#recognise their voice . i think maybe i was drunk and maybe so were they . i have no idea who they are but their voice is so pretty.

[oatbugs]

found a bunch of old voice memos and this is the first time i've listened to my own voice and thought yeah it makes so much sense that people have loved this person . woah

#personal #i was singing a song under another song (saw my wings with the bodies in the gutter). there is someone else and i cant #recognise their voice . i think maybe i was drunk and maybe so were they . i have no idea who they are but their voice is so pretty. #i ask them if theyre ok and they ask if im sure im okay with this. and then they say see you soon and theres the sound of the door. #theres the voice of someone else after this too. they say listening to chase atlantic feels like sex . i have no idea who this person is. #this file is full of strings rising and falling. reverb of a massive space. some symphony inside interrupted by another symphony. #i remember laying on the floor of the orchestra hall to listen and to hide. i remember laying my hand on the floor and thinking i could #recognise this piece just by the way the ground vibrates. #i've been thinking a lot about mereology. sorry for not talking about nihilism the past week - everyone around me has been falling apart. #this month i have watched others be stricken by grief. the other side of the equation. one day i will create a poem about the way holes are #one whole part. the way disconnects are connected to the fabric of absence. (i saw your guts without the skin attached) #i could hear how in love i was when i asked the unknown voice if they would like some water. i blew out the candles and one stayed lit. #you don't need to tell me. forever and ever. strictly fall for academics and people with a passion. asked my mathematician about manifolds #and he asked me about his hair. i will wake up tomorrow if only it is to spend half an hour making tea. the concept of going to my country #is an oncoming train with a minute's delay. i told them i want to be their friend and they told me theyd like to meet up soon #and test how deep they can bite like good friends do. do you feel ashamed of my degree? do you feel ashamed of #your dry lips? skull fast-tracked to the floor. i have a jar of hand-picked dried damask roses for tea. ill tell you about k-theory until #you shut me up.

[fangswbenefits]

Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!” 

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed. 

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur. 

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…” 

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.”

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. 

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise  and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods. 

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance. 

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind. 

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others. 

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately. 

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles? 

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…” 

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body. 

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return. 

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity. 

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls. 

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished. 

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration. 

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you. 

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and 

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

#astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader

[miraclewoozi]

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. -l.c

pair : dino x fem!reader. prompt : “say you want me, and i’m yours.” SMUT. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  wc : 5k. heads up / smut tags : ex-boyfriend!chan. everyone’s down horrendous. drinking/some alcohol consumption prior to the fucking (they aren’t drunk tho). chan is able to lift reader and carry her a short distance. oral (f rec). backshots. unprotected p-in-v sex. reader has solid arch game. chan calls reader good girl/pretty girl/ baby. it’s all very needy. notes : i had idubilu chan on the brain for a big portion of writing. this was supposed to be a drabble and then ended up longer than some of my actual fics, so. bon appetite i guess?

There’s a list of places you think you’d be okay to run into one of your exes. 

In the grocery store, for starters. At the gym. In a bar, at your favourite pizza place, the library… None of them would exactly be fun, but one way or another, you believe that they would all be quite manageable. 

Further down are family events. While on a date with someone else. At the beach, or a swimming pool. A doctors office. Considerably more uncomfortable. Would probably warrant a large glass of wine as soon as you got home. You would live, though. No doubt about it. 

But at a wedding? Not only is it not on there, it’s quite high up on its own index.

The Crisis List. 

Yet this is the position in which you find yourself on this beautiful summer’s evening. You suppose it’s sort of what you get for letting yourself be set up with a friend of a friend while you were in college and mixing your social circles: this is some sort of twisted, universal revenge. But of all the places you’ve pictured running into Chan and succeeding to pace yourself through awkward small-talk before parting ways again… you never imagined that a celebration of eternal love would be the setting. 

You recognised the sound of his voice pretty much as soon as you arrived, but you were thankfully seated on opposite sides of the aisle during the ceremony itself. It was therefore pretty easy to keep your eyes off him and instead focus on what was going on at the front of the room. This wasn’t so simple when you only knew one other person at your table during the dinner service and Chan was seated barely ten feet away, and every time you glanced over to him, he was blowing bubbles and entertaining a group of young kids. Every time he laughed, or even every time he made one of them laugh, your head would snap over on instinct. Though you locked eyes with him a few times, mostly you were able to look away again before he had the chance to catch you.

Regardless, seeing that brilliant smile from across the room full of strangers made your stomach twist, so much so that you couldn’t even finish your dessert. 

Thus far, the day has passed without any real incident; dinner was three hours ago and you’ve managed to avoid him almost perfectly. You keep telling yourself that if you can just make it a little while longer, you’ll be able to go back upstairs and retire to your hotel room, and maybe even eventually, this will become another one of those memories you can laugh about with your friends. 

Just a little while longer.

In the meantime, a stool at the very end of the bar is your sanctuary and it has been for so long that your ass has started to go numb. With more people in attendance at the reception than there were at the ceremony and dinner portions of the day, you’re doing a pretty fantastic job keeping your distance from Chan. His friends, too. Everyone, if you’re being completely honest: with your back to the room at large, you could forgive anyone here for assuming that you peaked early, got wasted and just no longer have the legs to move from your perch. 

But the truth is that you’re still nursing the same flute of champagne you were given on your way in. Still drawing your fingertip round and around the rim of the same glass, wiping off the lipstick marks you leave with every tiny new sip. Still watching the same bubbles rise up and burst at the same surface. You’re about as sober as anyone on the planet has ever been. 

At least, almost certainly, you’re the most sober adult in the building. 

You know it’s not exactly fair to have removed yourself from the fun like this on the happiest day of your friends’ lives. You’re overjoyed for them, you really are, and you sort of wish you could just shake this off and go about your business, pretending he’s not here so that you could enjoy yourself properly. You’ve never claimed to be the life and soul of the party, but you know being so distant is a new look on you.

If only it was as easy as simply caring less.

But you’re surrounded by happy couples and faced with the man who is the definition of ‘right person, wrong time’. How can you possibly think about anything else?

Your spine tingles with the feeling of someone hovering behind you and you pick your glass up into your hand, ready to spin around and tell a concerned bride — for the fifth time — that you promise, you’re okay. To keep up the lie about the bellyache you’ve been pretending to have for an hour now just to get her to go back to her party. You square your shoulders and put a smile onto your face, but you don’t have the chance to turn around and put up a façade. The person — who is decidedly not who you were expecting — appears to your right instead, a solid frame in a black suit swallowing up your periphery. Your excuses fade away to static in your brain. 

“Is this seat taken?” Chan asks, fingertips brushing over the leather of the chair adjacent to you. “Are you… waiting for someone?”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. There’s no running away now. “Nope. All yours.”

He swings one leg over the stool and settles into it, both hands resting up on the bar. He, too, twitches his fingers against his glass. He, too, fails to even glance at you. 

“Been a while, huh?” He says after a few seconds. Even though music continues playing behind you both, it’s nowhere near as loud as the thick, uncomfortable silence that had started to settle between you. 

A while is sort of a massive understatement. You haven’t seen him in… four? Five years? Not since you left college and he accepted the job offer of a lifetime, pulling him all the way to the other side of the country. Not since, despite your shared willingness to try, you realised that the whole long-distance thing didn’t work for either of you; not since you ended up calling time on your relationship after just four months of being apart. 

Ending things meant saying goodbye to amost two and a half years though, in total.

You’d you’d never been broken up with over a video call before. It fucking sucked.

“I didn’t know you were around,” you say instead of answering the obvious. “Are you just here for this, or…?”

Chan takes a long sip from his drink and finishes the glass, pushing it away from himself. He shakes his head, scrunching his nose a little. You were surprised not to see him with some sort of a whiskey in-hand, so his reaction to the chug makes sense: he was never that big into wines. Some things never change. 

“I got promoted. Came with a relocation,” he tells you. This time, he turns his head and looks at you properly, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. 

“Oh, shit. Congratulations,” you offer, tilting your now mostly empty glass in his direction before draining the little bit in the bottom, just like he did. You know it’s probably all in your own head that the fizz gives you a bit of a confidence boost, but you find the nerve to move to face him fully: you’ve never been one to turn your nose up at a positive coincidence, after all. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head. “It’s… good to be back.”

A few seconds later, he tags on, “and it’s really good to see you.”

The bartender comes back to see if she can get you anything else to drink now you’ve finally finished your champagne and Chan puts his card down for a round of your choosing. It helps loosen up the tension in your shoulders, stops you bouncing your leg against the rest beneath your seat, makes it a little bit easier to settle into a back and forth with him. Eventually, the conversation starts to flow as if you were never really apart. 

You laugh at his bad jokes. Chan shoves you playfully when you make some back. He gets so invested in catching up on what’s been going on in your life that he doesn’t even tell you what the promotion he got is, nor where he’s been relocated to. 

As the following few hours tick by, he doesn’t leave your side. Even when people come over to talk to him, even when your friends’ eyes start to find you together and linger, as they attempt to read your lips, pick apart your body language, as they begin whispering behind their hands. He takes exactly one bathroom break, and he finds his way straight back to the chair he left. He even scoots it a little bit closer.

And the longer he stays glued to your left, the more you find yourself starting to hope a little harder that wherever he’s living now, it’s not too far away. That whatever him being ‘back’ means, something happens because of it.

Your something comes in the form of your companion trying to persuade you to get up and dance with him. He fails, numerous times; you have a whole arsenal of excuses, some of which are recycled and things that he heard a very long time ago, but others are new. He raises his eyebrows at a couple of them, though you don’t know if he’s just shocked at your attempts or actually impressed. None of them work on him though. You should have remembered that he wasn’t a quitter.

“My shoes hurt,” you tell him on attempt number five. “You go, I’ll stay here.”

Clearly, this line of defence isn’t good enough either. 

“Just one song,” Chan asks again as he stands up from his chair and picks up one of your wrists, this time. You look down at where he’s holding you, but he doesn’t. “Please? Just… for me?”

“When was the last time I did anything ‘just for you’?” You scoff incredulously, shaking your head. 

It doesn’t. His eyes soften and he takes a small step closer to you, those perfect lips of his pressing into a pout. 

He drops his fingers lower and squeezes your hand lightly. “Too long ago. I miss it.”

Something in his stare looks a little far away and you wonder what exactly it is that he’s thinking about. Is he remembering the times you would bring him his favourite snacks when he was sick, ice his injuries after gruelling dance practices, brush sleep out of his eyes early in the mornings when he stayed up too late and couldn’t get out of bed, but really needed to make it to his 8AM classes? Is he remembering when you’d put band-aids on his papercuts? Make sure his laptop was fully charged when he had long study days? Pick him and his friends up from the bars and let him lean all his weight against you as you dragged him into your apartment?

(Those needy nights where you’d let him call you the prettiest girl in the world as he snuggled into your side and nuzzled his cold nose against your warm cheek? When you’d let him tell you, without even rolling your eyes, that you were his everything, the reason he had any strength, the love of his life, the only person he’d ever need—)

He uses your distractedness to his full advantage; as soon as the muscles in your arm go slack, he pulls you again and this time succeeds in getting you to your feet. You stumble a few steps towards him and he ends up leading you all the way over to the dance floor, grinning proudly the entire time.

“One song,” you stress, hanging your head to try and conceal the fact that you’re definitely blushing hard.

“Just one,” he lies, glancing back at you. 

You know he's lying, too. High-flying job aside, he’s always been a dancer at heart: when he turns around to face you, there’s a glint in his eyes that says ‘one... or five.’ 

Confirming your suspicions, seven songs later, you’re still up there with him. You’ve stopped caring about your dumb shoes, or having too many sets of eyes on you, or whether anyone here is murmuring about it. How could you mind, when he keeps finding little ways to touch you again? When he’s singing his heart out, serenading you with corny 90’s love songs, hand on his heart and everything? 

How could you mind, when he so clearly doesn’t care?

And the thing is… no part of you thinks that this is a bad idea. It could never be a bad thing to let somebody make your heart race this way and your brain so fuzzy; just seeing him grin at you as he extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it, feels like being twenty one all over again. And when he spins you and spins you and spins you until you’re dizzy, falling over your own feet and staggering until you land against his solid chest, laughing… when he catches you in both arms, and darts his tongue out over his lips at the exact moment you look at his face… 

Perhaps your rare moment of unabashed bravery is spurred on by the way he drinks you up like an elixir. Perhaps it’s spurred on by the way he adjusts himself to hold you tighter against him, perhaps it’s spurred on by the fact that this right here is exactly what you feel like you’ve been missing. Whatever the reason, you hook a finger through one of the belt-loops on his pants and manage to find your voice long enough to speak.

“My room or yours?” You ask, quietly enough only for him to hear, loudly enough that he can’t mistake you.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he brings his palm up between your shoulder blades. “Don’t care,” he says, ducking lower and brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Just… pick one. As soon as possible.”

A few people have already started to leave: couples with young families, older relatives who are getting tired, friends who have work in the morning, so you don’t feel too bad about slipping out into the corridor with Chan in tow as soon as you’ve grabbed your things. The elevator door closes behind you and you feel the mechanism start to pull you upwards, away from the hotel’s function room and towards the fourth floor to your own suite. Chan presses kiss after kiss to the back of your neck as soon as you’re alone, hands slipping around your waist and joining together just below your belly-button. 

“They have… cameras in these, you know,” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access anyway. 

He chuckles quietly, nosing just behind your ear. “Okay?” He says, kissing you there too, bunching your dress in his hand and pulling it a little higher up your thigh. “So what?”

“So… fucking… public indecency,” you laugh, a little taken aback by his brazenness. 

It’s hard to be stern with him when he’s acting as if he never forgot how to press every single one of your buttons. Hell, as if he never stopped pushing them, in the first place. You lay one hand over both of his and squeeze gently, encouraging his teeth to keep grazing over the skin of your shoulder. You’ve never had any resolve when it comes to him. He clearly hasn’t forgotten.

Just as you’re relaxing into it, the elevator pings and you jolt away from him just in time for the door to open. The middle aged woman waiting to get in eyes you both as you rush out into the hallway and Chan grabs hold of your hand: you’re fairly sure she sucks her front teeth just before the door closes, but you don’t care. You’re too busy counting the rooms until you get to yours. 

409, 410, 411… 

“You look so fucking good right now,” Chan groans as you whip turn a corner and he quickens his pace to catch up, walking so fast he should probably be running instead. 

421, 422… 

“423,” you breathe, fumbling in your purse for the key-card. 

In a flash, you wave it over the sensor and pull down on the handle: before you have the chance to get dizzy from the speed of the turn, Chan has you pressed against the door from the inside. He doesn’t wait to be invited. He barely gives you the chance to catch your breath from your power-walk from the reception. Both his hands press into your hips when he brings his mouth down against yours, lips scorching hot, lifted up at the edges in a grin. Your knees go weak and you hold onto his biceps for stability, which… maybe, with how thick and sturdy they feel beneath your palms, isn’t a great way to help you calm down. 

When his tongue presses into your mouth and he tastes you for the first time in what feels like forever, you know the only thing keeping you standing is his strength. His hands, pinning you to the wood behind you. His body, pressing against you everywhere it possibly can. His muscular thigh, slotted between yours, giving you something to relax down against but also, to find a tiny little bit of friction from.

He dips down a little lower, looping his hands around you just below your ass, and with a quick movement he lifts you up off the floor completely. You hook your ankles together behind him, shifting to get higher up on his hips: when he steps away from the door, you drop your head down to his shoulder and a smirk replaces his prior very needy expression, feeling how warm you are at your core now your dress has hiked up around your waist. 

“Say you want me,” he says, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He knows you do. 

“Huh?” 

Chan repeats, “say you want me.” 

You grasp harder at his hair and pull, but he doesn’t move away from your neck, just keeps kissing you at your sweet-spot until he’s walked a few paces to the middle of the room, holding you up over the hotel’s generously sized bed. 

“Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

He’s… yours?

It takes you a moment to process it but you don’t have to think twice about how you respond, even though your stomach flips at this very open-hearted confession. The entire way back up here, part of you expected this to be little more than a one-night-only special event, but…

“Shit,” you whine, feeling his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear at your hip and tug. He pulls back from you at the sound of your voice, determined to look you in the eyes when you say it. 

Faces just inches apart, you admit, “I– I want you, Chan. Please. I want you so much.”

He bounces you up a little bit higher to get you to unhook your ankles and proceeds to basically drop you down onto the mattress, pushing both his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and reaching for his necktie. In a manner you can only describe as obscenely smooth, he grabs the knot and pulls, tugging it side to side to make it looser. The expensive silk comes undone easily. He balls it in his fist. You watch him toss his tie to the side, snap open a few more buttons, and with heavily lidded eyes, he plants one knee on the comforter, before crawling up the length of your body until you’re face-to-face again.

You take care of the remaining buttons on his shirt for him as he trails his lips all over your throat, your chest, your shoulders: even down your arms, to the crooks of your elbows, everywhere he can reach with your clothes still on. When his upper body is bare, he disregards the fact that you’re still wearing anything at all and kisses down your torso anyway. 

He lays between your thighs and presses his lips to them, too, pushing your dress up higher until it’s bunched up around your ribcage. One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and the other one reaches up to grab hold of yours, pulling it down to lace your fingers back into his hair. You do as he silently asks, and you swear his eyes roll back into his head at the first little pull. 

Chan always liked giving, but he loved it when you used him like a little toy, tugging and moving him around until you couldn’t handle him anymore.

Some things never change.

You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. That you could take him now, if he wanted to hurry and get to it, because you’re already feeling yourself flutter at the thought of having him buried inside you. But his lips part and you feel the tip of his tongue drag through your folds, separating them, exposing you; he collects your arousal and swallows it back, pressing his tongue into your hole, swirling it around your clit, sending sparks up and down your spine.

That ridiculous, stupid idea dies magnificently. You let Chan lose himself in you, and in equal parts, you lose yourself in him. In the cold bite of the ring decorating his middle finger as he trails them down your sensitive skin, in the way he grunts and moans and praises you between your legs. You selfish– and selfless–ly let him have his way, right up until you feel so tense you could snap. 

Sure, you could let yourself come undone like this. Easily. In seconds, even, because he’s got you right there and you’re battling not to let it wash over you. But there’s something you need even more than the euphoria of your own release.

You scrunch your fist in his strands so hard that it forces him to pull away from you, gasping and cringing at the sting. At this, before he has the chance to ask what’s wrong, why you’ve stopped, if you’re okay, you press up onto one elbow, straps hanging off your shoulders, your own hair a mess. Somehow, Chan still looks up at you with glittering eyes, so shiny you can see their sweet, questioning gaze even in the dark. 

“Need you, now,” you tell him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He wipes over his lips on the back of his hand and nods, pulling himself up onto his knees. You let go of him and tug your dress up over your head while he fiddles with the buckle on his belt. 

“Flip over,” he says huskily, tugging it free just as quickly as he did with his tie, and when it thunks to the floor, you hear him start to move his pants down his legs too. 

You do as he says, turning onto your front, bracing yourself on your knees with your hands clasped together beneath your head. Your back arches naturally for him, pressing your hips higher into the air; his breath catches at the sight of you, your perfect ass, your dribbling pussy. 

It’s his favourite view. Always has been. Shit, nothing since the last time he was with you has ever come close.

“Deep breath for me,” he says, so soft in comparison to the way his fingers on one hand grasp at your hip and you feel the blunt edges of his nails digging into your skin. You inhale through your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. “That’s it. My good girl.”

He’s so fucking hard when he finally drags his tip through your folds, so heavy and thick when he pushes inside you inch by inch. The stretch is more intense than you remember, and despite slowly letting the breath you sucked in leave your lungs, you feel all of your muscles go tense. Your eyes squeeze shut. Your torso goes tight. You know your cunt hugs him because of how he lets go of his length and lays his hand flat in the middle of your back, dragging his thumb back and forth, trying to soothe you through it.

“Easy,” he says to you, slowing but not stopping until he’s buried all the way inside you. He’s so deep, you swear he nudges something he shouldn’t. So far inside you that you don’t know what to do with yourself. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

It’s a little difficult when you feel more full now than you ever have, but slowly, you manage to loosen up and it’s only when you give a small nod of your head and an 'mhm' that he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Shallow, to start with, but with the angle he slides into you at, he might as well be going full depth, full force, full speed with how feverish this already is. You bunch the comforter in your fist, letting those familiar sensations of being fucked by Chan take over, letting the discomfort subside until it's replaced only by pleasure.

By which point, he's stopped treating you like a fragile doll, and has started to handle you like the person he wishes he never lost.

Those dancer hips haven't gone to waste, you realise, as he snaps them fluidly into you, the harsh slap of skin-on-skin punctuating every single sound that escapes you both. Sometimes, he pulls you back, spearing you wholly on his length, letting you do some of the work and control the pace. Sometimes, he holds you completely still so that he can have it all.

At all times, you feel yourself losing your mind piece by piece. Though you've tried to be with other people since that horrendous breakup, it's never managed to stick, and you find yourself thinking that maybe in a way, you were waiting for him. Hoping that one day, he'd waltz his way back into your life and sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forgot just how well he can give it to you. Praying that the universe was going to give you another chance.

One of his hands slips around your waist, now, and you feel him come down lower, pressing his chest against your back. His thrusts stop being so long and instead, he settles for harsh, deep ruts. His fingers find and start strumming over your clit, and you can feel yourself start to break apart with gasps and choked moans and whines of his name.

You're done for, and he knows it, but he still teases you as he kisses up your spine.

"Wanna feel you come, pretty girl," he says. His fingers move so easily that it takes everything you have not to collapse beneath him. “Missed feeling this pretty pussy around me. Wasn’t the same watching you play with it on the phone.”

You hide your face in the comforter and gasp, that beautiful heat starting to rise up inside you again. “Fuck, Chan—”

“That’s it,” he guides you, grunting with every little spasm of your walls. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed— missed—” you try to say, but he finds just the right pattern to make you squeak and you tug harder at the sheets. “Oh my God—”

Your universe explodes as he hits just the right spot inside you and you feel your peak slam through you, hips jerking back to meet his until there’s no room for any air to pass between your bodies. Chan stills, letting you ride yourself through it, easing up a little with the pressure of his fingers but still keeping them moving to milk every ounce of pleasure that he can from you.

With your thighs still shaking, you buckle downwards and he slips out of you unintentionally as you fight to catch your breath. You’re still seeing spots, still trying to put your thoughts in the right order, but when he smooths his hands over your ass and down the backs of your thighs, still up on his knees behind you, you slowly start to come back to Earth.

You slowly move round to lie on your back so you can look up at him, his still hard, now soaked cock sitting heavily against his thigh. He settles his hands on your knees, and you lean over to the side to pass your finger over one of the light switches. The one behind the headboard flickers to life and illuminates him: a sheen of sweat makes his broad frame gleam, his rosy blush makes your chest stutter.

“I missed you too,” you say quietly, unsure now if he was just saying so in the heat of the moment or if it was the truth.

You never needed to worry, though. Not if the way he drops down onto one elbow and kisses your newly regained breath straight back out of your lungs, cupping your cheek with his other hand is anything to go by.

“You meant it, then? You really want me?” He asks, pulling away only to drag his thumb over the corner of your mouth. You nod, turning your head a little and pursing your lips forward, pressing a kiss to his skin.

“I never stopped,” you tell him.

Little celebratory fireworks start to dance in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah?” He breathes, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. “Good. Neither did I.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3 thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dino x you #dino x reader #dino imagines #j writes. #mw500party! #*

[taurizzz]

You Got It, pt. 3

Bada Lee x Reader

Synopsis: Y/n wants nothing to do with Bada, but Bada cannot bring herself to let y/n go.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Update: you never wanted to dance again.

Your dancing career lasted all about 12 minutes, but the idea of dance just reminded you of bada and she was the last person you wanted on your mind.

Yet, she was the only one on your mind.

It didn't help that she was blowing up your phone, alternating between texting and calling. Each attempt ending in failure as the look of her name pop up on your phone made you sick to your stomach.

You felt so stupid. Coming to Korea was only supposed to last three months, yet here you are, catching feelings for someone you probably wont ever see again. And to think she liked you.

Little ol' you.

You weren’t like the crowd Bada hung around. You trip over thin air, you aren’t popular, you’re go to university for a practical degree, afraid to try chase your dreams because it’s not financially realistic. You’re just y/n l/n, and you were regular.

An ordinary girl, not made to be with someone of Bada's calibre.

Maybe that’s why you ran away from the party as soon as you saw Bada and Redlic. Deep down inside, you knew that nothing would ever happen between you and the dancer. You had never been one to be unrealistic and to allow yourself to fall into the depths of your fantasies. Your dreams, delusions and true desires were hidden in your soul, unspoken and invisible to those around you. You can’t allow yourself to have false hope, especially when it comes to love.

Bada Lee had been the centre of those desires since the day you met.

And now you find yourself sitting outside your Airbnb, the night before your flight home, with a heavy weighted pressure on your chest and silent pleas to the stars for something good to happen.

You can hear the door leading inside slide open. Expecting it to be Gigi, you don’t bother to look up from your position between your knees, closing your eyes to try forget the past three months.

“Y/n-” that voice isn’t Gigi’s. Your eyes shoot wide open, easily recognising the voice you’ve been hearing every day since that dance class.

“Not now Bada,” you whisper into the dead of the night, keeping you head between your legs like a kicked puppy.

You felt the dancer plop down beside you, gently brushing against you and you couldn’t tell if she had done that on purpose or not. There was no point fretting about it, Bada isn’t yours and will never be.

“Gigi let me in,” Bada started to say, taking a deep breath, “she said you’re leaving tomorrow.”

You lifted your head slightly, to relieve your neck from the discomfort of bending it for long. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the girl beside you.

“You haven’t been picking up my calls-”

“Why should I?” Animosity fills your tone as you interrupt Bada, who just sighs in response. Silence fills the space between you two as neither of you are quite sure on what to say to each other.

Clearing her throat quietly, breaking the awkward synergy between you and her, Bada takes the first step to mending your relationship.

“I’m so sorry for the other night, y/n. I didn’t mean to kiss Redlic, I was drunk and I had been trying to look for you but then she said she needed to talk to me-” Bada stops talking as you finally decide to look at her.

Bada couldn’t help but think you looked so precious with your puffy eyes and red cheeks from the cold. She hated that she was the one who made you feel like this, but she couldn’t be more grateful to be the one with you right now.

As you two stare at each other, a quiet longing shared between your eyes, you whisper for Bada to carry on. So she does.

“I followed her into the room and I asked her what’s wrong,” Bada sighs as she rubs her face with her hands, “Redlic said that she saw the way I looked at you and it wasn’t fair because she’s liked me longer than I’ve even known you, and then she kissed me.”

Your breath hitches slightly as Bada recalls her and Redlic kissing, the memory flashes through your head making your face scrunch in hurt and disgust.

Bada continues, “and then you walked in y/n. I swear, when you did, it was like I had immediately sobered up and knew I fucked up right away. I tried to chase after you but Redlic tried to keep me back, she said I should leave you alone and stay with her but I couldn’t. When I managed to get outside, your Uber was driving away.”

Tears prick your eyes at Bada’s explanation, you didn’t know what this meant for you two. You were leaving tomorrow. Deep in your thoughts, you don’t notice Bada taking one of your hands that were cracking your fingers, something you did when you were nervous, bringing you back to reality.

Staring down at your interlocked hands, you didn’t have the willpower to pull your hand out of the embrace and you simply didn’t want to.

“Bada,” you hoarsely say, “we’re not even together, you don’t need to tell me any of this.”

“That’s the thing y/n, I want us to be together. This past month has been the best month of my life since you came along,” Bada leans into you, your shoulders huddled next to each other.

You shut your eyes, almost in phantom pain. You were confused, why did she have to come here? Why did she want to be with you, knowing you’re leaving? Why did your heart swell when she said those words?

Bada suddenly stands up, pulling you along as she still has a deathly grip on your hand. Letting out yelps of protest, your questions go unanswered as she pulls you out of the house and to her car. You hesitantly climb into the vehicle, eyeing out the taller girl, who just gives you a toothy grin and gets in the car herself.

“Where are we going, Bada?” You ask as she pulls out of your driveway. She doesn’t answer you as she drives along the streets of Seoul, the gently colours inconsistently lighting up her face and you couldn’t help but think she belonged in an art gallery.

As the drive continues, silence settling over you, a hand grips your thigh. You look over at Bada to see she has one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on you, her thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

Why is this happening to me?! You’re frustrated in several ways, not understanding why the universe is doing this to you a day before you return home.

Suddenly, you notice the recognisable sign that has been a repetitive part of your life in the past month.

JustJerk Dance Academy

“You brought me to your studio?” You are so confused, but Bada nods and hurries out the car to open your door.

You whisper a quiet “thank you”, butterflies filling your entire body at the way Bada smiles at you before grabbing your hand, directing you both inside.

As she goes to open the door, she places a hand over your eyes. You yelp in surprise, grabbing Bada’s wrist that’s nearest to your face.

“It’s ok, y/n.” Bada whispers into your ear from behind you. You feel her body against your back and her hot breath on your neck, shivers run down your spine from her closeness to you. “Just trust me.”

You couldn’t help but think, last time I trusted you, you kissed another girl. Yet, you managed to keep your mouth shut as Bada guided you into, what you imagined to be, the studio. You could soft music playing already, and as she uncovers your eyes, you gasp at the sight in front of you.

A picnic blanket is set out in the middle of the floor while candles are spread out surrounding the blanket. Food is placed in the middle, you can see the steam coming from it still. How did Bada do this if she had been with you?

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, as you find yourself in shock from the gesture. No one had ever done something like this before for you.

Bada, who is still pressed behind you, guides you to sit down on the blanket. And you comply. Utter confusion taking over your senses.

“Bada,” you clear your throat, “what is this?”

Bada sheepishly smiles at you, her face reddening as she sits down across from you. “I wanted to make it up to you, and I know you said we’re not together, but I really like you y/n. I want to spend the rest of my time with you but for now, this will have to do. So please, spend your last night in Seoul with me.”

Of course you couldn’t deny Bada what she wants because you would be denying what you want as well.

The night trickles on, the candles illuminating the room, a romantic ambience flows throughout the room. The whole world seemed to stand still, watching the two girls fall in-love with each other. The stars knew that their journey was going to be tough, but for tonight, their worries ceased to exist.

Bada stands up abruptly as you’re eating some tteokbokki, “dance with me, y/n.”

“I can’t dance,” you whisper, deja vu of the first time you met.

Bada smiles and reaches out her hand that you instinctively take, “you can do anything, y/n.” She leads you to a spot away from the candles, aware of your clumsy tendencies.

Bada’s arms snake around your waist, while yours wrap around her neck. You both begin to sway to the music, you head leaning against her as hers leaning against you. The two of you fit perfectly against each other, as if you were made for each other. The pure synergy between you two is enough to create new worlds as your hearts merge as one. It was a dangerous game that your souls were playing, but fate had different plans for you and Bada.

You raise your head, looking up and into the eyes of the taller girl. Bada, whose heart was beating tremendously fast as she looked into your round, starry eyes, leaned in slightly. It was a soft, slow moment of you both leaning in, stopping just moments away. Staring into each others eyes, you could see the longing and desire within Bada’s soul, so you close the gap between you… physically and figuratively.

Your lips mold perfectly with each other. Her soft lips pressed against yours as she pulled you closer towards her, not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

There weren’t fireworks like the movies describe. It was better. There were promises of a long life spent together, of shared laughter and tears. There were promises of having each other’s backs, of being there for each other when things get tough, of finding the one person who you could share your ugliest moments with.

There was the feeling of finding your soulmate.

As the kiss dissipates, you can’t find the strength to open your eyes but you feel Bada lean her forehead against yours. Her arms are still tightly wrapped around you and you have no plan on moving away either.

The sound of your heartbeats fill your ears, the heavy thumping noise reminding you of the passionate moment that you just had.

Finally opening your eyes, Bada is staring down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was love.

And you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” Bada whispers, afraid she’ll break the fragile atmosphere surrounding you two, “I think I love you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the unexpected confession of the world’s most dangerous feeling. Yet, you’re so ready to confess as well.

“Bada,” you smile at the tall girl in front of you, “I think I love you too.”

You lean your head against Bada, still swaying to the music, reality slowly catching up to you. You were leaving tomorrow, unsure of when you’d be back to Korea. Bada’s whole life is in and has always been in Korea, she can’t just up and leave. The heaviness of the future causes you to pull away from Bada, making the dancer give you a quizzical brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“I leave tomorrow and I’m not sure when I’ll be back, and you can’t leave. You’re entire life is here,” you share your thoughts as you turn your back to Bada, not prepared for her to see the growing sadness on your face.

Arms wrap around you from behind as Bada rests her head on your shoulder, “we’ll make it work, y/n. I’ve finally found the one I want to be with, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You sigh, leaning against Bada. Uncertainties lie ahead of you both but as long as you had each other, you could defeat even the deadliest enemies.

“Wait for me, Bada. I don’t know when I can come back here, but please, wait for me.”

You can feel Bada’s smile against your skin, her arms tightening around you, pressing you against her as if to say she was already planning on it.

“Yeah, you got it.”

hello everyoneeee,

that was kind of a cluster fuck of a part 3 but oh well!

y/n and bada are definitely going to experience the epic highs and lows of high school football life together, my poor bebiesss heheh

i hope you all enjoyed and are having a great day unlike last part LOL where bada broke our heart :/

i actually really enjoyed writing this part because the way i was imagining bada setting up a picnic like this for me ;-;

anywayssss, hope you’re all have a wonderful day!

lots of love,

j <3

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #you got it #epichighsandlows

[poguemunson]

The Morning After

Eddie Munson x Reader (1.3k)

note: i haven’t written anything for months so i am a little rusty so please take it easy on me. if you have any requests please send them my way!

buy me a kofi masterlist

Summary: You try to sneak out the morning after sleeping with your best friend, Eddie because you think he will regret it.

Warnings: suggestive themes (mentions of sex), slight angst, insecure!reader, mentions of alcohol, misunderstanding

******

This is not your room.

This is not your bed.

That is, however, your clothes littered on the floor.

That is your best friend, sleeping next to you, equally as naked as you are.

You are never drinking again.

Running a hand through your hair, you begin to curse yourself. You’re trying to remember the events that took place the last night, pieces of memories coming together hazily.

You had turned up to Eddie’s trailer, upset and in need of comfort and reassurance. You had yet another failed date and you were feeling like shit about yourself. When you thought about the last time you genuinely felt happy, of course, your best friend of seven years was the first person to come to mind.

What you didn’t plan on was the pair of you getting wasted and hooking up.

Sure, the reason the dates were failing was that you were head over heels for your best friend. But your drunk brain decided to go for the kiss and let fate take over the rest.

“Fuck, fuck,” You murmured to yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was wake Eddie up with your panic.

Did Eddie just feel sorry for you? Did he just feel obligated to go through with something with you because he believed you couldn’t handle another failed experience with a boy?

That had to be it.

During the seven years of friendship, Eddie had never shown any interest that wasn’t platonic. He was flirty but that was just Eddie, right?

You had to get out of there.

You quickly dressed as quietly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to face Eddie. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the look of regret etched onto his face.

Eddie would never actively go for someone like you. You’re his best friend. The one stable thing, apart from Uncle Wayne, that he had in his life and you had screwed that up for him.

You spared a glance at Eddie. He was still seemingly asleep. He looked peaceful, you could’ve sworn there was a slight smile on his lips. You tried your hardest to try to remember him this way.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t want to see you anymore after this. Would he do that?

You couldn’t begin to think about it. You pushed yourself out of the room, sending a thank you to whoever upstairs made sure that this event happened the day Uncle Wayne wasn’t home from the night shift yet.

Stepping out of the trailer, you closed the door as quietly as you could. You cringed when it made a loud squeak.

“Please don’t wake up,” You whispered. You would cross your fingers if your hands weren’t shaking so badly.

You waited a minute to see if you could hear any movement in the trailer, trying to determine whether to make a run for it or not. Once you were sure the coast was clear, you turned to leave, freezing when you caught the eyes of one of Eddie’s neighbours.

Maxine. You recognised her as one of Dustin’s friends. You had seen her around him a few times in town.

You put your hand up in an awkward wave to which she raised an eyebrow at you in reply before she made her way into her trailer. You were just praying she didn’t decide to call up Dustin to let him know that she had witnessed his babysitter doing the walk of shame.

Guess today wasn’t your day.

You stopped in your tracks once you felt the cold water drop land on your arm.

Yeah. Today wasn’t looking up apparently.

Looks like you get to enjoy a nice walk home in the rain. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“You’re still here.”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He had always been good at sneaking up on people. Of course, it helps when you’re zoned out, focusing on the horror of a day you’ve been having. It doesn’t look like it’s even 9 AM yet.

“Yeah,” You let out an awkward laugh, turning to face him but making a conscious effort not to make eye contact, “Was just about to head off.”

He was now dressed. His hair was a mess from his sleep and their night together. If you closed your eyes, you could probably still imagine how it felt to run your fingers through it.

“Run away, don’t you mean?” Eddie questioned. You hadn’t heard it before but there was no mistaking the hurt in his tone. You finally met his gaze.

“I’m not running away,” You replied.

Eddie scoffed, “Okay, so what is this then?”

He raised a hand to gesture to you standing outside his trailer. You could practically feel your throat go dry.

“I didn’t let anyone know I wasn’t coming home last night. I don’t want to worry anyone,” You told him. It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth. You just didn’t want to own up to the fact that you were ferried that if you stayed around Eddie any longer, you would start apologising.

“Just because I’m yet to graduate high school doesn’t mean that I’m that dumb,” Eddie shot back. You opened your mouth and then closed it before taking a deep breath.

“I know you’re not dumb.”

“So tell me the truth,” Eddie leaned his back against the entry of the trailer.

“I didn’t want to face you,” You admitted.

“And why’s that?” Eddie countered.

“I didn’t want to see you mad at me. I didn’t want to stand here and do exactly what we are doing right now because it’s mortifying. I get that it means I’m running away from my problems but from where I’m standing right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” You stated with a shake of your head.

“You’re that embarrassed?” Eddie quizzed. You let out a scoff.

“I’m sorry that last night happened. I get that you regret it, okay? We don’t need to have this conversation. You don’t feel that way about me. End of story,” You told him.

Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction before laughing loudly at you. You have never been a violent person but right now? You wanted to clock him.

“Can you stop laughing at me?”

“You beautiful idiot,” Eddie laughed, running a hand down his face. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?” You asked. Eddie shook his head in disbelief before taking a step closer to you.

“Both,” He replied before cradling your face in his hand and pressing his lips to yours. Your brain was going haywire because what the fuck?

His lips were so soft. Somehow softer than they were last night and you couldn’t help but completely melt into him.

Before you remembered.

“Wait,” You pulled away from him, his lips already trying to chase yours, “I don’t understand.”

Eddie laughed, his hand going to your cheek again to ensure you looked him in the eyes.

“I thought you regretted last night,” Eddie said.

“Why the fuck would I- Oh.”

You were both idiots.

“So… you don’t regret it?” You questioned.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Eddie informed, beginning to trail kisses down your neck, your eyes fluttering close at the feeling, “The only thing I regret is that I don’t remember everything.”

You pulled away with a smile, reaching for his hand and tugging him back towards the opened door of his trailer.

“I say we get a do-over.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a grin before wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you over his shoulder to get you back into his room faster.

“What are we waiting for then?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x y/n

[wandafiction]

Drunk

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, very drunk reader, reader gets sick, mentions of blood.

You are sitting on one of the many empty stools at the not so empty bar nursing your third whiskey, or was it fourth? Maybe fifth? The party is in full swing, the birthday boy (Tony Stark) is currently giving a speech on stage. Something about how you only turn 48 once and that people should leave their many gifts for him on the stage. You scoff to yourself, sure you and Tony were friends, but you swear- sometimes - even you wonder why,  when he is so far stuck up his own ass you're sure he can see the daylight coming from his mouth when he speaks. Because my god could that man speak. 

So here you are sitting, drinking, on your own because your girlfriend is currently on a mission and you hate coming to this sort of things without her. Not because you were an antisocial, ball of anxiety…Okay maybe you are…. But you also didn’t know anyone here, not really, you weren’t an avenger like she was. You were just a regular barista at the local coffee shop that just so happened to be the one she would go to every morning for her morning shot of go go juice after going for a run. What you didn’t realise, not until she told you recently, was she only kept coming back to work up the courage to talk to you. 

You smile to yourself just thinking about it. 

You down the rest of your drink taking a look around all the party goers seeing only those she has introduced you to and those you see around the tower when you visit. You see Tony dancing with a drink in one hand swinging his top above his head with the other, cringing slightly at the sight of the drunk man. You spot Steve over on the couches talking to Sam and Bucky on the other couch, all three of them with a beer in hand as they seem lost in the conversation they are having. You smile when you see Bruce raise his drink at you in a small greeting from the other end of the bar, lifting yours in return before you watch him walk over to try and get Tony, who was now trying to rip his pants off as he stood on one of the many tables, away from people. 

“Well what is such a thing like you doing here all on your lonesome?” You turn quickly at the unknown voice behind you squinting your eyes with scrunched brows as you try to see if you recognise the woman. 

“Thing?” It’s now you realise that maybe those five whiskeys, or could it have been seven, were not such a good idea as you struggle to keep your focus on the blonde woman in front of you. Or women, not sure if you were seeing three of her or if there were three different people in front of you.

“Well I saw you enter with Tony Stark himself so I believe I am only right in thinking you must be an avenger, and one of your beauty must be a goddess.” At her words you snort, quickly using your hand to cover your nose and mouth waving the other one at her as your face turns bright red. 

“Goddess?” The three women that you see now merge together, in your drunken state, finally able to see the blonde woman in front of you who has a small smirk on her lips.

“Well now I feel stupid. Are you not a goddess?” You shake your head quickly, not missing how when the woman takes a seat next to you she pulls the stool closer so her knees can rest against yours, but you try to angle your body away from hers not wanting to give her the wrong impression. 

“I am most definitely not a goddess. Just plain old human being.” She gives you a small nod turning to grab the bartender's attention and ordering you both new drinks.

“Okay, well, I’m a normal human being too. You got a name?” 

“Is Y/n. Y/n y/l/n.” You slur out at your hand grabs out for the new drink the bartender has put in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask mine?” You shake your head downing your drink as the one woman blurs into more than one again. 

“Sure. What is your name blondie?”

“The names Jessica. But you can call me Jess.” 

“Well thank you for the drink Jesssssssica.” You giggle as you over pronounce her name leaning back slightly on your stool, Jess seeing the opportunity to place her hand on your leg.

“Sorry, I didn't want you to fall backwards.” She answers when she sees you look down at her hand.

“Mhmm, thanks. Anyway, do you not have anyone around here you should be hanging out with?” Even in your drunken state you know what her aim is and you know it's definitely not something you want.

“No. I’m enjoying drinking with you.”

“Well this is my last one before I leave this place.”

“Can I join you? The party is kind of lame.”

“No, I am just gonna head to the sleeping chambers and try to sleep this off.” You try to pull her hand off your thigh but she is persistent and fights against it.

“Oh you’re no fun. I just wanted to spend the night with you, get to know that amazing body. Then maybe in the morning I can show you the best way to get rid of a hangover.”

“Sorry I am really not interested.” She scrunches her brows leaning closer to you with a pout on her lips.

“Come one, I know you want to.”

“I'm sorry I really don’t and I am in a relationship.” You think the woman rolls her eyes, and maybe you hear her scoff but you definitely don't miss the way her eyes bulge out of her head as she looks behind you, and you don’t miss the feeling of a pair of strong hands landing on your shoulders. 

“I’m just going to…” She slowly removes herself from the stool leaving money to cover both of your drinks. “It was nice meeting you.” 

With that she scurries off and you scrunch your brows, turning around to see who is behind you but the 8, maybe more drinks, have once and for all won the battle of making everything blurry and your words a slurred mess. The hands give your shoulders a small squeeze and your head turns left to right to look at either hand. They are dirty, maybe have some blood on them and when you look up at them their face is not much better. 

You take in her beauty. The red hair, green eyes are all you are able to identify mixed with the dirt and the blood on her face. You can see a small look of worry, amusement and something else as her brows furrow as her eyes scan your face.

“I’m sorry. As I just told blondie I have a girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” You nod your head quickly, humming out a yes as the woman only giggles to herself.

“I think it is time for your bed, detka.” You pout, shaking your head quickly.

“But I want to stay up and see my girlfriend, she should be home soon.” The hands on your shoulders move to cup your face tilting your head to look up at her.

“You really don’t know who I am.” Her tone is amused as you push her hands off your face.

“I already told you I have a girlfriend. And she wouldn’t appr-apprec-apprecia….she wouldn’t like you flirting with me.” Once again the woman only laughs, and you scrunch your brows as it sounds vaguely familiar but can’t quite place it.

“How about this? I help get you to bed, and when you wake up I am sure your kind, loving and drop dead gorgeous girlfriend will be there when you wake up.” You take a moment to think about it, looking the woman up and down every second she becomes more familiar and if she is familiar then you’re sure you can trust her.

“Okay. Thank you. My girlfriend would kill me if she knew how drunk I was right now.”

“I’m not angry, in fact it is quite amusing, but I think we do need to get you in bed to rest.” You look up to the woman as she leads you down the hallway, seemingly knowing where Natasha’s room is.

“Hey, how did you know?” The woman turns to look at you with a raised brow as she opens the door and you stumble inside as she lets go of you for a moment to close the door.

You stumble into the room, cursing as you trip over your own feet and fall with your side hitting the bed and landing on the floor with a hmph. You bring your hand up to rub at your side, the other pulling at the covers on the bed to help you stand but it does nothing as the moment you yank the covers they move and you end up falling on the floor again.

“Fuck it. This is where I am sleeping I guess.” You mumble to yourself, reaching for the blanket that you know is on the bed somewhere behind you.

“Hey, let's get you off the floor my love.” You gasp as you look up to see your girlfriend in front of you moving her arms so they are under yours.

“Baby!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around her pushing yourself forwards causing Natasha to stumble backwards and land on the floor herself. 

“Oh so now you recognize me?” You push yourself up slightly, your hands either side of her head so you can look down at her.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head in question and Natasha raises a brow.

“You mean you don’t remember the past 10….okay nevermind.” She places her hands on your waist gently pushing you off her so she can stand up, your arms moving to hold her hips as you struggle to stand yourself. “Let's get you to bed.”

“Yes! Take me to bed lovergirl!” You jump, knowing Natasha will easily catch you, wrapping your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck as you litter her face with drunken and very sloppy kisses.

Natasha lets you continue smothering her face with kisses as she places you down on the edge of the bed, your body naturally falling backwards; dragging Natasha with you by your arms around her neck. Her hands move out to catch herself so she doesn’t land on top of you and instead hovering above you. You try to use your arms to pull her down more but pout when you realise she isn’t going to budge.

“You can’t be on top of me and not top me baby.” You pout more as your hands start playing with the baby hairs on her neck. “You know I can’t resist you when I see you from this angle.” 

“Not tonight detka. Firstly, you are very drunk and in no way can give consent to anything. Secondly, I’m covered in blood and dirt. Thirdly, you are drunk.”

“Maybe you’re drunk silly because you already said that once.” You giggle as you boop her nose with one hand causing her to roll her eyes at your drunken state.

“Let's get you changed and in bed.” You hum as you close your eyes but only for a second as your brain registers what she said a few seconds ago.

“Wait, blood and dirt?” You push her off of you gently as you sit up, suddenly feeling completely sober in your worried state as your hands and eyes search her body and face for injury.

“It's not mine.” You don’t hear her as your hands grab hers, turning them over multiple times trying to figure out why there is so much blood, but she quickly removes her hands from yours cupping your face and tilting your head so you’re looking at her. “Hey, hey. It’s not mine, my love. It’s not mine.”

“Not yours.” Your voice trembles as you mumble the words back to her and Natahsa nods her head brushing some hair out of your face.

“It’s not mine.” She repeats softly back to you as you look back up to her about to say something but your body says otherwise.

Quickly you’re off the bed and running into the bathroom only just making it to the toilet as the contents of however many drinks you’ve had, surely it was 10. Or maybe 12.Your knuckles turn white with how hard you are holding the sides of the toilet, coughing as the vomiting subsides for the moment. You don’t dare move your head from where it rests on the top of the toilet seat, too afraid that any movement will cause your stomach to turn.

“Oh detka.” Natasha crouches down to your height holding a small cup of water towards you, as her other hand reaches to pull the flush. “Don’t drink too much too quickly otherwise you will make yourself sick, just rinse your mouth out for a moment. 

You lazily nod your head, now feeling the room spin as you do so the feeling of sick raising again. You shut your eyes tightly, your hand that's holding the cup shaking slightly as your body tries to recover from already throwing up, and Natasha seems to take notice as she removes the cup from your hand placing it on the floor next to her. She moves closer to you, her hands going to your hair as she does it up in a messy bun as her eyes stay trained mostly to your face watching carefully for any changes in your appearance. Just as she finishes tying your hair your body lurches forward as another round of vomiting up alcohol begins.

You don’t know how long your head has been down the toilet for, or how long Natasha has simply stayed by your side but what you do know is your throat hurts and there are tears rolling down your face from throwing up. You did eventually stop, and you cleaned your teeth next to the toilet just in case. You lean against Natasha more as she wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you against her as you both slowly move to lean against the wall of the bathroom.

“I’m sorry Tasha.” Nat is quick to silence you as she shakes her head, pressing a kiss to your temple as she uses her finger and thumb on your chin to turn your head.

“Do not apologise detka. You have nothing to apologise for.” Your bottom lip temples a little as Nat moves a hand to wipe at your tears, your head instinctively leaning into the touch.

“I do. You came back from a mission, and instead of sorting yourself out you’ve been stuck looking after me.” 

“Hush.” She presses her finger against your lips, once and for all stopping you from talking, you knew she was serious by the look she was giving you and it made you shrink back a little bit. “I am not angry, or mad or maybe a little frustrated but that's more to do with the fact that that woman was flirting with you when you were clearly too drunk to even know what was going on. Now let's get you into bed, then I will sort myself out and join you.”

Natasha helped you off the cold bathroom floor leading you back to the bedroom and once again placing you on the bed, this time making sure she had a hold of your body so you didn’t fall backwards. Your eyes start to feel heavy, closing slowly as you feel Natasha start to undo the few buttons on your blouse before lifting it over your head and in the next moment removing your bra. She pushes your body slightly, giggling when you flop backwards so she can unbutton your pants and remove them with some struggle as they get stuck on around your ankles for a second. 

The next moment your arms are being pulled and your body moves off the bed so you are sitting back up. You open your eyes with a goofy smile on your face as you see Natasha grabbing one of her shirts for you to wear. You lift your arms above your head earning a small chuckle and a kiss on the forehead from your girlfriend as she slides the top on you.

“Crawl into bed then baby I won’t be long.” 

You were already nearly asleep, your body and mind exhausted from being drunk and then throwing it all back up, laying on your back because you felt to sick to lay any other way when you feel the bed dip and the covers move slightly. Natasha leves a small kiss on your cheek as she shuffles as close to you as possible without being on top of you knowing it would not help you right now. Her hand rests on your sternum, her finger drawing small shapes as she looks up at you from where her head rests just next to your shoulder. 

“I love you, you big idiot.” You smile tiredly, peeking one eye open to look down at her.

“I love me too.” You giggle as she hits your chest gently rolling her eyes. “I’m joking, I love you too.”

“Good because next time you are dealing with a drunk me.” You smile closing your eyes again as you let your body completely relax again teetering on the edge of sleep, as Natasha’s hand continues to draw patterns on your chest. 

“I would love to see a drunk Natasha.” Is the last thing you mumble before letting sleep consume you not hearing Natasha’s next words.

“I’m so gonna marry you one day you drunken fool.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #drunk reader

[austinshotbutlers]

The Wedding Date - Part Two

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister’s wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is… you don’t have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.1k

TW: Mentions and allusions to sex, swear words and bad writing?

A/N: Part two is here!!! I’ve tagged everyone who commented on part one but let me know if you want to be removed. The love i have received for part one has meant so much, I didn’t think it would blow up as much as it did. Thank you so much to every single one of you! There will be a part three! Part one can be found here

“Maybe we should hold hands?” You suggested as your smoothed down the red, silky dress you had picked for the party as you made your way into the extremely expensive looking lounge bar. You adjusted your hair slightly to ensure it looked perfect and once again smoothed the surface of your dress.

“Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful.” Aaron smiled and he took your hand in his.

You walked through the large doors into a gorgeous, old fashioned style bar. Family and friends were mingling all around nursing all kinds of alcoholic beverages. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes passed and you quickly grabbed two, handing one to Aaron. You knocked it back in one, ready to face the challenges of the evening.

“You might want to slow down just a little bit.” Aaron laughed as he took a small sip from his own flute.

You were about to respond but the shrill sound of your sister cut you off.

“EEEEK!” She squealed as she ran over. “My sister is here! Who’s the hunk?” She attempted to whisper so Aaron couldn’t hear but failed miserably. “I’m getting married! I’m getting married!” And before you could respond, your slightly intoxicated sister ran off to hound someone else.

“She is going to be so drunk by the end of the night.” You say to Aaron, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“I’m just going to step outside and give Jack a call. Is that ok?” Aaron asks, pulling his phone out his suit pocket.

“Oh god yes! Go call him!” You ushered him away to let him phone Jack. This was your chance to go and refresh yourself and you made your way to the restroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, tucking some loose hair back behind your ear before retouching your lipstick. You smiled to yourself as you remembered Hotch saying you looked beautiful, heat rose to your cheeks and you fanned your face to calm down. Once you had collected your thoughts and you had finished touching up your makeup, you headed straight out the restroom door and walked smack into someone.

“God I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was…” you looked up and immediately recognised the cold steely eyes that were staring back at you. “Luke….” You laughed nervously. “Hi.”

He loosened his tie slightly before he spoke. “Er… Y/N, hi.”

You both stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds as you took in his appearance. He had aged quite a bit since you had last seen him; the start of a receding hairline, a messy, unkempt beard and still wearing ill fitting suits. You took a mental note of how much better Aaron wore a suit.

“Where’s this boyfriend I’ve been hearing about?” He asked abruptly.

You were quite taken aback. “He’s somewhere in the bar. He wasn’t going to escort me to the bathroom.” You replied bluntly.

He was just about to say something else when the uncanny voice of your cousin filled the small hallway.

“Oh my god!! If it isn’t my favourite cousin ever!” She yelled, running over and embracing you tightly. “Seriously, nearly two years since I last saw you. I have ex-boyfriends I see more than you.”

You laughed as you pulled back from the hug. “Oh Livvy I’ve missed you.”

She smiled at you before turning to face Luke. “Hello asshole.” She says in a moody tone. “Hope it’s alright if I just steal my cousin away.” And before Luke could utter a single word, Liv was dragging you up the stairs back to the party.

“Thank god you came when you did. I think he was about to play 21 questions with me about my new boyfriend.” You huffed.

“I will always rescue you from that asshole.” Liv replied and picked up a glass of champagne. “Now here,” she passed it to you. “Drink! God knows you’re going to need it.”

You sipped at the drink and scanned the room to see if Aaron had joined the party again. Just then, you saw him on the arm of your mother as she introduced him to all of your aunts. She had clearly cornered him when he came back to the party and insisted on introducing him to all the family. You smiled as he said something which made the group laugh, all your aunts seeming to take an instant liking to him.

“Ok, spill! Who is the sexy boyfriend of yours then? How did you meet?” Liv asked as she watched Aaron as well.

“We work together at the BAU. He’s the Unit Chief.” You replied without a second thought.

“Dating the boss? Sounds like something I would do.” She laughed.

You shook your head with a laugh and then looked up to see that Aaron had managed to escape your mother’s death grip and was making his way over to you. When he reached you, he placed his hand on your hip and ducked down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“How was Jack?” You asked breathlessly, the tingle of Aaron’s lips still lingering on your cheek.

“Yeah he’s good. Tired from a long day playing soccer.” Aaron replied with a smile.

Your cousin coughed to remind you of her presence.

“Liv!” You burst out, moving to the side so Aaron could see her properly. “Aaron, this is my cousin Liv.” You introduced them. Aaron put his hand out and Liv shook it enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you Aaron. I’m so glad Y/N finally got over that pathetic loser and decided to get herself a real man.”

“Liv!” You hissed at her as she embarrassed you but Aaron just smiled and moved so he could wrap his arm around your waist. “Let’s go get another drink.” You say to him and you both wondered over to the bar.

“What would you like?” Aaron asked as he caught the attention of the bartender.

“Anything that’s stronger than champagne.” You groaned.

“Two scotches please.” Aaron asked the bartender and he speedily poured out two tumblers of amber liquid.

“Thanks.” You murmured just loud enough for Aaron to hear. He placed his arm back around your waist, taking a sip of his scotch.

You started to giggle to yourself and Aaron looked at you quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“Well it’s just…” you laughed a bit harder. “Hotch drinking scotch.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, trying his best to suppress the smile that was slowly forming on his face. “It’s not even funny Y/N.”

“Say that to the smile on your face.” You laughed harder and Aaron gave in, laughing with you. “I think the alcohol is finally working, I’m going to go and get some fresh air,” and you slowly made your way out to the patio, taking a deep breath in.

***

Aaron smiled as he watched you glide across the floor, heading to the opened doors. If someone had told him a month ago that he would be in LA with you, pretending to be your boyfriend, he would have said they were insane. This was so out of character for him yet it felt so right being here with you. Everything about you made his heart swell; your smile and laugh, your bad jokes, the way you tuck your hair behind your ears. But tonight, the way you looked in that red dress just took his breath away, you were simply stunning.

He turned back to the bar and asked for another scotch which the bartender handed over.

“I’ll have the same.” Someone said from beside him, he turned to look at the man. He had a long overgrown beard that definitely needed trimming and a rather bad fitting suit on. “Partying alone?” The man asked Aaron.

“No, my girlfriend has just gone to get a breath of fresh air.” He replied. “You?”

“All by myself tonight being painfully taunted by my ex-girlfriend.” Said the man with a sigh, taking a large gulp of his scotch.

‘Surely this isn’t Luke?’ Aaron thought to himself as he attempted to profile his mannerisms and appearance.

“Yeah she seems to be trying to make me jealous. She claims she has a boyfriend but I’m yet to see him with her. She’s desperate to show me what I’m certainly not missing.” He continued and Aaron immediately realised that this was indeed your ex-boyfriend. The bitter tone as he spoke about you so rudely was enough to make Aaron want to use all his FBI combat training but he refrained so not to cause a scene. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw you striding effortlessly in your heels across the room to him.

*** You looked over the gorgeous gardens as you stood in the early evening, the sun beginning to set. While your sister may be an insufferable bridezilla, she knew how to pick a beautiful venue. You downed the last drop of your scotch and turned to look back inside at the party. Your sister and her fiancé Thomas were chatting to your dad, your mom was telling some extravagant story to a group of people who were laughing along and Aaron…

You looked for him and saw him where you had left him at the bar and talking to…Luke!

“Oh shit!“ you shouted out loud and received a couple of unimpressed stares from some guests who were admiring the gardens as well. You put the glass in your hand down on the nearest table you could find and hastily strode across the room to get to them. Without taking a single look at Luke, you wrapped your arms around Aaron and kissed him hard on the lips. His initial shock wore off almost instantly as he melted into the kiss, placing his free hand on the small of your back, kissing you back. It felt so perfect, so right and little did you know, Aaron felt the exact same.

You pulled back abruptly and turned to see Luke with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Luke!” You faked surprise. “I didn’t see you there. Have you two met?” You asked, motioning between him and Aaron.

“Not… not formally.” Luke replied bluntly.

“Oh! Well Luke, this is my boyfriend Aaron.” You smiled, moving so Aaron could offer his usual handshake which Luke shook reluctantly.

“I… er, I should go and find Thomas.” Luke said monotonously and he scampered away before you or Aaron could say anything to him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Aaron. “Oh my god! That wasn’t too much was it?” You asked him frantically and Aaron just laughed.

“No, not at all. It was just a surprise is all.” He smiled sweetly.

“God I’m so sorry! And I’ve got lipstick all on your lips, hang on.” You frantically grabbed a napkin from the bar and started to wipe his lips clean of your red lipstick.

The concentration on your face made Aaron smile and he watched you with such adoration.

“Thank you.” He murmured and you looked too see him smiling at you. Heat rose to your cheeks, the way he looked you made you feel like a pre-teen again. You were about to speak when the sound of a glass being tapped silenced everyone in the bar.

“If I could please have your attention.” The voice of your mother filled the room.

“Jesus. Prepare yourself for the second-hand embarrassment from my mother speaking publicly.” You whispered to Aaron and he chuckled.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate the engagement of my beautiful daughter Sarah and her fiancé Thomas. We have been waiting for a wedding in this family for a very long time now. We of course thought Y/N would be the first one down the aisle.” The mention of your name immediately caused a lot of looks from around the room focused on you, a couple of murmurs too and you cursed in your head whoever let your mom make a speech while feeling the affects of alcohol. However, the feeling of Aaron snaking his arm around your hips and holding you close made you relax and you tried to ignore your mom’s speech but luckily, your dad interjected and took over.

“To Sarah and Thomas!” He cheered raising a class and everyone followed suit.

“Are you ok?” Aaron whispered quietly into your ear and all you could do was nod.

***

As soon as you walked into your bedroom, you kicked off you heels and threw yourself onto the bed. Aaron walked in a couple of seconds later, loosening his tie and undoing his top button.

“That was simply awful.” You groaned into the pillow.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Aaron said as he sat down next to you on the bed, starting to unlace his shoes.

“Easy for you to say.” You huffed. “When you were talking to Luke, what was he saying?”

Aaron hesitated, debating whether or not to share the whole conversation but he settled on telling the truth. “He said you were trying hard to make him jealous and he didn’t believe you had a boyfriend.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and sat up abruptly. “He is such a dick!” You exclaim. “How did I deal with it for 5 years?”

“What exactly happened when he broke up with you?” Aaron asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

You took a deep breath. It was about time you shared the full story, no one knew it other than you and Luke. You hadn’t realised but Aaron had placed his hand on top of yours and engulfed it completely.

“It’s ok. Take your time.” He said with such care and kindness in his voice.

“Well, it was on our anniversary of all days. I guess we had been having some rocky patches, he didn’t like the idea of me moving to Washington and he especially didn’t like the idea of me joining the FBI. Luke is the reason it took me so long to apply for the BAU and when I finally did and told him, he was so annoyed!” Tears started to well in your eyes as you remember just how horrible the fight was and Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened which comforted you. “I ignored just how bad the fight was because everyone said it was normal but looking back, he was such a…”

“Fucking asshole.” Aaron interjected.

“Exactly. He’s exactly that.” You say. “The day he dumped me, everyone had got inside my head saying he was going to propose. My mom, sister and even his mom thought he was proposing. That’s why it hurt so bad, we were even… intimate the night before he dumped me.” Anger flared inside Aaron. How could anyone ever treat you like that? If he didn’t already hate Luke from his brief meeting with him this morning, he definitely hated him now. “No one really knew what to say to me, I was so heartbroken. I had to move back in with my parents and that’s when I decided I’d had enough and I packed up everything to come to Washington.”

“And thank god you did.” Aaron said with a smile. “The team wouldn’t work without you.” And you laughed.

“I’m going to go and get ready for bed.” You said, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom, you released a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. You just spilled your guts to Aaron and yet, you still knew so little about him.

***

Aaron was laying in bed when you came back from fetching a glass of water from the kitchen and you laughed.

“What’s funny now?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled from how he was laying with his head deep in the pillow.

“You’re too tall for the bed.” You giggled, walking round and placing the glass down on the bedside cabinet. You then pulled back the covers to climb in yourself. “When there’s two people in the bed, it makes me realise just how small it is.”

“I can sleep on the floor if that would be better?” Aaron offered, preparing to get out of bed.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ll get a bad back.” You said, shuffling to reposition more comfortably. “We’re just going to have to squeeze together. This is so cliché. The one bed trope from those cheesy romance books I read in college.” You groaned. “Thank you, again, for doing this for me though.”

“Stop thanking me Y/N, I wanted to help you.” Aaron replied, rolling over so he could face you.

Maybe it was the liquid courage still flowing through you from the party, but you lifted you hand and placed it on Aaron’s cheek, taking in all his features.

“You’re so handsome.” You mumbled, running your thumb across his lips and heat rose to Aaron’s cheeks before you leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. Aaron immediately reciprocated, his hand moving to your hip so naturally, gripping it tightly as the kiss grew more heated between you. His mouth trailed down your neck, sucking lightly at the base which elicited a small moan from your lips. This was the most intimate you had been with someone in a long time and it felt so right to be doing it with Aaron. But suddenly and abruptly, Aaron pulled away.

“Wha… what’s wrong?” You asked breathlessly, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Maybe we should stop before we do something we’ll regret.” He replied, moving his hand from your hip.

“But?…” you paused. Maybe he was right, sex could make things awkward. Sex could ruin your friendship. Sex could fuck up this whole arrangement. “Yeah… yeah you’re right. Erm, goodnight Aaron.” You said reluctantly and turned over to face the wall.

“Night Y/N.” You heard Aaron mumble before you drifted off to sleep.

***

Aaron woke from the bright Los Angeles sun peeking through the gap in the curtain, he looked next to him at you. You had manoeuvred during the night and were sweetly nestled into Aaron’s torso, his arm wrapped around you.

‘It was right to stop last night.’ Aaron tried to convince himself. ‘If we had slept together, it would have only overcomplicated things.’

Aaron kept these thought stirring in his head to persuade himself that he made the right call. He leaned backwards carefully so not to disturb you to reach his watch. The hands read 6:08am. He was always an early bird as it was these early mornings where Aaron felt most at ease. He carefully moved his arm from where it was wrapped around you, trying his best not to wake you. You stirred a little before rolling over, still sound asleep. He grabbed his running gear he had packed with him just in case and began to change, glancing around the room for some paper. Once he was fully dressed, he wandered over to the desk and opened a draw to reveal a stack of bright pink post-it notes. Pink was clearly your favourite colour growing up he noted in his head. He scribbled down a message on the post-it and stuck it on the empty glass on your cabinet.

He quietly walked down the stairs, trying not to disturb your parents but was shocked when he saw your dad sat at the dinning table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

“We haven’t scared you off have we?” Your dad asked with a laugh.

“No sir.” Aaron chuckled. “Just heading out for a run before Y/N wakes up.”

“I’d ask to join you but my running days are behind me.” Your dad said. “Venice Beach was always my favourite place to run, I recommend it for your route today.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll keep it in mind.”

***

You woke up surprised to find the bed empty, the mattress cold. You stretched to try and wake yourself up before turning to the bedside cabinet to check the time on the clock but a pink post-it caught your attention. You picked it up and read Aaron’s scruffy handwriting: ‘Gone for a run, back soon x’. The kiss at the end taunted you as memories of yesterday flashed through your head. Kissing Aaron Hotchner was something you never thought would happen in a million years, yet here you were.

You pulled the duvet back and climbed out of bed, grabbing your phone and trying to turn it on but it was out of charge.

“For fucks sake.” You mutter and scavenge through your bags to find the charger. “It has to be somewhere!” You thought out loud.

“What are you looking for?” Came the deep voice of Aaron out of nowhere.

“Shit! You made me jump!” You exclaim and stand up, turning to look at him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his appearance. The tight shirt he was wearing accentuated his arms and the running shorts showed off his muscular thighs. The glimmer of sweat on his face and the glow of heat from the exercise made him look even more handsome than usual. This was a look you could get used to seeing everyday.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He chuckled. “If you’re looking for your charger, it’s in the big suitcase over there.” He pointed to the case that sat near the wardrobe.

“Thanks.” You say and unzip the case, reaching in to look for the cable. As soon as you fished it out the case, you plugged it in quickly and waited for the phone to get some charge.

“I’m just going to have a quick shower and then I thought we could head out for some breakfast?” Aaron suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good. We’ve been here a day and I already need a couple of hours away from my family.” You joked and Aaron nodded with understanding.

Immediately after he closed the door to the bathroom and you heard the water running, you turned your phone on and quickly typed a message out to Emily.

7:54AM | Y/N L/N: Help!!! I think I’m falling in love with Aaron.

7:57AM | Emily Prentiss: I did warn you it would happen! What went down at the engagement party?

7:59AM | Y/N L/N: My ex is still a dick as predicted. I kissed Aaron right in front of him and you should have seen his face LOL!

8:01AM |Emily Prentiss: Did anything other than kissing happen last night? ;)

8:02AM | Y/N L/N: Shut up.

8:04AM | Emily Prentiss: Ha! You didn’t answer my question which tells me YES! Something else did happen! Spill!

8:07AM | Y/N L/N: Fine! We made out a little after the party and I think we were going to have sex but Aaron said we should stop before we did something we might regret which was of course the right decision.

8:10AM | Emily Prentiss: OH MY GOD! Of course he said that, he is so down bad for you. He knows once you have sex with each other, there is no running away from his feelings. You need to sleep with him, I bet he’s actually quite good in bed. Do you think he’s as authoritative in bed as he is when we’re on a case?

8:12AM | Y/N L/N: Emily! Stop it! I have to go, I can hear Aaron coming out the shower.

And you switched your phone off before another text could come through from Emily. She was so enjoying this too much.

***

“Any idea where we should go for breakfast?” Aaron asked you.

“There’s this really amazing brunch bar near Santa Monica pier, I used to go there all the time with Sarah.”

“Sounds perfect.” He smiled as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Your mom called from the kitchen.

You and Aaron saw her standing at the kitchen island drinking a fluorescent green smoothie.

“What’s up mom?”

“Ahh perfect! You’re both here. Sarah wanted me to ask you if you and Aaron could join her and Thomas for one of their last minute dance lessons.” She said excitedly.

You groaned like a miserable teenager. “Do we really have to? Aaron was just about to take me for brunch.”

“Yes! It will be great fun.”

You knew then, there was absolutely no getting out of this one.

***

The Wedding Date Taglist: @wanniiieeee @notsopersonalcharlie @blackeyedangel9805 @preciousbabypeter @stxlemate @twilightlover2007 @justarandommom @impala1967dwinchester @spencermiromantiko @julyhoney @thecubanator2 @xphantomphanphanaticx @lawlesshedgehog @louderfortheback @ssamorganhotchner @essenceproxima @lespendy @stiles-argent24 @rousethemouse @tvdstelenaforever @wandererseye @bibella8swan @yourfavunsub @bibimangines @lou-the-confused-bisexual @realm8626 @sophiaj650 @bylones @howabouticallyou @madz-19 @hotchnerxo @supercriminalbean @jayxox @sweetpeterparker @mina2000alex

I tagged those who commented and reblogged part one. Let me know if you want to be removed or tagged🫶🏻

***

Part three

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds #fake dating #fake dating au #the wedding date

[sillyrabbit81]

And So Much More...

Summary: After a disappointing date, your best friend's older brother picks you up to take you home.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 11.2k

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, angst and some fluff.

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @amberangel112 (also a brilliant title fairy) and @henryobsessed . You two always give me the confidence to keep going. Also special mention to @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments really made me think, thank you so much. And finally to @radiantheartbeat for encouraging me to write this.

I used three prompts for inspiration for this story. Thank you for sending them in and I hope you enjoy what I came up with.

Prompt 1, Prompt 2, Prompt 3

Divider made by me.

Masterlist

As if on autopilot, you take a couple of quarters out of your purse and drop them into the slot. You press the numbers with the same level of thought and dial home. It takes a moment to connect and you sniff a little, clear your throat and pray that your best friend and roommate is home. The sound of your coins dropping into the payphone signals a successful connection, followed swiftly by the robotic series of notes that imitate the sound of an old telephone ringing.

You sigh, and fidget, dancing from foot to foot, pulling at your low cut, black satin top and drawing your faux fur lined coat closed.

“Shit,” you utter under your breath. Caroline must have gone out. You’re about to hang up when you hear the click and thunk of the line successfully connecting.

Music and voices burst from the receiver and you jerk your head away from the speaker.

“Hello,” you say cautiously, worried you may have dialled the wrong number in your numb stupor. “Caroline?”

“Hello?” says the voice. You exhale a held breath with relief as you recognise Caroline's voice. At least you had called the right number. “Hello, I can barely hear you.”

Even though it’s uncomfortable, you press the speaker to your ear and cup the receiver around your hand and speak loudly, looking around cautiously at the other people using the bank of telephones.

“Caroline. It’s me!” you say loudly, just shy of shouting.

“Hang on, I’ll grab the other line in my bedroom.” 

It takes Caroline a few moments and you dig into your purse, pulling out another quarter and dropping it into the slot. You hear her pick up the other line and she shouts something out and the call becomes blessedly quiet.

“Hey,” she says a little breathlessly, “you there? What happened to your date?”

“I ended it early. It sucked Caroline,” you sigh, “Do you think you could come and pick me up. I stupidly agreed to let him drive me.”

“Ah, shit I can’t,” she says, “My brother and some of his friends came over and, well, we’ve all been drinkin’.” 

It wasn’t unusual for her to have people over on the weekends, she was a bit of a party animal. In a way you were a perfect pair, you tempered her most crazy instincts and she brought you out of your shell. But right now, going home to her brother Sy and all his meathead friends was not what you had in mind. Especially not Sy.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Sy’s there?”

“Yeah,” she says, “hang on, he drove here. He hasn’t drunk much I don’t think. Maybe he can pick you up. Let me ask him.”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “I’ll call a cab.”

But it’s too late, you can hear Caroline shouting for him and after an extended pause you can hear her relaying your request.

“Hey, Sugar,” Sy’s rich drawl echoes down the line and you bite your lip. 

“Hey, Sy,” you say shyly.

God, you hate that you aren’t completely over the crush you had on him in high school. You’re mostly over it; you don’t obsess over him like you did as a teen, but sometimes those old feelings rear their head again at the most inconvenient times.

“Need a rescue, huh?” he teases.

You smile, he likes to rag on you sometimes and you give it back, usually. You aren’t in the mood to reciprocate, but you appreciate his efforts. You almost tell him no, that you’ll just catch a cab despite the expense, you don’t want to put him out. But you also know Sy, if he didn’t want to help you, he wouldn’t have offered.

“Please?” you ask.

“Anytime, Sugar,” he says, warmly, “Now, where are ya?”

You see Sy’s blue truck about twenty minutes later. He pulls up in front of you, rolls the window down and grins.

“Hey, baby. How much?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obscenely.

You shake your head and suppress a smile. Less than a second in his presence and he makes you want to laugh. Why can’t any of the guys you date make you feel like he does?

“You can’t afford me,” you scoff. 

He chuckles as he leans across the passenger seat and opens the door for you. You climb in, the truck is so high you have to stand on the side step then bend at the waist so you don't hit your head. Your top is so low, you are worried about flashing your tits at Sy with your body at this angle. You quickly glance at him and he’s already turning his head away. Feeling a little embarrassed, a ripple of heat works its way down your spine and you tug at the edge of your top to keep it from revealing too much. 

Sy taps the wheel in time to the barely audible rock playing through the stereo and waits until you’re settled before driving away from the curb.

“Thanks for picking me up, Sy,” you say.

“Like I said, anytime.” He glances at you and you smile back, but he narrows his eyes. “You ok?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in that soft tone he has when he’s serious.

You sigh. You consider laying it all out for him, telling him about how frustrated you are. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve unloaded your problems on him. But these problems were different, they were… a little too personal.

“I’m ok,” you lie.

Sy grunts. He knows you well enough to see that you’re not telling him the truth, but he accepts that you don’t want to talk.

You travel for a few minutes in silence and your date replays over in your mind. There was nothing wrong with it really. It had been a good evening, he had been nice, funny, and he was attractive. But when he kissed you during the movie, you had felt nothing. Not a tingle. Not a skipped heart beat. Not a single butterfly. You knew then and there, the relationship was going to go nowhere.

You had tried to be with guys you didn’t feel a spark with before, thinking that over time things would get better, but it never did. As soon as the movie was finished and you made your way back to his car, you told him you weren’t interested. He took it well; he wasn’t a dick about it and still wanted to drive you home. You refused, telling him Caroline was on her way to come and get you.

Sy stops at a set of traffic lights and placing the calloused edge of his finger under your chin, he turns your face to his. You inhale sharply at the contact. It's not fair that one touch from Sy makes you feel more than any guy you have ever dated. His lips tighten into a tight line as he looks you over.

“He didn’t hurt ya did he?” he asks in a voice that's as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“No, Sy,” you reply, placing your hand on his wrist and pushing it aside gently.

“Something happened,” Sy persists, “you look like you’re about to cry.”

“It’s not about him,” you say softly.

Sy looks at you for a long time, his lower lip sucked into his mouth as he studied you. You make yourself meet his gaze so he knows you’re telling the truth. The lights change and he inhales deeply through his nose before he turns his attention back to the road.

When Sy pulls up at your place, you see the number of cars and realise Caroline had invited more than just a few of Sy’s friends over. Your house was pumping with music and there were cars everywhere.

“God damn it, Caroline,” you mutter. 

Normally it wouldn’t bother you that there were people over, but tonight, you just couldn’t face it. Sy takes his seatbelt off and is about to open his door but you put your hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sy, can we… Can we just sit here a moment? I don’t want to go in yet.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, leaning back into his seat. He looks down at his hands, notices something and rubs at the skin of his thumb.

You close your eyes and lean against the headrest. Your mind is buzzing with thoughts, but they seem to fly through your head so quickly you can’t pin them down. Well except for one. 

You’re going to end up alone.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you angrily wipe at a tear that runs down your cheek.

“That’s it! You tell me what that mother fucker did to you and…”

“He didn’t do anything, Sy,” you say tersely. “I ended it, he was good about it… I just…” your chin trembles and you look away as more tears spill from your eyes.

“Oh hell,” Sy mumbles and he unfastens your belt and wraps his arms around you.

You cry harder as he presses you to his chest. You can’t stop. Each sob rips through you; your throat aches, your chest feels like it's going to burst through your ribs while your shoulders and stomach cramp awfully.

Sy lays the palm of his hand flat on your back and rubs big circles over you while he gently rocks you. No wonder you always had a crush on him; no man has ever made you feel as safe as Sy does. He drops his head low so his voice rumbles in your ear, “You’re good, baby, I’ve got you.”

You don’t know how long you cried for. By the time you stop crying, you feel a little silly, like you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. So this guy isn’t the one, what's the big deal really? There’s plenty of others out there. It's not like he dumped you, it was your decision after all. 

Sy doesn’t stop holding you even when you start to sniffle and your eyes run dry. You lift your head from Sy’s shoulder and although he relaxes his embrace, he doesn’t let you go. 

“I’m sorry, Sy.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “Sometimes we’ve just gotta let it all out.”

“Can’t imagine you ever having a cry like that.”

“No, but you should see me trying to murder the punching bag during PT,” he grins.

You don’t think he means to put the thought of him shirtless, dripping with sweat, lip curled in anger and grunting as he takes his frustrations out on the leather bag, but it doesn’t stop the vivid image from being thrust into the forefront of your mind.

“Do you want to go inside yet?” Sy asks softly, “We don’t have to, we could go get a bite to eat if you need more time. I’ll give Carol a call when we get there and tell her to kick everyone out if ya want?”

“No, I don't want to ruin everyone’s good time because I had a shitty night.”

“Just wanna ruin mine, huh?”

“Sy…” you half whine and half laugh.

“How about we go eat then come back?” he suggests.

“I think I should just go to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning. Just give me another minute.”

Sy is quiet for a moment then says, “I’ll take ya to my place. You ain’t gonna be able to sleep with all that going on. You can stay the night.”

“Sy thats sweet of you, but I don’t want to sleep in these clothes and your friends are all inside and—”

“My friend,” he says firmly, giving you a squeeze, “is right here. And you can borrow some of my clothes.” He finally lets you go and says, “C’mon, put your belt on. I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”

It feels a little strange being in Sy’s apartment. It had been a while since you had been to his place. Years in fact. He’d been gone for so long, first to boot camp and other training, then later officer training and finally Special Forces selection and several deployments.

He was always in and out of your life and in a way you were glad. Because he wasn’t around to moon over all the time, it had made moving on from your silly crush easier. Plus, being reacquainted with him over the last few years had let your friendship develop beyond him being just your best friend's older brother and a guy to lust over. You got to know him, the real him and you valued his friendship.

Still, there were boundaries despite how close you two had become and being alone with him in his home wasn’t one you had crossed yet.

After placing your bag on a rack by the door, you take your heels off while Sy disappears into what you assume is his bedroom. He comes back a few moments later with an AC/DC t-shirt and some sweatpants. 

“Do you wanna take a shower or anything?” he asks as he hands you his clothes.

You consider it for a minute, but decide you can wait until the morning. “No, I'll just wash my make-up off.” Sy nods and leads you to the bathroom and gives you a towel to dry your face with. 

After you wash you assess the damage the crying had done. Your mascara and eyeliner are waterproof, so they’re mostly in place, but your eyes are puffy and lined with red. You know it's only going to be worse tomorrow, but there really isn’t anything you can do about it now. You dress in Sy’s clothes, and you pull the drawstring of the sweats tight so they don’t fall as you walk and you roll the bottoms up too so you don't trip. 

You take one last look in the mirror and sigh. You feel a little pathetic. You should have just gone home. Now you’re stuck at Sy’s place wearing his freaking clothes for God’s sake. You almost laugh at the irony of it all; a few years ago you would probably have killed to be in this position and now that you had gotten over your crush (mostly), here you are. You’re older now, realistic, you know nothing is ever going to happen between you and Sy. If it was, it would have already happened. 

You wipe under your eyes again and you recognise that you're stalling. You can’t put it off any longer, so, taking a final deep breath, you go back to Sy.

When you come out, you ask him for something to put your clothes in. He goes to his kitchen and returns carrying a small plastic bag. He holds it open for you while you carefully place your jeans and top inside.

“I called Caroline and let her know you’re stayin’ here so she won’t worry,” Sy says, hanging your clothes on the rack next to your bag.

“Thanks,” you say. “Is she ok with me staying here?”

“She’s a little worried about what happened to you, so expect an interrogation in the mornin’,” he says, rolling his eyes.

You half smile. That's not quite what you were asking but you decide not to question his response. “Of course.”

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks. “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch. Okay?”

You nod, you know you should argue with him, insist on taking the couch, but you know Sy, he won’t change his mind. “Thanks, Sy.”

He dips his head, acknowledging your thanks then just keeps looking at you with a small smile on his face. You return his smile weakly, then turn towards his room.

“Come ‘ere,” he says with a soft growl, and he grabs at your t-shirt, drawing you into his arms. 

You can’t say how many times Sy’s hugged you like this, too many times. And like all the other times you're overwhelmed by him, by his size, his warmth, his strength, his scent and you melt into his embrace. He cups the back of your head, tilting it until you’re looking down and kisses you on the crown.

“Baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yeah?” God, your voice is so hoarse you barely recognise it.

You hear him take a breath like he’s about to speak but then he exhales and swallows before speaking.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks in that low soothing tone he’s used all night. You nod and he lets you go. “You need anythin’, I’ll be here. Gonna stay up and watch some TV for a bit.”

You nod again and go to bed.

Sleep is elusive; you toss and turn. Sy’s bed is comfortable, and you’re mentally exhausted, but you just can’t relax. Not only are you caught up in replaying the disappointing kiss in the movie theatre, you can’t stop thinking about Sy. Surrounded by his covers, engulfed in his scent, you can’t help but remember the warmth of his body and the pleasant weight of his arms as he holds you.

It annoys you, frustrates you, and makes your heart ache. You remind yourself that you’re escaping into old fantasies, equating the feelings of your unrequited crush to your current sense of loneliness. You know you’re only thinking about Sy like this because of what happened on your date. Your romantic feelings toward Sy aren’t real, they aren’t based in anything tangible and are not reciprocated. You're his little sister’s best friend, of course he’d be nice to you tonight like he always was. It didn’t mean anything.

Eventually you get up. You’re just going to get a drink of water before trying to go to sleep again. You won’t disturb Sy, you’ll just quietly go through the family room to the kitchen and you’ll have your drink before going back to bed. That's it.

The TV is on with the volume turned down low. Sy is shirtless on the couch, he’s too big for it and his feet hang over the armrest, barely covered by the blanket he has over his legs. He has one arm raised and bent behind his head and the other is below the cover. Your eyes widen and heat floods your cheeks as you think of what else is under there.

Shit. 

You turn back to Sy’s room; it’s fine, you don't really need a drink. But before you can take a step, you hear his voice, “Sugar?”

Shit. 

You turn back and see moving into a seated position, pulling the blankets up with him.

“Can't sleep?” he asks. You shake your head. He gives you a sympathetic smile, “Me neither.”

You nod and look around the room, trying not to stare too long at Sy’s chest. He’s always had an amazing body, and he isn’t shy about it, frequently spending summer barbecues shirtless. But it’s different being alone in his apartment when he’s half naked and feels a little inappropriate. 

You peer back at him and he’s just staring at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. You point to the TV. 

“What are you watching?”

“Armageddon. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah. Once at the movies when it came out. It wasn’t bad.”

“Wanna watch it with me?” Sy asks.

Shit.

“Sure,” you say hesitantly. Your mouth is suddenly a little dry. Maybe you should get that drink first.

Sy swings his legs off the couch and pats the cushion next to him with a small jerk of his head.

You swallow hard as you sit on the opposite end of the couch, curling your legs up under you and leaning your head on the armrest. He rearranges the blanket so you both have some and settles into his corner, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

For a while you watch the movie in silence, sometimes one or both of you chuckle at a joke, but mostly you are quiet. The movie is supposed to just be a popcorn flick, it's not supposed to be that deep, nevertheless, you find yourself invested in the love story. And while it's cringe inducing, the scene with Ben Affleck’s character playing with the animal crackers on Liv Tyler's belly hits you hard. You’ve never experienced that kind of intimacy with a guy and you’re starting to think you never will.

“Sy?” 

He hums.

“Do you ever…” you pause and shake your head, “Nevermind.”

“No, go on, Sugar.” Sy mutes the tv and turns his body to face you.

You look down at the blanket and play with the edge. “Do you ever worry you'll be alone forever?” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Askin’ the big questions tonight I see.”

You shrug. “I just… sometimes I think I'm never gonna find someone. I’m never gonna fall in love.”

His brows draw together, “You’ve never been in love?”

“That stuff you hear about in movies and books, the sparks, the skipped heartbeats, the butterflies, the constant yearning, the need to be with them all the time. I've never felt that really.”

“Never?”

“Other than silly teenage crushes,” you bite your lip, you shouldn’t have mentioned that. You quickly deflect. “You have, haven't you? With Anna?”

“Yeah,“ he says with a half smile, “Yeah I loved her.”

“Do you miss her?”

Sy inhales deeply and studies his hands a moment, taking your question seriously. He looks at you before he speaks. “It’s complicated. I miss the feelings, I miss knowin’ I had someone, someone to be with, but I dont miss her.”

“You miss being in a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “and the sex, I miss the sex.”

You giggle and look away. “I’m sure you have no problem getting sex, Sy.”

He smirks and shrugs, conceding your point. “Yeah, I could get sex, but… It’s different when you’re in love. Feels different. I miss that sex.”

“At least you’ve had it once. I never have.”

“Wait, you’ve never had sex?”

“I’ve had sex, just not that amazing, loving, the world disappears and its just the two of you, sex. It’s never been good,” you pause and look at Sy and you before you can stop yourself you add, “I’ve never even had an orgasm.”

“What? Ever?”

“I have… alone…” you squirm a little in the seat, berating yourself for even bringing it up.

“Assholes,” Sy says.

“It's not really their fault,” you explain and Sy raises his eyebrows, “I mean they tried, it's just that I can’t seem to… get over the line.”

“You mean you get in your head? You overthink it?”

“Maybe,” you say, “I start wondering if I’m too loud. Am I taking too long? If I taste—” you stop talking, suddenly realising what you’re saying and who you’re saying it to. Your eyes meet Sy’s and you can’t breathe; he's looking at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. He’s biting his lip, his eyes are dark and hooded. You turn away. “Nevermind.”

Sy clears his throat and an awkward silence descends between you as you both stare at the television.

“So, that crush you had,” Sy glances at you, “Anyone I know?”

“It was in high school, Sy. And I’m over it.” Completely over it.

“I ain’t over my high school crush,” he says with a smirk.

“What? Really?” you ask surprised. “You… you dated all the time, and all the popular girls… Why didn’t you ask her out?”

“It was complicated,” he says, “she was sorta off limits.”

“Who was she?”

“She was a sophomore when I was a senior.”

“Wait. She was in my year?” you ask, surprised again by Sy’s admission. “Was she one of Caroline’s friends? Was that why she was off limits?” 

He nods. “She never actually said I couldn’t date any of her friends, but… Anyway, I never said anything.” 

You nibble on your lip, thinking back to who it could have been. “Was it Leanne Newman?”

Sy scrunches his face up, “No.” You open your mouth to guess again but Sy cuts you off. “I ain’t playing a guessin’ game with you.”

“You can’t tell me you had a crush on one of our friends and not tell me who it is.”

“Sure you wanna know?” Sy asks, his face is impassive and you’re unable to get a read on him.

“Well yeah, what does it matter now?” you grin and say teasingly, “Are you worried I’ll tell her? You getting shy on me, Syverson?”

He doesn’t smile back or take the bait. Instead he stares at you while he pulls his lower lip into his mouth. Then he shakes his head. “Now's not the time.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and tries to get you to lay your head on his chest. “Ask me another time.”

You push away from him and sit up, “Why are you being all weird about this? You were the one who brought it up.”

His jaw clenches. “Well who was yours?” he asks, his annoyance plain by his curt tone.

You shift uncomfortably. “It’s not important,” you throw the blankets back and stand, “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.” 

That’s a lie, but this conversation is heading in a strange direction and you’ve had enough for one night.

Sy stands too, the covers falling from his legs and you realise all he has on are a pair of boxer briefs. Your face heats, mortified that you had sat there all that time and all he had been wearing was underwear.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Sy says, completely unperturbed by the fact he was nearly naked.

“You’re not going to tell me yours,” you fold your arms across your chest and try to focus on his face. He looks away as he runs his tongue over his teeth and you recognise it as a sign of frustration. You throw your hands up in the air, completely exasperated, “This is ridiculous, Sy. I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.”

“It’s you,” he says.

“Me?” you say, your voice rising, becoming shrill, “I’m not doing anything!”

“No, Sugar,” he says softly, meeting your eyes, “The sophomore. It was you.”

You take a step back and stiffen. You feel an icy chill weave its way up your spine. 

“That’s not funny, Sy,” you say, your voice quivering in disbelief. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he says soberly as he takes a step closer to you. 

You have to admit, he does look serious. You shake your head as you drop your gaze to the floor, unable to look at him. You can’t believe him, no way; he’s never even hinted his interest in you.

“Sugar,” he says gruffly, “I told you mine, are you gonna tell me yours?” 

His hand cups your cheek and the contact makes your skin tingle all over as if you can feel his touch everywhere. You gasp as he runs his thumb over your cheek, then over your lips and jaw before tracing your throat to the hollow at the base of your neck.

“Or am I gonna have to guess?” he asks, with a cocky smirk.

“How do you know?” you ask, your voice weak with breathlessness, “How do you know it was you?”

“I had a hunch.” His pink tongue slips quickly between his lips, making his lips shine with the reflection of the tv screen. “A hope that maybe you feel the same way I do. I wasn’t sure.”

“But I’m over you,” you say more to yourself than to him.

“That's a damn shame,” Sy says in a tone so low you barely make out the words, “Cause I ain’t ever gonna get over you.”

He licks his lips again and his eyes trace the path of his thumb as he caresses your jaw. Then he meets your eyes and he takes a half step closer, your bodies almost touching. His lips part, his head dips and his eyelids start to close.

Oh God. He’s going to kiss you.

This can’t be real, there is no way after all this time that tonight he’s going to confess that he’s had feelings for you. Since high school no less. 

Why now?

What changed?

You gasp and firmly hold his shoulders, stopping his advance. You know why he’s saying it and it makes your stomach clench.

“You’re just saying this because of what I said,” you accuse and Sy’s eyes fly open and his head snaps to attention. “You feel sorry for me don’t you?”

“Feel sorry for you?”

Frustrated you push away from him, tears threatening again as you head to his kitchen. You thought Sy was better than this, a man that would never use your feelings against you like this. Did he really think you’d fall for it?

“I don’t need a pity fuck, Sy.”

“A pity fuck?” Sy says, incredulously as he follows you.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

You lift the receiver on his wall mounted phone and start dialling.

“Sugar, what are you doin’?” Sy asks, sounding confused. “Who you callin’?”

“A cab,” you say roughly, “I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” he says, sounding offended.

“Stop repeating everything I say!”

“Sugar, I just laid my heart out and you…”

Your head jerks up and you see bewilderment in his pinched brow. He keeps advancing on you, hesitantly, as if at any moment he expected you to tell him to stop. And you want to. You open your mouth to tell him so, but the look in his eyes gives you pause.

He leans into you, trapping your body against the counter. His hands cover your cheeks. “Baby, I mean it, I ain’t lyin’ to you. I feel somethin’ every time I touch ya. Every time you smile at me I feel like I’m about to break out in a sweat. When you cry it makes my chest ache and I...” His arm coils around your back and he rests his weight against you, “If you don’t want me, fine, okay; I’ll let ya go and you can call your cab. But I don’t want you to leave thinkin’ I lied to you.”

“Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Baby, I wanted to. So many times,” he chuckles bitterly and lowers his head. “I thought I was over you, we were kids, and I was gone then you were gone. But every time I came back and saw you,” his voice lowers to nearly a whisper, “I knew I was never gonna stop wantin’ to be with you.”

God, this is too much. This is crazy, just crazy. And you just can’t deal with it.

“I want to go home, Sy,” you manage to rasp as tears well in your eyes again.

Sy doesn’t move for a moment, and you think maybe he won’t let you leave. Then he sniffs and takes a step back, without looking at you. “Okay,” he says, “Yeah, okay.”

A piercing pain strikes your chest at the dejected sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, Sy. I…”

He holds a hand out to you, gesturing you to stop. “It’s ok, you don’t gotta explain,” He rubs his hand over his head and down his face, “I’m uh… I’ll let ya make your call,” he says as he turns away and leaves the kitchen.

You call the cab company with shaking fingers. You think you’re going to have to call out to Sy to get his address, but you discover a few bills stuck to his fridge. After you hang up, you find some tissues, bundle them up and stick them in the pocket of your pants, certain you’re going to need them for the ride home.

Shit.

You are wearing Sy’s clothes. You go to the rack by the door and grab your bag, intending to change before you leave.

“You don’t have to change,” Sy says, from behind you. You turn to him and notice that he’s put on a t-shirt, sweats and some shoes. “Keep ‘em. Or give ‘em back another time.”

God, he sounds so broken, so hurt, and awfully resigned. 

“Sy, I…” you start to cry again; you can’t stop the tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sy draws you into his arms, “Easy now, it’s ok.”

You shake your head into his chest. It's not okay. It won't ever be okay between you again. You know that. You know your relationship has changed forever. You feel like shit. Here you are rejecting him, telling him you’re not interested and he’s the one holding you while you cry. No matter how good it feels to be in his embrace, you can’t take comfort from him anymore. It's not fair to him.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you slide out of Sy’s arms. You slip your shoes on, feeling utterly ridiculous in your heels and put your coat on. Sy reaches for his coat too and when you’re ready to leave, he opens the door for you and walks you out.

When he opens his building's front door, the icy chill of the night air slices through Sy’s t-shirt and your thin coat, taking your breath away. You start to shiver immediately.

“Sy, it’s freezing. You don’t have to wait with me.”

He just shakes his head and walks you to the street. “How long did they say they’d be?”

“Ten minutes,” you tell him.

He nods and sticks his hands in his pockets and you put yours under your arms, stepping from foot to foot trying to keep warm.

“Think it’ll rain later?” Sy asks looking up at the cloudy night sky.

“Sy, you don’t have to do this,” you say, “you don’t have to pretend that everythings okay.”

“I’m just talkin’. Ain’t we able to talk now that I’ve made a complete fool of myself?” he grins, making light of the situation.

“You didn’t…” Sy glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, and you shake your head. “Not a complete fool.”

“Just a li’l bit then,” he surmises.

You shrug. He really hadn’t misinterpreted anything. You look down at your feet, curling your toes in your heels, trying to keep them warm. You don’t want to think about it, you don’t want to think about him, you just want to go home, have a cry in your bed and try to sort out your mixed up feelings. 

“Cab’s here,” he says.

You look up and see that he’s right. The driver pulls up, winds his window down and says your name, confirming the car is for you. You nod and for a moment you’re stuck, unable to move.

Sy places a gentle hand on your lower back and you can feel his warm breath as he kisses your temple.

“Go on, Sugar,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes. Your chest tightens, and a lump forms in your throat. You reach a hand out to him but he’s already moved away, walking back to his apartment. You feel sick, you can’t work out what’s wrong with you. Why does it feel like your heart is breaking?

“Miss?” the cab driver calls to you, “You coming?”

You’re trembling and not just from the cold. You take a step back from the cab and shake your head.

“I made a mistake,” you tell the driver. He looks at you with raised eyebrows but you don't have time to explain.

Pivoting, you run back towards the building. Sy has already gone back inside and you see him at the stairs. You knock frantically on the door, he stiffens and turns around, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise. He comes back down the stairs in a little jog, and opens the door with furrowed brows.

“Did you forget somethin’?” Sy asks.

You shake your head, unable to get the words out.

Sy looks over your head, “Hey, your cabs leaving, what—”

Standing on your toes you put your arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to yours. 

Sparks. Skipped heart beats. Butterflies. Yearning. Need. 

You feel it all as Sy groans and wraps his arms around you. His lips are as soft rose petals as they move over yours, stroking lightly at first before building pressure. You feel something hard against your back and you barely register that he's brought you inside and pinned you against the wall.

“Sy,” you whisper, drawing away to take a ragged breath. 

“Baby,” Sy says, his hands moving over your body as if confirming that you’re really there, “you came back.” He states the obvious and if you weren't closing in on the edge of a pure mental meltdown yourself, you would have laughed. 

His lips are on yours again, his beard feels so soft as his whiskers slide over your lips. He lifts your shirt, his hands are cool and your skin feels like it's burning as they brush your trembling belly. He grasps your waist, his fingers dig into your flesh as his kiss becomes firmer.

“Want this… Want you… So long… Always…” He murmurs between kisses.

His lips move down your neck, his kiss is rough, wet and scorching. His hands move higher, squeezing at your ribs as if he wants to crush you. You close your eyes, your body arching, your hips slotting against his and you moan.

His thumbs caress the curve of your bare breasts beneath his shirt. Your hands seem to move by their own volition as they glide down his neck and under his jacket. You slide it off his shoulders feeling the tension held in the bulging mass of muscles beneath his shirt.

His hands leave your body while he throws his coat off like it's on fire and he drops it uncaringly to the floor. Then he leans hard into you, hips circling you and you can feel him, growing hard, so fucking hard, against your belly. His hands move under your shirt again, but he withdraws them quickly.

“Upstairs,” he breathes and he bends down to grab his coat.

Wordlessly, he takes your hand and walks you towards the stairs. You get the feeling if you weren’t trotting after him, he’d drag you anyway.

He turns to look at you as you reach the first landing, his eyes are blue fire as he bites his lip. You don’t know what he sees when he looks at you, but you know you must be reflecting the same vehement expression. Now that you’ve kissed, there’s no way to hide your feelings. He takes the stairs blind, like he’s bewitched by your face and won’t even look where he’s going. You aren’t much better, seemingly trapped by the same force that keeps his eyes on you.

As he opens the door to his apartment, his heavy silence and heady gaze finally gets the better of you. Closing your eyes, you turn away from him slowly, taking your bags off and placing them by the door.

Sy hums as he moves behind helping you take your coat off. You step out of your heels, using the movements to put some distance between the two of you.

“I think we need to talk about this before it goes any further, Sy,” you say looking at his cream coloured carpet.

His feet enter your field of vision and he lifts your chin. 

“Shoot,” he says in his deep gravelly voice.

You swallow hard. God, he radiates sexual energy, raw, primal, and seductive. You haven’t felt that from him before, never to this extent at least. His hand moves down your throat and slides to the side of your neck. Your body hums, vibrating from somewhere deep inside.

“I’m listening,” he prompts.

He seems so composed now, so in control, earlier he had been as wild as you. Now you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust and he’s as cool as ice.

“I uh… What are we going to do?” you ask flustered and uncomposed, your eyes sliding shut as he tugs gently on your ear with his thumb and forefinger.

“Now or tomorrow?” His breath is hot on your neck as he dips his head and nuzzles into you. His beard pleasantly brushes over your skin and you feel it in your spine as you shiver with pleasure.

“Now? Both?” His silky lips skim over you, the potent cocktail of sensations is doing you in and you can’t think. “Sy stop, please.”

Leaving you with one last kiss he breathes in deeply before taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his chest and your eyes slide over his body, lingering on the bulge between his legs. You drag your focus to his face and you see that you were wrong, he’s not composed, he’s as aroused as you are.

“Oh fuck it,” you say, and grab his shirt in your fists.

A fleeting look of shock crosses Sy’s features before his blue eyes flash with lust and he grins like a cat who got the cream. He captures your face in his hands and meets your lips with his.

His hands roam everywhere, kneading at your hips, your breasts, and your ass. You can’t keep your hands off him either, running up his thickly muscled arms, to his neck and down his strong back. Your fingers dive into the scruff of his beard finding it surprisingly soft and your nails scratch gently at his cheeks and jaw.

“Couch or bed?” he growls with a raised eyebrow. You know what he's asking, he wants to know how far you want to take this.

“Bed,” you say determinedly. You want it, you want him, why are you questioning it?

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Without letting you out of his arms he walks you to his bed, awkwardly trying to toe off his shoes as he keeps trying to kiss you.

“You can let me go, Sy,” you tease as he grunts and he finally kicks his shoes away.

“Can’t do that, baby,” he says with a smirk, “I ain’t ever lettin’ you go.” He grabs your ass and lifts you onto his hips and you yelp. “I’m gonna bundle you up and take you with me everywhere. Might get some side eye at work, but it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re so cheesy, Sy,” you giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you laugh, Sugar,” he says without the slightest hint of amusement and your laughter dies.

An intensity settles between you as Sy takes the last few steps into his bedroom. He leaves the light off and turns on a small lamp that bathes the room in a soft warm glow. Then he lowers you to your feet.

You turn to look at the bed, the covers are still pulled back as you left it when you got up to get a drink. Sy walks around the other side and climbs in and you slip between the covers and meet him in the middle of the bed. There is a weighty anticipation and part of you wonders if you’re moving too fast. Maybe you should have picked the couch.

If you’re honest with yourself, your trepidation comes from more than that. Now that the moment has arrived, now that you’re in bed with the man you have wanted to be with for as long as you can remember, you fear disappointment.

You know you shouldn’t get caught up in your head. Kissing Sy was already a better experience than you’ve ever had with any man before. But somehow that makes the ball of anxiety in your gut grow even heavier and more onerous.

And worse than all of that is the question: what if you had it wrong all the time? What if you’re the one who is a disappointment? What if sex was always bad for you because you aren’t any good at it?

“You okay?” Sy asks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You shrug. He rubs his thumb between your pinched brows as if to soothe away your worries. He looks away for a moment and stares off into the distance, then he brings his eyes back to you.

“Are you thinkin’ ‘bout some of the things you told me about earlier?”

You drop your head and quietly curse.

“Don’t think about that, baby. Just feel me,” he says.

“I can’t help it,” you whisper.

“Let me help you then,” Sy says with a grin and throws back the covers. 

“Sy…” you whimper softly.

“Hush,” he says, brushing mouth against yours.

His velvety soft tongue flicks teasingly at your lips before his hands travel down your sides. He lifts your shirt, and moves down your body until he is kissing your belly.

“Jane’s Addiction,” Sy murmurs as he nuzzles into your tummy.

“What?” you ask, completely thrown by his out of left field comment.

“Jane’s Addiction was playin’ on the radio the first time I met you.”

“You remember the first time you met me?”

He nods solemnly, “Few days into senior year. It was rainin’ and Carol begged me to drive her and her new friend home.”

“Oh I remember that!” you say. You laugh and run your hand over his buzz cut, “Your hair was so long and curly.”

“Yeah, it was,” he breathes and you gasp as his hands reach your breasts.

You bite your lip as he lifts your shirt higher and his eyes grow wide as your breasts are revealed. He keeps raising the hem and you lift your arms. With a quick tug you’re topless and before you even have a chance to feel self conscious, he rises to his knees, reaches behind his head and he is swiftly shirtless too.

He lays over you, his weight is heavy but welcomed and warm. His lips are at your neck, his hand cupping your breast, caressing, rubbing, squeezing.

“You sat in the backseat, and I kept looking in the rear view mirror at you. I couldn’t stop.” 

His kiss moves to your nipple, his tongue slips between his teeth, circling before drawing you into his mouth. The gentle suckle makes you moan and you ache for more as the throbbing between your legs borders on unbearable. His azure gaze is intense and hungry as he lifts his head.

“You wore a green strapless dress to my 21st birthday and kept stealin’ my tequila shots,” he continues, “You wore a pink cardigan with cherries on it when you came to my homecoming after my first deployment,” his voice gets low as he adds, “You kissed me that night, just my cheek, but I’ll never forget it, or that your hair smelled like strawberries.”

“Sy…”

He rises to his knees again, licking his lips and tucking the bottom one into his mouth. His broad chest is puffing hard as he looks at you and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your borrowed sweats. 

“You cut your hair to look like some actress when you came to visit me with Carol after I made it through selection,” he glances away long enough to untie the draw string.

You cover your face in your hands, reliving the painful six months it took for the cut to grow out. “Oh God, that haircut was awful.”

“It was,” Sy chuckles, then he’s quiet as you feel the sweats slide down your thighs. You peek through your fingers. “But you were still so fucking beautiful,” he says and his body covers yours. He removes your hands from your face and cradles your head in his hand, “You are beautiful.”

You shake your head, but you smile, warming with his compliments. “You remember all of that?”

“That and so much more,” he says as he dips his head and kisses you.

You kiss him back with a slightly parted mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips. He groans wrapping an arm around your waist while yours encircle his neck. He breathes hard into your mouth as he kisses you, and you have no doubt you’re breathing just as hard.

“Gonna go slow, okay?” Sy murmurs. His eyes sweep down over your nearly naked form and he chuckles, “Gonna try anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“I want to,” he insists, “I wanna take care of you, make it good for you.”

He kisses you as he places his hand on the inside of your thigh and exertes slight pressure. You let yourself open for him, so eager for his touch you can’t stop trembling. His kiss grows deeper, harder as his fingertips dance up your thigh.

His hand cups your clothed centre and he groans as you gasp and instinctively close your legs. He holds your thigh and guides it open again with a gentle yet firm touch. The heel of his palm presses against your clit and your body surges, heat radiating as he moves in tight circles.

Your heart starts to pound, your breath shudders and your thighs won’t stop shaking. You recognise the feeling and it's good, better than good; every stroke of his hand, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue at your mouth takes you higher until your entire body throbs.

Sy lifts his head, his mouth hovers just above yours. He stares into your eyes while his fingers delicately trace the edge of your underwear. 

“Gonna take ‘em off,” he says, pausing until you nod, lifting your hips and he drags your panties down your thighs.

With a gentle nudge he guides your thighs open again and his hand strokes your body, from your hip to your breasts, he leaves a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He bites his lip as he looks at you then he lowers his head until it rests next to yours on the pillow.

“I wanna make you cum,” he says as he caresses your shoulder then traces an invisible line down your arm.

He laces his fingers between yours and brings your joined hands to your core. Your hips roll, spine arches as he dips your fingers into your slick and sticky wetness.

“Fuck,” Sy groans and presses his forehead into yours, “Show me what you like, show me what feels good.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think…”

“There ya go thinkin’ when ya should be feelin’,” Sy says, his voice a little teasing.

Guiding your joined hands he slides your fingers over your folds and spreads your wetness all over you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he murmurs, “Just feel what I do, listen to what I say. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You don’t respond, you can’t, so you close your eyes and try to focus on his touch.

“Put my hand where you want it,” he urges hoarsely.

You nod and take hold of his wrist and using your other hand you cover his. You guide him over your slit letting his whole hand glide over you, the friction of his skin against your folds makes you moan.

“Your pussy feels so good, baby,” he breathes into your ear, “love how soft ya are… delicate…”

You whimper as your nails dig into his wrist and your body heaves. A warm rush floods your core, you’ve never been so aroused by a man in your life. “Oh God, Sy.”

“So wet and puffy and warm, bet ya taste real good too.”

Molten hot liquid seems to flow through your veins and heat blooms deep within your gut. You raise his fingers to your clit, placing them right where you need them and you guide his movements for a few seconds. His hand moves passively over you until he seems to catch your rhythm and you feel the moment he takes over. You let him go and try to keep breathing as torrid jolts of intense pleasure wreak havoc on your nerves.

“I wanted this for a long time. Wanted you here, in my bed, wanted to touch you like this,” he says as his beard grazes the side of your neck and his lips capture your earlobe. “And that you wanted it too, that you wanted to be here, with me.”

His confession makes you open your eyes and turn your head towards him. He’s looking down at his hand between your legs, his brows are low and his eyes are narrow. He bites his lip and you watch stunned as his teeth drag over his soft flesh.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, so softly that if you hadn’t seen his mouth moving you don’t think you would have been able to make out what he said. 

His eyes sweep up your body and he catches you looking at him. Through your moans, you smile shyly at him and he makes a low growling noise in his throat.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he rumbles, and he leans over you. 

Your lips meet in a sordid clash, it's wet, sloppy and uncontrolled. You grab at his arm clawing and clutching, your legs won’t stop shaking, and you can’t stop your moans turning into cries.

You squeeze your eyes shut and fall back into the pillow, concentrating on the tightness between your legs. Your whole body feels taut, pulled tight like an elastic, ready to snap at any moment. This is where it stops for you, where you get caught, where you take too long, where he gets bored, where he…

“Sy, I don’t think I can, I…” you say, turning him, panting and exhausted.

Sy takes your hand and holds it against his sweats. You feel him underneath, hard as steel, pulsing, and thick.

“Oh shit,” you cry.

“Feel that, baby?” Sy groans, “That's what touchin’ you does to me. If ya want me to stop, I will, but don’t ask me to stop cause you think I don’t wanna do this. ‘Cause you’d be dead wrong.”

You gasp and whine, mewling as you melt into his gaze. An animal hunger and primal need is naked in his stare, but so was his enjoyment. There is a subtle curve to his lips as he starts to rut against your hand and you can have no doubt of his desire.

“Don’t stop,” you say. 

Sy voice reverberates in his chest as he rests his forehead against yourrs forehead, his eyes holding yours as with a gaze that would be predatory if he wasn’t simultaneously panting as if he’s trapped too.

The tension within you builds again, faster now and it takes you no time to flirt with the edge of release. Your body becomes unhinged; clenching, desperate, writhing. You cry out as you fly apart and for a moment you hang there, floating in bliss as your body undulates, riding out each scorching wave of euphoric pleasure.

When you come back down and can start to think coherently you feel Sy’s nose rubbing gently against yours. His hand is flat covering your core, slowly dragging up and down over you, as if he really is touching you for his own enjoyment. His mouth drifts lazily over yours, kissing your top then bottom lip.

Your hand is still against his cock, your fingers caging him as your palm presses flat. You move your hand, and you feel the rush of air from his lungs against your lips in a ragged exhale. You do it again and his hips jerk.

“Baby…” he drawls.

You roll onto your side so you're facing him, and rest your free hand against the centre of his chest, your fingers sinking into his coarse hair.

“Sy…” you hum back as you slide your hand down his torso until your fingers find another patch of hair and your fingertips dip teasingly into his waistband.

“Wanna touch me, huh?” he asks in a low, gravelly tone. 

“Yes,” you say.

“Fuck, that word has never sounded so good,” Sy grins.

You giggle softly then bite your lip, you probably shouldn’t laugh at a time like this.

Sy caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, “I love it when you smile, Sugar.”

Your lips stretch wide, you can’t help it. Sy hums, still grinning and leans in to kiss you. You move your hand lower into his pants and finding the elastic of his boxer briefs, you slip your fingers beneath those too. Your heart pounds and your fingers tremble as you feel the tight soft skin of his cock. With the softest touch you can manage, you wrap your hand around him.

Sy sucks in a breath with a hiss, “Gonna take my pants off.” You nod and relax your hand, but he puts a hand on your wrist. “Don’t let go.”

You suppress another giggle as Sy awkwardly lowers his pants around where you’re joined. But he moves fast and quickly he settles onto his back and draws you close under his arm.

Looking down, your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him. Your body warms again as you watch your hand move slowly over him. You feel Sy’s body twitch, moving slightly as you work him with a slow easy rhythm. 

Then as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer he lets out a low groan and his whole body heaves. His arm tightens around you and he lifts your chin before covering your mouth with his. His tongue sweeps over yours as he kisses you firmly, ferociously, demandingly. Then he falls back again, his head dropping into the pillow.

You kiss his shoulder, his muscles pulling taut below his skin as he tightens his arm around you. Encouraged, you move your mouth along his collarbone to the base of his neck. You want to kiss him there but you’re too far away, so you move onto your belly, almost climbing over his huge form until you’re half on him, half on the mattress. Without stopping the motion of your hand, you nuzzle into his neck. His skin is so hot beneath your lips, humid as he breaks out into a sweat.

“Fuck,” he groans, and he holds the back of your head to him as his body rolls under you. Despite how small his size makes you feel physically, the way he moves, the noises that he makes, and the way he touches you, makes you feel powerful. You love knowing you’re making him feel good and you want to give him more.

You move down his body slowly, leaving a trail of kisses as you go. When you reach his hip, you look up at him and his eyes are already on you.

“Baby?” he asks.

You look at him in your hand briefly then look back at Sy and lick your lips.

“Wanna put me in your mouth, huh?” he whispers, his chest is pumping hard, his cock is pulsing and becoming unbelievably thick in your hand. He reaches down and rubs his thumb over your mouth. “Pretty li’l lips.”

“Yes.” You part your lips and without breaking the rhythmic motions of your hand you take him in your mouth.

“God damn…” He cradles your head in his warm hands, fingers caressing your neck and throat, tracing the curve of your jaw. 

“Look so good, baby… feel so good…” 

He groans and his hips move in a slow, gentle rocking motion, his body arching as he moves within your mouth. His tenderness is not what you’re used to; he essentially fucking your mouth, yet you feel as though he’s completely surrendered to the moment and to you.

Sy isn’t quiet, and you quickly discover what he likes by watching and listening. You find a nice rhythm, sucking and massaging with your tongue while he pumps into your mouth. He’s careful not to go too deep at first, but soon you see his starts to become erratic, tensing his thighs hard and he seems to grow harder in your hand. You take over, moving over him steadily increasing his pace.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he grunts out his warning, “Oh fuck! Gonna fuckin’ cum in your mouth.”

His eyes close tight, his head rolls back and his whole body seems to elongate. His groans turn into growls before he roars your name and begins to fill your mouth with long, thick, and warm jets.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as you slow down your movements, gently licking within your mouth until he shivers with a hum and pulls his hips away.

You sit on your knees, unsure of what to do. Now that it is over and both your passions are sated, you wonder what is going to happen. You have fleeting images of awkward interactions, perhaps never talking about this night again.

You place your hand on his still trembling thigh. You like the feeling of his sparsely haired skin under your palm, and you try to commit this moment to memory, in case it never happens again. He’s so attractive; his shoulders, arms and forehead are covered in a light sheen, his mouth is curved into a soft smile and he has a hand on his chest as he breathes heavily and steadily while he comes down from his high.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way over there?” Sy asks as he lifts the hand off his chest and beckons you to him.

Hesitantly you lay next to him, positioning yourself into the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder. He lifts your chin and kisses your mouth with a tender stroke of lips and tongue.

Sy pulls away humming and asks, “You need anythin’? A drink or somethin’?”

You shake your head, “No. Thank you though.”

Sy chuckles a little and kisses you on the top of your head. “Want to sleep?” He asks, his beard tickles your forehead as he adds, “With me?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say softly.

He leans down to bring the covers up over both of you. He hums again. He sounds content and happy, and starts to stroke your arms with his fingers. 

You start to think that maybe… maybe this thing with you and Sy isn't just a one off.

When you wake in the morning, you find yourself alone in bed. 

Your heart sinks into your gut and your throat seems to want to close up. You quickly take hold of yourself rationalising that you’re in his bed, surely he couldn’t be so desperate to avoid you that he would leave his own house and make you find your own way home.

As you raise your head to sit up, you notice a piece of paper on Sy’s pillow. Nervously, you reach for it and see that it’s a quickly scrawled note.

Gone for a run.

You looked so pretty sleeping, I didn’t wanna wake you. 

I put the coffee on. Make yourself a cup if you want. 

Sy

The mild panic you felt begins to wane as you read over his note again. He hasn’t just left you, he’s coming back and he still thinks you’re pretty. Smiling stupidly, you flop back onto the bed and give a little squeal into the pillows.

Before Sy returns, you get dressed in your clothes from last night. The top you wore felt scandalously low in the light of the early morning, but your coat would cover most of it. You wash your face and rub some toothpaste onto your teeth and rinse. You think about looking for a brush, but you don’t want to go searching through Sy’s bathroom cabinet.

Just as you’re finishing pouring yourself a coffee, Sy returns. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so biting your lip you take the time to really look at him as he toes off his sneakers. Sy is spectacularly attractive wearing an army PT t-shirt, a pair of running shorts, iPod earbuds in his ears, dripping with sweat and humming. He seems to ooze a raw, primal, brutal sexuality in his walk as he heads your way.

When he finally notices you, he grins and pulls the earbuds out and lays his iPod on the kitchen bench. He comes close but keeps some distance between you as he lays a hand on your hip before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Mornin’, Sugar,” he says. He takes a step back as you reach for him and you feel disappointed. It must have shown on your face because he quickly continues, “I’m all sweaty. Gonna take a shower, okay?”

You smile and nod, “Okay.”

He returns your smile and takes half a step to move away, before changing his mind and turning back to you.

“I liked comin’ home to you,” he says. His eyes wander over your clothes, and he runs a finger down your exposed chest. “You look good.”

Feeling a little timid by his suggestive touch, you look to the ground and make a joke. “You like my walk of shame outfit?”

“I ain’t ashamed, baby,” he says, sweaty or not, he takes you in his arms, “you ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of neither. I don’t regret what happened last night. Not one bit.”

You meet his eyes and see how open his stare is and you believe him. You see the unasked question as he peers at you. “I don’t either, Sy.”

“Good,” Sy grins, “‘Cause I wanna do it again.” You laugh a little and look away and Sy chuckles too. “No, I mean… Well yeah, that. But I wanna take ya out. On a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sy says firmly. Then his eyes light up. “Wait here okay? Wanna show ya somethin’.” 

He doesn’t wait for your reply and leaves the kitchen coming back moments later with an envelope and hands it to you.

“Last night, you asked why I hadn’t said anythin’ about how I felt,” he waits for you to nod before he continues, “Well, I was planning on askin’ you to come with me. Ask you out, I mean.”

Turning the envelope over, you lift the flap and pull out two concert tickets to Jane’s Addiction.

“Sy, I…” you look at him feeling overwhelmed, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll go with me.”

“Of course I will,” you say.

Sy draws you into his arms, kisses you and doesn’t let go.

#captain syverson #captain syverson smut #captain syverson angst #captain sy #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x female reader #syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #captain sy x reader #captain sy fanfiction #and so much more... #sillyrabbit81 #captain syverson x you

[struggling-with-drivers]

This is pure brainrot

Been having a lot of thoughts lately, since I can't seem to finish and actual fic, have this idea of some wish au or time travel au or whatever.

Au where Charles got granted a wish to change one thing in his past.

Max is on his knee in front of him, and Charles can't take it anymore.

"Charles will you marr-"

"I did something bad." Charles rushes out, tears already prickling.

"What?"

"Max I did something terrible." Charles repeats himself. "Something horrible."

Max's face twists as he looks up at Charles, a sight that usually would bring him nothing but pleasure, but now it rushes him with guilt.

"Charles. What did you do?" Max is slowly closing the ring box. A loud snap accompanying the motion.

"I- you- we- I'm sorry." Charles breathes out, "I'm so sorry, I had to do it, and you need to know."

Max is getting up from the ground the box clutched in his hand as a look of disappointment washes over his face, maybe even anger with the way his face is turning red.

"Charles, what. Did. You. Do." Max is punctuating each word.

"You were a world champion."

"What?" Max nearly laughs, "what excuse is that?! Charles did you sleep with someone else?!"

"Wha- no, no!" He screeches, "you were a 3 times world champion on your way to your 4th, and I just, Max. Max I made a mistake."

"What do you mean world champion?"

"I got a chance, I didn't think it was real, I was drunk and this guy showed up, and talked about if I could change one thing, and I told him, and I don't know, then everything changed, and chèri I'm so sorry."

"I'll humour you, what did you wish for?"

"Remember when we were 6, the 2nd time we met, I saw your dad hit you over the head. I wished I had told my dad instead of staying silent."

"What do you mean? But you did say something, your parents helped my mom and-"

"No Max, I didn't..." Charles watches as Max's face scrunches, an urge to puke forms in Charles.

"You didn't." Max's voice cracks as he seems to look like a train hit him, a lifetime of memories that aren't his floods his mind.

Max went to live with him mum, the Leclerc's helped them, and Max didn't, he was never left a gas station, he never kept karting, he went to school and was good, he got into university, he kissed Charles. He... Won. A lot Max won a lot and fought with Charles, and called him horrible words, and Charles hated him, and Max kept winning, Max drove fast cars, Charles by his side. Max won 3 championship, nearly a 4th as well. Max didn't go to university for a degree. Max was a formula 1 championship and Charles took it all away from him.

-

Charles had watched Max get hit by his dad when he was 6 and said nothing about it.

During a night out after a race, a club he shouldn't be in considering that he got 9th in a fucking Ferrari, and yet he was. Unable to forget the stiffness of Max's shoulders as Jos didn't even congratulate his son for the win.

When black hair flooded his vision asking questions about his life, his regrets, what he would change, and Charles must have been drunker than he thought.

Because out of everything he regrets, he told the stranger, "I regret staying silent."

And Charles never said about what or when or how, but then he had blacked out. He didn't even remember leaving the bar, but a pair of arms was around his waist, and then he had been shocked when he recognised those hands, and then a gruff voice had asked him why he was awake so early, and Charles...

Charles had let himself fall back asleep, all too content with pretending everything was normal, with how Max looked at him. Max looked so happy whenever he looked at Charles, and Charles just couldn't take anything else away.

So he stayed, and pretended to be the Charles this Max knew, the one who works as a model, the one who listens to Max talk about V8 engines that he's working on for Audi.

Charles hoped that it had all just been a far too vivid dream that had stuck around in the back of his head, muddling his memories, but he knew. He knew what he had done, and he just couldn't take the lightness away from Max again.

Not when he smiles so brightly, not when he looks so relaxed, not when he looks at Charles in the way Charles had wanted for more years than he had ever been able to process.

#lestappen #max verstappen #Charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #Delia brainrots

[bl00d-bunny]

rock bottom - lip gallagher

-pairing- lip gallagher x fem!reader

-summary- after bumping into lip on the street, you catch up and realize lip isn't doing too good. for this request here

-warnings- angst, vomit/throwing up, alcohol abuse, smoking (w33d), drinking, shameless activities lol,

-word count- 2k

Friday nights for you were always the same. After clocking out at work, you’d stop at your local shop to buy a pack of smokes and some beers before heading home to your couch. You liked the routine, it was like self-care to you. Instead of spending the weekend partying as you used to, you’d spend the weekend alone, watching sitcom reruns with a beer. 

As soon as you stepped out of work you were on autopilot. You knew what to expect, Friday nights were always the same. You’d get the train, then walk to the same shop, wave at the same shopkeeper, walk to the same fridge, and get the same beer, before walking to the counter to buy the same smokes and then walk the same five minutes to your apartment. 

You liked the repetition, it was a time for your brain to switch off, almost like meditation. As you paid the shopkeeper, whose name you really should know by now, you heard the bell at the door. You thanked the shopkeeper, like always, and stuffed your change into your purse. 

Someone bumped into your back, sending the coins in your hand skidding across the counter. Picking up the coins you see their beige jacket heading for the booze, you roll your eyes. 

Unfortunately, this was also part of your routine, living in a not-so-nice neighborhood meant that there were always junkies, or drunks, in their own world focused on their next fix. You didn’t mind them in all honesty, although you wished they had a better sense of direction. 

You are clumsy enough as it is, you didn’t need any more help with being knocked over. Making sure you had all your money, you waved to the shopkeeper before heading out.

Outside the shop, you wrapped your coat across your chest hoping to keep the cold air out as you opened your new packet of cigarettes. Pulling a lighter out of your pocket, you spark a cigarette. You hear the shop bell not far behind you, pocketing your lighter you start to head for home. 

You aren’t far from the shop when you hear a voice behind you, “Mind if I bum one of those?” 

You turn to find the owner of the beige jacket behind you, but under the glow of the street lamps, you can’t be sure you recognise them. 

“Lip?” You take a step closer trying to verify that it’s really him. It’s his smile that confirms it.

You hadn’t seen him in a while, last you heard he was at college but looking at him now, in the middle of the street, shop lights illuminating him, he didn’t look himself. Maybe it was just the stress of college, but he looked tired and worn, his skin pale, accentuating the dark bags under his eyes. 

Pulling a fresh cigarette from the pack you both move closer, handing it to him you grab your lighter from your pocket. Instead of handing him the lighter, you light it, letting the orange flame dance between you. He leans forward, cigarette between his lips inhaling to ignite it. 

It’s then you smell it, the sharp smell of alcohol. He smelt of stale cheap alcohol and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on, it was sweet and sour at the same time. 

He took a step back, exhaling he thanked you. You shrugged it off, back in the day you two would share cigarettes without even asking. Then you both just stood there, in the smokey silence. You didn’t know what to say, what do you say after it's been so long? 

Before you knew what you were saying you invited him back to your place for a beer. You weren’t sure it was the best idea considering you could already smell alcohol on him but you hadn’t seen him in so long and you didn’t know when or if  you’d see him again. You could tell he was thinking the same thing, taking his time before he responded. He accepted almost reluctantly.

The two of you walked the short walk to your apartment in silence, the only contact you had was Lip occasionally bumping into you before mumbling an apology. You spent the time trying to think of what to say. You wanted to ask how he was doing but it was clear he wasn’t doing good.

Opening the door to your apartment you immediately regret inviting him over, your place was a mess, and you can’t even remember the last time you cleaned.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” you scrambled to put the dirty dishes in the sink and the trash in the garbage.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs.

Settling opposite each other at the kitchen table you crack open a beer before passing him one, maybe a drink will bring back the sarcastic, flirty Lip you remember. God knows you need a drink.

“So, how have you been, I heard you were at college?” You finally ask, ripping off the metaphorical band-aid.

He looks into his can of beer, not saying anything. Maybe you could have asked that a bit better. 

“I- err I was kicked out,” he finally said not looking up.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he shrugged, “I mean I didn’t really want to go in the first place.”

Unsure of what to say, you sip your beer in silence.

“What about you?” He asked looking up from the can between his hands, “I mean you have your own place now,” he glanced around your space.

“Yeah,” you smiled, you loved having your own place, “I’m working at this office uptown, honestly I hate it but you know I’ve got bills to pay,” you tried to keep the conversation going but knew he didn’t want to talk about your crappy job.

“You still smoke weed, right?” Before he could answer you answered for him, “Of course you do, who am I kidding?” You laughed.

Walking to your room you grabbed your stash and made your way back to the kitchen table. Placing your rolling tray down you handed Lip the joint you had rolled before work and began rolling yourself one. You knew a little weed would get the conversation following, the two of you would smoke all summer long before life got in the way. 

After a few joints and more beer, the conversation was going just fine, almost like the old days.  He told you everything his family had been up to, and you complained about work and your jerk ex-boyfriend. 

Somewhere along the way, the conversation deepened, and Lip opened up to you. He told you why he got kicked out of college, that he’s been drinking uncontrollably and he doesn’t remember the last time he’d been home. It broke your heart to see him like this. 

Growing up on the southside you knew not everyone would make it out but if you were placing bets, you would’ve bet on him. 

Seeing him so lost and broken, it was like looking at a stranger. You tried your best to comfort him but honestly, comfort was never your strong suit.

You were about to roll another joint when you heard the birds chirping outside. You checked your phone before looking out the window. Sure enough, the sky was lightening every so slightly. When you turned to Lip he was pocketing his phone having just checked the time himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so long, I’ll get going,” he stood wiping the few stray tears from his face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you stood as well, you didn’t want him to leave especially not like this.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?”

You pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and began clearing away the empty cans while trying to think of something more to say to him. Once the cans were away and Lip wasn’t back you pottered about tidying up here and there. 

When he still didn’t emerge you went to check up on him. Outside the bathroom, you heard nothing, you knocked on the door.

“Lip?” you pressed your ear against the door but still heard nothing.

Twisting the doorknob, the door didn’t open. It should have opened, the lock has been busted since you moved in. 

Calling out to him you used all your body weight to try to open the door. You were able to push it just far enough open for you to slip inside, the door slamming forcefully shut behind you.

There on your bathroom floor is Lip Gallagher. He is curled up on the cold tile floor his feet blocking the door. You immediately checked his pulse and breathing, thankfully he has just passed out. And thrown up, there's puke in the toilet and some on the seat. Before attempting to wake him you get a large glass of water and prepare a cold washcloth.

Back in the bathroom, you wipe the puke from his chin before gently shaking him awake. He is barely conscious as he sits up leaning against the bath. You force him to have some water before you quickly clean the toilet. 

Now that he is sitting up you notice he has some sick on his coat, that he never took off in the hours he was here. Taking it off and tossing it to the side you realize why there is vomit dried and crusted on his shirt. You close your eyes feeling your heart break even more. 

You place your hand on his cheek and look at him, his face pale and sweaty.  “What happened, Lip?” you ask knowing he won't answer. 

Taking off his shirt, you toss it with his coat to be washed later. Standing you try to wake him enough to get him into bed, he is barely awake by the time you get him to stand up and guide him to the bedroom. 

In the bedroom, he flops onto your bed. You remove his shoes and pull his legs onto the bed. Tucking him up in the bed, he begins to snore quietly, you make sure he is on his side and pull your trashcan close in case he needs to vomit again. 

Back in the bathroom you put his clothes in the washing machine and took the cup of water to the bedside. You watched Lip sleep for a moment, he finally looked peaceful. You turn to the cupboard to get a blanket and some pillows, so you can sleep on the couch.

“Y/n?” you turn to see Lip hasn’t moved save for opening his eyes.

“Just sleep, Lip,” you close the cupboard and move for the door. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Will you stay with me?” you can barely make out his face in the dark, “please.”

Without saying a word you close the bedroom door, dropping the pillows and blanket at the foot of the bed. Lip shuffles over, making space for you. Once you are in the bed, he snuggles into you, resting his head on your chest. You stroke his hair as you listen to his steady breathing. 

When he's finally asleep you place a kiss on his head, “we will fix this, I don’t how but we will. I promise.”

#bunny writes #shameless #shameless imagine #shameless us #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher #lip gallgher angst

[princessbrunette]

ok, so i’m having a thought rn. bear with me please, my writing sucks :(

kinda spitballing but i can’t help but imagining what it would be like for reader the first time she meets JJ’s dad. like, obv he’d never willing introduce them. but i kinda like to think maybe Luke would show up to their shared apartment (thinking JJ lived their alone) and is so surprised when he sees reader. like “who the hell is this??”

and ofc JJ would be so protective and shielding the reader from Luke like “don’t talk to her” or whatever. idk, what’s your take on this?? <3

(also, i love your writing so much and if it’s not taken, can I be 🪐 anon?)

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

he had no idea who you were, but you knew him.

the man who’s made jj’s life hell, leaving him bruised and broken from years on end until he could finally free himself of the curse that was luke. you’d happily opened the door to your shared apartment, smile dropping as soon as you were confronted with the man. even your blood ran cold.

“the fuck are you?” he frowns, swaying a little— clearly drunk.

“i think you may have the wrong address, sorry…” you lie, going to close the door— hoping it was enough to rid of him but he slams a clammy hand against it, holding it open.

“wait, nah — you got a jj maybank here?”

jj had heard his fathers voice, it was a voice he could recognise anywhere and froze in place in the kitchen — momentarily immobilised. what quickly got him moving, was the thought of you having to deal with him, and the blonde quickly arrived beside you, placing a hand on your waist to gently but firmly pull you behind him. luke’s eyes followed the movement, piecing together the fact you were a couple.

“what the hell are you doin’ here?” jj clenches his jaw, holding it high as he looks down his nose at the man who hadn’t changed in years if you minus a few extra grey hairs.

“that any way to greet your old man? what, not g’nna invite me in?” he grins a yellowed smile and you cringe, shrinking back behind jj when the man ogles you for a reaction. jj stands even taller upon seeing this.

“how’d you find my place, pops?” jj stares down at the man’s soaked tank top, the smell of liquor radiating from it fuelled by body heat.

“asked around. this place ain’t so big, you know. anywho, i need a place to stay. just for a few days whilst i get my shit together, crashed the old boat — need to spend some time on land gettin’ a new one. i got a guy comin’ up to see me tomorrow who’s gonna help me with—”

“dad, you can’t stay here.” jj cuts him off, and for a moment you see that same scared little boy inside him, a look of fear flashing across his face. he presses his lips together as his father squints at him.

“and why the hell not? you think you’re fancy now huh—” he starts to raise his voice, but jj cuts him off once more.

“because this is my place. with my girl, and my life. you think you can just show up here after years and treat me like i’m some hotel? nah.” he scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “i helped you out for the last time on that dock when you left and i told myself never again, dad. i meant it. leave… now.”

luke shakes his head in disbelief, laughing at the boy in a way clearly meant to belittle him. soon, his drunken gaze finds you once more.

“and what about you doll? hell i might be your father in law one day, will benefit you to be nice to me.” he smiles at you, taking a step closer but jj shoves him back so suddenly he stumbles and falls onto his ass.

“dont talk to her. dont come near her, dont even look at her. get the hell off my property, dad. i mean it.” jj barks, doubling down as he stares down the weak alcoholic on the ground. the old man sniffs, ungraciously picking himself up after a minute, sizing up the blonde.

“‘think i won’t beat your ass like i used to just ‘cos your little girlfriends here?”

your hand finds jj’s arm, stroking the back of it soothingly as if trying to ground him from that traumatic memory. he stares his father down with nothing but disgust.

“go ahead, pops. i’ll just let the cops know where you’re at. would be a real shame to see you back in the clink.”

knowing he’s lost, luke finally leaves and jj stares off at him until he’s certain he’s out of sight and gone for good. exhaling shakily, he shuts the door softly, leaning against it.

“jayj.” you speak softly and he shakes his head, dismissing you with a watery smile and a hand.

“nah i’m good. showed him who’s boss, huh?” he chuckles, but accidentally lets a tear slip down his cheek. before he gets the chance to wipe it, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, listening to him sniffle a little against you.

“you did good jayj. did so good.”

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#anon #jj maybank prompt

[insanermin]

hate my guts, of course you do

pairing: ex!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, drugs, toxic relationship kinda, mentions of nsfw but nothing happens v sorry guys, also forgot to mention curse words idk how warnings work, sorta proof read? :)

word count: 1,4k

summary: it's been months since you broke up, but today out of all days, your ex ellie calls you and leaves a message, asking you to come and you do come over for... closure of course.

"Shit..." Ellie groans low, her body leaned against the door frame. You can't help but notice her well defined arm and shoulder muscles, but you need to focus, this is not what you're here for.

"You called me?" You try to sound calm, collected even, but your eyes won't stop wandering. Just once you tell yourself, the other is too drunk to notice anyway.

Her green eyes and her cold gaze, you miss how her eyes softened when she laid them upon you. You miss the way it felt when she kissed you ever so slowly, knowing that it made you crazy and leaving you ache for more. For god's sake, how were you going to focus on talking to her when she has a black tank top on? You're head is starting to spin, you're still standing in front of Ellie's open door.

"Let's sit down..." You suggest, while Ellie hasn't said a single word this entire time since you arrived. The light is dimmed, liquor standing on her low table, her bed unmade.

Still, you missed Ellie's scent. She still uses that body lotion you bought her because you convinced her it would do her tattoos good.

Sweet orange and cedar wood.

After nostalgia, realisation always hits the hardest. You sit down on her bed, Ellie sits down beside you, her body sinking heavy.

Legs spread far apart, her forearms rest on top of her lap. Ellie hasn't dared to glance at you once this whole time, and 15 minutes have passed already in complete silence. She then sighs and throws her head back with her eyes, barely open, glued to the ceiling.

"Fuck this, I thought maybe callin' you up would fix things right now," she says, words slurred, but the way she expresses herself is long engraved within yourself. You look to the left, there where she sits. Inhaling sharply, you observe Ellie fiddling with her hands. This is bad.

"Ellie, I had things to take care of," the words leave your lips with a bitter taste. You just couldn't tell Ellie that she was not capable of dealing, no, not even listening to your problems and you tried so often.

"What things?" she asks, still not looking at you.

"I have a lot on my mind, I don't think..." You stop yourself. Ellie is long gone, she won't be able to comprehend this, you will just waste your energy.

It took Ellie a few seconds, but suddenly her body shifts towards you. Her eyes look for yours as they fill with something you can't recognise yet.

"No, not this again," she says under her breath. You're confused and Ellie picks it up, you didn't expect her to be this attentive.

"Things are so different now, you should see me now, you just stopped talking to me," she says, her voice full of fury and hurt.

"Fuck, you didn't even give me a chance," she mutters. A sudden wave of guilt overcame you and your narrative of what happened between the two of you starts to waver. But before you could even start questioning what you believed this whole time, you feel Ellie's presence distancing. In surprise, you look up, your eyes following her closely. You watch her approach the kitchen counter, her back facing you. She towers over the kitchen sink, her arms slightly angled. You can hear her take deep breaths as she turns around, you're no longer facing her back.

Now it's you and her, a few meters apart, face to face. Ellie is leaned back against the sink while her arms are crossed.

You've never seen her eyes this cold, this hurt before. She tilts her head slightly, observing you, her eyes scanning you up and down.

"Listen," Ellie says.

You look up, obviously shaken and when did Ellie sober up? Too many questions, too many thoughts, you're overwhelmed by this whole situation.

"Only once in this whole fucking relationship you decided to open up, okay?" Her eyes are shut closely, she seems to be in pain. And yes, she is in fact, in a lot of pain. Ellie's head started to ache a few hours ago, she didn't have any medicine left so she decided to go to sleep but couldn't after all. And to top it off, Ellie started thinking of you, what else was she supposed to do? Not drunk call her ex?

"And when you did, we both were fucking high," she continues, her voice still dangerously low. You can't move, you feel like you've been chained to the bed you are sitting on. That's when you realise, maybe, but just maybe she is right. But you don't want to believe that you're in the wrong, you hate admitting that you're wrong and unreasonable.

"Shit, and I even asked you if you left because of that night..." her words start to waver. This is when you decide that you're no longer an inanimate object, but in fact a living person. You stand up and walk up towards Ellie. Not close, but probably too close for exes. You've been silent this whole time because, and god you hate to admit this, Ellie was right. The only time you did open up was when the two of you were high and she said things you totally did not want to hear. And so you decided to tell your friends, never the whole story though and they all told you that you deserve better, you should leave.

"Don't look at me like this," Ellie says while looking down at you. You're so close to her, you can smell the alcohol mixed with her scent. The way she talks makes you weak but again, this is not the time to feel this way.

"I don't even know why I came," You finally say, barely audible.

"Because you missed me," Ellie responds, her eyes finally softening, in a way they would only for you.

"I hate you, don't do this to me, please," You say as tears fill your eyes. Why were you so impressionable? But you were so sure you're friends were right, Ellie can't handle you. Your thoughts halt for a moment as you feel Ellie's hand palms cup your face, her thumbs resting on your cheeks. You make eye contact, her eyes carefully watching you.

"How often do I need to tell you that I am there for you, I am here, never going anywhere," she whispers. When did the distance close between the two of you? You can feel her chest against yours, while the dimmed light barely illuminates Ellie's face or yours.

"You have to stop looking at me with those eyes," You say, desperately trying to stand your ground. Ellie tilts her head, you can feel her breath on your neck.

"What eyes, love?" Ellie responds, her hands gliding over the sides of your body all the way down to your waist, keeping her hands there. Her hands hold you firmly, pulling you closer by your waist.

You know you should leave now, but your body just won't move, and your heart yearns to stay.

"Don't call me love," Is all you can think of, your hands on top of hers, trying to get her away from your body.

"Give me one more chance, let me prove myself, please." Ellie says, her hands tight on your waist and her voice in a low whisper. If the sexual tension wasn't so high you'd probably say no you tell yourself, your relationship won't be much more than mindless sex so it's okay, you won't get too attached.

"Sure, prove yourself then," You say half heartedly. Ellie places her hand on your lower back, the other makes its way back up to your face, cupping it again.

"I'm serious about you, just so you know," She whispers, not knowing that she just crashed your plans of never getting attached again. You look up to her, completely helpless, you will fall, and that very hard.

But the way you look at Ellie makes her melt, makes her want to protect you from this cruel world, she still couldn't understand how she let you go.

"Come here," Ellie says, you just nod in response while blinking back your tears. God, this will be hard. She puts her hand on the back of your head and lays you gently on her chest. You look to the side, out of the window, hoping that Ellie won't notice you crying. Ellie plants a kiss on your head while mumbling something along the lines 'we will be fine' into your hair.

a/n: this was inspired by 'things change' bryson tiller, took like three lines out of the song hahaha. stay tuned or smth edit: i did some proof reading also does anyone know that tiktok where ellie says 'what eyes dina?' damn i folded

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #ellie fanfic #ellie fic #ellie fluff #ellie angst #ellie one-shot #ex!ellie #ex gf!ellie #reader has some issues #ellie #writing #lesbian

[goldenempyrean]

sick!nat x reader where they broke up a week ago and r hasn’t heard of nat since. however that changes when a feverish Natasha calls reader asking to be taken care of. reader still loves her so she goes to Nat’s house to find that Natasha is miserable and totally out of it. when Nat recovers will she remember that SHE was the one who asked for help? (little angst)

The Memories Of Love

〚 Notes - Wow. I stayed up WAY too late writing this. Know it stays "little angst" but I might've gotten a little too deep into it. Theres more swearing and stuff then my usual fics so just be weary of that! I am desperate for feedback on this fic though so give me your honest thoughts :D 〛

〚 Summary - You'd broken up. You were content to never to speak to her again and maybe you would have, but one call changes everything 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1840 〛

〚 Part Two! 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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The last thing you expected to wake up too was a call. Especially considering it was almost 2am and especially considering who it was coming from. You rolled over, grabbed your phone leading you to give an irritated groan as you muted the call, setting your phone back down.  

You groaned to yourself, annoyed that you had been pulled from your peaceful slumber, you tried to settle back down, not wanting to be disturbed any further but not even a minute later, the recognisable chime of your ringtone rung out again as your phone began to vibrate rapidly.

“For fucks sake.” You muttered grumpily as you sat up and picked up your phone, rolling your eyes at the name displayed over the screen.

“What do you want Natasha?” You grumbled, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

On the other end of the phone, you heard Natasha mumble something incoherent. You frowned. Her voice was wrong, it had a distinct hoarseness and a noticeable rasp. Not to mention the small sniffles. Was that- Was she crying?

“Considering you’ve just woken me up, I don’t want to deal with your bullshit right now so you can either tell me what you want or fuck off.” You growled down the phone, not wanting to deal with her any longer.

The phone was silent for what felt like hours, your finger was hovering over the red button to end the call when a small voice whispered something, “I need you.”

“What are you on about?” You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to make sense of what she had just said, “If you’re drunk or something, I swear to God, Im genuinely going to just block you. I can't deal with your shit right now.”

The phone went silent again, you almost felt bad for snapping at her. It's just, this was the first time in an over a week that you’d spoken to each other after it happened. You weren't even completely sure how it happened anyway. You guess it had started the night she failed to show up for your date – the date that you were going on to make up for her missing the previous one... and the one before that. You’d tried to remain casual when you told her how it made you feel but no. That one comment turned into a long, tiring argument. One which ended with you walking out, throwing your keys to the floor claiming you couldn’t do this anymore. A year gone. A year of time, love and dedication you’d put into that relationship and suddenly, in the span of afew moments it was gone. Wasted.

The sound of deep coughing snapped you back to reality as you cringed at the sound, “Please Y/N,” The way she croaked your name pulled at your heartstrings, she sounded like she was almost begging, “please come over, I really need you.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, softening your tone as you realised that something really might be wrong, “Are you okay?”

There it was. That feeling of worry you hadn’t felt in awhile, the worry you felt whenever something bad happened, the worry which you felt when you truly cared for someone. The worry you felt when you truly... You stopped yourself, not wanting to think about it any further.

“Please, just come over.” That was the last thing you heard before there was a small ‘thud’ on the other end of the line.

“Natasha, just tell me what’s wrong.” You repeated but got no answer, “Natasha? Oh for-.” You cut yourself off from your curse and gave an exaggerated sigh as you shook your head, only this time there was no real anger behind it.

You told yourself you didn’t care, and that Natasha can deal with it herself. Shes a big girl and she can handle it. You didn’t care. That’s what you told yourself.  

Yet you still found yourself driving over to her apartment not even ten minutes later. The roads were barely illuminated by the dim streetlights, and you found yourself often gazing up and out at the overhead stars. God, what were you doing?  

You asked yourself that same question as you approached the door to her apartment. Your hand hesitated wearily in the air, curling up into a fist. You paused. Did you really want to do this? You could turn around now, go home, get back into bed. She’d never know. Yeah, that’s what you should do and yet seconds later the sound of knocking echoed through the hallways.  

Silence. You were met with a strange silence. No sounds of movement inside, no one came to the door, no sounds of anything actually. You knocked again, a little louder this time and tapped your foot impatiently, still there was nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” You muttered to yourself, pissed that you’d wasted your time on her again.

As you give the door your third and final third knock, your thumb goes down to reach for the handle out of instinct. You were so used to opening this door for her. It seems the habit was lingering. Much to your surprise, the door clicked off its hinges, swinging slightly ajar.

“Oh shit.” You hissed to yourself, wondering if you’d knocked on the door too hard. You wanted to leave. Just to forget about everything and go home but something inside told you to go in. Afterall, you couldn’t just leave the door open and leave, right? You had to go in. Atleast that’s what you told yourself as you took a step inside.

As you entered, it hit you immediately. Something was wrong. The air felt wrong, and the atmosphere was tense. There was no way you’d ever guess what you’d see next though. As you slowly padded into the living room you saw her.

Natasha was curled up on her sofa with a thin blanket half-draped over her as she shivered in her sleep. The lines around her eyes and lips were deeper then you remembered, her skin is paler too - unnaturally so. She looks so worn out, exhausted even. Inspecting closer, it was then you noticed the sheen to her skin, small beads of sweat lining her forehead and the pink-tinged clutches of afever clung to her cheeks. Oh.

“Poor thing.” You found the words leaving your mouth before you could stop yourself. Forgetting your previous annoyance, you turned back towards the entrance to her apartment, making sure to close the door properly, locking it behind you before resting your hands on your hips as you began to survey the room.

Kneeling down beside the sofa, you lightly shook her shoulder, attempting to stir her from her sleep as small jabs of worry began to slowly seep into your thoughts. It's been so long since you've seen her like this, she almost looks as vulnerable, a look you’d only seen once before. It's enough to trigger your innate need to protect, no matter how much you hurt inside.

“Sweet-“ You stopped yourself, feeling yourself blush with embarrassment as the petname slipped from your tongue, “Natasha?”

Your fingers lightly brush her forehead, feeling its hot and clammy surface. Her nose twitches slightly in her sleep. With a bit of hesitation, you try again. "Natasha..."  

Nothing.

You shake her shoulder again. "Hey... wake up". It comes out quieter than you intend it, and the worry in your voice is impossible to hide.

Her breathing is steady but shallow, and she looks so exhausted and ill. No response came from the sleeping woman, and it became obvious that she really was out cold.

Looking around again, you realised the place was abit of a mess and your eyes caught sight of the almost-empty bottle of NyQuil which had fallen onto the floor next to the sofa she lay on, besides which was her phone, your contact details still displayed on the screen.

“Jeez Nat, how much of this stuff did you take?” You sighed to yourself as you picked up both the bottle of medicine and her phone, setting them both ontop of her coffee table before slowly beginning to tidy the area, picking up the small mound of tissues which littered her floor and putting them in the trash.

You have no clue how long she's been sick, and the state of the apartment makes you think it's been a while. It was going to be a long night. Over the next half an hour, you made a start on properly cleaning up her apartment. You didn’t know why you were doing it. You could’ve just left but again, something made you stay. There was something inside of you that longed to hold her, to comfort her.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore. So instead you tiptoed around, not wanting to make a sound, as you tidied up the living room, before heading towards the kitchen. The trash was full and the counter-tops littered with multiple takeout containers to which you found yourself shaking your head. It took another 30 minutes of shuffling around before you were done.

Satisfied with your work, you made yourself a cup of coffee and allowed yourself a moment of calm as you sat down to drink it. Even then you tried reminding yourself that you didn’t care yet you still found yourself feeling responsible, longing to look after her. In that moment your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as one thought finally clicked in your head, a deep blush clouded your cheeks as the slow realisation hit you finally.  

You still loved her.

Goddammit Natasha.

Finishing up your drink you found yourself fighting with your thoughts as you tried to push your newfound realisation to the back of your mind. A place where it couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be heard. You washed the cup and put it back neatly into her cupboard. You should’ve just left then, but there was still one thing left to do, a task which you knew was coming but still dreaded all the same.

Coming back over to Natasha’s side, you gave a final attempt at waking her, to which you had no luck. So, with a heavy exhale, you slipped your arms beneath her, hoisting the woman up into your arms before steadily carrying her over towards her room. You were mindful of her head, making sure to support her carefully. The sight of asleep of her in your arms almost overwhelmed you, the scent of her hair reminded you so much of why you fell in love with her in the first place.

You move with such delicacy - handling her as though she's going to break. Atleast it wasn’t far to her room. You leant down and carefully laid her down onto the mattress, tucking in the sheet as you pulled it over her. She looked beautiful, she was a sick mess and yet she remained beautiful. Resisting the urge to kiss her, your hands went to her forehead again, wiping away beads of sweat with the back of your hand while an unexpected wave of emotion floods your stomach. You swallow and wipe your eyes.

“God, Im going soft.” You whispered to yourself as you turned to leave, you didn’t plan to come back. Maybe you’d see if you could move up north. Start again with a blank slate. Maybe...

You shook your head again and turned back to take a final look at her. Natasha. Your Natasha. You couldn’t help but regret everything that had happened. The fight. Leaving. Everything. Whatevever, it was pointless now. You reached for the door handle, slowly pulling it shut.

And it was almost fully closed too but something stopped you. A small, frail voice came from inside, a voice which had the power to stop you in your tracks,  a sole word which held enough weight to change your future entirely, “Y/N?”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #sick!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff whump #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #sickfic #marvel sickfic #marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic

[charlewiss-writes]

when you're sober / pierre gasly

masterlist

day 18: sober (part of one-word november prompts!)

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

summary: you had always been in love with him, but he never realised. when his girlfriend had enough, you two parted ways, understanding that it wasn't your place to intervene between the two of them. but now he was calling you, drunk and alone at a bar.

word count: 0.7k

"can you come pick me up?".

it was weird hearing his voice after so long. but still, you couldn't ever not recognise his tone after all the years where you were so familiar with his voice, that you could almost recreate it every time you read his texts, hearing his voice even when he wasn't in the same room as you.

you knew that him calling you was a mistake. it didn't even make sense that he had your contact in his phone, in the first place. but realised that maybe he wasn't aware of who was on the other side of the line. "do you know who this is, pierre?". he slurred his words, saying "y/n, I'm not that drunk", and you instantly knew that he was lying.

being protective towards him came almost as a second nature to you, so instead of pushing the subject of why he was calling you, after all that happened, you went straight to the point. "where are you?".

putting on the first sweatshirt you could find, you made your way towards the garage to reach the club as quickly as you could on your car. thankfully, monaco was a small place, and you were there in the blink of an eye, knowing that you probably should a few tickets for surpassing the street limit.

still, the silence when you drove allowed you thoughts to wander, going back to the reasons why you found pierre's call so strange. you had parted ways almost a year ago, since his girlfriend didn't like your friendship, accusing that you were too close to her boyfriend. and truly, you couldn't get mad at her for being reasonable, cause you knew she was right about it. and you also couldn't get mad at him for loving his girlfriend more than his alleged best friend, and deciding to stand by her side, and fix whatever it was that bothered her, even if what she asked was to end a life-long friendship like you and the frenchman had.

he was already out of the club when you arrived, but being seated on the edge of the sidewalk with his head down and close to his knees, he didn't see you coming. "hey, you're alright?" you said softly while patting his back, trying to not scare him with your sudden arrival.

"missed you so much, ma belle".

you shivered when you hear him calling you how he used to when you were little. a nickname you hadn't hear for way too long. closing your eyes and breathing deep you tried to remember that it wasn't him who was talking it was the alcohol. a few seconds later, you answered. "do you want me to drive you home?".

"no no, i told her I wouldn't come back until she was done moving out".

oh.

a million questions flooded your mind, but being mindful about his current state, you decided that you could get the answers you needed in the morning, when pierre was being pierre again. so you drove him back to your place, like you had done a million times before, back when it was your self-granted job to take care of him when he was too drunk to do it for himself.

giving him one of his old alpha tauri shirts, and placing two bottles of water and pills for the headache that would be, for sure, present tomorrow when he wakes up, you were about to leave the room, thinking that he had already fallen asleep.

but he said something you weren't expecting to hear. at least, not directed at you, as they were at the moment.

“I love you.”

you turned, a bit confused, expecting to see him deeply asleep. it wasn't unusual to hear pierre talking when he was into a deep slumber. but his fierce blue eyes where stuck into your figure, like it was physically impossible for him to turn away. "I love you" he repeated. like it was possible that you hadn't hear him the first time he pronounced the three words that you had expected to hear from him, maybe for a bit too long.

“tell me that when you’re sober, okay? i'll believe you then.”

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly blurb

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Whoreson Prison Blues

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader (Ft. Geralt)

Warnings: Violence, language.

Inspiration: Season 2

Summary: Imprisoned and alone you find yourself bonding with your cell mate only to realise that this wasn’t a mere stranger.

It wasn’t exactly how you planned the day to go but there weren’t any regrets. Being beaten and thrown into a cell was a common occurrence recently, in fact you still had bruising from the last entanglement with the knighted patrols.

The third day had nearly passed and a guard tossed a small bowl of water into the cell which spilled onto the floor. He jeered through the barred doors and then turned away when he heard a commotion. To you, it sounded like two guards struggling to detain another unfortunate individual.

“Well, well. Looks like you have a friend.” The duty guard chuckled and then disappeared from sight to open the cell door on the opposite side of the brick wall. There was a harsh shove and somebody hitting their knees on the floor.

“Maybe this will make you think twice about helping the elf-bastards.” A second guard laughed.

The cell doors slammed and you heard the keys jangle as the lock was fastened. Still cackling, all three sounded like they were jesters and decided to walk out and celebrate their win privately. This worked in your favour allowing you to plan an escape until you heard a small mumble through the crack in the wall.

“Reminder to self, file a complaint for these hideous cells. Oh, great - an audience of rats.” The voice sighed.

You didn’t know why but the stranger made you smile. “The rats are pretty decent company.”

“That’s funny. I had a friend who would have said something like that. They were a real badass. We used to travel with this broody, moody, muscled fellow who liked to act complicated.”

Hold on. Now that you listened to the voice more carefully, it began to match a face that you hadn’t seen in months.

“Jaskier?”

“…Yes?” The bard replied. “Who’s asking?”

“Y/n - you wonderful singing fool!”

“And how do I know that you’re who you say you are and not some trick by the guards to lure out information?”

You rolled your eyes but commended that he was being more aware of people in strange lands. The bard used to be far too trusting.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. Original composer of Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. You have a tendency to woo married women - even tried your luck with me too. You tried to kiss me after getting drunk in Cintra and then again when we were dealing with that werewolf-“

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t believe you’re here. What are the chances?” Jaskier wondered aloud. “What have they got you in here for?”

You paused for a silent second and stared at the metal cuffs around your wrists. It was probably best not to get into detail about what you had done to wind up on the hate radar of this town.

“Better question, what are you in for?“ You deflected.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t hesitate to answer and if he was curious, he chose not to follow up on it. He let out a long sigh and you could imagine the look on his face.

“I helped a wanted criminal escape.”

You laughed at the idea of the humble bard being involved in something so prickly. Jaskier didn’t appreciate the reaction and there was a scoff. “It’s true! I’m very close with the Sandpiper.”

The Sandpiper was a name not loudly spoken, so you figured that he wasn’t telling tall tales.

“Alright, I believe you. You’ve been wandering very interesting circles. The Bard and the Piper - you must tell me of the stories one day.” You smiled and rest your head against the stone wall.

Your stomach began to rumble just as the main doors swung open and two guards walked in. You heard a metal tray clattering and recognised that it was the final meal of the day. When the guard approached your cell, you watched as he entered and carelessly tossed the tray down. You had refused to eat anything that was given in fear that it had been poisoned by one of the many people you had pissed off.

You could hear Jaskier trying to salvage what hadn’t touched the floor and was about to tell the guard to jump off a cliff when a round ball of stale bread flew and hit you in the face quite harshly. It rolled off your lap and settled on some hay. You turned to the guard and glared daggers.

“Eat that or get a taste of my blade.” He threatened.

With a huff, you chose to ignore the guards presence all together. It wasn’t long before he left and you took up the measly portion that was more dirt than bread and tore off a piece.

“This isn’t so bad.” Jaskier commented. “Could use some seasoning.”

You stared at what you were eating and wondered if it was hard enough to concuss the guard on duty…

“So how’s the broody fellow?” Jaskier wondered.

At first, you frowned but then remembered who he was referring to. The Witcher who took a lot of patience.

“I don’t know. We parted ways not long after you left. He was being increasingly difficult so I told him as much.”

“How did he take that?” Jaskier wondered, knowing exactly how the man could behave.

You exhaled. “He told me to ‘fuck off’ and left me in a swamp.”

The memory of that day was leaving a bitter taste in your mouth…or maybe it was the bread. Either way, you didn’t want to clutter your mind with something useless.

Jaskier seemed to have silently agreed.

“Well, screw Geralt. We don’t need him.” He said and began tapping on some spoons.

There was a loud clang against the cell bars as the guard slammed his palm across it to get the attention of them both.

“Will you both shut up? You sound like fucking spurned lovers.”

Jaskier laughed at the thought and you were glad that he was fated to be your cell partner. As the guard piped down, the rats scurried over to the bards cell where the spoons clanged a little louder and with a bit more rhythm until Jaskier had a catchy tune.

“It's been a long time travellin'

On roads that lead to nowhere

With hopes and dreams that always rot…” he began to sing softly, pausing every so often to form the artful words.

You waited for the next bit but he seemed to have a bit of a block. Without thinking, you leaned back and looked at your surroundings.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell to remember how shitty the world is.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Jaskier told you and began tapping again.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell,

The tricks and tales, the traitors' tell,

To help you see that freedom is all you've got.

So lock me up and sock me up,

And throw away the key.

Go fuck yourself, you whoreson.

'Cause you're through fuckin' with me.”

Jaskier was a bard of many talents and you had missed him all because of a falling out with a mutual friend. It must have been the exhaustion of being locked up that you started singing along to the song just to keep occupied.

“Go fuck yourself, you whoreson! Cause you’re through fuckin’ with me.”

A few more rehearsals and you and Jaskier had the duty guards on edge each time you switched shifts. They might be brutes but you couldn’t help but credit their creativity with the death threats.

Another day passed, you were still locked up, Jaskier was now doing solo renditions for the rats, and the bread hadn’t improved in taste or quality. You began to think of a way out of the cell and devised the start of a plan that included stealing the keys with Jaskier’s help. It wouldn’t be easy but if you got your hands on a sword, the guards would be unmatched in skill.

Then, there was an unexpected commotion in the hallway during Jaskier’s song.

“Fucking hell. You know what? We’re trying to rehearse in here.”

You heard the bard complain and then apologise to the rats for the interruption. “Good sir. You would not know talent if I shoved it up your … Geralt.”

You scoffed to yourself and wondered if Jaskier had finally gone mad. “I thought we agreed never to mention that broody grouch ever again?” You called out.

There was silence to the question and some soft talking that you couldn’t quite understand but Jaskier’s voice rose for a second. Then there was a shuffle of feet and you were drawn to your own cell door where a familiar man with white hair and broad shoulders showed his face.

Geralt unlocked you door and walked in. He bent down and worked his Witcher magic to free you of the cuffs.

“I’d say I’m shocked to find you here - but I’m not.” He said, helping his friend up.

You rubbed your wrists and dusted your pants. You looked at the man and shrugged. “You know how it is - chaos doesn’t just come in the form of magic.”

Geralt smiled and you couldn’t help but notice that something was a little different about him - like he was content, almost happy.

“I have no right to ask this of you but I could use your help.” He requested.

You could very easily have told him to shove off and be rid of the man for the rest of your life but Geralt was a friend through so many difficult quests. Plus it wouldn’t hurt charge him the fee of one apology.

“Just to be clear, I’m pissed at you for about a million things but I can’t resist a call for help.” You told him honestly and raised a finger. “One condition, Jaskier comes along.”

As if on cue, the bard walked in. “Say no more, I have no plans to leave. Oh…” his eyes travelled to the locks and chains laying on the floor. “Why the fuck were you chained up?”

Clearing your throat, you pointed to the exit. “Story for the road?”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x reader

[immajustvibehere]

A Fool Remains Foolish

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

summary: Drunk Arthur stumbles into the hotel bathroom to get a deluxe bath. He's too drunk to recognise a woman he used to know and love in past.

tags: weirdly fluffy, drunk Arthur, soft Arthur, he aint no outlaw when he's naked, if you squint you'll see hints of nsfw content

3000 words, 15 minutes reading time

When you discreetly opened the bathroom door to tend to a customer who had ordered a deluxe bath you surely hadn't expected this. You immediately recognized him. It was his soft voice in which cursed himself when he struggled to get out of his pants which gave him away. Then he turned around and undoubtedly, that was Arthur Morgan, hammered and naked in front of you. This familiar body stumbled around in the bathroom, trying to cover his private parts while steering towards the steaming bathtub.

"Sorry, Miss. I'm-", he interrupted his slurring with a chuckle darkly, "I'll behave."

You shook your head smilingly: "I thought we didn't allow drunkards to take baths. We had some who drowned."

"I can swim, I won't drown, don'tcha worry ‘bout me", the man had finally found his way into the bathtub, now submerging in the warm water. Not without spilling half the tub.

As he closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of a hot bath, you couldn't help but grin like an idiot. Arthur fucking Morgan. You thought you'd never see him again. The last time you spoke to him was about ten years ago. Maybe even more. He obviously hadn't recognized you yet. Maybe a decade of anything but an easy life had changed you, or maybe it was your new hairstyle. Even more likely, it was that he was drunk enough to not know his own name. You watched as he tried to grab the soap, missing it two times before giving up.

"You just relax, Mister", you said kindly and picked up the soap, "that's my job anyways."

"Oh, right!", Arthur remarked as if he had just remembered you were in the room too. You started to soap him up, tracing the lines of his tense muscles with a wet rag. He had changed a lot too, not for the worse though.

"I have a bet going on", Arthur explained in a loud voice "with my friend Lenny, ya know? He thought I wouldn't get a woman to wash me."

"Looks like he lost that bet", you laughed.

"Sure did", Arthur exclaimed. After some giggles he slurred something barely intelligible before he hummed approvingly when you moved on to his hair, massaging the soap into his wet strands. You jumped when the man plumped forwards. You feared he had passed out. But instead, he had just chosen to make an incredibly sudden move to rested his head on his arm which lay still on the brim of the bathtub.

"Yer real kind, miss", he mumbled, "haven't been touched like this by a woman in years."

After you weren't quick enough to think of a response he apologized in a sad voice: "Sorry, maybe ain't appropriate to say that..."

"That's okay", you reassured, "though I don't understand. You're a handsome looking fella."

"I think...I'm payin' you to say that", Arthur stuttered his thoughts. You laughed and because he heard that, he allowed himself a chuckle.

"Trust me, you're paying me to wash you. The money ain't enough to come up with lies", you rinsed his hair, careful not to get soap into his eyes. Which was rather difficult, considering his head position wasn't ideal, hanging almost over the bathtub. The warm water running down his back earned you a content sigh.

"Yer pretty. I'm sure ya got a strong husband back home to take care of ya", he peered at you, still not recognizing you.

"Can't say that I have", you answered truthfully. Having your old lover ask you that made your heart beat quicker. It was as if he attempted to flirt with you, though very poorly.

"Huh? Anyway, I'm a bad man, Miss. Women are right to stay far away from me", he explained quietly, his words transforming into a hum after you continued to his shoulder, working hard to massage his muscles.

"That so...", you whispered a reply.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Most of the night was a blur for Arthur. When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he had to worry about is how he managed to get a bed. He was facing a window with drawn, worn-down curtains. Nevertheless, it was still rather bright in the room, too bright for his hangover. And still, he remained in that position for a while, just until he had woken up a bit more.

Then he rolled over onto his back while fearing that the bed underneath him was rolling over too. He blinked and vaguely recognized the ceiling. He had slept some nights at the Saints Hotel to be familiar with its commodities. A sigh of relief followed. Of all the places he could have passed out, a hotel bed seemed a rather harmless one. But then he caught a glimpse of a human figure sitting next to him.

"Aw shit", he mumbled in a gravelly voice. "I got myself a whore?"

He lifted his heavy arms to pinch the bridge of his nose. The question was more a question to himself, insulting the woman next to him wasn't really his intention...it was more a way of talking himself down for having sunk so low in his drunken state. Either way, he didn't have a lot of time to sulk about it, because a hand slapped him right across the face. Not so hard to seriously hurt, but definitely firm enough to quicken the waking up process.

"You have an odd way of thanking me", you remarked with a sigh. You watched as Arthur properly opened his eyes, staring at you with his blue orbs. God, you had missed them so much. In all the time that had passed since you had last seen him, you had never found a man whose eyes impressed you like Arthur’s had done. Not that this was a feature he had control over, but it added to his offense when he was drunkenly mumbling self-deprecations all night.  The dim light hadn't given you a proper opportunity to see them, but now he looked up to you from his pillow, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Y/n?", he mumbled unbelievingly.

You nodded.

"Oh shit", Arthur remarked, flopping back into his pillow, and pressing his fists onto his eyes. He must be dreaming. When he dared a second look, he shamelessly looked you up and down. Just to make sure you were really there. But you quietly sat next to him, an opened book in your lap and dark rings under your eyes.

"That really you?", he asked. Just to verify his aching head wasn't deceiving him.

"Of course it's me, you damn fool", now you couldn't suppress a smile because you saw the red colour coming to his cheeks.

"How-", Arthur started.

"Remember getting a deluxe bath while absolutely shit-faced?", you asked.

Arthur pondered for a while, not sure if those flashes of images were remains of a dream or had really happened. So he carefully answered: "Maybe."

"Well, I had the pleasure to keep you from drowning while scraping two weeks’ worth of dirty off your body", you now giggled, secretly enjoying how the man squirmed uncomfortably under your words.

"Sorry I didn't recognize ya", Arthur apologized, trying to sit up but deciding against it when it proved too much of a hassle. Also, his blanket slipped, which made him realize for the first time since he had woken up that he was completely nude. He lifted the blanket just an inch to make sure, wondering if the situation could get any more embarrassing.

"You vomited on your clothes, I had to get you out of them. Don't worry, I cleaned them. There's not one cloud in the sky and a decent wind so they might be dry in the afternoon", you explained.

Arthur sighed and mumbled: "Guess it don't matter much. I bet I made a fool out of myself in the bathroom already."

He found some comfort in your soft smile, relieved that you didn't show any intention of teasing him about it. You thought back to last night, giggling in reminiscence: "Oh, just a bit. You stumbled across every possible obstacle, and I practically had to drag you up the stairs but that aside...you were manageable."

Arthur joined in in your chuckle, more out of embarrassment than the ability to laugh about himself.

"Should've jus' kicked me out", he suggested.

"I suppose", you shrugged "You're lucky I like you and was happy to see you again or I might have had you arrested."

Arthur blinked at the ceiling. 'You're lucky I like you'? What was that supposed to mean? You might have been lovers ten years ago, but you hadn't been speaking in past tense. Him making a fool out of himself surely wouldn't be enough to rekindle old feelings. And yet, when he turned his head to look at you, he understood. Your cheeks had blushed from the sudden confession and your eyes were glowing in anticipation and excitement. He still couldn't grasp 'why', but for some reason you really seemed to care about him. Hell, you had been taking more care of him in one night than any women ever had. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't entirely sure what. But you were faster.

"I'm sure you're thirsty. I'll get you a glass of water and check on your clothes", you stated, jumping out of bed eagerly, despite being exhausted from the two hours of sleep you had gotten.

When you returned barely ten minutes later, Arthur had passed out again. Lying on his stomach, soft snores filled the room. You couldn't help but smile, put the glass down and slipped under the blanket. At least he's somewhat sober now, you thought. There was no danger of him suffocating on his own vomit, so you might as well rest. The bed wasn't the biggest, but it was comfortable enough for two people, if they weren't skittish about a bit of cuddling.

You didn't want to be indecent though. Arthur was still naked. His clothes were still damp and fluttering on the clothing line on the balcony of the hotel. Arthur's face was turned towards you. You watched as his eyelids twitched; his mouth slightly open. His hair was dishevelled. Guess that happens when you fall asleep with wet hair, not like he had given you a good opportunity to dry it after he had passed out.

Being close to him felt familiar, though completely different at the same time. The two of you were young when you dated, now, neither of you were what could be considered young. Arthur had gained one or two scars on his face, even more on his body, as you had remarked in the bathtub yesterday. But he was still handsome, despite what he may think. It's new though, this talking himself down and apologizing for existing. He wasn't quite that humble when you were together. You wondered what had happened.

With Arthur's rhythmic snores and the exhaustion wearing your body down and making your eyelids heavy, it didn't take long until you finally fell asleep.

It was way past lunchtime, the sun was already threatening to disappear behind the mountains, when Arthur finally woke up again. He was turned towards the window again and his eyes fell onto the glass of water on his nightstand, which he eagerly gulped down. When he turned in bed, determined to rest for only five more minutes before getting up, he suddenly found his face only inches from yours. Drowsy as he was, he had forgotten you were there. But now it was his time to look at your sleeping face in awe. Strands of hair had fallen into your face, one of your hands rested on the pillow, being the only barrier between him and you.

He was going nowhere. Not until you had woken up and brought him his clothes. So he might as well stay in bed and watch you...no, that didn't feel right.

Arthur turned onto his back to stare down the ceiling. Occasionally, he got distracted when you shuffled closer and snuggled up to him. It did feel good to have a warm and soft body next to him. Too good, almost. You weren't his lover anymore and you had already gone through a lot of trouble to care for him this past hours, he didn't want to be the one to have inappropriate thoughts about something that was so long ago and that surely wouldn't be happening again.

"Y/n", he whispered.

There was no reaction whatsoever. You didn't even move an inch. Your arm was snaked around his and he felt your legs pressing against his. Your mouth was so close to his bare skin, he could feel your hot breath. It gave him goosebumps.

"Y/n", he repeated more firmly, turning his body to lie on the side again. Your arms were untangled, and his warm legs were no longer touching yours. You blinked.

"Sorry to wake ya", Arthur whispered, his hand moving one strand of hair out of your face before he remembered to not do it, but to keep a respectable distance. As much as he could in one bed.

You blinked a couple of times before you groaned: "Oh no, sorry. I didn't want to sleep for so long."

"It's okay, darli-...", he cleared his throat, "I just...." Arthur couldn't bring himself to ask you to stand up to get his clothes.

"I'll get them in a minute", you said apologetically, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. Arthur felt bad and sat up, resting his back against the cool bedrest: "Don't worry 'bout it. Take yer time."

You stretched and sat up next to Arthur. You checked him out in the corner of his eye. Now that he only had the blanket covering his low abdomen, starting to cover the area where a thicker trail of hair led down to...

"You're still running with Dutch?", you asked in an attempt to distract yourself.

"Yeah", Arthur answered, his gaze towards the ceiling again.

Your eyes fell on your book that rested on the nightstand: "How's Hosea? I had to think about him a lot last night when I was reading to stay awake. It was him who taught me, remember?"

"I do", Arthur replied thoughtfully, vaguely remembering the scenes of you back in camp when it was still only a small group of people. You had been a quick learner. He remembered bugging Hosea to teach you faster, because he wanted to spend time with you alone and not watch you pronounce letter after letter. What a fool he was back then.

"Hosea's doing good. Still a strong man, I'm sure he'll outlive all of us", Arthur said to your great pleasure.

"He better!", you grinned, "tell him I said hello." But then you wondered if Arthur even wanted to do that. Because it implied telling someone that you two had met again and somehow...you weren't sure if Arthur wanted that. That's why you didn't even wait for an answer and slipped out of bed and announced you'd get his clothes. Arthur shuddered at the cold that suddenly replaced the spot where you had been, but nodded as reply.

As soon as you handed him his clothes and he remarked that they were cleaner than they had been in years, he didn't bother waiting until you offered to leave the room. He sat at the edge of the bed and started to dress himself. His back was turned towards you, but he felt foolish telling you not to watch or leave, reminding himself constantly that he was a drunk idiot last night and there were probably some naked shenanigans that he had done last night that you weren't disclosing to save some of his dignity.

His gun belt clattered as he fixed it around his hip. Arthur looked like a different man. He wasn't the helpless, flirty drunk who you bathed yesterday, neither was he the drowsy man you had slept next to. All of a sudden, he was an outlaw again. A man on the run, a man who many dreamed about seeing him swing. That was what had bothered you ten years ago when the two of you had ended things.

You asked yourself if it still mattered to you now.

Dressed and ready to leave, he took some money out of his satchel and attempted to hand it to you: "For yer trouble. And for keeping you from workin' the whole day."

You crossed your arms: "Couple of hours ago you were disgusted because you thought you woke up next to a working girl and now you try to pay me like one?"

Arthur was stunned. You were right, of course, but he didn't quite grasp the fact that you done all this for him for free. When the money was back in his satchel, the two of you hugged.

It wasn't one of those short, friendly hugs with patting the back of the other. No, it was an intimate hug. Like two friends that met again after years. Or even better, two lovers that found themselves confronted with old feelings. Arthur hugged you tighter, resting his cheek against your head.

"Guess of all the girls I could've made a fool of myself, 'm glad it was you last night", he mumbled.

Your face being pressed into the crook of his neck, he felt your lips curling into a smile.

"Where are you holed up? Will you stop by again?", you suddenly started to feel anxious that this is the last time you'll see Arthur. Not now, not after you haven't felt this safe and happy to be there for somebody.

"We're not far from here. ...I'll be around, sure", as Arthur said those words, he didn't quite believe them yet. But as soon as he had his back turned towards you to walk off to his horse, he knew that he'll be back sooner rather than later.

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I mean, if y'all want...I think a second part is the logical way of approaching this story. But it depends on your feedback hehe

And as pretty much always, this was developed in a cooperation with @little-honeypie

taglist: @photo1030 @stilinskiwitch

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr fanfiction #rdr