, should’ve said.

You gave him a weak smile, one that had Bucky internally wincing. Hating the way it didn’t reach your eyes. Suddenly he missed your smile, your true smile.

With a nod, you rested your cheek against your hand against the window— letting the rumble of the car lull you to sleep. Bucky watched your eyes shut, and ever so slowly your expression shifted to something peaceful.

Bucky let his mind wander on the drive home, and he couldn't help his mind from wandering to you.

A part of him still didn't understand why you were so opposite from how Pierce described you. He had yet to make sense of it all. He was starting to come to terms with the idea that Pierce was just mean. Maybe he didn't give you enough time, maybe you had yet to show your true colors.

Arriving home, it wasn’t dark yet— but the sky had started to dim. He checked the mirror, not surprised to see you still asleep. He got out of the car, walked around to open your door. Thankfully, you had moved off the window during your slumber.

“(Y/n), we’re home.” He whispered, watching you mumble something, but otherwise stayed asleep.

He gently shook your arm, rocking your body just slightly in attempt to wake you.

“(Y/n)?” He tried again, this time louder.

You nodded your head like you had heard him, but still— your eyes remained closed. Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head with a light chuckle.

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He blamed it on the fact that he felt bad, witnessing you getting turned down by your Father. But as he scooped you up in a bridle position, he couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading throughout him. You snuggled your face into his chest, letting his scent lull you into a deeper sleep. Bucky couldn’t fight down the butterflies that your gesture had caused.

He continued into the house, locking the door all with one hand before heading upstairs to your room. He should’ve been surprised at the elegancy of your room, but it seemed so you. He smirked at the space, all the little things scattered around the room that made it you.

Reminding himself he could ogle at your room another time, he set you down on the bed, his hand gently cradling the back of your head until it met the pillow. Instinctively, he got to work and started untying the laces on your shoes. Slipping them both off gently, before picking up your legs and placing them on the bed.

He lifted your body for a moment, pulling back the cover so you couldn’t slide under. Soon, you were snug and tucked under the blankets. Bucky gave you one last look— be told himself it was strictly for his job. But he found himself just wanting to look at you for a moment.

Letting his eyes fall from your face, he started to turn to leave. That was until your hand grabbed his, stopping him.

“James?” You mumbled sleepily.

He turned and looked at you, glancing at your hand holding his for a second.

“You’re okay, just carried you to bed.” He told you quietly, watching your eyes droop.

You let your mind brew a crazy idea. Stay with me. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to whisper those words so badly. He was the closest thing to comfort you had in so long, and you clung to it— to him so desperately. You didn’t want to scare him away, you couldn’t help yourself from coming on too strong. Besides, you thought it felt wrong to ask your bodyguard such a thing.

Instead of whispering the words that itched to come out, you released his hand— and let your eyes shut completely. Falling into a deep sleep, hoping that your dreams could be filled with comfort.

Bucky watched you let go, and melt back into the pillow. He waited as it looked like you had something to say. He wasn’t shocked when you fell back asleep, but he was more shocked at his sadness at your lack of words.

Without giving you another glance, he headed out of your room. Shutting the door softly, until he heard the click. He wasn’t sure what was up with him today, he blamed it on his pitied brain. He needed to remind himself that he was working, and he had no time to slack off. Rubbing a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly— heading downstairs in search of alcohol.

He hoped that he could drown out his distracting thoughts, needing a clear mind by tomorrow. He needed to stop his walls from crumbling around you.

TAGLIST: @winters1917 @unaxv @sebastianstansqueen @casa-boiardi @sonatabee @nytzirhk @almosttoopizza @erinallene @daddy-dotcom @h0nestly-though @beautiful-loserr @gloriouspurpose01 @lesleurs @justherefortheficandsmut @floralwsloki @dottirose @madi-be-buggin @navs-bhat @happinessinthebeing @ximi1315 @buggy14 @dancer3205 @neeezza101 @rovckwells @loki-is-loved @yujyujj @wolfstarrrr @distinguishedbluebirdtriumph @tatianah26 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @lethallyprotected @sadboiabby @ziatracy @doveromanoff @whattheduckisupkyle @buckysgirl85 @etherealdisneyvillainness @doctorlilo @torntaltos @raging-panda @livingoffsavvyillusions @lmao-liz @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @toriluvsfics @baconeggndcheez @nialiuwanderlust @nabiiturner @nickangel13 @queerqueenlynn @memyselfandi19 @mentalidrainedfangirl @wattpaduser200 @obsessedbutnotblessed @iris-shihabi @thecubanator2 @chloe-skywalker @oatballsoffury

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

El Charro Negro

Charro Negro AU! Miguel x Reader

Requested Here by @arrozleche ♥️✨

Inspired in this artwork by Kattromz

WARNINGS: angst at the beginning, bit of light horror, a bit of fluff, spanish dialogue and serenades, Mexican urban legend, a bit of possessiveness If you squint. Hope I got it right :')

Summary: Don't make deals with the devil, people.

The song Miguel sings to reader ⬇️⬇️

May the day he was born forever cursed. May the day his parents decided to have him, cursed. May the humble and tattered home he lived in, damned.

Oh how he longed to have what other men had. A good hat, food on his table every day, not having to worry if he'd sleep with an empty stomach, a more comfortable bed and not the paltry and smelly rags he had for a bed; the good and clean clothes instead of his patched up pants and holed shirts. His parents loved him dearly. But it wasn't enough, even if they worked as hard as he was, it wasn't enough.

It was never enough for him.

He wanted more. He wanted to be admired instead of shunned and treated like an outcast for not having enough.

"Ya verán..." (They'll see.)

He'd prove all those that mocked him for being less, that he would be better. Better than all of them. When his Patrón would pay him what he is owed, he'd buy decent clothing. He'd have his Charro suit his heart yearned so much, and just then, he would laugh in the faces of those that wronged him.

But, Oh the misfortune his name carried since birth, followed him like a lost, mangy puppy, looking for solace in his tragedy. His parents died within a mine. buried and forgotten. El patrón didn't even bother himself into try and getting them and some other workers out.

Unbeknown to his parents, they had been digging their grave long ago.

He had to steal a bottle from the foreman's reserve so he could at least have the respect to knock his senses with good alcohol. Mezcal was his favorite. No money, no parents, poor and sick of everything was his current mood. A perpetual will of someone bigger than him, that had cursed him to live on scraps all his life.

"¡¿Feliz?! ¡¿Qué quieres de mí?!" (Happy?! What do you want from me?!)

He hiccuped as he entered his empty and tattered home, blaspheming at heavens as he cut a bit of his palm and attempted to draw a circle with it.

"¡Lo he dado todo y nunca fue suficiente!" (Gave it all and still it wasn't enough.)

He weeped and growled. The mezcal numbing his senses slowly. Sluggish footsteps finally tripped over a termite chewed chair, and he hissed at the stung from the cut in his hand.

"Daría cualquier cosa..." (I'd give anything)

His eyes felt heavy, the tip of his fingertips tingled with spreading numbness. A chill ran down his spine while his face pressed against the dusty floor. It vibrated. He groaned and took another swig from the bottle.

Black mist crept around him, the temperature suddenly feeling cold. He shuddered and scrunched his nose at the simmering fear that was below the surface.

"¿Lo que sea?" (Anything?)

A gravel like, yet sultry voice echoed from the darkest part of the room. His breath hitched as his vision blurred for a second to then focus on the bright, fiery red eyes that stared at him with keen interest.

His voice made all the mezcal to evaporate from his body. Wide, fearful eyes stared at the entity.

"Lo que sea." (Anything)

Miguel breathed with a nod. The being smirked, revealing a pair of sharp canines adorning his perfect and malicious smirk.

"¿Te apetece un trato?" (Fancy a deal?)

-------

The women made lines just to get a glimpse of him, Clad in a perfectly tailored suit just for him with the finest fabrics available. Tall, broad and muscular body not many had the luck of tasting, a horse that seemed brought from foreign lands due it's sheer size and color. Jet black with beady amber eyes. Wide brim hat, with a lace bow hugging his neck.

Even though many knew him, his money was the talk of town. Where would he get larges amount of money to invite everyone in the cantina a round of shots? his suits? his horse? his properties? The women?.

"Les dije que sería mejor que todos ustedes." (Told you I'd be better than you lot.)

He mumbled as he threw a woman over his shoulder with a smirk, she squealed in excitement as he took a long swig of his bottle. He'd throw the most outrageous parties in his estate almost every week.

The fiery eyes just watched him from afar, his smirk widening.

-------

Despite having more than fifty people before him, and women throwing themselves at him, his heart had said enough. Enough of the madness, enough of the parties, enough of fake loves that only seeked him for pleasure or money. Enough. He had enough.

He threw everyone out of a rage fit. He was sick of them. Even thought their faces were familiar, he knew shit about them all. He wanted, needed, to be alone.

"¿Ya te has cansado de esta vida, Miguel?" (Have you grown tired of this life?)

Miguel stumbled on the floor as panic rose within his heart.

"Y yo que creía que te estabas divirtiendo" (And me here thinking you were having fun.)

"¿Q-Qué estás haciendo aquí?" (What are you doing here?)

"He venido por lo que me corresponde por derecho, Miguel." (I've came for what's rightfully mine.)

"Tu alma" (Your soul)

-------------

Even though his attempts in running away from the devil worked for him for a bit, in the end, he was found and not only that, but cursed to be the devil's personal debt collector. He and his horse.

He was everywhere, yet nowhere. He'd travel in a cloud of black mist that moved with him, almost like the darkness itself had life of its own. Red and glowing eyes adorning his Adonis-like features. He was tall, broad, clad in black and dangerous.

He'd travel with his faithful horse, a jet black stallion that only responded to him. As far as the legend went, he'd go town to town searching for the debtors, to claim their souls by luring them with money and other riches.

His eyes settled for a hidden little town, a few souls would fulfill his hunger, but he had to be careful. He could see some of the stony white houses donned with a cross on their front doors. He sneered at them, his horse gave a disapproving neigh.

"And they're the ones who sin the most" He mumbled under his breath and scanned the zone, It was 3 am, none was on sight. The soft noise of his saddle and his horse's steps echoed through the houses. Some dogs barked, howled even, other just growled at him and his in fear.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, clad with a black shawl, tears in your eyes as you left the town's cemetery. He chuckled at your stupid yet brave action. None would venture alone at that time, in such a sacred place, unless you worked with magic.

His mind was settled. He'd stay here. But first, he'd have to earn the trust of those whose souls would be claimed later.

He vanished into thin air.

------------

Your day always started at 4 am, sometimes even earlier than that, you had gone and clean your parents tomb in the cemetery, always giving them fresh flowers. They had died of sickness, little could be done to save them. Their hearts just gave up.

Then, you would go to the town's cantina and help prepare for the day, washing glasses, making sure the mezcal was ready to be served, cleaning up in general and of course, having to withstand the leering glances from the men around as you brought their drinks and food.

Town was 'everyone knows everyone here' type of little. It had a few stores of antique things, a hospital, a bar, some boutiques, a school among other basic needs stuff. It was small, but pretty. Colonial-style and traditional sort of pretty.

It wasn't around midday that he showed up. A man so tall you had to look up to meet his amber colored eyes, sharp and handsome features, shoulders so broad you were sure it would take a toll on your back to hug him, A small waist adorned by a strange belt buckle, if you looked closer it was a small skull like spider, surrounded by a subtle pentagram.

His heavy steps made the place to go silent for a moment as everyone stared at the new face. He was wearing a pale blue Charro outfit, he removed his hat, revealing silky and shiny ravenous locks. He smiled gently and took a seat in one of the lone seats over the bar.

"Buenos días, señorita. By any chance do you a place where I could stay?"

Your coworker flushed by the mere tone of his voice, you rolled your eyes at the display. She'd do that with every handsome man that would come closer. Visitors weren't as regular as people would think, even though the town had it's charm, it was away from other main cities. The perfect target for Miguel.

"¿Señorita?" It was enough, you called her and his eyes snapped your way. He blinked at recognizing you from before.

"Go tell Rodrigo we need to refill one barrel of mezcal." She obeyed while stealing a glance in Miguel's direction before disappearing.

"Sorry for that. There is a hotel at the end of this street. Se llama Posada Buenaventura" (It's name is Buenaventura Hostal)

He bowed his head, grateful. Soon he stood and left.

--------

You had noticed the Charro that had appeared our of nowhere being a social yet secretive man. He'd laugh with the elders, he'd listen to his stories that many ignored, would help people around by making small favors. And the women adored him, he'd of course entertain them by smiling or singing a bit for them. He was nice. But too perfect. Your eyes squinted at him.

"Don't look at him like that, he's really good. Man, I'd sell my soul to have a man like him." Your coworker spoke in between dreamy sighs. It had been only a couple of days since he came and everyone seemed to love him.

Suspicious.

Even more when he showed up in such fancy quality suits many would only long for. You had learned that his name was Miguel. It suited him, but still, something was wrong. Something in your mind told you to run away whenever he was around and his stare lingered a bit too long on you.

"Stop being a hornball and go tend the clients. It's a busy day today." You waved her off as you began cleaning the bar. He sat before you and regarded you with an intense gaze, hinting the challenge you stared back at him, arching your brow, unamused.

"Will you order something or you'll keep the staring contest?"

He smirked, and held his hands in defense.

"A breakfast shall do fine." you sighed

"Coffee?"

"Si. No sugar, please." You nodded and disappeared behind the doors, a man, his prey, approached him with a sympathetic look.

"Every man in town knows that trying to get (Name)'s attention is pointless. Mostly of us have given up on her. She's hard to get at."

"Is that so?"

"If you're wise, you'll rather to spend the time with Emelina. She's a sweetheart."

Miguel just nodded and looked at your form approaching with his food and steaming coffee. Your beauty was sure a sight, but your temper was something he couldn't help but feel intrigued for, specially when you were throwing a guy out of the cantina that got too hammered a bit too soon.

You wouldn't fall that easily, and he loved challenges.

He winked at you and you just rolled your eyes.

You'd totally be worth it.

------

Emelina hopped into his horse, the lucky girl, and snugged him from behind. They'd gallop through the town together, parading and showing his horse taming skills. Girls around would watch with envy, as you glanced at them briefly with a smirk, tumbling some clothes to dry under the sun.

Not that you were hard to get. You simply feared of being fooled again, everyone in town had known that your fiancé had left a day before your wedding to never show up again. He had ran away from town and from you.

Miguel and Emelina galloped away from town, her excited shrieks could be heard as they headed out of town.

But after a while, the landscapes seemed neverending, repetitive and boring.

"We have to go back. Around five I must feed my chickens." Emelina's voice announced behind him. But Miguel didn't stop. The horse just galloped faster, she held tightly onto him, a small wave of fear washing over her.

"I-I wanna go back, Miguel." Her voice meek, her breath hitching in her throat upon realizing what was going on.

"Let me go!" She cried but he only smirked, black mist surrounded them both as darkness engulfed Emelina . the last thing she could see was Miguel. No. El Charro Negro, a demon, looking at her. Her screams vanished into nothingness.

-----

After closing the cantina, you headed home, and saw Emelina giving a small court to Miguel, to then disappear into her home. An illusion really, but who could tell? His eyes wandered over your form.

"Need help?"

"No."

Even though you actually did struggle with the wooden box full of spices.

He gently pried the box from your small form. You sighed and rolled your eyes with a tiny smirk.

"Te gusta molestarme." (You like annoying me."

"Kinda. If that's what it takes to see that little scrunch in your nose when you get angry, then yes. I do."

You didn't want to admit that he had his charm, but the thought was quickly batted away when he spoke again.

"Fear."

"Hm?"

"You are scared." He mumbled as he walked next to you.

"I'm not-"

"You hide your pain behind a brave mask. What happened?"

You frowned at his words. He pried too soon into your healing wounds.

"Not your business, certainly." you stopped at your home, and took the box from his hands. Pain bloomed into your chest and he knitted his eyebrows together, sensing your discomfit.

"I'm sorry" He'd mumble as you looked away.

"Entiendo ese sentimiento de no ser lo suficiente para alguien muy bien, hermosa." (I know the feeling of not being good enough for someone, beautiful)

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you pushed them aside, and sighed

"His loss, really."

"Buena noche." (Goodnight), he mumbled and watched you go. It came to his attention that you lived on your own.

As much as he was the devil's personal collector, his past was always haunting him, reminding him of his mistakes. He couldn't help but find a bit of solace in the fact that there was someone that could relate to his pain. And for what he could gather through the towners, he knew about your wedding fiasco.

The initial challenge to have your soul slowly changed into something more meaningful, a bit selfish if he came to think about it. He'd conquer you, even if it meant to harvest the life of every person in town.

---------

People talked about the sudden leaving of Emelina, and his prey, Rodrigo. Apparently they both had ran together, and started a new life elsewhere. His task in town was almost done. He just needed two more souls to leave.

But every time you'd serve him his usual breakfast with the bitter coffee, the demon inside him subsided. He had tried everything, leaving roses in your door, only to find them stored in jars later, He'd send letters that you would only read with a wistful and pained expression, he'd gift you with jewels, but you never wore them.

You were hard to get. But it was thrilling for him. To do such thing after spending years traveling, collecting and vanishing from town to town. You had made his dead heart to beat again, but yours ached for someone that had been long gone. He'd never forgive him. He collected his soul.

-----

Every gift your not so subtle fan gave you, had warned your heart a little bit more. You knew it was Miguel. The outrageous gifts screamed his name all over the place. He'd send you roses, which you stored in a glass container to make things out of them, his letters full of poems about you; made the ice on your heart to melt, bit by bit.

And the jewelry, the most intricate and beautiful thing you could lay your hands on. Gold looked good on you. It was like he knew your heart desires by heart despite you shooing him away in hopes he'd gave up before it ended up in another heartbreak for you.

But he was determined to make you his. You noted much. You had to give props to the man that against all odds, was getting a spot in your heart. But for now, you needed sleep.

The sultry and baritone voice sang through your window.

No hace falta que salga la luna

Pa' venirte a cantar mi canción

Ni hace falta que el cielo esté lindo

Pa' venirte a entregarte mi amor

You opened the window and your eyes turned bashful as his voice kept echoing, a few more men behind him, playing instruments. His voice serenading you.

Solo Dios, que me vio en mi amargura

Supo darme consuelo en tu amor

Y mando para mí, tú ternura

Y así con tus besos borro mi dolor.

Your heart couldn't help but flutter. You had tamed a demon.

He was about to sing another verse when your neighbor's angry voice chided in, disrupting the moment.

"It's bed time! Sing to her in the morning!" His words only made him want to vanish and give him a lesson, but your giggles only made him sigh.

"Buena noche, chula."

"Goodnight, Miguel." you kissed his cheek. A chill ran down your spine. He was cold, but your heart was sure warm.

He totally gave the man a good scare in his dreams.

---------

"It's concerning that people have been leaving town lately without much explanation." You heard one of the elders speak, and sure enough, the town looked emptier than usual.

"Don't you think it's weird? Ever since... that guy, ese Charro, came here, weird things have been happening." Your ears perked up at the information. Of course you had been too enraptured in your blooming feelings for Miguel to actually pay attention to what was happening around you.

Your workplace was less and less crowded, Emelina and Ricardo ran away together. Then, another man you barely spoke to was next, and then another woman also left. Four people in total. And given how small the town was, the number was alarming.

Dread settled on you once more. You didn't know what Miguel did during the day, but he always seemed to have enough money to buy everyone's house twice. He was always impeccable, well dressed and his charisma had earned the trust of the people. You felt dumb.

You had lowered your guard down enough to let another man in.

What was his game? You certainly refused to be his plaything.

-----

Your sudden change of attitude concerned him, of course, people would talk, and they were growing suspicious. He had his fill of souls, but his dead heart ached for you. You'd refuse to look at him in the eye, your voice so distant and cold. You had also grown suspicious of him. He knew he had to leave.

But he didn't, as a new pact was signed within town. His duty called.

-------

Just as darkness followed him, it had engulfed the man and vanished him into nothingness. He smirked, satisfied.

"It's... you..." You voice snapped his glowy red eyes at you. Your skin crawled as the hairs on your back stood in alarm. Your mind told you to run away. You approached instead, clarity coming to your mind like a cold bucket of water.

The glow of his eyes vanished, a solemn look on his face.

"It all makes sense now" You mumbled. You weren't scared, your hands cupped his cheek. he was no longer cold.

"I need to go."

You shook your head.

"Everything you did, for me, was true?"

"All of it." His large hand caressed yours while his eyes regarded you wistfully.

"Then, take me with you." You'd mumble and his eyes widened.

The sounds of many other horses along some people, angry and demanding for Miguel, approached.

"I couldn't... No."

"Then, I'll make a pact with the devil if that means for you to come for me and see you again."

His heart leaped in his chest. You wanted him as he was.The mob approached.

"I'm yours" You kissed his hand and you were swooped off your feet, his lips pressed into yours and with a whip on his horse, you two ran away, never to be seen again.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #astv fanfic #spiderman 2099 x reader #el charro negro #t writes✨#Mexican urban legend #Spotify

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ellabehavior · 11 months

Text

Somethin’ new - Rafe Cameron.

Summary: You’re the new girl and everyone wants you, but no one stands a chance when Rafe lays his eyes on you.

Pairing: Rafe cameron x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first story on here so I hope y’all enjoy!

“Don’t worry! You look fine.” Sarah says to you as you fix up your makeup.

“Sar, Be for real! it’s my first day here at the island I need to make a good impression” You sigh rolling your eyes at the blonde girl.

“We’ve been friends for over 4 years, would I lie to you? I mean i’ve lived here all my life and i’m telling you now all the guys will come running after you!” Sarah shouts giggling.

You stare at the blonde when you turn around. You recently relocated to the outer banks after spending virtually your whole life in Seattle. Since your family spent a lot of time on vacation at the Outer Banks throughout the years, you and Sarah have known each other for a while, but you haven't seen her in a minute.

“What?” Sarah says as she stares back.

“Nothin… just nervous” you retort.

“What’d I just tell you! You look hot, now come on it’s getting late.” And with that Sarah grabbed your hand and you guys started walking to the party that was only down the street.

As soon as you guys arrive you see people playing beer pong, some sucking faces on the couches, and others walking up the stairs together.

‘How did i get myself into this situation’ you think.

“Hey! I’m going to get some drinks i’ll be right back ok?” Sarah wipes you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah that’s fine!!” You say unsurely, and with that Sarah walks away.

You don’t really know anybody else here so you walk around a little bit and it starts to feel like all eyes are on you.

Just as you’re about to sit down, “Hey!” you hear from a tall man standing above you.

“My name is Topper, I seen you and Sarah walk in together but I haven’t seen you around here, are you new?” He says with a slight grin

“Yeah I just moved here yesterday, Sarah has been helping me get settled in.” You say back with a smile as he starts combing his fingers through your hair.

“Hmm.. hope to see you around sweets.” he replies and walks away with a wink.

Just as you begin replaying the interaction in your mind, Sarah comes back with your drinks and takes you inside of the party.

“Anything happen yet?” She says while she throws her arm around you.

“Nope.. Not yet.” You lie as the events begin replaying in your head once again.

When you start to feel as though everyone is staring at you again as you did earlier, you start to look around and spot a hot blonde standing next to a girl with curly hair winking at you. God, it was going to be a long night.

As the night went on, more and more guys came up to you asking you a series of questions that usually went along the lines of “Are you new here?” and “Can I take you out later?” each ending in the same answer of “Im sorry, but no.”

That’s when the tall guy named Topper from earlier came back up to you, but this time drunker than he was before.

“Hey sweets, how have you been all night?” says Topper as he throws his hand around your waist.

“It’s been good” you say as you fake smile at him feeling a little uncomfortable.

As soon as Topper opens his mouth to say another word, another man comes up to you guys.

“Get the fuck off of her.” he shouts.

“What are you talking about dude don’t be a weirdo.” Topper says to the tall man in front of him.

“You heard me, I said she was mine earlier and to not mess with her, i’ve been dealing with guys all night tryna talk to her, and i don’t think you want to be one of them.” The man says as he gets all up in Toppers face looking like he’s ready to swing.

Topper puts his hands up in a ‘Chill dude’ type of way and walks away with a roll of his eyes.

“Sorry about that, my name is Rafe.” he says as he puts his hand out for you to shake

You smile and shake his hand back

“Hey Rafe, thanks for saving me.”

He laughs, “No problem, what’s mine is mine and nobody else gets to touch it.”

Your cheeks start to flush as a result of the man's recent comments. However, you are already familiar with this man; he is Sarah's brother. Everyone constantly says he's a player and not to trust him, but with a face like that, it doesn't seem like you’re about to obey the rules.

“Do you say this to all the girls you meet?” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Only when they’re as pretty as you.” he says back with a smirk and he brings his hand to the tip of your chin

“Yknow it’s not going to be that easy to get to me like everyone else.” You say matter-of-factly as your faces are getting closer and closer, thinking less and less about how you just met him two minutes ago.

“Hmm..that’ll be up to me to find out.” we’re the last words he breathed out as your faces connected.

You pull away slowly looking up to his eyes.

“What’d i tell you, I always get what i want.” he grins.

Jesus, you just met him and he was already going to be the death of you.

#rafe cameron #rafecameronfanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #obx #obxfanfic #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron one shot #rafecameronjealous #rafe x y/n #rafe fic #rafe x you

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babydollmarauders · 4 months

Text

CHRISTMAS COOKIES — DAWSON MERCER

dawson mercer x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which baking christmas cookies with her boyfriend leads to y/n getting sticky

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, p in v (unprotected), nipple play, food play. (2.5k words)

notes: welcome to day 5 of the 12 days of kinkmas! i wrote this smut in…october! i tried something a bit different with this one, i hope y’all enjoy it!

“i’m gonna start on the wet ingredients, you think you can handle the dry ones?” i survey the countertop as i speak, containers of flour, sugar, and the likes all spread across the marble counter.

“yeah, i can do that.” Dawson nods, seeming confident, and i press a quick kiss to his cheek before i retreat to the mixer on the other side of the counter.

“uh… what’s the dry ingredients?” my boyfriend questions, making me turn back to see him staring at the ingredients with bewilderment. “they all seem dry to me.”

his head snaps up at the sound of my giggle, pasting a confused smile on his face.

“okay, how about i make the cookie dough, and you make the icing?” i suggest, and his shoulders slump in relief, nodding his head.

“that, i can handle.” he grins, switching places with me so he’s by the standing mixer.

i can use the hand mixer for the wet ingredients of the cookies, but i’m not sure i trust Dawson to not make a mess of the icing with the hand mixer.

we work in tandem, a gentle flow of holiday music pouring out from the alexa in the living room as we do our jobs.

it’s mainly silent between us, both focused on our own tasks; the only words being those of asking each other to hand the other something.

i’m nearly done rolling out the dough when Dawson comes over, proudly grasping the mixing bowl of icing. his hands are covered in powdered sugar, a wide, prideful smile on his face.

“i’m done!” he states, setting the bowl on the counter beside me so i can see.

“it looks great! good job, babe!” i cheer, transferring the dough onto a cookie sheet before popping it in the fridge to chill.

i turn back to my boyfriend, who stands at the counter, playing with leftover flour that i had sprinkled down to keep the dough from sticking to the countertops.

he perks up as i walk back over to him, a wet washcloth grasped in my hands to clean up the mess. the ingredients already taken care of, due to my tidy tendency of putting them away as i work.

“now what?” he asks me, watching as i wipe off the counter.

“well, the dough has to chill for at least an hour.” i explain, “so we can do whatever you want.”

a spark ignites in his eyes, and i know i should’ve chosen my words more carefully.

“whatever i want?” he repeats, taking a step forward. the front of his body presses against mine, his head dipping down to capture my lips with his.

he tastes sweet and sugary, like the icing he just made. his hands snake around to rest on my butt, and when he pulls his lips from mine, he chuckles.

“what are you laughing about?” i raise a brow, and when he brings his hands up to show them to me, they’re still covered in powdered sugar and flour. “oh my god!”

a lighthearted gasp escapes my lips, twisting and contorting my body to try and see my ass. when i do, i find two white powdered handprints on my black leggings.

“oh, you asshole!” i huff, turning back to glare at him as he now washes his hands at the sink, but he just laughs, knowing i don’t mean it. “you did that on purpose!”

“so what if i did?” he teases, watching me try and swat the white powder from the fabric.

i roll my eyes when i see that it’s only spreading it rather than getting rid of it.

“now i’ve gotta wash these.” i push the leggings down my legs, stepping out of them and leaving me in Dawson’s oversized t-shirt.

crumpling the black pants up in my hands, i make my way to the laundry room, stuffing them in the washer to join the other clothes that have sat in there far too long, and add detergent before pressing start.

“you know, that was mean!” i call out as i walk back to the kitchen. “you know those were my last clean pair.”

Dawson is leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and a lopsided smirk on his face.

“i’m sorry.” he feigns a pout, uncrossing his arms in order to let his hands grip my sides, pulling me flush against him. “i guess i’ll have to make it up to you.”

“and how do you plan on doing that?” my hands lay flat against his chest, my head craned to peer up at him. my tone is sultry and slow, and the way he looks down at me, with eyes full of lust, i think i know exactly what he has planned.

he spins us around, caging me against the counter, while his lips meet mine. the once sweet and soft kiss that we shared just moments ago is gone, replaced by one of passion and desire. his tongue flicks across my bottom lip, coercing me into opening them, his tongue slipping through to mingle with mine.

his now clean hands slide down my hips, gripping my ass harshly and pulling my hips against his. a throaty moan is pulled from me as i feel his quickly hardening erection against my core, grinding against him in a steady pace.

i’m abruptly swept off my feet, deposited onto the counter without our kiss ever breaking. my body shivers, my back arching at the cold marble against my heated skin. my legs wrap around his waist, using them to pull him even closer against me, if even possible.

“i need you.” i breathe against his lips, and he nods, tilting chin forward to kiss me again.

his hands begin playing with the hem of my t-shirt, slipping underneath. his hands drag up my torso, brushing along the underside of my breasts before he cups beneath them.

he pulls his lips away, our heavy breaths mingling. pulling off my top, he leaves me in nothing but my cotton panties. his eyes lock on my breasts, my nipples stiff and peaked against the cold December air that the open living room window brings in.

“close your eyes.” he whispers, his breath fanning across the side of my face as he leans forward.

i follow his command, squeezing my eyes shut. my heart races in wonder and confusion, especially when i hear a clatter and screech of metal against the counter.

i open my mouth, about to question his actions, when i’m cut off by something cold and thick spread across my nipples. my breath hitches in my throat, my eyes flying open to gauge his actions.

Dawson stands between my spread legs, his index finger covered in icing, and when i peek down at my chest, i find icing dripping down my breasts.

“oh.” my teeth sink into my bottom lip as i watch him smirk. his eyes lock with mine, staring back at me as he slowly descends to my chest, his tongue darting out.

he licks up my left breast, following the path of dripping icing until he reaches my nipple. my chest heaves as he reaches his desired destination, his lips closing around the stiff peaks, sucking it into his mouth. his tongue swirls around it, collecting the icing.

“oh.” my hand cups the back of his neck, gripping his hair to ground myself amongst the immense pleasure. shockwaves wrack my body, my back arching and my jaw going slack as my head tilts back, my eyes squeezing shut.

he pulls off with a pop, his fingers replacing his lips while he switches to my other breast. while one nipple is pinched and circled by his thumb, the other is licked and drawn into his mouth.

once he’s sucked all the icing off, his hand splays across my chest, pushing me down onto the counter. he dips his finger back into the icing, spreading a line up my torso before dipping in again and slathering it on my nipples once more.

he stares into my eyes, pressing his finger to my lips, and i part them, allowing the digit to push against my tongue. remaining eye contact, i close my lips around him, sucking and swirling my tongue around, licking his finger clean from the icing.

Dawson lets out a groan, his hips rolling against mine in the heat of the moment, prior to pulling his hand away.

he dips down again, pressing a kiss to my lower stomach before letting his tongue drag up my abdomen, licking up the icing. my body tenses as he does so, leaving behind a trail of sticky saliva in his wake. as he reaches my cleavage, he presses open mouthed kisses up my sternum before trailing off towards my left nipple. he licks around it, swirling his tongue and sucking.

my hand flies up to grip the edge of the countertop above my head, the other tangling in his fluffy dark blonde tresses. a cry of pleasure echoes throughout the kitchen, and it takes me a second to even realize it’s my sound.

he kisses his way across to my other breast, repeating the process as his fingers pinch and pull on the hardened peak that his lips just abandoned.

a knot forms in my stomach, tangling and twisting as he goes. my toes curl, my brows furrowing and my back arching as chin tilts up towards the ceiling. a strangled moan falls from my lips, my body convulsing slightly as my orgasm washes over me.

at my heavy breathing and high pitched whimpers, Dawson pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he looks down at me in my blissed state.

“did you just…?” he trails off, chuckling as i nod. “i didn’t know you could do that.”

“me neither.” i shudder, sitting up.

my skin feels tacky from the icing, but i push that thought to the side, cupping the nape of his neck with both hands. i pull him forward, crashing my lips against his.

“that was so fucking hot.” he mutters into the kiss, momentarily getting distracted when i begin to tug his shirt up.

“i want you to fuck me.”

at my words, he pulls away, his hands pulling his shirt over his head before he pulls me in for another kiss. his thumbs hook into the sides of my panties and i lean back on my hands, lifting my hips and allowing him to pull the cotton fabric down my legs.

the cold air hits against my slick heat, resulting in shivers across my body, making Dawson chuckle lowly.

“so pretty,” he compliments, lazily dragging the back of his knuckles down my stomach. “all naked for me.”

his fingers find my core, sliding through my cum. his eyes find mine, holding the contact as he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean.

i moan at the sight, tugging at his jeans. my fingers fumble with his button and his hands shoo mine away, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping, tugging his pants and boxers down his legs and stepping out.

his dick springs up, slapping against his abdomen, and my pussy clenches at the sight. his tip is red and swollen, a bead of pre-cum leaking out.

i reach forward, gently grasping the base, and giving it a light tug.

“don’t be a tease, baby.” he gruffs out, hands gripping my waist as he yanks me off the counter.

i let go in surprise and he spins me around, pushing me down and bending me over the counter. he wastes no time in running his cock through the wetness of my folds, groaning at the feeling. i can feel his dick prod at my entrance as he lines up, sliding in easily, and my breath catches as he fills me up.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he grunts, bottoming out inside of me. one of my hands splays flat on the counter, the other reaching down to my hip, clawing his hand away in order to hold it in mine.

“please move.” i whisper, barely audible over the christmas music that still drifts throughout the kitchen.

Dawson leans forward, swiping my hair to the side and over my shoulder. his bare chest presses against my back as he leaves wet kisses to the back of my neck, his hips snapping as he begins to thrust.

he brings our hands to the countertop, laying my palm flat with his resting on top of it, while his other hand snakes around the front of to gently rub my clit.

an outward gasp drops from my parted lips, pushing my hips back to meet him.

the more time passes, the harder his thrusts get, until my hips are hitting the edge of the counter with each stroke, surely getting bruised in the process.

“shit, i don’t know if i’m gonna last.” his voice is tight, words sounding as though spoken through clenched teeth, and i nod in agreement.

“i’m so close, Daws!” in contrast to the last time i spoke, i’m practically yelling now, my climax building with each stroke and each circular rub of my clit.

my legs feel close to giving out, my back arching to hit a new angle. his thrusts are turning sloppy, the rhythm leaving, and i feel his abs flex against my back, letting me know he’s close.

his finger speeds up, pushing me closer and closer until the edge, until finally the pleasure becomes too much. my legs begin to shake, my walls tightening around him, hitting my orgasm and spurring on his.

Dawson continues fucking me through our releases, fucking his cum deeper into me as he does so. once i’ve come down from my high, i reach back, pushing him away by the hip, and he stops, his heavy breaths mixing with mine as i spin around to face him.

he’s got a small smile as he pants, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest. i lay my head against him, listening to his heart pound, slowly but surely evening back out to its normal pace.

i mentally cringe at a realization. he’s supposed to bring these cookies tomorrow during morning skate before the game against the Flyers.

“well, i think we might have to make more icing.” i joke, gaining a laugh from my boyfriend.

“there’s still plenty!” he remarks, looking down at me with a mischievous grin.

“Dawson, that is so unsanitary! we can’t give the team christmas cookies made with icing that your hands were in!” he opens his mouth as though to argue with me but i cut him off before he can start. “your hands, which had touched my boobs!”

a look of possession dawns across his face and he nods, “you’re right, they’re not inadvertently tasting you.”

“oh gross, babe!” i chuckle, pulling away from him. my chest peels from his, still sticky from the icing, and i cringe.

“i need a shower.”

Dawson scoffs as i walk away, heading towards our bedroom, and i’m almost there when i look over my shoulder.

“you coming?” i call out. i can’t hold back my giggle when i hear his footsteps slapping against the tile and then hardwood, catching up with me.

he raises an eyebrow, pointing back towards our christmas tree in the living room as he speaks.

“if i ever say no to that question, i want you to choke me with that garland.”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer imagine #dawson mercer smut #dawson mercer fic #dawson mercer blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut #faithlynn’s writings <3

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kartificialdreams · 2 months

Text

Doctor

Honestly, I didn’t even know how I ended up in this position. One minute I’m being reprimanded by my doctor about how I need to stop stressing my heart out. The next we’re sharing a heated kiss, sitting on his desk, fingers locked in his hair and hoping it doesn’t end.

He starts kissing down my neck, his hands gliding up and down my waist. I press myself further into him, not wanting any space between us.

“This probably isn’t helping to relaxing your heart.” I hear him mumble, his voice vibrating through my neck and a chill runs through me.

“Why don’t we check doctor?”

My fingers clumsily patting around to find his stethoscope. Instead of handing it to him I place then in his ears and hold it to my heart.

“Mm, just as I thought, an accelerated heartbeat. Should we calm it?” He smirks.

Whether he’s joking or not I don’t want to. Not when everything I want is right in front of me. Especially not when after all these years everything I’ve held back is spilling out. I whisper a quick ‘no’ before connecting our lips again.

“We have to be quick, I have a surgery in 30 minutes. Shouldn’t be a problem, I am quite skilled.” He smirks as he quickly pulls my skirt up, panties moved to the side.

I help free him from his belt, finally getting to what I want the most. Finally seeing his dick, I moan at the thought of it filling me up. Guess it’s true what they say, it’s always the tall quiet ones. He aligns himself with me, a groan leaving him.

“Zayne, please. Don’t tease, not now.” I whine, kissing his neck.

“I got you, just be patient my love.” The term of endearment does more to me than I’m willing to let on.

Finally, the sensation of being filled floods my senses. Immediately I roll my eyes back, falling back on his desk as he slowly thrusts.

“Fuck, Zayne. Feels so good.”

I feel his hand wrap around my throat, pulling me back to him.

“I want you as close as possible.”

His thrust pick up speed, I squeeze around him causing a soft ‘fuck’ to fall from him. His string hands hold me in place as I unbutton his shirt, and start kissing his chest. His hand moves further down, thumb catching my clit and slowly moves in a ‘Z’ motion. Pants and groans can be heard through the room, though I guess it’s a good thing his walls aren’t thin.

“Fuck you’re a dream, never thought I’d see the day I get to fuck you.” He kisses me, a somewhat messy and passionate kiss. “Do you know how many times I thought about you, about this exact fantasy? I’ve craved you for so long.”

His words send pleasure coursing through my being. I latch on to him tighter, my release vastly approaching.

“I do, I’ve had the same thoughts. All the times we spent together. Only you.”

He groans, “say it again, that it’s only me.”

“Only you, Zayne, always you.” My pants now turning into desperate whines as I feel my orgasm ready to burst.

“Gonna cum, you’re squeezing me so nicely, let it out. Give it to me.” He kisses me, mouth shutting any loud cries up.

I cum, biting his lip as I do. A few more thrusts and Zayne empties himself in me, groans leaving him. His beautiful eyes stare lovingly into mine. He kisses me passionately, his hands cradling my face as he does. Cloud 9 doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.

“Doctor? Your patient is prepped and ready when you are!” Comes a nurses voice.

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Zayne pulls out, whines leaving us as he does so. He starts to dress himself in new clothes.

“I have to go now but wait for me at your place. I’ll make dinner, most importantly…” he leans down to my ear, “I’ll show you just how loudly I can make you scream my name.”

Those words reignite the fire inside me.

“I’ll hold you to it, Doctor.”

#love and deepspace #lads #zayne love and deepspace #zayne smut #love & deepspace #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne #lnd zayne #l&ds zayne #dr zayne

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giddyfatherchris · 3 months

Text

Confidence booster

Pairing: changbin x reader, ot8 x reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: a biiiit of angst if you squint and fluuuuufff

Warnings: none

Requests: open for stray kids and bts

A/n: i thought about this random scenario and it made my heart grow a size or two with fluff hehe hope you enjoy xx

gif is not mine!

Summary: After a little incident while you were shopping with Changbin, he takes matter in his own hands to make you feel better and boost your confidence a little

"Why is this so good?" marvels Changbin as you walk down the mall, drinks in both your hands.

You laugh at his comment. Honestly, he's not wrong, but the childlike wonder Changbin often expresses always makes you giggle. He's basically a very buff and muscular child.

"Alright, so where do you need to go first?"

Changbin had invited you for a shopping day. He needed new clothes since he kept getting bigger by the hour. Usually, he would have asked the stylist for some new pieces, but he also liked to walk around the mall. So, with permission and a few security guards, you left together for a shopping spree.

He wanted to stop by a few stores, and you felt more than happy to follow along and enjoy his company. You had wished for the other boys to join you, but the occasion for them to get a free day was so rare. They all jumped at the opportunity to have a very chill and relaxed day.

You entered your third store your hands already full of bags, which all belonged to Changbin. Immediately, he started rummaging through the clothes. Every once in a while, he got out an abomination of a shirt or dress only to make a funny face to make you laugh. You joined in his game and quickly were almost crying because of the new atrocities you pulled out. Even the bodyguards couldn't hold in subtle smiles.

You were about to show him a very confusing top when your eyes fell on a beautiful dress. You put back the previous piece of clothing without a glance. It was a stunning pastel color and flowed perfectly with its multiple panels. You let your hand stroke the fabric. Your mouth opened with surprise at how soft it was. Completely lost in your world, you didn't notice when Changbin sneaked up on you with a funny hat and pair of glasses.

"What do you think of these?" he snickered, finding himself incredibly funny. "Y/n?"

"Mh?"

Pulled from your daze, you absentmindedly giggled when you noticed him, your mind not quite moved on from the absolute dream you held in your hands.

"You're not even laughing," he pouted before noticing your gaze of adoration. "That's really pretty. I'm sure it would suit you very well. Try it on!" he enthusiastically pressed.

And just like that, your little dream fell flat. You backed away from the rack as if it was poisonous.

"Oh no, I don't think so. I just thought it was soft," you mumbled before quickly walking away.

For the following stores, he noticed the drastic change in your attitude. Your enthusiastic mood was long gone, replaced by a distant gaze. Every time he offered a piece of clothing he thought would fit you well, you looked at him with this tense stare, shook your head, and moved on.

When you got home, you immediately headed to your room. You dropped the bags directly in the entryway and said a dismissive 'hello' to Felix who was waiting for the two of you with a smile. The young Australian gave his older brother a confused look, to which Changbin only answered with shrugged shoulders.

You were lying on your bed, a frog plushie held tight to your chest. You stared at the ceiling as memories you hadn't thought about in months flooded your brain. You were so out of it you didn't hear the light knock on your door. Only the apparition of Changbin in your room brought you back to the present.

"Oh, hi binnie."

"Can I come in?"

You nodded as you sat cross-legged in your little bed, giving him some space.

"Did you need anything?" you asked after he stayed silent for a few seconds. He looked shy, almost awkward, which was rare for him.

"I wanted to ask you about something, and before you say I imagined it..."

"Changbin I-"

He stopped you with a stern look. "Fine, I may have the attention span of a kindergartner, but I'm not that blind. You look seriously disturbed whenever I ask you to try something on." You examined your hands, ashamed to face his eyes. "And you can't tell me it was nothing. You looked panicked." He searched for your gaze, his head leaning on the side.

You closed your eyes. "It's just because it's embarrassing to explain," you whispered.

He stayed silent with his brows furrowed, a silent invitation for you to continue, you looked up and winced. "I used to date someone, and when we went shopping he showed little interest in the clothes I wanted. Which I guess is fair, but the thing is whenever I did try something in front of him, he always made fun of me. Or would point out the things wrong with it?" You hid your reddening face in your hands. "Since then, I only go shopping alone. I'm never trying anything new in front of someone."

You sighed, feeling so ashamed, even though you knew your friend deserved some proper explanation for your unusual behavior.

"So, that's why you wouldn't try that dress?"

You nodded. He stared at you silently, patted your hand, and left the room…?

It wasn't totally out of character for Changbin, he really had a hard time focusing on two things at once, but you thought after telling him such a personal story, he would have shown some compassion or at least would have said something.

It didn't help that you didn't see him the next day. The only thing resembling some news you got was a text in your group chat making sure everyone was still on for the meal at his dorm that night.

You showed up at the requested hour to an almost empty house. Seungmin, Felix, and Lee Know were the only ones there, busy preparing the meal. When you asked about the five missing boys, they gave a vague answer about an errand they all had to run before supper. You shrugged off the bizarre coincidence with a suspicious look before you joined the preparations.

Changbin, Bang Chan, Han, Hyunjin, and I.N finally showed up with a plethora of bags about 30 minutes later.

"With everything you bought yesterday, I didn't think you were still missing some stuff Bin." You laughed until you noticed their conniving smiles and unusual silence. "What's going on here?" you asked after looking at Seungmin, Felix, and Lee Know.

The sweet Australian boy walked behind you and grabbed your shoulders.

"Changbin hyung told us about your thing with clothes."

You whipped your head in the direction of the culprit, anger brewing in your blood.

"Please don't get mad!" intervened Chan as he stepped up. "We went to the store and picked some stuff for you." He gave you an adorable smirk, and if you weren't so embarrassed, you could have swooned.

Your strong friend walked up to you, bags in hands. "Try these and then show us."

Your mouth opened comically. "Is this a joke?" You looked at your friends and their hopeful smiles. "I told you I don't do that, and if you told everyone, you all should know too."

"Exactly, and that's why we want to do this. Please trust us?" He gave you the most horrid and cute agyeo look in an attempt to convince you. You pondered the situation and looked at them, hoping they would rescind.

"I will try ONE thing, and then we never talk about it again," you grumbled as Changbin quickly handed you a bag with a gigantic smile.

Of course, it was the dress. It was magnificent, and if you were honest, you thought it suited you, but self-doubt was never far away. You could never trust your opinion. You were probably not seeing some horrible detail, you reasoned.

"You can come out now. We're ready!" screamed Changbin from behind the door.

Turning to face the doorway, you took a deep breath. You questioned even getting out. Why would you willingly put yourself in that situation again? But then, the answer timidly pointed the tip of its nose.

Maybe, just maybe, because you did trust them? And maybe because somewhere inside, you hoped it would turn out different this time.

You stepped out, left the door flagrantly open for a quick escape, and faced the boys with your eyes closed. "Okay, I'm out. Here it is. Can I go back in now?"

Nothing. Your apparition met with silence, you slowly opened one eye then the other. They were all sat very neatly on the couch with serious expressions.

"Uh, guys?"

They stayed silent for a bit more, looking you up and down before they looked at each other and started absolutely screaming.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SO PRETTY!!"

"OH MY GOD. HAVE WE BEEN GRACED WITH THE PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL?"

"MY EYES! MY EYES! THEY ARE DAZZLED BY ALL THIS BEAUTY!"

"ARE YOU A CELEBRITY?"

Bang Chan was fake sobbing and muttering about how pretty you were while Seungmin had just 'fainted' in I.N and Felix's arms. Hyunjin was fanning himself like a crazy person.

Suddenly turned MC, Changbin grabbed a hairbrush as a mic and presented your outfit. "Everyone! Here is our first outfit of the night! What would we rate this?"

"A 10!"

"12/10"

"ONE MILLION OUT OF TEN."

"It's PERFECT!" screamed Han.

You couldn't help a fit of laughter from escaping your mouth. Your cheeks were red with slight embarrassment and a healthy dose of happiness. The boys continued their crazy antics, asking you to twirl and do a model walk across the living room as they applauded. The show continued for a while as they encouraged you to try every item of clothing they bought you.

Most of them fit you like a glove, and you praised their incredible sense of fashion. Even with the more ill-fitting ones, their comments focused on comedy. Not a bad thing was said about you or the way your body looked.

You concluded the night with the delicious meal your three cooks had prepared and a movie. You were cuddled up on the couch, somehow all touching despite your different positions.

In the middle of the movie, you subtly looked at Changbin, sitting next to you. His gaze focused, face bare, and his natural dark curls giving him the fluffiest and most adorable appearance. After a few seconds of your maintained observation, he turned to you, a silent question mark in his dark eyes.

"When you didn't say anything after I confessed my story I got scared you were judging me," you whispered. "But after what you did tonight, I just wanted to thank you."

A satisfied smile illuminated his features as he reached for your hand, squeezing it. He didn't say anything for a while, his gaze back on the screen intently watching the movie, until he brought his mouth close to your ear and ushered in a low tone.

"You deserved to be shown the proper reaction for anything you would ever put on. That guy was an ass if he wasn't able to recognize what was in front of him." Your eyes turned round like saucers at the words you were hearing. You shifted to look at him, but his eyes were still on the screen. "We didn't have to put on a show or anything. We simply had to be honest and say what we’re all silently thinking all the time."

#ilya writes #stray kids #stray kids x reader #changbin #changbin x reader #bang chan #lee know #hyunjin #han skz #felix skz #seugmin #i.n skz #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenario #kpop fic

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hangmanbrainrot · 1 year

Text

more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips.

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip.

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again.

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.”

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile.

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

———————————————————————————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it.

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake.

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness.

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.”

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school.

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort.

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.”

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table.

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share.

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself.

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises.

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape.

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you.

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously.

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?”

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside. There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.’

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him.

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance.

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?”

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.”

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…”

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized.

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.”

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth.

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort.

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be?

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.”

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him.

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.”

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this?

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately.

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip.

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give.

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman angst #hangman fluff

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minustwofingers · 3 months

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cool about it teaser

pairing: closetedfem!reader x ellie

request? yes, by @gold-dustwomxn (:

summary: life in the apocalypse is hard enough. the last thing you need is unrequited feelings for your best friend—who is very much off limits. so you'll just be cool about it. really cool about it. set in a loose interpretation of canon where i toy around with the timeline and storyline just the slightest and this is also a bit of a slowburn

warnings: ur closeted asf, queer angst, gross men, explicit language, substance use

a/n: hey guys i haven't really been posting much recently, but i wanted to at least post two scenes from this series so u guys have an idea of what to expect...also so u guys can tell me which one you want me to work on more (love is a laserquest or this one). i hope u enjoy...sorry this one is a little disjointed! (there are many events that happen between the two scenes im sharing w u as a little treat)

I. (opening scene)

The revelation that your feelings towards your best friend had become complicated arrives with the dead of winter. It’s strange, really, how something within you came to life just as the rest of the world began to die.

If you were wiser, you’d find ways to explain it away, to rationalize all the weird thoughts in your head. You’d cite the chill in the air. The holiday spirit running through Jackson. The desolation that came with your only outdoor companions being the brown corpses of deciduous trees and infected that hadn’t frozen in the winter storms that kept battering Wyoming.

But with age came wisdom, and both of those virtues were in short supply in a post-apocalyptic world. So, you resign yourself to cataloging away these feelings and pretending like everything was absolutely normal and cool.

The bad thing about having good things, you think to yourself bitterly one day as you watch Ellie’s eyes light up as she rambles in her room as you sit on her bed about a comic book Joel had found her, is that they’re risky. High risk—high reward. Ellie was special to you in a way that no one else was. And using this logic, losing her would bring such an unforeseen devastation that you weren’t sure that you could go on.

So, normal. Cool. Chill. Because you cannot afford to fuck this one up.

“I love when you tell me about your comics,” you tell her in a way that’s definitely not sappy sweet and gooey.

She smiles crookedly back at you. “You’re such a fucking liar. I know you couldn’t give a shit about these.”

“Am not!” You throw a punch at her arm, feeling your heart twist as she just grins wider. “For the record, I do give a shit. Many, actually.”

“That sounds gross.”

“Your words, not mine.”

And it’s absolutely gut wrenching how she can just smile at you like that, like she’s not holding your heart in her fist.

“So, uh, Cat,” you blurt out. You’d been staring at her for too long. “Dina said that you two were—uh…”

You wave your hand around in the air like you’re sifting through thousands of possible word combinations. In reality, you know exactly what you need to say to get the answer you’re searching for. You just don’t want to ask.

“Well…” She blushes. Her eyes drop to her hands, where her fingers are toying with the bits of cuticle she hasn’t already torn off.

“I knew it!” you croon, hoping that the boatload of dread that just dropped in your stomach isn’t as obvious as it feels. “Tell me everything.”

“Nothing to tell,” she says. “Nothing yet, at least. It’s stupid but—I just noticed that she hangs around me a lot, you know? And, like, touches me more than she needs to. Shit like that. I dunno.”

The wound deep inside you splits like the fake grin on your lips. “Wowwwww. Look at you!”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean,” she says, her eyes twinkling conspiratorially, “What about Eddie? Jesse told me that you spend a lot of time with him.”

“We’re patrol partners,” you offer. It’s not a lie. You’re just choosing to omit the part where Eddie spends half his patrol staring longingly in your direction while you pretend not to notice.

“I know that.”

“It’s…” You gnaw on your bottom lip. “I don’t know how I feel about that right now.”

That’s not a lie either. Eddie is…nice. All the other girls like him, except for Dina (she has Jesse) and Ellie (she has another very obvious reason). He’s attractive. At least, that’s what Bonnie tells you. Apparently the buzzed hair and heavy bluntness found in all of his features is considered hot.

But just because you’re not into him now doesn’t mean you could never be. That’s what your mother used to say about your father—she hadn’t liked him upon their first meeting. But it changed with time, and you’d rather have someone than be all alone.

Ellie hums, picking at the cuticle of her thumb. “He likes you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Well,” she says, “I heard Jesse’s putting on another bonfire tonight. Want to walk there together after dinner?”

You spend another evening staring across the fire at your best friend, watching the warm glow of the flames warp and distort the shape of her and Cat, pressed up against each other and smiling wide. You aren’t sure why it makes you so uncomfortable to see them together. Homophobia? No. Maybe? You recently learned that that was a thing, but you don’t consider yourself bigoted, and being a homophobe is more of an opt-in situation, right?

But when you try to reach deep inside to find a more plausible answer, there’s nothing.

It’s your detachment from reality that lets Eddie drape a heavy, hard arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispers into your ear. His breath is hot and warm.

“Hey,” you whisper back, wanting nothing more than to get away. Thankfully, Ellie is too preoccupied with Cat to even look your way. You’re sure that you’d die if she saw Eddie touching you like this.

“You look really pretty tonight.”

“Thank you.”

It’s like someone shone a spotlight on you, hung a sign on your neck that said, I am perceived and desired by men. You don’t know why this makes your skin crawl so much.

Eddie’s fingers are tracing patterns on the flesh of your arm. You find that you’re grateful for the extra layer your sweatshirt sleeve provides. You don’t want him to touch you—don’t want to know what it’s like for him to deliberately make contact with your skin.

The next time he speaks to you, it’s in a murmur that you suppose is meant to sound seductive. “You’re quiet today.”

“Just a little tired.” And now you feel guilty, because Eddie really hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s you who has an issue with a boy who’s perfectly nice and clearly likes you.

He laughs like you’d said something funny, tightening his arm so you press into his side. His body is blazing hot like a furnace, and it feels hard and foreign.

II. (scene from somewhere in the middle )

“Sorry!” You titter at the crowd of your friends who formed at the sliding glass door. “Um—sorry.”

It seems to be the only thing you can say.

“Cat,” Ellie says, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Cat, please, it’s not like—”

“I’m pretty fucking sure of what I saw,” snaps Cat. She turns to Eddie, a vicious glint in her eyes. “Didn’t know your girl swung that way.”

And then she shoves past the mass of people, Ellie kicking off from the deck railing with a stream of apologies falling from her lips as she follows behind.

Eddie walks forward, confusion the dominant emotion in his wide face.

“Uh—I didn’t—”

“I’m really drunk,” you say to him, feeling the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. “It’s not like that. I promise it’s not like that. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Hey,” he says, opening his arms. “Come here. Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” you sputter, stepping into him and pressing your snotty face into his shirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Fuck.”

“It’s really okay.” His hand finds the flat part of your back between your shoulder blade and rubs circles. “It’s just a chick. If it were, like, I dunno, Jesse, I would’ve been angry.”

“You’re not mad?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him. Maybe there’s something tonight you didn’t ruin.

He smiles down at you. “‘Course not. Some guys find that shit hot, you know. Two girls kissing like that.”

The smile that seemed so innocent at first sends a sharp, chilling pang through your chest. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation in the way your face falls as his head dips to kiss you, doesn’t seem to register the disgust you exhibit until you have to shove yourself away.

“I’m really drunk,” you repeat, looking anywhere but his face. “I want to go to bed.”

“I can come—”

“No.”

final a/n: like i said so sorry about how disjointed this is. i just want to get a feel for what my readers are more interested in for now!!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert

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mirkwoodshewolf · 8 months

Text

I belong with my One; Fili x Dúnedain reader

*Author's note*

So this took me a few days to finally get finalized and write down so I hope @futuristicyouthvoid I hope you enjoy this fic. For this fic I've put that instead of Kili getting shot by the Morgul arrow, reader gets shot saving him and ends up getting sick.

Warnings: reader poisoned, near-death experience, some angst and some fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@queen-paladin

___________________________________________________________

So much has happened in such little of time. First Gandalf offers me a proposition for aiding a company of Dwarves, then we’re being pursued by orcs, then get imprisoned by the Elven king Thranduil. Now we find ourselves at the mercy of the Men of Laketown.

Thankfully another friend of mine Bard was willing to let us stay the night at his house but of course the Dwarves had to screw it all up by going to the armory to steal the weapons and end up getting caught by the Master of the Lake’s guards. But by some miracle, we were granted the supplies we needed to get us to Erebor to complete the quest before sunset. Of course I knew it was because of the Master’s greediness that he agreed to help, he never was a good man.

“You do know we’re one short, where’s Bofur?” Bilbo asked.

“If he’s not here, we leave him behind.” Said Thorin.

“We’ll have to, if we’re to find the door before nightfall. We can’t risk no more delays.” Balin agreed grimly as everyone began piling into the boat. But as I was just halfway over the plank, I felt a hand stop me.

“Not you.” I turned to see Thorin.

“What?”

“We must travel at speed, you’ll only slow us down.” He told me.

“I’m coming with you all to the Mountain. I promised Gandalf that I would.”

“(Y/n), you have been a big help to me and my kin. The first Ranger to truly stand for our cause. But lately you haven’t been up to par on your health. Stay here and rest, rejoin us when you’re healed.” Just because I’ve been feeling a bit sluggish since the river incident, doesn’t mean I’m helpless.

“Thorin—”

“I will say no more on the matter.” Without another word, Thorin went back onto the boat whilst I had no choice but to sit back down on the docks, feeling a chill suddenly come over me.

“I’ll stay with the lass, my duty lies with the wounded.” Oin said as he voluntarily got off the boat and came up to me.

“Uncle, (Y/n) has done more for this company than any other outsider could’ve done for us. You cannot repay her by leaving her behind.” Fili stepped up for me.

“Fili no.” I told him.

“I will carry her if I must!” Fili argued.

“Fili, one day you will be king and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of a Ranger. Even if she were the only one willing to help us.” As Oin began feeling my forehead for a temperature, I soon watched as Fili stormed off the boat but Thorin stopped him. “Fili, don’t be a fool. Your place is with the company.”

“My place is with her!” he snapped back at his uncle before taking back his arm and came over to me.

“Why did you do that? I thought you always wanted to see Erebor, you told me so yourself.”

“I’ll have plenty of opportunities to see the kingdom in my lifetime, but your wellbeing is more important to me than all the gold in Erebor.” I felt my cheeks grow warm as I softly thanked him.

“And don’t think it’ll just be Fee that’s gonna help you get back on your feet.” We turned to see Kili had also left the boat.

“Kili, you didn’t have to stay behind too.” Fili said.

“Yeah I could’ve gone but it’s my decision too.” He came up to me and stood on my right side. “You saved my life back in the Woodland realm, I’ll gladly do everything I can to help you now (Y/n).” I smiled and looked at the brothers.

“You guys truly are the best friends I’ve ever had. Thank you.” They both nodded and as the Laketown band played a victorious fanfare to wish our friends luck, a sudden dizziness overcame me.

My vision was going in and out of focus and as the crowd cheered as the boat with our friends departed from the docks, I suddenly fell forward, the last thing I heard was Fili’s voice calling my name.

*3rd Person POV*

When (Y/n) had passed out on the dock, Fili cried out (Y/n)’s name as Oin came up and began searching over her body for any trace of an infected wound or trace of blood. Knowing that she had saved Kili from that arrow back when they were trying to escape the orcs on the river, there must’ve been a wound he might’ve missed before they came across Bard.

“OH, did you miss the boat too?” they soon heard the missing Dwarf, Bofur’s voice say. But the moment he saw (Y/n) passed out, his concern grew as he asked Kili. “What happened to her?”

“We don’t know. She just—suddenly passed out.”

“Her fever’s spiking lads. We have to get her help right away!” Oin said.

“Kee, help me out here!” together the brothers lifted her up by her arms while Oin and Bofur got her legs and they walked back towards the Master’s manor to ask for help. After pushing through the guards, Fili cried out. “Please wait! Please, we need your help. Our friend is sick!”

“Sick? Is it infectious?” the Master exclaimed fearfully as he covered his nose with his handkerchief and fearfully cowered behind Alfrid. “Get back! Alfrid, Alfrid don’t let them come any closer!”

“Please. We need medicine.” Oin pleaded. Alfrid walked closer as he sneered at them.

“Do I look like an apothecary? Haven’t we given you enough? The Master’s a busy man, he hasn’t got time to worry about sick Rangers! Let alone this one right ‘ere. All she’s ever done for this town is ruin the Master’s good name and turn the people against him.”

“She’s helped these people in their hour of need! Are you willing to let her die because of your own selfish needs?!” Kili demanded.

“None of our concern. She’s not a paying citizen here, therefore she’s not our problem. Now off you pop! Less we use more drastic measures.” With that Alfrid and the Master shut the doors and the guards ordered them away.

After being rejected by the Master, they tried going to other people to see if they could help but all of them were either too scared to go against the Master’s wishes, or didn’t have enough supplies to help aid her as well as their own sick family members.

With no other options left, the Dwarves raced back to Bard’s home. Knowing of their friendship, they’d hope that at least he could help them. Bofur knocked on the door frantically and as soon as Bard saw them, he sneered.

“No, I’m done with Dwarves. Go away!” he went to shut the door but Bofur stopped him pleading.

“No, no please! Please! No one will help us. (Y/n) is sick.” Bard opened the door further to see his good friend now sickly pale, strands of her hair stuck to her face from the profuse sweating she was doing, and her breathing was now choked gasps. “She’s very, very sick.” Even with the grievance he had with the Dwarves for risking the safety of not only his children but the entire town of Dragon fire, he didn’t have the heart to turn his dear friend away.

“Bring her in.” Bard stepped aside and the four dwarves quickly piled in while Bard quickly looked around before shutting the door. “Put her over there. I’ll see what I have.” Bard went to the back of the house as the Dwarves set her down on the nearby couch. Fili took her hand between his and squeezed it.

“Hang on (Y/n), we’re all here to help you. Just…..don’t go where I cannot follow.” He whispered to her stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Kili watched his older brother and knowing of his feelings towards the Ranger, he couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing that it was because of his carelessness that the woman his brother loved got hurt to save him.

As the night overcame the lake, (Y/n)’s health was gradually becoming worse. Oin did managed to find a small graze just underneath her elbow. A graze that came from an orc arrow tipped with poison. Already the wound (even for as small as it was) had already started to become infected and the poison was spreading fast.

(Y/n) was tossing and turning, panting as her body was glistening with sweat.

“Nothing’s working! Can you not do something!?” demanded Fili who was growing more frantic by the second seeing the woman he came to love be in such agony.

“I need herbs! Something to bring down her fever.” Bard soon came in with some more supplies and began listing them off.

“I have nightshade, feverfew…..”

“No, no there no use to me. Do you have any Kingsfoil?” said Oin but Bard told him.

“No. It’s a weed we feed it to the pigs.”

“Pigs? Weed. Right. Don’t move.” Bofur said before leaving the house. As Kili was continuing to dab a damp, cool cloth across (Y/n)’s face and neck to ease her of her sweating, a rumble was soon heard coming from the mountain.

“Da?” asked one of Bard’s daughters Sigrid.

“It’s coming from the mountain.” Answered Bard’s son, Bain. Bard had feared the worst, the dwarves had awoken Smaug the Terrible and soon the prophecy would come to pass, the Lake will shine and burn.

“You should leave us.” Fili said as he walked up to Bard. “Take your children, get out of here.”

“And go where? There’s nowhere to go.” Bard told him in defeat. Little Tilda stepped in front of her siblings and asked her father fearfully.

“Are we going to die Da?” Bard looked at his youngest child and assured her.

“No darling.”

“The dragon, it’s going to kill us.” Bard then turned towards a beam just above the kitchen and gripped a thin but firm piece of what appeared to be black iron. He pulled it down from the beam to reveal that it was a Black arrow, the very same black arrow that can only be used to kill the dragon.

“Not if I kill it first.” Bard said determinedly. He then asked his son to come with him while the girls stayed behind with the Dwarves to help take care of their Aunt.

Time passed and (Y/n)’s fever was getting even worse. Her breathing was sharp and panicked and she was now starting to writhe in agony.

“Durin’s beard where is Balin with that Kingsfoil!?” Fili demanded.

“I have the right mind to go out and look for him myself!” Kili snapped.

“You can’t leave! With the guards on patrol, they’ll arrest you too and aunt (Y/n) will never get better!” Bain said. “No one is leaving this house understood!?” hearing the young man take a stand against the Dwarves made them both feel shock and admiration.

“Very well laddie. But I don’t know how long (Y/n) has got left, she’s growing weaker by the second.” Oin said to Bain.

“Tilda, Sigrid, come with me to get more rags and water for aunt Hela.” The siblings soon left while Fili gripped (Y/n)’s hand tighter.

“Fi…….li.” she choked out.

“I’m right beside you (Y/n).” he whispered to her. Slowly opening her eyes she croaked out.

“Fili…..if anything hap-happens to me—”

“Don’t talk like that (Y/n). We’re going to heal you, Bofur’s probably found the Kingsfoil by now, he’s just probably ducking the guards and taking longer. Please don’t give in now.” He squeezed her hand between his. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Suddenly a scream was heard and next thing everyone knew orcs began dropping down from the rooftop or coming in through the front door. The dwarves grabbed whatever they could to fight off the orcs but there were too many of them, and with the tightly constricted area the house provided, there was hardly any fighting room.

Kili got the children to duck under the table and fought off any orc that tried to come close to them, while Oin and Fili worked together to fend off any orc that came near (Y/n). When they thought they were done for, help came from both Legolas and Tauriel who had been tracking down the orcs since they left Mirkwood.

As Fili managed to block an orc’s attack with a kitchen knife, (Y/n) had managed to crawl out of the couch and use a fire-poker to stab the orc through its spine. But she soon let out a cry of agony as she collapsed to the ground, the poison fully starting to overcome her. Eventually, all the orcs were either killed off or had begun to retreat from the house.

“You killed them all.” Bain said as he and his sisters got out from under the table after all went quiet in the house.

“There are others, Tauriel.” Legolas ordered but Tauriel was hesitant. As Oin came down beside (Y/n) and felt around her neck to feel her pulse was slowing down, Fili and Kili came down beside her as Oin said fearfully.

“We’re losing her!”

“Tauriel.” Legolas said to her. She turned back to her prince and said.

“The Ranger has done no harm to us, is there nothing we can do to help her?”

“She is beyond help. I’m sorry, there’s nothing that can be done for her.” Footsteps could soon be heard racing up the stairs and as the two elves prepared for another battle with orcs, they stopped to see that it was Bofur carrying some Athelas in his hand.

“Athelas,” Tauriel exhaled as she took it from him and admired it. “Athelas.”

“What are you doing?” Bofur asked nervously. Tauriel looked into the room before looking back at him and said.

“I’m going to save her.” Legolas’ eyes briefly narrowed.

“Tauriel…..”

“You may go if you wish Legolas, but I cannot leave the she-ranger to perish in such agony. Not whilst she still clings to life and that I now have her only salvation.” The young prince took a deep breath then exhaled.

“What would you have me do?” the two elves raced back inside and Tauriel ordered.

“I need water fast. Get her on a solid, stable surface. Lay her flat on her back.” Every in the room reacted quickly. Tilda gave Tauriel the bowl of water for her to mix the Athelas together, whilst Legolas and the Dwarves worked together to get (Y/n) on the table.

She was screaming and writhing in pure agony, her mouth starting to grow black with the poison.

“Where is the wound?” Legolas asked.

“Underneath her left elbow.” Oin said. Legolas took hold of her left wrist and raised her arm above. But when she tried to struggle, he was forced to also grab her forearm to pin it down and there he saw it. The black graze and he could see the infection had fully spread and blackened her entire elbow.

“Hold her down.” Tauriel said. Kili and Bofur held down her right leg while Bard’s children held down her left. Fili held (Y/n) by the shoulders and Oin helped Tauriel brew the medicine. Once it was brewed, Tauriel cut through the sleeve of (Y/n)’s shirt to get a better access to the wound.

The female ranger appearing like a rapid animal, screaming, grunting and thrashing about trying to free herself. Tauriel took some of the Athelas and began rubbing it onto her hands as she chanted.

“Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth.” She then placed her hands over the ranger’s wound and (Y/n) let out an agonizing scream. Fili softly shushed her stroking through her hair and whispering in her ear all the while Tauriel kept chanting the spell.

Bit by bit, (Y/n)’s animalistic behavior quietened and then she went still. Her breathing now soft and not as frantic as it had been. Fili looked down at her worriedly and Kili asked.

“Will she be alright?”

“Athelas has powerful healing properties. With time and rest, she’ll regain her full strength. A few more minutes and she would’ve been beyond even with the aid of the Athelas.” Responded Tauriel. The dwarves and Bard’s children breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” Fili said to Tauriel. She gave him a soft but tight smile as well as a soft nod. Then both she and Legolas left to deal with the orcs.

After her healing, Fili wrapped up (Y/n)’s wound with some bandages and kept vigil at her side. Never before had he felt so scared than he had felt at that moment. Fearing that the woman he had come to become fond of—nay love throughout this quest, he wouldn’t have known what to do had she been lost to him.

“She’ll be alright Fili. She’s strong, she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” His brother tried to assure him.

“I know. But seeing her go through all that pain, all that suffering, and who knows if she even knew she had been hit.”

“Even if she did, she’s got the stubbornness of a Dwarrowdam. Perfect woman for a guy like you.” Fili turned to his brother. “You may try to have hide it from the others but you can’t hide anything from me Fee. I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at her since Rivendell. You care for her more than just as a friend.” Fili sighed and looked down to her.

“I don’t even know how it happened. But after all that we’ve been through, seeing her in a—domestic way. The way she was with her younger cousin, the way the sunlight seemed to reflect off her hair, and the way her eyes shone like jewels in the dark. Kee……I feel as if she is my One.”

“And you should follow through that brother.”

“But would it work? A dwarf and a human? It’s never been done before?”

“Is that what’s really troubling you? Or is it that you fear she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fili remained quiet.

“This quest has shown me that life is too fragile. And at any moment, any one of us can be taken away by any means. I want to tell her my true feelings but—not now. Not while our lives are still in danger. Perhaps when we reach the mountain, I’ll work up the courage to tell her but I—”

“I understand brother. The turmoil that must’ve been stirring in your heart seeing her on death’s doorstep, if you had confessed your love for her beforehand and it be too late to save her……I can’t imagine the pain that would’ve been.”

“She’s too precious to me.” Fili said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. “I feel like if she had died tonight, my heart would’ve died with her. My body may have continued to live on but my heart would never be full again.”

“Take comfort now that she’s alive and that she’s recovering. No more darkened thoughts need cloud your mind anymore.” Kili said as he placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, gently shaking it. Fili turned to his little brother and nodded giving him a soft smile.

“Thank you Kili. I know I’m supposed to be the older brother here but, I’m glad that you were here to be the one to ease my mind.”

“I’m always here for you brother, and I always will be. Together forever right?” he extended his other hand out.

“Together forever little brother.” Fili clasped his other hand with Fili’s as they pressed their foreheads together, drawing in each other’s strength.

*My POV*

All I remembered was darkness, as well as a voice reaching out for me. Then a bright light and soon silence. I don’t remember much after that but I do remember hearing Fili’s voice along with Kili’s.

“She’s too precious to me.” I felt something graze my cheek with the most gentlest touch. “I feel like if she had died tonight, my heart would’ve died with her. My body may have continued to live on but my heart would never be full again.”

So did Fili actually feel the same as I have come to feel for him? Oh Fili, I-I love you too. And I do hope that one day I can say that aloud, but for now I was just too weak to even open my eyes. I soon passed out once again but it wasn’t until the sound of giant wings flying towards us had me opening my eyes.

Smaug was coming for us. And he was out for blood.

384 notes · View notes

pennylanefics · 4 months

Text

To Be Loved - Laurie Laurence

a/n: my first laurie fic! :D i'm pretty happy with how this came out and glad that i was able to actually write it out. bear in mind i haven't written anything like this in months, i also am not super confident about the dialogue because of the time setting and everything, so it may not be the most accurate, but i hope you enjoy! :)

summary: you get insecure about things with laurie late one night

word count: 2,427

warnings: slightly negative self talk here and there

Candlelight casts a warm glow over the silent and chilly room, the time well past midnight, but you and Laurie were wide awake. This has been a normal occurrence for the past few weeks, as you two got to know each other and started sneaking around.

Since the day you arrived at the March household to stay with your aunt and cousins, Laurie had taken a liking towards you. The moment he saw you taking a walk with Jo in the grassy area between their two houses, he couldn’t help but feel drawn towards you.

Maybe it was the way your hair blew in the wind, or the color of your dress, which happens to be his favorite color, violet, or the way the sun shone across your face, your eyes squinting just to be able to see Jo.

Whatever it was, Laurie couldn’t get you out of his head. So one day when he saw you reading underneath the tree, he approached you. Now, as it has been a couple months since your first meeting, you two are completely smitten.

And sneaking around behind your family and his grandfather’s backs.

That’s where you find yourself late at night, when all of your cousins and your aunt have fallen asleep, you sneak out and run off to Laurie’s to curl up in his bed and just talk, maybe kiss here and there, and mainly just be in each other’s presence.

The slight chill in the air is due to the falling temperature of autumn, cooler nights when the sun has gone far below the horizon, but Laurie was more than prepared. He laid a couple more quilts on top of the one he uses every night, knowing that as much as you love the weather, you hate being too cold.

“When are you heading off to Europe again, hm?” You ask, reaching up to stroke Laurie’s cheek. He hums softly in response, his eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in your tender touch and nuzzles into it.

“I don’t plan on going,” he states simply, sighing in response, hating that he has been reminded of it all during a time where he wants no other thoughts than you.

“And why is that?”

Your question seems to upset him as he quickly rises, your hand falling away from his cheek, and he walks over to sit on the window sill, staring out at the pitch black scene, aside from the single candlelight on the porch of the March household.

The room remains silent as he collects his thoughts, questioning if he should tell you his true thoughts or not. He turns back around with his hands in the pockets of his sleep pants, his eyes taking in the sight of you laying in his bed, a sight he would never grow tired of.

“I love you,” he whispers. Instantly, your blood runs cold and you’re sitting up, more alert and aware than you were five minutes ago.

“What?” All you can manage is the single word, your heart starting to pound in your chest. You could feel your hands getting clammy with your rising panic, despite the coolness of the room and it being well below sixty degrees. Laurie stands there, staring, tears becoming evident in his tired eyes.

“I love you, (Y/N). I do.”

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” you murmur in response, scooting to sit up in bed and bring your knees to your chest, “it wasn’t a joke.”

“How am I not supposed to when we spend countless nights tangled in each other’s limbs, faces so close that I can feel your breath against my lips, yearning to kiss you, to cherish you, to make you mine, to hold you like that forever.”

“Laurie, I’m no good for you. You deserve someone better.” Your eyes finally meet his and a defeated expression takes over his features, his small smile dropping into a frown and his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.

“There is no one better, (Y/N). You are so perfect and I don’t know why you don’t see that.”

“Because I’m not! I’m no one. I come from nothing. I have nothing to offer you, I came here to ask Jo for help in becoming a writer so that I could make somewhat of a living for myself, a-and, I can’t provide for you.”

“You wouldn’t have to provide for me, my love-”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt. Secretly, you loved it, the second it falls from his lips you are swooning, but you simply can’t admit that.

It terrifies you.

“You really have not thought the same? Nights like these mean nothing to you?” His voice holds so much emotion. His question silences you, and tears form in your own eyes as you watch Laurie break slowly from the inside.

He was trying his hardest not to reach out for you and pull you into his arms in a tight hug, it’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you over and over and whisper how things would be okay and that they would work out. But he stands his ground.

“They do,” you sigh in defeat, casting your eyes to your hands just as a few drops spill over your eyelashes. “But…”

“But what? Why can’t we be together?”

Again, you have no clue what to say.

“Money means nothing to me, if that is the issue. If not, please tell me what is. I want you, (Y/N), please.”

“I can’t! I just can’t!” You finally cry out, and this time, Laurie does take action.

He rushes back over to your side, wrapping his arm around your body and softly shushing you, wondering what was going on in your mind. He didn’t say anything, though, he just comforts you in this time, making sure you feel safe and cared for.

“I can’t provide a love you deserve,” you choke out, your voice broken and strained from crying. “I don’t know how to love someone, I would not know how to properly show you or give that to you.” Laurie is a little taken aback by your admission. Out of all the things that could have been wrong, he did not think this would be it.

“Isn’t that the beautiful thing about love, though, figuring that sort of thing out together? Learning about one another on a more deeper level, the way we like our tea or coffee prepared, what makes us tick, what helps us fall asleep. All of it. And I want that with you.”

By now, you moved your body to face Laurie, meeting his eyes as he speaks so quietly and eloquently. His hand raises up to your face to brush a stray piece of hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, though his hand lingers on your cheek.

“Please, (Y/N). I know you are scared, but it would be so wonderful to have the chance to show you how to love.”

The sincerity in his voice was very clear, and it was making your heart race in your chest. Slowly, he leans forward and gently presses his lips to your forehead, his eyes fluttering shut as he remains there for a moment before pulling back a little.

He then moves on to kiss the apple of your cheek, being as sweet as ever, making sure that not one inch of your face goes unkissed. Your breath catches in your throat and the feeling of bliss spreads over your body as the idea of what was happening finally settles in.

Laurie’s lips trail even further down your face to focus on your jaw, going from your chin to right below your ear, but he takes it a step further. After a small pause, he moves his attention to your neck, however, they are no longer soft and careful kisses.

He picks one spot that sends a slight shiver through your body, chuckling lowly against your skin. His warm breath and soft, pink lips felt so nice, you completely forgot what you were talking about just moments ago.

Laurie takes a chance and bares his teeth, nibbling the skin of your neck for just a few seconds. A gasp flies out of your mouth and your hand comes up to tug at his hair, like it was a natural thing for you to do. He lets out another laugh at your reaction and goes back to kissing all over, soothing the area with his tongue for a fleeting moment.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles through kisses, not wanting to stop just yet, but he needed to. His head rises to look at you, his beautiful green eyes shining in the candlelight, something you’ve grown so fond of seeing, so much that you prefer seeing him in this limited lighting rather than daylight; he appeared so angelic at this time of night and in such an intimate setting.

“Laurie…” you breathe out, sniffling a little even though your tears have subsided with his kisses, “I just want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” he replies with no hesitation at all. The sincere look in his eyes returns, but as does the watery glaze, the realization that you could be close to walking away from all of this. “You make me so unbelievably happy, (Y/N). I don’t think you understand. I don’t want anyone else, you are it for me.”

“But how do you know? There could be a wonderful woman waiting for you to sweep her off her feet in Europe, looking for someone who cares so deeply and will love her unconditionally, and I do not deserve that.”

“You do deserve it, mon chéri.” The new pet name sends a warm feeling throughout your chest. It felt so personal and heartfelt, and stuns you a little to the point where you freeze. “You have no idea how wonderful you are. You are the woman I want.”

His words finally sink in and it prevents you from pushing him further away, your tears once again making their way down your cheeks, but Laurie is quick to brush them away with his thumb and comfort you.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” he coos, bringing your head into his chest as he lays you back down with him, allowing you to cry again for as long as you need. “It’s alright, my darling.” He just lays there, his right hand gently stroking your back up and down as a way to soothe you, but then he starts to hum some tune quietly.

The smooth sound of his voice and almost shy touch to your back was lulling you to sleep, but you knew this conversation wasn’t quite over just yet.

“You still there?” He asks quietly, not wanting to wake you if you had happened to fall asleep. His hand raises and starts messing with the ends of your hair, combing his fingers through some of the knots, trying to be as careful as possible to not tug at any too hard and cause you any pain.

“Mhm,” you mumble into his neck, the scent of his cologne still lingering from earlier in the day, a scent that you’ve grown very fond of, one that you could smell a thousand times over and never get tired of.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You hesitate to answer his question, but you know he needs an answer of how you’re feeling. Sitting up, you take a deep breath and look out the window, not moving from his side.

“I…care for you so deeply, Laurie,” the words begin to spill from your lips, and by the tone of your voice, Laurie is preparing for the worst. He sits up with you, though he scoots away just a little, ready to be rejected, like he has been before. “And I want you, I do. If you are okay to take me as I am. A young woman with no sense of direction in her life, no fortune to share, no insane wealth of knowledge or talent like my cousins or any other-”

Laurie is quick to cut you off with a kiss, silencing you to prevent you from speaking down on yourself anymore. His slender fingers cradle your cheek, a stream of tears still falling and melting into his warm hand.

The kiss lasts for a few seconds, Laurie not wanting to pull away just yet. But when he does, his forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning over your face, reminding you of all the nights spent with him, and how you have fallen for him just as much as he has fallen for you.

“You should not speak of yourself like that. You are incredibly smart, a very talented writer, and remarkably beautiful, might I add. Any man would be so fortunate to have you, I promise you that.”

“Then consider yourself very fortunate, Laurie,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on your hands for the moment, too scared to look up at him yet. However, he takes matters into his own hands and raises your chin up with his knuckle, sending butterflies flying throughout your stomach.

A small grin stretches his lips, his green eyes shimmering with adoration as your feelings finally come to light.

“I will be by your side through everything. I love you and I am here to prove that, my darling. And I could not be more joyful that you are giving me the chance to guide you and show you what it means to love and to be loved. Everyone deserves it, especially you.”

“I love you,” your voice comes out slightly strained, fearing that it would be the wrong thing to say. “And I know I don’t know what it means just yet, but I have never felt this way with anyone before, and while it is a scary feeling, I can tell that it is so special and magical.”

Laurie chuckles quietly and kisses you once more before laying back down with you in his arms, closer than any other night you’ve spent with one another, but it felt natural.

It felt right.

“It is very magical, and I promise to show you all the beauty in it, and love you as you deserve to. Because if there is one thing that I know for sure in this life, it’s that you deserve the world, and I promise to give that to you, my darling.”

#laurie laurence #little women #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence imagines #laurie x reader #laurie laurence imagine #theodore laurence #little women fanfic #theodore laurie laurence #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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sluttywoozi · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 26: Blood Play + Lee Know

For my love @hwanghyunjinenthusiast

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.2k

Pairing: Minho x Reader | Genre: smut, vampire

Warnings: blood play, minho’s a vampire, lil bit of pain kink, biting, oral f. rec., fingering, squirting, unprotected piv sex

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina

“I think I’m addicted to you,” Minho whispers as he watches you sleep beside him, the light of the moon highlighting the dips and curves of your naked body. He feels his chest tighten, knowing there can only be one of three outcomes now that he’s admitted the truth to himself.

One: he changes you, and keeps you forever.

Two: he doesn’t change you, and watches you die day by day before taking a sunshower as soon as you leave this earth.

Three: he doesn’t change you, and he leaves you so he can have some hope of living out the remainder of his damnation without wanting to take a sunshower.

He’s well aware he could never stand to carry out option three; he’d get no further than a mile before zipping back and wrapping you up in his arms. That just leaves him with options one and two, and he knows which one he desires.

He knows what you want as well - you’ve been begging him to drink from you, to turn you, for months, and he’s held strong in his refusal to do either because he knows the second he gets to taste you, it’ll be over for him. He’ll be completely and irrevocably yours.

But now… Now, he’s certain he can’t stand to be without you. Now, he’s willing to consider making you like him, even if it means tying you to him forever. Now, that’s something he wants.

Just the idea of it is stoking the only heat left in his body, stirring up an arousal that’s only ever been this strong when it comes to you.

He should let you rest, but he’s aching to be with you, to hear your voice and hold your gaze and feel the bright shine of your soul, so he grazes your cheekbone with an icy fingertip until you blink awake. Your eyebrows furrow and your lips pout, but your expression clears up when you lay eyes on him.

“Morning, Min,” you whisper, your voice thick with sleep and your hands clumsy as they reach out to him. He used to try to keep himself away from you, scared that his low body temperature would make you cold, but he’s learned you run warm and knows you revel in the chill of him.

Now, he brings you as close as he likes, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile as he pulls you into his chest, murmuring, “Good morning, my love.”

The sun has set but you’ve long since adapted to him, sleeping in the day and waking for the night, and though he wishes he could see you awash in sunlight, you look ethereal bathed in the glow of the moon instead.

“I’ve been thinking…” He begins, his voice heavy and his words careful.

“That’s dangerous,” you quip, making him pinch your cheek in loving reproach as he continues.

“I’ve been thinking that I’m ready to make you mine, if you still want that.”

“Minho, you make me yours nearly every night.”

“I should have been more clear,” he sighs. “I’m ready to drink from you, to make you like me, if that’s still what you want.”

Your breath stalls and you’re silent for what feels like eternity, the only sound coming from you being your beating heart. He feels himself freezing, feels his limbs turning to stone as he waits for you to respond. He’d be holding his breath if he needed to breathe.

“Of course I want that, Minho. I always have.”

His face cracks into a smile, relief zipping through his body when you press a kiss to his jaw and follow it up with a light nip.

“We’ll do it tomorrow. I want one last night with you like this,” he murmurs, tilting his head back to give you more room as you kiss down his neck.

He wants one last night to explore all the ways your human body reacts to him, to bask in your warmth and smell the ambrosia of your blood, and finally, finally, finally, taste it. He wants to feel it dripping down his throat, pooling in his stomach, flowing through his veins, wants to have part of you inside him while he’s inside of you.

He doesn’t waste any more time talking, knowing he only has a few more hours to take in this form of you, searching for your lips and connecting them with his when you pull away from his neck.

Minho has never been one to rush, especially since he was remade, and he could (and will) spend all of eternity with his lips locked with yours, but already, he needs you. He needs your light and your warmth and your searing hot, perfect pussy wrapped around him.

He needs to feel your heart beating against his chest and hear your ragged breaths in his ears and, more than anything, he needs to taste you on his lips, both your arousal and your blood.

So he breaks away, dragging his lips down your throat and scraping the points of his teeth on your sensitive skin, leaving behind thin lines and welling droplets of blood. He licks over the marks, soothing the ache and groaning at the taste of you.

He was right before when he said you were ambrosia. You taste like all of the heavens concentrated into one being, like pure starlight and comforting vanilla bean and home, and he wonders why he’s been depriving himself of this through all these months with you.

Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started. He can control himself well enough to avoid killing you right now, but it’s a close thing.

He forces himself to leave your thrumming pulse behind, pulling at the sheet to uncover you and laying kisses all over your bare chest before wrapping his lips around one nipple and sucking harshly. He plucks at your other nipple with gentle fingers, rolling, twisting, pulling until both are pebbled and hard, until your back is arching and your heart is racing, until he can smell your arousal on the air.

It’s not enough for him to just smell it, he needs to taste it too. He drags himself away from your breasts, sucking kisses down the midline of your body and pushing your legs up and apart. He likes you spread out for him, likes to have room to work, and it occurs to him that for the first time, he can bite all over your thighs like he’s always wanted to.

You won’t feel the soreness of the punctures for long, and you don’t have to worry about any bruising since it’ll all disappear once he changes you, so he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and all at once, he’s drowning in you.

He didn’t nick an artery but he’s found a juicy vein, and your blood is so much richer, somehow even tastier here. His head swims in you, your taste filling his mouth and his thoughts, and he has to remind himself of the euphoria waiting for him between your thighs lest he find all of it here.

He withdraws with a shuddering gasp, surging forward and burying himself in your cunt so he doesn’t return to the slowly bleeding wound on your thigh, his tongue delving inside of you and his hands like steel where they hold your legs. You writhe all you want, know he’s strong enough to keep you in place, to keep you stretched out like he likes, your hips bucking and your taste growing sharper on his tongue as he pushes it inside of you.

Your arousal is just as rich as your blood, but it’s different too, thicker, headier, muskier, and he honestly can’t decide which he likes more. It’s a lucky thing that he doesn’t have to, can switch between your cunt and your weeping thigh at his will, the mixture of the tastes sending him to a height he’s never reached before.

He almost feels selfish taking so much pleasure in your body when he hasn’t even made you cum yet, so he doubles down, purses his lips around your clit and sucks hard as he slides first one, then two fingers inside of you.

His impatience gets the better of him, his fingers pounding into you at a supernatural speed as he pushes you kicking and screaming toward your orgasm. Normally, he’s methodical in how he takes you apart, but tonight, he’s come undone and all he can think about is unspooling you right along with him.

Starting with making you cum, now.

You’re already close, he can tell in the way your pussy won’t stop clenching around his fingers, and he decides now is as good a time as any to try something new.

“Cum,” he thinks at you, waiting to see if you’ll hear him. Not everyone can, there needs to be a special connection, but he’s never known anything more special than you, so he’s fully expecting you to listen and behave.

You do, thank goodness, you do.

You don’t even question it, how you heard his voice in your mind, you just buck and squeeze and drip on his hand, your cunt undulating wildly around his fingers and your arousal spraying out to coat his face as he sucks and sucks and sucks at your clit.

He pushes you through one release and brings you up to another, but you seem to have other plans.

“In me, get in me, Minho!” You whine, reaching for him and tugging him closer.

“I will, baby. I always give you what you need, don’t I?” He asks rhetorically, knowing your answer will be yes. You nod anyway and he loves you for it, licks up your bleeding thigh and rises to hover above you, hesitating to press his ruby tinted lips to yours.

You close the distance, apparently not squeamish about the blood, and press your lips to his in a deep kiss. It rapidly spirals out of control, his tongue plunging into your mouth and warring with yours. He won’t concede tonight, wants to just take and take and take, and you realize this soon enough, backing off and letting him have the reigns.

Minho doesn’t know how long he kisses you for, but he knows it’ll never be long enough.

Blessedly, you’ll have the rest of time for him to kiss you senseless.

Right now, all he needs to do is pull away, line himself up, and sink inside you. The pulling away part is easier said than done, and when you whimper and curl your hand around his cheek to hold him to you, he decides that’s not a part that necessarily needs to happen.

He can align himself with you without breaking the kiss, and that’s exactly what he does. If you don’t dress, he doesn’t either, so there are no clothes in the way of him bringing his cock up to your weeping cunt and notching the head in your entrance.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes inside, the taste of it almost as delicious as the flavor of your blood and your wetness. He swallows it down as he bottoms out inside you, sending into your mind an endless stream of love you, thank you, perfect, hot wet, never enough, never get enough.

You hear him perfectly and sob in response, your inner muscles fluttering around him as he withdraws his hips and fucks into you again, building up a sharp, staccato rhythm. He can’t manage anything else at the moment, can only groan into your mouth and buck his hips again and again and again as he soars towards his own peak.

One of his hands wriggles between your legs and finds your clit as he rips his mouth from yours and sinks his teeth into your neck, his bite aimed just to the side of your jugular so he doesn’t hit your carotid artery.

Drinking from you and fucking you at the same time is a pleasure he never thought he’d get to experience, and it’s more exhilarating than he ever thought possible. He almost feels high with it, with the taste of your blood on his tongue and the incredible vice of your pussy around his cock, and when you start to cum, he knows he’s done for.

You ripple and undulate around him and all he can do is suck harder and let go, let himself fall over the edge and let his balls empty inside of you, his cock twitching and pulsing as it shoots ropes of spend onto your clenching walls.

Tomorrow, Minho will drain you dry while he’s filling you up with his cock, and then he’ll fill you up with his blood, and you’ll be just like him.

He’ll miss the old you, the human you, the you he fell in love with, but he knows there are all sorts of discoveries to be made and experiences to be had with the new you, and he has no doubt he’ll love you just the same, if not even more.

AN: omg this was so fun!!! i love writing supernatural stuff!! lmk if you liked it i need to know 👀

Kinktober Masterlist

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band--psycho · 1 year

Text

Fred Weasley x Reader-Just Friends

Inspired by the song Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello

This is a lot longer than I had originally planned, but I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Warnings:Smut/Teasing (18+)

“Earth to Y/n,” my friend Lucy snapped her fingers in front of my face, knocking me out of my daydream.

“Sorry,” I mumbled an apology, taking a mouthful of my food to try and act normal, as well as distract myself from the thoughts that were racing through my head.

“Where’d you go?” My other friend, Charlotte, questioned; eyebrows raised quizzically.

“She was probably thinking about Fred Weasley” Lucy teased with a small smirk, seeing straight through my act.

“Why would I be thinking about Fred?” I countered, trying to keep my tone neutral so that Lucy would think that she was wrong.

Lucy shook her head briefly before taking a bite of her toast; she knew how close Fred and I were, but we were just friends. Though the look that was showing in her eyes when they meet mine, said that she wasn't fooled by answer, especially when her eyes glanced down at the hickey on my neck that I had tried so hard to cover, “You know why, or were you with someone else last night?”

Damn it.

Last night.

The memories flashed in my brain like a dream.

The way Freds hands explored every inch of my body; the way his smirk grew on his face when I moaned his name as he pounded into me, his lips, the fiery lust burning in his eyes…

The way he made me feel a way no one else ever had.

A small scoff left my lips,as I tried to ignore the dampness forming in my panties just at the mere thought of last night, “Fred and I are just friends.”

Just friends.

That’s all we were.

That’s all we were. I kept mentally repeating that to myself, reminding myself of what we were.

Last night was the first time we’d slept together, and maybe if that was it then reminding myself that we were just friends wouldn’t be so hard.

But it wasn’t just about last night; it was about how he’d been toward me since the school year started, and how I had been with him.

The many times we’d almost kissed; in the library, in the common room, down by the boathouse. The way our eyes lingered on one another just a few seconds too long for friends…and the way that no matter how many times I told myself to put some distance between us, I never could.

Because I wanted more; I had since the first time we almost kissed.

I wanted him.

I wanted to be his.

I wondered if I would have still felt this way had I been sorted into Slytherin; would we have even been friends? Would we have even acknowledged each other? Or would we just be strangers to one another?

Part of me thought that that would be easier; for our paths to have never crossed.

My family hated him and his family; and if they got wind that I had feelings for him..well it wouldn’t be good, for either of us.

Charlotte opened her mouth slightly, as if she was about to ask a question, but before she could I heard footsteps walking behind me; that’s when I saw who it was.

Fred.

I spent the rest of the morning unable to shift the ache in my chest.

Fred and I are just friends; those words kept replaying in my head.

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want to just be ‘friends’ with him; but maybe this was for the best.

I just needed to make sure nothing else happened between us; I just needed to keep my distance from him.

Thankfully, Fred and I didn’t really have many classes together until tomorrow, so I could at least avoid him for the rest of the day.

Care of Magical Creatures was my last class for today, and despite the chill in the air I decided to wander into the forest; mainly so that I didn’t have to see Fred but also so I could clear my head and avoid any more questions from my friends.

But my mind couldn’t help but think about last night…

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, love?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over mine as he slowly thrusted a finger inside of me, “How long I’ve wanted you.”

He’d been teasing me for what felt like hours, first with his fingers, then his tongue, then both until he finally started fucking me with his cock.

I practically jumped out of my skin when I felt one hand cover my mouth as the other pulled on my waist.

I was going to scream, that was until I saw a flash of ginger hair, followed by an all too familiar voice, “It’s just me, love.”

“Fred, what are you doing?” I snapped, the adrenaline still burning in my veins.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” his words weren’t a question, they were a statement.

I could see the hurt lingering in his eyes as the words left his lips, and it hurt like hell, seeing him sad because of what I’d done.

But it was for the best; that’s what I kept telling myself, yes this was painful, but nowhere near as painful as if things continued between us.

I didn’t answer his statement.

I just began walking away.

Distance. That’s what we needed, what was best for us.

And that’s what I had to put between us.

Though I didn’t get very far before his hand was wrapped around my wrist and I was pushed up against a tree, his other hand next to my shoulder, barricading me against the tree.

The chill that once floated in the air was all but eradicated in that moment; all that I could feel was the heat radiating between the two of us.

“So we’re just friends, huh?”

His tone was darker than a few moments ago; and I could see the anger flickering in his eyes.

“Just friends?” he repeated, his lips inches from mine.

Oh how I wanted to kiss him.

To just say fuck everything as close the distance between us.

I was hanging onto the last strands of the rational side of my mind when I nodded and said “Just friends,” though my voice was certainly not as confident as I had intended,

“You sure about that, love?”

I was trying to think of an answer, and then the hand that was next to me on my thigh.

I let out a quivering breath as I felt his hand go higher and higher, until he was so close to the place I craved him.

I was soaked, I knew that already.

I was a mess and he’d barely done anything to me yet and yet all I craved was for more.

His lips, his hands, they were making it impossible for me to think clearly.

I glanced up into his eyes and I saw the same glint as last night; he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and he was loving it.

“You say we’re just friends,” he continued, his voice low and barely above a whisper, “but friends don’t know the way you taste..”

A small whimper left my lips before I could stop it, which only made a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“And you, love,” he continued, pressing his body closer to mine, so that I could feel just how hard he was, “taste fucking divine,”

All rationality had left my mind as I finally closed the distance, crashing my lips onto his; my free hand tugging at his ginger locks in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

“Just friends?” Fred chuckled breathlessly before lightly pecking my lips,

“Meet me tonight at our usual spot”

I couldn’t help but frown at his words.

I needed him.

Now.

I needed to be fucked and the denial he had just given me made my pussy ache with pure desire.

Another chuckle left his lips as his hand softly caressed my cheek, “I’ll give you what you want, baby, don’t worry.”

And with that he released my wrist and walked away from me, leaving me a breathless, wet, needy mess against the tree.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @gloryekaterina @yn-ymn-yln@darthwheezely @jamie-lee666 @megaprincesscakes @skyofficialxx @beeroses @amaryllis23 @aboukie @munsinner @little-diable @girl-next-door-writes @the-chaotic-cow @camilyb @justreadingficsdontmindme @malfoys-demigod @misshale21 @msmarvelknight @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @invisible-ninja @meteora-fc @howlingmadlady @daedreams @jazzyllemmon @realandloud @alexxavicry @onyourgoddamnleft @annajona @myaloveee @instabull @simonsbluee @pappydaddy @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #harry potter era imagine #harry potter era imagines #hp fred weasley

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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Second Son (X) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N faces the music and has a talk with Harry. Yule Break rolls around and Regulus makes a breakthrough.

Part IX / Part XI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Little cliffhanger, oops. Also, yes, we are making progress towards learning the truth (more portrait lore, yay).

The watch stands for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match were brimming in excitement, the student body’s energy revitalized by the appointment of Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper. Standing next to Hermione, you can’t help the exhilaration that swims through your veins, glad that there was a buffer in the grim mood that shadowed over the school year.

The sharp fweet of Madam Hooch’s whistle signals the start of the match, and enthusiastic shouts begin to erupt from all around you. These cheers only grew in volume as Ron’s flawless performance became apparent to all the watchers.

You hadn’t realized your friend was this good.

As if reading your thoughts, Hermione leans over to you as Ron manages to knock away the quaffle again, “Harry dosed him with Felix Felicis during breakfast.”

Quirking your head at the revelation, your eyes follow Ginny’s zipping figure around the field, thoroughly impressed by both Weasleys’ playing.

“Somehow I doubt that. Harry’s sweet, but he’s not wasteful. There are better things to use the concoction on, no?” Hermione doesn’t respond to your words, but you feel her shift at the implications of them, likely agreeing.

If your friend group were leading ordinary lives, using Felix Felicis on arbitrary things like Quidditch matches would be fine, if not expected, but with Voldemort lurking about, the liquid could probably be put to better use.

As the game continues on, you’re hardly surprised when Gryffindor begins to lead by a landslide before ultimately coming out victorious. As everyone explodes in celebration, you quickly slink away from the boisterous crowd, not quite in a partying mood. You had heard Dean talking before the match, and he had mentioned that the party would be open to any house–though, you didn’t suspect many Slytherins would attend anyway.

You figured that the celebration would drag on for hours on end which gave you quite some time to wander without peering eyes.

Roaming the grounds of the castle for a while, you feel lonelier than usual, not having Regulus in your pocket. Despite the boy’s history as a quidditch player himself, he opted to remain in your dorm, stating that he needed peace and quiet. You couldn’t fault him, the both of you were feeling unnerved with every passing day as Harry seemed to pointedly avoid the topic of Regulus’ existence.

A part of you hoped that he perhaps forgot about the whole ordeal or thought it to be trivial, but you knew he was likely just busy with trying to con Slughorn.

Feeling the chill of the weather bite at your fingers, you decide to make your way back inside the castle. As you quietly pad through the halls, you’re shaken from your thoughts as a deep voice echoes around the walls, “L/N. Surprised to see you here.”

Spinning around, you see a familiar figure walking towards you with a small smirk. The faint sag in his shoulders was the only indication that he was fatigued from the quidditch match.

“Zabini. Shouldn’t you be off sulking with the rest of the Slytherin team?” Your words are tinged with amusement and you spin back around, knowing that the boy would eventually catch up to you.

As you round the corner, Blaise manages to fall into step with you, “Moping has never been a strong suit of mine.”

“I suppose tantrums would mar that whole quintessential gentility image you have going on. What about comfort? Is that something you’re adept with?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were hoping to achieve from the conversation, but becoming familiar with the Slytherin may prove beneficial in the future.

Blaise lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, “Are you asking me to console you, L/N?”

“Forget me, you’re not really my type. It’s your little peacock who seems awfully peaky as of late. He nearly bit my head off in the library the other day.” You roll your eyes, recalling the strange encounter you had with the Malfoy heir.

The boy was acting awfully suspicious.

Blaise seems to straighten up at your words, eyes flickering quickly around the hall as he understands your insinuation, “Draco can take care of himself.”

“If you’re sure.” Your words come out just above a whisper, and you’re left to your thoughts as Blaise seems content with just walking in silence.

Not minding the boy’s presence, you began to think about possible avenues of research you could explore to try and solve the mystery of Regulus’ existence, wanting to find answers for not only yourself, but Regulus as well. Merlin, how the boy wasn’t mad for answers was beyond you.

A few moments pass before you’re struck with a thought that has you pausing in your tracks. Blaise is quick to follow, turning to look at your contemplative expression, “Should I be worried that you’re plotting my murder, L/N?”

“Quite the contrary, Zabini. How do you feel about making these meetings a regular thing?” Your smile is only a tad inscrutable, but you can see the interest glinting brightly in the boy’s eyes.

“Are you sure you’re not interested in me, L/N? I wouldn’t fault you if you were.” His words have you rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the victorious feeling that bloats in your stomach as you see him let his guard down.

“Really, you’re not my type. I’m just asking if you want to be…friends, I guess you could say.” You try to plaster on the most companionable smile you can manage. Come on Zabini, accept the olive branch.

Blaise hums in thought before turning around, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to ignore your request. Following him quickly, Blaise tosses you a small smile before replying, “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what your type is since we’re friends now.”

You breathe out a small laugh, “Hard to describe, but let’s just say I have a thing for men that are a bit emotionally constipated. A touch of cynicism and awkward affection never hurt anyone either.” It was hard to put into words, but Regulus had a certain way of jarring you everyday, and his occasional niceties always had your stomach fluttering wildly. Not to mention your bloody patronus was all thanks to him.

“A certain slytherin, then?” Blaise’s words come out light, but you can see the wild interest flying around in his gaze.

Shaking your head, you can only sigh at the boy’s quick thinking, “How’d you know?”

“Well, no one is better than me, but I suppose a fellow Slytherin is acceptable. Also, your ring. Two snakes? Subtle.” Your eyes shoot down to the ring you’ve been subconsciously twirling on your finger, and you gape at Blaise’s amused expression.

Before you can respond, you’re both distracted by the sight of Harry and Hermione. The pair are sat at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione clearly upset over something, while Harry was trying his best to silently comfort her. Shooting an apologetic glance at the Slytherin, you’re met with a hum of understanding before he’s walking off.

“See you around, Y/N.”

As you wave at the Slytherin’s retreating figure, you see Harry shoot you a confused look.

Great, another topic of conversation we need to discuss.

Walking over to the pair, you crouch down in front of Hermione, whose eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying.

“What happened, ‘Mione? Do I need to hex someone?” Hermione’s only response is a watery laugh before she’s wiping furiously at her eyes and nose.

You look to Harry for an answer and he winces before quietly answering, “Ron and Lavender.”

Well. That’s an unexpected pair.

“Shall I kill the both of them?” Your voice comes out completely flat and serious, but it’s enough to have Hermione smiling down at you before seemingly calming herself.

“It doesn’t matter. He can be with whomever he wants.” She is quick to jump up from her spot, “Now, I’ll see you both before dinner then?”

Without waiting for a verbal reply, Hermione clambers up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you alone with Harry. The boy simply juts his chin at the newly empty spot beside him, looking at you with poorly veiled anticipation.

Slowly lowering yourself down next to him, you both stare straight ahead in silence. It seems like hours pass as you both sit on the cold stone steps, hoping that the other would speak first.

Harry slowly reaches for his wand, casting a quiet muffliato, before speaking, “So, Regulus Black.”

“Yeah.” You nod slowly and fiddle with your ring, unable to bring yourself to say much more unprompted.

Harry swallows harshly before continuing, “It wasn’t a photo, was it? I thought about it some more, and he was a portrait.” He turns his head slightly and chances a glance at you, “Right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in contemplation, unsure of how to respond to his remark without accidentally word-vomiting.

“Cats out of the bag, I guess.” Your voice is weak, but you feel relieved when Harry looks over and smiles at you. Good to know he doesn’t hate you.

“Sirius doesn’t know.” It isn't a question, but rather a statement–one that has you hesitantly nodding.

You lean your head down on his shoulder tiredly, mumbling out a small excuse, “Reggie wasn’t ready. We were figuring some things out for ourselves for a while, and he has this annoying gap in his memory that I’m trying to learn more about.”

“Reggie?” You feel Harry turn his head down to peer at you, “Okay. Uhm, you don’t have to tell me everything now, but maybe when he’s up for it, you can bring him round to Sirius?”

Tugging your jacket tighter around your curled form, you nod against his shoulder before whispering a small thanks to the boy. It wasn’t the lengthy exchange you were expecting, but you weren’t upset about how it went. Actually, this was probably the best case scenario.

“So…Blaise?” His words are teasing and you’re surprised that he’s not accusing you of colluding with the boy, especially given how suspicious he’s been of Draco.

Groaning at the implications of his words, you shake your head fervently, “Absolutely not. We’re just friends, kinda. Honestly, he’s not so bad and I’m hoping that it can be a mutually beneficial friendship. Blaise’s mother has connections spanning the entirety of Europe, and I’m hoping that maybe I can learn some more about Regulus’ predicament if I get some help.”

“I see. If not Blaise, then Regulus?” Harry’s finger pokes into your ribs as he tries to fight the wide grin pulling at his lips.

“What?” Your voice comes out strained, but bewildered and it has Harry smiling cheekily.

“Well, he is quite handsome isn’t he?” Harry pauses before continuing, “Not as handsome as Sirius, though.”

Shaking your head, you respond woefully, “I will absolutely be telling him you said that. But is there something you want to tell me? I thought you were tripping over your own feet for Ginny?”

Harry emits a loud groan and gently shoves you to the side, ears flushing beet red. You laugh at your friend’s disgruntled expression and bask in the happy moment, satisfied that you lifted his spirits up.

The following weeks spin by in a blur, and you’re barely able to take the time to appreciate how uneventful it was. It was the night before Yule Break and you were draped over one of the library tables, head pressed against the cool wood as mountains of scrolls and parchments surrounded your motionless figure.

You had packed away your things the night before, excited to spend the break with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place (of course, you secretly had your own agenda). Harry was planning on heading to the Burrow for the second half of the break, which would leave you to attend to the recovering Black Lord by your lonesome.

Hopefully, you could enlist the help of Remus so you could sneak away and explore.

‘Have you died, little bird?’ Regulus’ voice is airy as it rings in your head.

‘Unfortunately not. Mind putting me out of my misery?’ The sudden exchange has you peeling your heavy eyes open to stare at a blank parchment next to your head. Your bleary vision slowly warps and dances before focusing.

‘You’ll have more than enough time to finish work over the break. Go rest unless you wish to miss the train tomorrow morning.’

‘I won’t miss it, I have you, my little alarm clock.’ Your tone is sickly sweet, and you could almost feel the way Regulus rolls his eyes at your words. Though, you supposed he was right, it would do you little good to be sleep-deprived on the first day of break.

Beginning to sort through the mayhem of papers on the table, you barely hear his response, ‘It is truly unfortunate that I am unable to dump water on you then.’

‘How gauche, Reg. Besides, you wouldn’t. You love me too much.’

Reg doesn’t even pause before he retorts, ‘I’m keen on tough love.’

‘Not my observation, you’re a big teddy bear.’ Your smile doesn’t falter, even when you hear footsteps echoing nearby.

‘A little ironic coming from a bleeding heart.’

‘Oh hush, don’t act like it runs for anyone other than you.’ You feel your face heat up at the admission, realizing that it was the farthest you’ve ever gotten at verbalizing your feelings.

‘I suppose we both make exceptions for each other, birdie.’

His words have your face blossoming in warmth, and your hand pauses to hover over your bag. The drumming of your heart failed to cease even as you laid down on your bed later that night. In fact, it only grew worse when Regulus shot you a teasing smile as you rolled over to peer at his portrait.

Merlin.

The start to your Yule Break was confusing to say the least.

It was merely your first day back at Grimmauld Place and a sudden swelling of magical energy coming from your pocket had you frantically pacing back and forth in the disappearing room.

Regulus’ portrait had suddenly thrummed with wound up magic the moment Sirius stalked over to give you a firm hug as you settled into the home. The reaction was almost instantaneous, with Sirius even drawing back in confusion, having felt something faintly draw at his magical energy.

You were quick to make an excuse to run up the top floor, practically barreling through the familiar door once you caught sight of the crystal knob.

Regulus was currently propped up on the dresser, eyes glazed over as he remained unresponsive. You could feel Sirius’ magic wrapping around the frame and interlacing with the faint magic emitting from the object, only further piquing your curiosity.

After a few more rounds of circling the room, you’re dragged from your pool of thoughts at the sound of Regulus’s voice.

“Birdie.” It comes out strained, like he was still trying to sort out his thoughts.

You practically fly over to the aged furniture, pressing your hands against the edge of the dark wood in worry, “Reg. Are you okay? What happened? Should I do something?”

Regulus smiles softly at the flurry of questions, curls shaking as he tilts his head, “One question at a time. But yes, I’m alright. As for what happened…that’s a bit more convoluted.”

“It’s okay, take your time. Sirius thinks that I’m off organizing my classwork anyway,” You drawl quietly.

“Good thinking, my brother was always amusingly frightened by academic diligence.” Regulus’ musing has you propping your elbows on the dresser, keen on allowing the boy to guide the conversation.

“Frightened he may be, but I think he’s fond of me now that he knows I’ve saved his life, twice.” You raise two fingers and wiggle them for emphasis, managing to nick a small grin from Regulus.

“I remembered something. When Sirius hugged you, it seemed to dismantle some kind of block in my memory.” Regulus’ words come out dryly, but he’s still smiling at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

You feel your eyes widen at his words, “That’s fantastic, Reg!” You pause before leaning back, “Right? That’s good, right?”

The boy nods, before he sweeps a hand to push back his curls, “It’s amazing. Overwhelming, but amazing. It’s just, with the block gone, I remember everything. Including that two week gap before my death.”

Your breath hitches, “So, human-Regulus put the block into place then?”

Regulus nods slowly in confirmation, “Yes. Why he did it though still remains a little fuzzy to me. As of now, I only really can make sense of a few details, mostly about the Dark Lord.”

Your lips part as you try to formulate a coherent sentence, but you’re too surprised by the revelation to say anything, so Regulus continues, “Birdie, the Dark Lord was creating horcruxes. That’s likely how I met my demise. I remember it. Shortly before I–human-me disappeared, he was frantic over it.”

“Horcruxes?” The word feels bitter on your tongue, but you fall short on an answer for what it might mean, “I haven’t heard of such a thing before. Do you reckon that Harry has?”

“I think so. If not him, then Dumbledore might have an inkling of suspicion.” Seeing your questioning gaze, Regulus sighs and lifts his eyes to meet yours, “I’m not too familiar with what a horcrux is exactly, but I do know it’s a horrifically dark artifact. One capable of splitting someone’s soul through means of murder.”

“Soul splitting? That sure has ‘Voldemort’ written all over it.” Your breathy laugh does nothing to relieve the sudden pressure in your chest, realizing that Voldemort was much more than just a psychotic wizard deluded by prophecies.

Shaking your head, you force your anxiety aside, “It’s okay. If Dumbledore has an idea of it, then maybe there’s still a chance after all. Let’s skip over this right now, it’ll do us no good to spoil Yule so early. We can approach Harry about it after the break.”

Regulus slowly nods, he too, investing his hopes in the eclectic headmaster, “Alright. There is something else I remember. I don’t know as much about it though since human-me was a bit hush hush on the subject. That, or he thought it wasn’t worth indulging after the whole horcrux news.” You bite down a laugh as Regulus rolls his eyes at the thought.

“Oh? Do tell.” You lean forward on your toes, pressing your weight fully on the dresser.

“It might be in one of the boxes here. It’s some kind of rare book or journal that my Uncle Alphard gifted to me the year everything fell into chaos,” Regulus relays.

Perking up, you quickly shuffle over to the dusty boxes in the middle of the room, bent on finding out what the boy was talking about. As you rifled through the endless pool of miscellaneous items, your fingers suddenly bump against a leathery surface at the bottom of a particular buried box.

Fishing out the promising item, you let out a triumphant cry as you hold the book up in the air, “Reggie, is it this one?” You clamber off the floor and practically thrust the tome into the portrait.

“Bingo. Good job, little bird.” Regulus’ words are colored in excitement and you’re reluctant to take away the book to read the title, knowing that Regulus was eager to look at the book as well.

Slowly, you retract the item and flip it over, reading the words etched across the dusty orange cover.

Fuck.

“It’s in Norwegian!” Your cry of dismay has Regulus raising his eyebrows.

Seeming to take pity on your defeated form, which was slowly sinking onto the floor again, Regulus quickly comes up with a solution, “Birdie, just use a translation charm.”

“Oh. Right.” You frown lightly at the realization, profusely apologizing to Professor Flitwick under your breath. Some Charms maven, you were.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You should go eat something, I can feel your brain fog from here,” Regulus’ teasing only draws a groan from your slumped form.

Whipping out your wand, you cast a quiet reducio at the book, thankful that the disappearing room seemed to block out the trace on your wand. You were careless when you first shrank Regulus’ portrait before fifth year, forgetting about the underage magic trace, but luckily the Ministry never owled you a letter of warning.

Tucking away Regulus and the leather book in your pockets, you swiftly make your way out of the room and down the dimly lit stairs, hands reaching to rub your empty stomach. One thing you didn’t miss during your times at Grimmauld Place was the lack of proper food. Kreacher could cook decently when he wanted to, but he never really seemed to spare an effort when Sirius asked.

As you enter the threshold of the kitchen, you see a delighted Harry seated at one end of the table, and a flabbergasted Sirius at the other end.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Your voice interrupts the silent conversation they were having, with Harry turning to face your approaching figure.

In spite of Harry’s active attention, it’s Sirius who speaks up, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiles widely, “Prongslet was just telling me about his success in Potions.”

You nod enthusiastically at the reminder, “Harry is on his way to a Potions Mastery at this rate. Slughorn is practically yodeling his praises.” Your words have Harry rolling his eyes, but Sirius seems even more pleased at the reaction.

Clapping your hands on Harry’s shoulders, you bring up a pressing matter to the men, “Now, how about we continue this chat over lunch, I’m starved.”

The next few days of your break are spent following a routine of reading the tome, eating with Harry and Sirius, and surprisingly, exchanging letters with Blaise.

The Italian heir was quite entertaining to communicate with, even through letters. You both established an unusual bond, and you found yourself finding common ground with him over your interests in dissecting anachronistic pureblood traditions. Blaise was surprisingly progressive about a lot of the political issues that wracked Britain, having grown up in Italy for a long while.

Apparently British purebloods were the only ones on the upkeep about blood purity.

You had spent about four days at Grimmauld Place before Harry was off sending a letter to the Burrow, notifying the Weasleys of his approaching visit.

You were a bit dispirited to have him leaving so soon, but you knew he was eager to see Hermione and Ron (and Ginny, but he would likely send a stinging jinx at you for saying as much).

It was the day after Harry had left when you decided to do your research more openly, knowing that Sirius had little concern about what books you were reading. As you progressed in your studying of the Norwegian tome, you realized that the book was concerned with discussions and theories on magical essences and their temperament, which was interesting to say the least.

You could feel it. The truth behind Regulus’ portrait was somewhere in this book.

Though you knew very little about the capabilities of magical essences, you realized that you were much more in tune with reading and feeling other wizard’s magic, so if anyone could figure it out, it would be you. No, it had to be you.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to tag along with Prongslet, kid?” Sirius’ voice has you raising your head from your reading, the man casually propping his feet on the opposite end of the table.

“If I’m not here, who will look after you, old man?” You mused.

Sirius huffs in indignation, “I’m not some pallid geriatric. I’ll be fine on my own. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be off with Molly? I know it’s not my cooking that’s keeping you here.”

“If you keep complaining, I just might regret my decision. But nah, I like it here. Plus the Burrow is too loud to get work done.” You droned as you brought your gaze back to the text in front of you.

“Your head is always halfway down a book, kid. You know…you remind me a lot of my brother, he was a huffy scholar growing up.” Sirius’ voice is even, but as you flicker your eyes up to meet his, you can see the undeniable grief lingering in them.

Sitting up, you clear your throat, “Your brother? Were you guys close?”

You already knew the answer, having been given a brief rundown of Regulus’ homelife sometime ago during a sleepless night at Hogwarts.

“Merlin, no. Not when we were older at least. But he used to follow me around as kids, toddling after me with his cherub cheeks and wobbly knees. Admittedly, he was adorable as a youngster. Never had anyone look up to me like he did…then my parents sunk their claws into him.” Sirius seems to be reminiscing more to himself now, words growing quieter with each passing second.

“Do you miss him?” Your question is barely above a whisper.

Sirius raises his eyes to study you for a few moments before somberly tapping his knuckles against the table, “Everyday.”

Reaching into your pocket, you wrap your fingers around the familiar frame, looking back down at the table in contemplation.

‘Reg...’

‘It’s okay.’ Regulus’ words are quiet, his voice sounding choked up. You could tell he was touched and relieved by his brother’s words, unable to hide just how much he missed the man.

With his approval, you decide to take the leap, “Sirius, I think there’s something you should know about.”

The man’s eyebrows raise at your words and he leans forward in interest. You inhale shakily as you steel yourself, confidence wavering as different scenarios flurried around in your head.

Before you can unveil the truth, however, a blast of blue light bursts through the wall and makes its way to the center of the table.

A stag.

The appearance of Harry’s familiar patronus has your blood running cold and you leap up from your seat, seeing Sirius slowly rise from his, as well.

“The Burrow has been attacked. Voldemort knows.”

The patronus dissipates, and you suddenly can't breathe.

He knows.

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