#should do a quick study so i have something for the year summary

[spidybaby]

Dull Shine

Summary: The circumstances might have dulled the shine she had. Feeling empty even with his company.

Warnings: cursing.

"What do you think about this?"

You turn your head away from your phone, looking at him up and down. "I like it, but maybe the black and white Jordan's?"

He nods, walking back into the closet and changing his shoes. You look at him while he does that.

It's like a routine for him, going back from training, quick visit to his mom or dad, going home to shower, and getting ready to go out.

He's been trying to spend as much as he can with his friends, Hakimi, Dembele and the team. They like to hit the club in a vip area, the other invite girls who look like the typical hooker.

You didn't worry about it, Kylian is not a cheater. He barely even acknowledged the girls. He likes to go there to be with the team.

"What about now?" He poses, showing you the fit and pulling his leg up your nightstand. "Do I look good?"

"Like a million dollar baby," you smile. Watching him get all cocky at the praise. "I feel like I should be worried. You're going out looking like this." You joke.

You walk over to him, smacking his ass in a playful way. He turns to you, smiling, wrapping his hands around your body.

"You know you're my only one." He kiss your neck. "If you want, you can come with me." He smiles into your skin. "Think about it," He says, kissing your neck again and pulling away to walk into the bathroom.

You are thinking about it, but you can't help but think of how the other girls go to those places. Dressed in the most expensive things, the best type of jewels, Cartier, Van Cleef, their expensive Louboutin or YSL heels.

You don't have that. You worked a nine to five job that didn't allow you to get the designer things.

You moved to Paris to study, wanting to get a better future for yourself. You were still paying some debt from your college.

Kylian begged you to move in with him a year into your relationship. You accepted only with the condition of him letting you help with some bills.

He obviously didn't allowed that. Letting you believe that you were going to help but in reality he was taking care of the two of you.

You never accepted his money. You loved your little job. It was not much, but it was enough for you.

You look into your things, finding a pair of cargos, and a backless bodysuit. You liked the combo, and you know he would too.

You weren't so sure about the shoes, you usually wear the outfit with some Jordan's to match him.

"I like that look." He says as you enter the bathroom, you smile, grabbing your makeup and lightly applying some.

"You look like a billion dollar baby, now." He says, kissing your cheek. "And what better way to match your look than with this."

He hands you a black box with a golden bow. You already know that there's something extravagant inside the box.

"Amour, we talked about this." You say, applying gloss. "What did we say?"

He rolls his eyes. "No gifts without consulting first."

"And what did you do?" You smile a little.

"Getting you something that my heart told me you would love." He left the box in the bed, walking over to you. "It will go amazing with your outfit, mon amour, s'il te plaît."

You sigh, nodding your head. You walk over him, kissing his cheek and thanking him. "Let's see." You fake a smile.

What you can't help but feel bad is the way he smiles that he has. He loves giving you things.

You pull a black Saddle Bag from Dior. you love it, you were trying to save for this bag for some time, always having some sort of problem and needing to use the money.

"Come here." He pulls your arm, walking you to the tall mirror in the closet. He grabs the bag from your hands. Positioning it on your shoulder. "What do you think?"

You feel bad from how much you love the bag and the way it goes with your clothes. "Thank you." You smile, turning around to hug him and kiss him.

"Now what if you put your things inside and we go meet my friends?"

You nod, kissing him one last time. You grab your bag, moving your things. You look at yourself one last time before joining him in the living room.

You were his designated driver since he didn't have a license. He picked one of his less extravagant cars, not wanting to call the attention.

The first person you see is Achraf, he was talking with this pretty brunette. "Don't let him trick you, he's still married." Kylian jokes, knowing that will make Hakimi awkward.

"I'm not, don't believe him."

The girl only nods, laughing and kissing Kylian's cheek. "Bonjour to you too."

"Y/n, come here." Achraf stands up, hugging your figure. "This idiot finally convinced you to come, so amazing."

You smile, smelling the alcohol in his breath. "I finally left the crib." You laugh.

"Pamela, this is Y/n." He introduced the girl to you. "She's Kylian's girlfriend. She's so amazing, talk with her." He push your shoulder down, making you take a seat next to her.

You felt uncomfortable, the girl clearly didn't like that either. You turn to see kylian and Achraf talking with Marqhinhos and Vitinha.

One waiter gets close to them, Kylian turns to you. "Something you want to drink, bébé?" He kisses the top of your head.

"Whatever you're having." He nods, turning and leaving you again with the very judgy girl. "I like your nails." You say, trying to start some conversation.

She scuffed, turning to you. "Where's Emma?"

"Emma?" You ask confused. "As Kylian's ex-girlfriend Emma?"

She nods, looking you up and down. "Yeah, I miss her."

You didn't answer, getting up to go next to Kylian.

"Hey, you left my girl alone." Achraf says.

"Your girl's an asshole." You say to him, making Kylian laugh. "You really suck at picking, Haki."

The rest of the night was good. You didn't feel like leaving Kylian's side, and he didn't seem to mind.

Once you're home, you find yourself next to him in the bathroom, both preparing to sleep. "We should go out again. It was fun." You nod, finishing with washing your teeth.

You felt so out of place tonight. All these girls, all these drinks and other substances. You didn't feel like doing all that again.

You didn't belong to his world. You were used to parties back in college, but the type of being in your pj's and drink cheap alcohol from a cup.

You can't get used to the extremely overpriced drink he likes, the extremely overpriced restaurants, trips, clothes.

You turn to him. He was applying some cream, too concentrated to mind the way you're questioning yourself.

✨️✨️✨️

"You have to be joking," Celine says. "That can't be real."

"I can't make this up. That freaking girl asked me where his ex was." You laugh, passing her another dress.

"Look at the bright side. She's just a one night stand, and you're the girlfriend."

You two share a good laugh. Celine is your boss, you started working for her in your second year living in Paris.

You loved her, and she loved you. That's why even when Kylian offered to find you something closer to where he lived, you said no.

She trusted you even when you barely understood French. She helped you and taught you a lot.

She has her own brand. It was very successful. She dressed so many french models and football wags. Like Antonella and Bruna.

She's not the type of designer to order and sit around her company. She loves her stores and mostly hangs around with you on the one you work.

"Well, at least you had fun."

"I don't know." You say honestly. "I feel so weird when I'm at these places."

"I used to feel the same, but it's all in your head. You do belong there, with him." You nod, smiling at her. "Now go. I got a fitting, and I'll close the store." You nod, saying your goodbyes.

You walk for a while, trying to de-stress. You text Ethan, sending him a pic of the cinema poster that's outside a mall.

You missed hanging with him now that he's more involved with football and practicing. But you were proud because he and Kylian were playing together.

When you get to Kylians house, you see Brice there. He was doing something with your boyfriends head.

"Getting Cinderella ready for the dance?" You joke, taking a seat in the coach next to where he's seated.

They laugh, explaining that the little trim was because of the party the club does for their foundation. They have an auction in order to raise money to help the foundation.

"You have your dress ready? Maybe I can get a tie to match you." He asks, looking at you.

You freeze, you forgot to think about a dress, even tho he told you about this a while ago. You even wrote in your notes to look at some dresses.

"Wait, when did you say was the party?" You ask, trying not to show your worries.

"In two days, mon amour."

You nod, excusing yourself to go upstairs. You can't help but panic, you did forget about getting a dress.

You see into your dresses, nothing is up for the occasion, nothing says exclusive party with extremely rich people.

You chat with your friend, asking her if you can borrow a dress from her. Sadly for you, her dresses were all short ones. And the party attire is long formal.

You search online for dresses, but all of them were way too expensive for your budget. You didn't want to ask Kylian for money.

Also, you didn't want to admit that you forgot about the party and that you didn't have anything to wear.

"I feel so dumb." You say to Celine. "I forgot about the party, and now I'll have to admit that I don't have a dress."

"Why don't you take one of the dresses we have?" She asks, confused.

You look at her, ironing some dresses. "As much as I love your dresses. I can't afford them."

"Aren't you dating the footballer who earns the most in Europe?"

You hate that reaction, Kylian wins his own money, but that wasn't yours to waste or to use.

"You say it. He's the one earning that money." You go back to ironing. "I think I'll just skip this. It's no big deal." You shrug.

She nods, walking over to the back. You can hear her opening something and moving things around. When she's back, she's holding a gorgeous orange and yellow dress

"I made this for a French singer. She never got to wear it. I think I can let you borrow it." She smiles.

You looked at the dress, it was beautiful, a classic figure and the colors were subtle, nothing crazy just beautiful.

"Are you sure?"

"Just keep the tags. They are there for reference of the model and size." She hands it over to you. "I think it will fit."

You smile, hugging her tightly. "I can't thank you enough for all you do for me."

She shakes her head no. "You can thank me by taking a picture with him and having him tag me."

You nod, smiling like crazy because now you can wear something pretty to the party. "I'll make him post a solo picture of me just to thank you." You laugh, hugging her again.

When you got off work, you asked Kylian if his chauffeur could pick you up. You weren't going to take public transportation with a borrowed dress.

"Bonjour madame." Kylian smiles, pulling his window down. "You asked for a ride."

"Did I?" You acted confused. "Well, I asked my boyfriend to pick me up, but since he's not here, can you give me a ride?"

He opens the door to get off the car. Closing the door and opening it again. "Ladies first." He says, a very deep tone to look more serious. "Careful with the head."

He joins you in the back of the car. Kissing your cheek as he lays his head on your shoulder. "Thank you for picking me up." You grab his hand and kiss it.

k.mbappe

k.mbappe 👔👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏽📸

Liked by ethanmbappe, celinedesigns and 3,950,647 others

psg 💙❤️✨️

ethanmbappe love is in the air 😩🤪

celinedesigns the outfits 😍✨️

achrafhakimi where's the picture we took? 😔

"Oh great, Achraf brought his side chick." Carol says, rolling her eyes at the sight of Pamela.

"So I'm not the only one who doesn't like her." Alessia laughs.

"No, this one right here also dislikes her." Caron elbow you, you scuff.

You turn your head to where Hakimi and Pamela are, they are chatting with Marquinhos and Donnarumma.

"She asked me if I could bring her some wine the other day at the barbecue Marcos organized. When I told her it was a self serve kinda thing, she told me nannies aren't supposed to bother the guests and just follow orders."

You and Alessia just laugh, that girl definitely had the nerve to think she was better than others.

"Talking about drinks, I'm going to get one more, you guys coming?" They shake their heads, lifting their half full drinks. "I'll be back."

You walk over to the bar, ordering a cocktail. You feel someone tap your shoulder.

"I like your dress." Pamela says, ordering a drink. You nod smiling. "So Haki and Kyky are friends."

You squint your eyes at the nicknames. "Yes, I noticed that." You sarcastically say. "Also, I think the whole city of France knows that."

"What I'm saying is, I'm here to stay." She gets closer. "And I don't want us fighting, our men's are friend. We can be too."

You turn your head at where Kylian is, even tho he's leaving the team. You know Achraf is a very important person in his life.

"I like your dress too."

"Thank you, it's Versace." She smiles. "Where's yours from?"

"Celine."

"Oh, I didn't knew they did discounts."

You choke on your drink. The audacity of her to say that with the biggest smile like it's nothing.

"They don't."

"Well, Haki told me you work in retail, very Georgina of you." She scuffed. "And let's be honest, unless Kylian bought that for you or they gifted you the dress, I don't think your nine to five allows you to get expensive brands, with the way you dress regularly."

You stare at her, wanting to wipe that stupid grind off her face with a slap.

"Emma used to buy that brand all the time, I get you want to he like her, just don't make it that obvious." She laughs.

You smile. You weren't going to make a scene there like she hoped for. "Well, if you care to know that much, Celine herself gave me this dress to wear tonight. She's a good friend."

"Yeah, sure." She turns back to the bar.

You grab your drink, not wanting to spend more time with her. Just before you left, you got closer to her.

"Talking about copycats, maybe look in the mirror because Hiba's whole wardrobe was Versace. But not from the rack like yours, she knew Donatella."

You don't even walk back with the other wags, you walk into the bathroom trying to calm your anger.

Why did she think that because you have a regular job you were less. Yes, you couldn't afford a dress like the one you're wearing and maybe you couldn't do all the things Kylian does for you. But you were happy with your job, you liked being down to earth.

You wipe the tears that your anger made you let out. Not wanting for all the girls or even her to look at you like that, you walk out, trying to get some air.

After some time of not seeing you, Kylian asked Alessa where you were. She answered with a shoulder shrug.

You walked back into the venue at the right time. He walks faster to you. "Amour, where were you?" He kiss your cheek.

"I was taking air, needed it." You half smile. "Maybe I'll ask the chauffeur to take me to your house. I'm tired."

If there's something he used to do, it was reading you like an open book. You missed that. The way he would tell something was wrong before you even did.

"I'll just wait a little more because of the club bosses." He kiss you quickly. "I'll ask my bodyguard to accompany you to the car."

You nod, walking quickly to the table to say goodbye to your friends. Saying the same excuse. You're tired, but not physically, you are tired mentally.

From all the pressure you put yourself into. Even when you want to try, you can't do it. You don't feel like you belong to his world.

You change into your pajamas, as you wash your face and do your routine. You can't help but feel anger at the words of Pamela.

You looked at the dress before turning the closet light off. She was right. You couldn't afford it. You were playing Cinderella with it.

✨️✨️✨️

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay for the dry cleaning?" You ask again. "It's the least I can do, just let me-"

"Honey, since you wore that dress, my lines are going crazy for the same style in different colors." She smiles, taking the dress from your hands. "Actually, when did you say was the ballon d'or?" She laughs

"Not until a few months." You laugh with her.

"I think it's enough time to design something just for you. But that would be me as a brand, this was me as a friend."

You thank her again, turns out wearing her dress made not only the signer but other models want the dress.

You felt special when she told you that, asking you to help her with the online orders, even when she had a team she trusted you with her life.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Coffee is on me, by the way."

"Hey. Take tomorrow off, I think you deserve it after how hard you work."

You nod, saying your goodbyes and leaving the store. You got to your favorite coffee shop, getting yourself a treat.

Kylian asked you to pick up his mother's birthday gift, giving you his card and telling you to go crazy if you wanted.

"I called the bank and told them Ma femme is going crazy with the plastic." he says before leaving to practice. "If it's something like a bag, she wants it in blue."

You tried to find something blue because that's what she asked. You know she likes jewelry too. Maybe both can be nice.

You text Kylian a picture of the options you have. He was in a meeting with Luis Enrique, and they were creating a plan for the UCL game.

You walk out of the store with the bag for Fayza, moving to Cartier to get her some jewelry, maybe a necklace.

You get a pair of earrings and a necklace to match. You know she will like it, you and her have similar taste in clothes, bags and jewelry.

Kylian texted you to get him a bucket hat from Louis Vuitton. He wanted one for a long time, and now that you're out and about.

You picked two for him, a black one and a white one. You text asking if that will be all or if he would like something else.

You check the store, finding a cute Alma Nano bag that in your eyes was so cute, You think about what he says, you can spend as much as you want on his mom gift and if you want something you can pick anything.

You text Kylian a picture asking if he likes the bag. You were questioning if you should or not.

"Madame, I'll go get the hat you requested. I'll be right back." the sales girl says to you. "You can wait on the couch, or you can keep looking around."

You nod, looking around the store for something else. Eyes going back to the bag.

"Oh God, you're here." You hear someone saying. "If you're filling applications, I need a maid." Pamela laughs.

Her hands were full of designer brands. You smirk when you see the Versace one. "Trying to fill Hibas side of the closet, I see."

She rolls her eyes. The knife digging hard on her with all the ex-wife jokes. You enjoy the way her face turns kinda red.

She was about to say something. The sales girl interrupts her. "Madame, I have the items upfront per your request."

"Merci, I'll be right there." You pass Pamela, ignoring her for the sake of your evening. "Can I add this bag to my bill, please."

You pay for the things, getting out of the store without paying mind to Pamela. You didn't need her to ruin your mood.

The chauffeur was waiting for you, Kylian texted you to go pick him up after picking you up.

"Hello, sunshine." You smile as he opens the door of his car. "Long time no see, Mister Mbappe."

"Like what?" He asks, following your joke. "It's been like five years, isn't it?"

"So long, Paris." You dramatically say. "I got you your hat, two actually."

He kiss you hello, seeing the bags in the front seat. "Perfect, I can look fancy at the beach."

You two chat about his day during the way home. Kylian was excited about the ucl game and you loved that for him.

You two walk with the bags, well, he did. You carry his toiletry bag. "So you want to make something for dinner together?" You ask, leaving his things at the entrance of the house.

He nods, searching for a tutorial on something he's been wanting to do for a long time. You collect the ingredients, helping him with the preparation.

"Tomorrow we are invited to Hakimi's sister birthday party." He says, opening the oven and leaving the food there. "It's going to be at Hakimi's."

You think about the whole Pamela situation. You know you want to tell Kylian about it, but you're not sure if you want to ruin his mood today or ruin the whole invitation thing.

You think about it while you finish with the salad. You hate confrontation and you hate creating an opportunity for her to bother you some more.

"Ready, bébé." He says, placing the dinner on the table. "Let's eat and I'll tell you about my day" He says, kissing your neck.

He serves you two. You bring some water for him and a soda for you. Needing some sugar to sweeten your day.

Kylian talks about his day training and how he will shoot a new commercial for Oakley, the glasses brand that he models for.

"And I asked them for a pair of glasses for you. So you'll be the first one to try the new collection."

"Woow." You laugh. "Since we have connections, we are getting free sun glasses."

You finish dinner between jokes and talking about what to buy for Hakimi's sister.

You have to talk to him. You tell yourself that again, and again, and again. You don't want to look like the bitter friend of the ex who doesn't approve the new girl.

You move to your room, fixing the washed clothes into their designated spot in the closet. He was in the bathroom, applying his night skincare like you taught him.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something?' You ask loudly.

"Oui, bébé." He shouts back.

You keep putting the clothes in the racks. "I know this might sound weird, but I don't like Pamela." You began. "She's just so mean and such a freaking brat around me. Thinking she can diminish me because of my job and shit. I don't feel like putting the nice act with her anymore."

You let everything out, feeling more relieved now that it was out and you didn't have to tip toe around her in front of kylian.

You wait for his response. Silence is taking over the room. You can hear a sound of voices in the background.

You move to the bathroom, finding him with his phone in his hand, watching a video about a show or something like that.

"Did you even pay attention to what I said?" You ask mad.

He looks at you, pausing the video. "Pardon, oursamme sent me this video. It's so funny. Here, watch it."

You shake your head no. Walking back into the closet. You're mad at how you can hear him talk about everything, but he can't even hear you for two minutes.

You finish what you are doing. Walking into the room and finding him still watching his video. You roll your eyes and walk into the bathroom to take a nice shower.

You can't help going to bed mad at him. You felt trapped, he didn't pay attention to you, and you only want to be able to say things that you feel.

The next day, you didn't even say goodbye to him when he left, he was too busy with his phone to notice, only saying a quick goodbye and patting your head.

You spend the rest of the day in a mood. Not really caring about anything but being angry at how much he diminish your feelings and focus on something dumb.

The night approaches, you want to send him alone to the party, but Hakimi's sister was always friendly with you. And she came to your birthday last year with a nice gift.

You dress simple, a one-piece full bodysuit you like, since it was chilly you picked a jacket and your black and white dunks.

You fixed your hair and did your makeup. Something natural since you knew everybody there and everybody knew you with and without makeup at this point.

Kylian was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to be done. He was now aware of your mood. When he came home you just rolled your eyes and refused to heard about his day.

"Ready?" He asks.

You nod, grabbing the gift you got and grabbing the house keys. "Which car?" You ask, very dryly.

Kylian hates when he knows he fucked up but doesn't know at the same time. He can't piece what he did to make you mad.

"The chauffeur is waiting for us." He says, low tone. His hand find the small of your back. You move, not wanting to have his hands on you.

The whole trip was like that. He's thankful Achraf's house is relatively close to his own. Because he can't stand the silent treatment you're pulling on him.

"Hello" You smile, hugging Hakimi's sister as you enter the home. "Happy birthday, you look so beautiful."

You make some small talk, Kylian watching you. His sight is burning your skin. You can tell he's observing, he's like a hawk watching his prey.

"Happy birthday." He says, hugging his friend's sister.

You stayed with her, walking into the home and saying a quick hello to the other people. The list of invitations was mostly known faces.

"Thank God you're here. I can't stand being alone with that woman any more." She whispers, head pointing towards Pamela.

You roll your eyes. "I can't stand her either, she's a narcissist with pretty hair." You joke to get some frustration out.

The subject changes, you were talking about life, about updates on different topics you discussed in the past.

"Excuse me just a moment, I'll go check if the food is ready." Hakimi's sister says, walking to the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to go to the bathroom. Going quickly and checking your makeup. You apply a little more lip balm and go out.

"Well, well, well. Cinderella's here."

You sigh, not wanting to engage in the conversation you pass over Pamela, who quickly grabbed your arm.

"Didn't your parents teach you that it was rude not answering when you're being talked to or taught you basic manners?"

You lift an eyebrow, asking back. "Didn't your parents teach you how to respect others?"

She wanted to answer, trying to dig the knife she's been planting on your chest, but you're quick.

"And didn't you know that even with that prude face you're just a stuck up little bitch who thinks is better than anyone else but in reality, you're just an insecure piece of crap?" You whisper close to her, looking her up and down. "Look at you, hiding under all that. Your parents must hate you, having such a hypocrite for a daughter. Being such an ugly person on the inside must feel bad. So don't worry, I get what you're doing. It's not about my job or my clothes. It's that you feel inferior even with all that gold on you."

You walk back to the living room, leaving her there alone. You feel nice. Letting all that out was refreshing.

You went on with your night, some of the wives came to the party, leaving you with a nice circle and not only the birthday girl and you.

"Why is Hakimi looking at you like that?" Alessia asks, making you turn your back to where they are.

Hakimi was looking at you in a weird way. Talking to Kylian while doing it. He turned his head to find you.

"Don't know, maybe his gold digger told him something about me." You shrug, not minding it.

The night was good for you. You walk into the house happy and relaxed. Kylian was silent. You thought it was because of the silent treatment and decided to stop it.

"Hey, what if we see that movie you told me about?" You were finishing your night routine. He enters the bathroom, his eyes fixed on your reflection. "You okay?"

He sighs, not feeling like fighting. "I know what happened with Pamela." He confess.

You lock eyes with him in the mirror, his rough energy making it obvious that he was mad about the situation that happened at his friends house.

"You do?" You ask, making him nod. "Well, about time. She's crazy if she thinks she can get close to me again. What a loser."

He chuckled, shaking his head no. "Are you serious?"

You turn to him, confused about what he knows and how he knows it. "What?"

"You insulted Pamela." He says, his tone is so serious you feel like your parents are scolding you.

"What?" You repeat. "Are you serious right now?"

"Look, I know you didn't like her the night Achraf introduced you to her, but leaving her alone is one thing and belittled her about how Hakimi is just using her to forget his ex and how she's just replaceable is wrong."

You stayed quiet, not believing his words. How is it that you two are discussing the interaction her and you had in so different ways?

"I never say that"

"Well, she left saying you say that."

"Oh, so you believe her over me?" You ask offended.

"Non, but why would she lie? She even left telling Hakimi that she needs to think about their relationship because of what his best friend girlfriend thinks."

You laugh. "Is this a joke?" You ask, turning again and closing your creams. "Because if it is, it's a good one. Stop playing."

He's not laughing, he's quiet as a tomb. "I'm not laughing, am I?"

"Kylian, that never happened. How convenient it is that you get to believe her when a night ago I told you how she belittled me in every way she can."

"You never say that."

You turn back at him, mad at him. "I did."

"You didn't."

"I did, but you, asshole, were paying attention to that stupid video Ousmane sent you." You threw your hand towel at him. "I told you how I felt, but you chose to ignore me, and here we are."

"I don't recall that."

"How convenient." You exit the bathroom, grabbing your pillow and blanket. "You prefer to call me a liar and believe that I would do something like that than talking to me and getting my side."

"Where are you going?" He asks, joining you in the bedroom. "Don't be ridiculous, leave that there."

"No, Kylian, you can sleep alone tonight. I have a feeling that maybe you don't want to sleep with someone who belittles people the way I do and who treats people the way I do. Because it's how I am, of course, even after years of dating, you would think that and take someone else's side."

You walk out of the room, pillow in one hand, and blanket in the other. You enter the guest room that was near your room.

"And don't bother trying to get my story, I'm sure with her side, you have enough to make your own mind." You yell at the door frame. He's stood in front of your bedroom door. "Oh, and I know for a fact Pamela is not going to be the only one thinking about her relationship because I certainly am too."

You slam the door as hard as you can. Locking it . Not even ten seconds later he's shaking the doorknob, asking you to open the door.

"I'm not going to open the door. You chose her, Kylian." You yell again. "You chose to believe her over me." You say lower, crying about the whole situation. "I'm your girlfriend, and you chose her."

The overwhelming feeling of anger and guilt is making you cry, you don't even know why you feel guilty about what you say.

Kylian gave up after twenty minutes. You weren't going to open the door. The way your cries can be heard from outside the door is killing him.

He thinks about what you say, but he can't remember if you told him or not about how Pamela was treating you.

He remembers that you ask him to talk about something, but his stupid self didn't pay attention to the things you told him.

He couldn't sleep. He can't even rest because every time he closes his eyes, he can hear your cries. Even when you're sleep in the bed.

He needed to apologize. He texts Achraf, explaining that Pamela has been bothering you and you just responded back to her.

Hakimi knew you. He had never seen you disrespect anyone. You're friendly and kind to everyone, so maybe you're not lying here.

You woke up extra early, and he had a deep sleep, so when you got to the room and took your clothes and basic things to get ready, he didn't even feel it.

Your eyes were swollen from all the crying. You tried your best to cover your exhaustion with concealer.

The sad eyes you have are impossible to cover. That's why people say the eyes are the windows to the heart. Because you can lie all you want, but your eyes will tell the words your mouth can't.

"Bad night?" Celine asks, handing you a coffee. "It's a double, thought you might need it."

You gave her a half smile. Not wanting to say anything about the topic. She understood, not wanting to push your boundaries.

"Any plans for this weekend?" She asks. Trying to get you to talk and not look like a sad puppy.

"Kylian has an important reunion with his new coach. He invited only five of them with a plus one." You say, remembering the reunion he told you about during dinner on the weekend. "But I'm not sure if I want to attend."

"Why?"

"First, because I'm mad at him." You began telling, making Celine surprised about the first point in your list. "Second, some of these players I don't even know about. I've seen them, but never even talk with them." You exhale, already uncomfortable.

"And third?"

"I don't have anything for the occasion, I feel like my closet is a second-hand craziness that makes stupid bratty models think I'm not enough to be in their presence." You throw the pencil in your hand on the counter.

Celine listen closely to your words. "You are more than welcome to take any of the clothes from the store, you know that."

"And I'm grateful for that. Thank you so much for offering me to take something from here on a loan." You say with honesty. "I just feel like I'm playing dress up with your charity." You feel your eyes tear up. "Celine, I can't afford any of the clothes you design, and somehow, I'm posting on social media about me wearing them, like if I'm not five euros away from breaking the bank."

You can't help the sobs, walking to the bathroom to hide. You feel embarrassed, with your boss, with your life and with your social status.

You were done with people diminish you because you were a retail worker. People calling you a gold digger because you date Kylian.

You're done with pretending to be someone you are not just to be able to fit with the people he's around.

He can afford hundreds of thousands of dollars in clothes, in shoes, in hats or watches. You can afford some pieces from boutiques at the mall when you got a bonus or when you have a special occasion.

You live in a house he paid with a month of working. House you could never afford in this lifetimes or the next five.

You were basically living out of him, and still not even close to making ends meet because the neighborhood stores were five times more expensive that the ones downtown, because just in transportation to where his house is you spend half your income.

You were leaving a life that was not for you. Everybody around him knew that. It was just about time for him to figure that you were just a bump on his way.

You gather composure, thankful for your waterproof mascara. You walk back upfront, meeting a very concerned Celine.

"I'm fine, I don't want to talk about it." You say. Helping her with some things at the store.

You remained quiet for the rest of the day, feeling embarrassed. You missed your family, you missed your friends.

You feel alone. That was an issue.

You have Kylian's family. You have the wags who were your friends. You have Celine. But at the same time, you didn't.

You can't go over to his family to talk about things he does or to get advice because that's not correct in your eyes.

You can take advice when it's asked, but you are not going to rant about your issues with him like you would with your best friend.

You won't rant about the problems of being in the public eye and how people like Pamela treat you with disrespect. But they know about it. Some of them got the same comments, maybe not directly to their faces but on social media every day.

You need your family and friends.

Moving out to a different country with no one to relate to, with no one to talk to about the struggles of barely know the language.

"I'm going home. Do you need me to help you with something else before I leave?"

"No, it's okay." She smiles. Kissing you cheek goodbye. You nod, grabbing your things, giving her the report of the day like always. "Hey, Y/n."

You turn back to her. "Yes, ma'am?"

She hands you a bag. "Open it at home. It's something I forgot to give you." She smiles.

You nod, saying your goodbyes to her and telling her that you will text her when you are home.

You feel a headache, entering home and walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You find Kylian eating and sitting on the counter.

You don't like not talking to him. You want to hug him and cry in his arms. You want him to tell you that everything will be fine and that you are okay and safe.

He has earbuds on, not noticing your presence. You open the fridge and grab the water. Passing next to him and touching his arm.

He jumps a little, quickly taking his earbuds off to pay all the attention to you. "You're home."

You nod, drinking a whole glass of water. "Yes, you're early." You say, serving a glass for him. "What you got there?"

He thanked you, sipping some water. "It's a sandwich. Want a piece?" He placed the sandwich back in the plate and slid it to you.

You took a bite out of the sandwich. It tasted weird from all the ingredients he put inside of it. "It's an interesting flavor. But I think I'm not that hungry."

He finished the sandwich. You took a seat next to him on the counter, a glass of water in hand. "How was your day?" He asks.

"Good, same as always."

He nods, not sure how to approach the situation. He feels horrible about everything. "Can I be honest with you?" He asks.

"Always." You smile, reassuring him.

"I don't know what got into me, I should have listened to you instead of watching that stupid video. And I'm mostly sorry for making you cry and feel like you are something that you are not."

You want to speak, but you let him finish his rambling apology. Knowing he's being honest, this was his way of saying sorry, rambling about the thing he's sorry for, and then getting to a point.

"I know Pamela is someone I know before we even met, but that doesn't mean she's allowed to tell you things or make you feel a certain way. And I won't tolerate that happening to you. I know you and your character. I'm sorry about last night and any other night in the past, I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you don't matter, you do, to me you are the most important person."

You feel your eyes getting teary. You needed those words more than anything. You needed the reassure he's giving you. You needed him.

"Can I give you a hug?" He asks, getting down.

You open your arms, letting him get into your embrace. "Je t'aime." You kiss his neck.

The hug lasted for what felt like hours. That was what you both needed. Specially you.

"Want to go upstairs and take a well-deserved bath?" He asks, kissing your head. "I can even get some strawberries to eat with the chocolate you like." You nod, kissing his lips.

✨️✨️✨️

You didn't work on weekends, mostly because since you weren't just a regular worker at the store, you were upgraded to a little privilege of having you weekends off.

You spend the day organizing some papers you left unattended for a while now. You moved some books that you planned to donate to some students that needed them.

You still needed to find a dress for the activity that was taking place tonight. Ready to go back to Celine and see if she can help you pick something.

You promise her that you will always come to her for anything if you ever needed help. And as much as you feel like you're abusing your privilege, she will likely not let you pay for anything you pick even if you could.

You finish your organization and change into something more presentable to go out with. Asking Kylian's chauffeur to take you to the store.

"Bonjour, mon ange." Celine greets you when she seed you walk in. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, I'm sorry about that scene. I was just not in a right place that day." You hug her hello.

"It's okay. We all have those days." She laughs. "I know I'm a little lost when it comes to dates and days, but I know for a fact that today you are not working." She hums.

"I'm not, but I have an event, and I want to get something pretty. Maybe you can help me?"

You bat your eyelashes at her. Making her laugh and hug you by the shoulders. "I have the perfect dress for you."

She showed you some dresses, most of them way too formal for the event. But then you see this beautiful short long sleeve black sequin dress.

"It's perfect." You say. "Can I try it on?"

She nods, "Show me how it fits."

You try it. It fits like a glove, it's the perfect length, the perfect material, everything. "What do you think?"

"Fits like a glove." She smiles, making a sign for you to spin. "Parfait" she happily says.

You change quickly. Wanting to run home and get ready for the night. You pass the dress to her as you finish putting your shoes back on.

"So, here's that dress for you." She hands you the brand bag.

"Will you let me ever pay you?"

"I dont think so. But I think I have an idea. If you want, you can return it on monday or keep it." She smiles.

"I'll bring it back, I promise you that one day I'll be able to pay you back everything you do for me."

She hugged you goodbye. Wishing you a great night. You went back straight to the house. Excited about getting ready.

You took your time, getting your hair and a very natural makeup. Kylian got back home in the middle of your routine.

He got ready with you. He was wearing something between formal and not so formal. Nothing too serious, but nothing casual.

"Can you zip me up?" You ask.

He looks at you up and down. Your back greeting him. He runs a finger down your spine, making you arch from the sensation.

"Amour, no." You chuckle.

He kisses your shoulder, moves to your neck, and finishes with your other shoulder. "I love how you look." He whispers in your ear as he zips the dress.

You turn, kissing him and thanking him. "Ready, Mister?"

"Ready, amour." He smiles.

You two arrive at the house of Luis Enrique, his wife and daughter were there with him. He invited Zaire-Emery, Zague, Lee Kang, Vitinha and Kylian.

They came with their plus one, some of them brought their girlfriends and some of them brought their agents.

Kylian sat next to you, on the other side of him was Lee and on the other side of you was Zague.

Lee was with his agent. "You are Kylian's agent?" He asks. His English sounded so adorable since he's not used to it yet.

"I-" You were going to answer, but kylian interrupted.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/n this is Lee, Lee this is Y/n."

"Oh, nice to meet you, you are so pretty. Kylian always talks about you." He shakes your hand.

"Thank yo-"

"Hey Lee, did you saw that we are going to change the training schedule?"

You decided to remain quiet, Kylian was nervous, and that shows, he's very talkative with everything.

They keep talking about different topics. Luis Enrique and his wife were making sure everyone was comfortable.

"Can you pass the salt?" Zague asks. "I'm Zague, by the way, sorry." He laughs.

"Here that salt." You laugh too. "And I'm Y/n. Kylian's girlfriend." You shake his hands the same way with Lee.

"Nice to meet you. This guy always talks about you." He smile. "Are you from Paris? You don't sound french."

"No, I'm actually from -"

"Zague, Lee wants to tell Luis about that day you fell into the pool." Kylian laughs.

"Do it." He chuckle. "Sorry, I didn't get to hear your answer."

You were interrupted again by Kylian. Feeling a little off about it. Zague notices your face falling from the cut in your words.

Not that you were complaining, but kylian interrupted every single interaction you had with everyone. You feel dumb, people asked you things, and you were cut off almost every time.

The dinner was good. You got to sit in front of Luis's daughter, Sira. She was a cute girl and very talkative too.

"Horse riding? that's so cool." You smile at her.

"Yes, I love doing it."

"She's amazing. You should come to one of the competitions they do here in France. It's an experience." Luis says.

"She's afraid of horses." Kylian joined the conversation.

"I'm not." You laugh, thinking he's maybe joking. "I actually think horses are cute and powerful."

"Didn't you once fall off of one?" He asks.

Luis and Sira look at each other, confused about why kylian was bringing that up. "I've fallen a good amount of times. It's pretty normal."

"Yes, and believe me. At first, horses can be scary." Luis says. "Kylian, another glass of wine?"

"Yes, let me serve this one."

Kylian took the bottle, moving his arm a little faster and by mistake throwing your glass all over you.

You feel the cold drink hitting you, moving the chair back quickly, trying to save the parts where it didn't hit yet.

"Oh my God." Sira says, getting up and grabbing a napkin. "It's okay, I think my mom has a cleaning product."

"Let's not worry, your dress is black and I think it'll be safe." Kylian says, tapping his napkin on your legs where the wine hit.

You want to say something, but you are too mad at him to even say something. Being afraid that you will lash out in front of everybody.

"Wait, you have your tags on. Let me take those." Kylian tear off the tags. Making you let out an angry but small growl.

You close your eyes and inhale. "Luis, can I please use your bathroom?" You ask nicely, smiling to hide your emotions. "It's okay, it was an honest mistake. Please do take that glass of wine. I'm just going to dry myself, and we can keep talking."

Sira walked you to the bathroom. She even gave you some wipes and a towel to help with the situation.

"If you need anything else, I'll be over here at the rooms. Second door to the left." She smiles, leaving you alone at the bathroom.

You want to cry, you feel weird, you're dirty and sticky from all the wine you have on you. And kylian pulling the interrupting act was stressful.

You clean the wine off your legs and arms, and you fix your dress that was still wet, and you throw the used wipes and paper at the trash can.

Three knocks made you open the door. Kylian was standing there. "Hey, you okay?"

You roll your eyes, stepping outside. "Can we go home? I don't feel well, am sticky and uncomfortable." You whine.

"Yes, I'll go get your bag, wait for me outside." He says, hurrying to get your things.

He excuses you with everybody. Saying goodbye and thanking Luis for the dinner. They all understood and told him to tell you goodbye.

The drive home you were silent, trying to calm your anger at him. You don't want to yell. You don't want to fight. You just want a shower and a good night sleep.

You enter the house and take your shoes off. Leaving them by the door. You try to unzip your dress, but you can't reach the zipper.

You feel his cold hands, undoing your zipper. "I'm really sorry." He apologizes. Hands massaging your shoulders.

You put your hands in your chest to hold the dress. "Please don't touch me." You walk one step forward. "I'm taking a shower."

He sighs. "It's was an honest mistake, Y/n."

You stop your steps. Turning and walking down two steps. "Was you interrupting on everything I said also unintentional?" You ask, stern tone.

He shakes his head no. Moving upstairs to be at the same height as you. "I said I'm sorry, let's get ready for bed and call it a night."

"A tasteless sorry is supposed to make it up for me?" You walk the rest of the steps. He was already on the second floor. Walking towards the room. "I'm talking to you. Stop ignoring me."

He pulls the silent treatment card, going to the closet to change into his night clothes. You slam the bathroom door, angry at him.

You left the dress on the floor. Feeling nervous about ruining the dress Celine let you borrow.

You shower, taking that hideous feeling. Trying to calm down to be able to face what's outside the bathroom.

He's ignoring you. Under the covers with his phone. Back turned to you. You close the closet door. Not sure if you want him to address anything.

You try not to cry, you have been feeling ignored, you have been feeling bad bout different aspects of your life, and all because of him.

You let yourself get humiliated for the sake of not creating any drama that can get used against him.

You have been a good girlfriend. You're not a bad person. You won't categorize yourself as someone who deserves bad things because you never do bad things to others.

You grab your small suitcase. You pack some basics. You walk into the bathroom with a toiletry bag. Grabbing your most necessary products and things. You walk back into the closet. You finish packing.

You don't move the suitcase just yet. You get down to where your purse is. Walking back upstairs and locking yourself in.

You open the browser. Searching for a flight home, finding one in three hours. You book it.

Texting your friend and telling her that you will be home at the time the ticket says it's landing, she asks you if you are okay and you just say you'll talk once you are there.

You don't move for a few minutes, you tear about the fact that you will leave Kylian alone. That you will have to tell him that you will leave to be able to rest your mind.

You gather courage, order an Uber. Opening the door. He's now watching something on the tv. "Kylian, we need to talk."

"I don't want to fight. Let's talk tomorrow."

"I won't be here tomorrow." You say, your voice is shaking.

He turns, you're with tears rolling down your face, suitcase in hand. "Amour, what are you doing?" he throws the sheets quickly.

He walks over to you, trying to grab you. But you back off. Lifting your hand and making him stop.

"Kylian, I need time. I can't keep going with my days like this. It's not just about tonight. It's the whole Pamela situation. It's just too much." You cry.

"You don't need to leave. I'll go. But please stay here. Mon Amour, please."

"I have my ticket already booked. I'm going home. " You whisper. "I'm not breaking up with you. I just need time. I can't keep going like this."

"This is our home." he whines, not being able to get your reasoning.

"No, this is your house. Those are your friends, this is your country."

You walk past him. Feeling your heart break. You hurry to the strairs. The suitcase is not cooperating with you, wanting to go quickly.

He grabs the suitcase, making you turn to face him. "When are you coming back?" he asks, tears in his eyes. "Because you will be back, aren't you?"

You nod, sobbing. "I'll be back in two weeks"

He then gets your suitcase down the stairs. When you are at the bottom, you throw yourself on his arms.

"I'm sorry, Kylian." You cry. "But please understand that I need to do this. I need to get all this out of my head. I feel so unworthy. I feel so out of place that I don't fit in your world."

"Stop, you do. You are so worthy to me and to everyone around us who loves you and cares about you." he hugs you.

"I'll be back." You pull away. "My Uber is here." You say seeing the notification of the driver. "Je t’aime"

He kisses you. He dries your tears with his shirt. "Text me when you get there. You have the card I gave you? If you need anything please use it."

You nod, kissing his lips. You pull and walk outside. Once you are about to get into the car, you turn to see him standing there. You wave and close the car door.

#football #football fanfic #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #football angst #football x you #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe fic #football fluff #football smut #football drabble #Mbappe fic #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe oneshot #kylian mbappe

[pearl-kite]

I haven't drawn all month because I've been cross stitching and I feel like I might die if I don't, but cross stitch is RIGHT THERE

#kite rambles #should do a quick study so i have something for the year summary #I've finally been able to do those i don't want to ruin it for me #imma paint a bird or summat #I'm gonna finish this cross stitch of it kills me #I'm almost halfway #I've never finished one before but I'm gonna finish it I'm gonna #once again lamenting i don't have more hands

[viennakarma]

Something you paid for

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Two years into the best relationship of your life, you find out that Fernando thinks you don't love him. But it get worse and you realize the whole world think of you as gold digger.

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, slut shaming, reader is confused, fernando is even more confused, miscommunication, cursing, a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, soft smut (almost not there), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: I'm honestly not 100% sure about this story, a had another ending planned but I wanted it to be HEA. I don't know. :(

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

It was supposed to be just a pause in your studies. Something quick since your brain was already mushy from studying and writing your research for too long.

So when you picked up your phone, to aimlessly scroll through social media, you didn’t expect to see a new, sudden rush of comments on your instagram page. There were thousands of comments in your last post, calling you a gold digger, and much, much worse. Ever since you started dating Fernando, you had been getting these comments, and in the beginning they were worse but slowed down with time. Now they were on a new high again. Confused more than anything, you went on to try and find out what happened for this to happen all of a sudden. You and Fernando hadn’t gone out together for more than two weeks and you hadn’t been to a race week for a month.

After digging you eventually found out what happened. Deuxmoi posted something that made everyone quickly think it was you.

A lady who’s 12 years younger than her famous Spanish Formula One driver boyfriend, is known for being with him for his money. Many tried to warn him, but it seems like he doesn’t believe or doesn’t care.

Confused, you stared at the post, scrolling through hundreds of nasty, poisonous comments. That wasn’t true. Fernando did give you lots of presents and spoiled you a lot but he did this out of his own want, not because you asked for or demanded it. He was constantly giving you things, especially clothes, shoes and bags, and loved seeing you wearing them. He also gave you an Aston Martin car on your last birthday. He even went as far as getting you a credit card attached to his, for whenever you needed to buy books or go on a shopping spree. You never minded it because you knew he liked it, instead of refusing you were just grateful for his generosity.

You wondered if you should talk about it with him, but deep down you knew Fernando was never one to care for gossip of any kind. And this probably wasn’t even true to begin with, just someone trying to stir the pot. So you just limited the comments in your posts and went on about your day.

A week later you went to the race, it was Silverstone, and the last before summer break. You decided to dress your best, wearing clothes that were pretty and elegant and had been given to you by Fernando.

He always treated you like a princess, he was kind and patient, and always found a way to align your schedules to spend time together. He liked taking you on trips during summer break and to ski trips during winter break. Fernando adored having you around in race weeks, you could see in his face that he was radiant with your presence. And you loved all the gifts and the trips but you especially loved staying home with him, lazing around, making love on the sofa and taking walks hand in hand in his hometown. You loved helping him cook, trying your best to follow his orders and not mess up his recipes. 

You walked into the paddock hand in hand, and you kept him company whenever you could. He would keep you around the most, only letting you go when he had meetings or media duties. During that time, you would go back to his room and do a little more of your research, writing your thesis.

You left his room so you could grab a snack and a coffee at the hospitality, but as you passed by a hallway, you heard someone saying your name in conversation. You stopped, leaning against the wall to hear, with a glance, you saw two mechanics talking.

“Seems like everyone tried to warn him, man. But it’s like he doesn’t mind dating a gold digger.”

“Is she a gold digger, really?”

“Man, she doesn’t do anything! She doesn't even work.”

“Has anyone warned Fernando?”

“Everyone.”

You went back inside his driver’s room, sitting down, completely shocked. So that’s what people thought of you? You knew people on the internet talked about it, but they were strangers so you wouldn’t allow yourself to mind because those people didn’t know you. But the people in the garage? They’ve known you for almost two years now, you were always kind and polite to them, even going as far as bringing them cookies and donuts as thank you for welcoming you so well.

You avoided crying, it would ruin your makeup, and Fernando would notice it very quickly. So you just sat there, numb. Thinking about how everyone believed you were with Fernando because of his money and nothing else.

When Fernando found you again, before he had to go get ready for the race, he noticed you were a little down.

“You should not study so hard on the weekends, princesa.” He muttered, hugging you from behind and leaving a gentle kiss to your neck. Of course, he would think you were just tired.

“You are absolutely right, mi amor,” you smiled a little, turning around so you could hug him properly, “do you have time for a little kiss?”

“Even two,” he joked.

You ended up sitting on his lap, making out like two teenagers, until someone knocked on the door, calling Fernando to go get ready.

“Hey, good luck, yeah?” You said, kissing him one more time then kissing the back of his hand, “I love you.”

You watched the race from the garage, feeling self conscious now that it seemed like everyone thought you were leeching off of Fernando.

In the end, Fernando got P3 which was a great result and you celebrated wildly, proudly watching him get on the podium.

After his post race meetings, you met him in his room.

“Let’s go out to celebrate! Dinner is on me!” You hugged him, mood better now than before.

You and him ended up going out for dinner, at a high end restaurant, dressed to the nines. It was fun, you listened to Fernando talking about the race, then he asked you what you thought about the race.

Before dessert, you went into the bathroom to retouch your makeup and freshen up. When you came back, your tiramisu was already there. You and Fernando shared the dessert, laughing to each other.

When the waitress came, you picked the opportunity.

“Dear, can we get the tab please?”

“It’s already taken care of, Madam.”

Your smile faltered, and you looked at Fernando as she left. He was smiling like he couldn’t hold it in.

“Fernando! I said dinner was on me!”

“Why would I let you pay, princesa?”

“Because you got a podium today! As a celebration!” You whined, upset. Fernando pulled your chair, until you were right beside him and he kissed your cheek.

“I like paying for you, Hermosa,” Fernando stood up, offering you a hand, “come on, you can treat me right in our hotel room, what about that?”

You smiled as he pulled you away, but something still nagged at your brain.

You and Fernando took the private plane back to Madrid after the date, because he had sponsor meetings over the week, and you honestly wanted to sleep in your bed. The trip was quick, and while Fernando took a nap, you tried studying, but your mind kept going back to being called a gold digger.

Deep down, you really wanted to talk to Fernando about it, but you were unsure if he could fix this in any way. What could he do? Make a post on instagram saying hey, my girlfriend isn’t leeching off of me as most you think!? You did live with Fernando, for six months now, and he paid all the bills and the house was his. But he also gave you many many gifts.

When you got home, putting your bags inside the closet, you two just changed into sleepwear, ready to doze off.

Then Fernando opened his bag and grabbed a small box.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Got you a present last week in Austria!”

He handed you the box, and with your heart beating fast, you opened it to a beautiful vintage watch. It was gold, delicate with a beautiful bracelet. There was a lump in your throat as you stared at the piece.

“You didn’t like it? It’s ok, princesa, I’ll get you another one,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t need another watch, Nando. You gave me this one not even a month ago,” you raised your wrist, showing him the brand new one he gave you.

“I want to give it to you. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“And I don’t want it,” god, you didn’t want to sound so ungrateful, but how could you tell him that his presents felt like something else now? “You have to stop giving me so many presents,” you said, trying to put into words what you were feeling.

“But that’s how I won you over, why would you refuse my presents now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his voice made you stop, stomach dropping. That’s how I won you over? That’s how he believed your relationship came to be? That’s why he thought you were together?

“What did you say?” You paused, suddenly turning to him, it felt like a punch to the throat, “You- you believe I’m a gold digger? You believe it?”

Fernando walked up to you, putting both hands on your waist, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Amor, you know I don’t mind spending my money on you. Quite the opposite, I love to spoil you.”

You stood there, speechless for a couple of seconds. Then you snapped out of it, pushing his hands off you.

“That’s not what I asked!” Your voice sounded louder, you tried to regain your composure, “people talk a lot, the press too, but you know the truth, right?!”

“I’m a rich man, I like providing you with the luxurious lifestyle you lead. I don’t care that you enjoy my money.”

His words made it so much worse. It made you nauseous, the idea that all this time, he’s been thinking of you as a gold digger, as someone who’s only with him for his money and for what he could provide for you.

“No, Fernando- no!” Your voice wavered, “that’s not true! I love you, you know that right?”

“Why are you so caught up in some silly rumor?

“You know right? You know I love you.” You pressed further waiting for an answer. Hoping against hope that he knew it deep down, that he could acknowledge that you harbored love for him.

“Amor, we have such a great dynamic like this. I don’t need your love, just your loyalty and for you to be my pretty girl.”

He was so calm and reassuring, like he had made peace with the fact that you didn’t love him. Like he wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that you were supposedly a gold digger. His dismissal broke something inside you.

“So you don’t- you don’t believe I love you?”

You felt pathetic and helpless, repeating the same words again and again, hoping and praying for a different answer from Fernando.

“Come on, I’m really tired, can we go to sleep?

“Fernando.”

“I’m going to wait for you in bed,” was all he said, dismissing you completely.

You walked out of the room at the same time he went into the bathroom, you held your head up until you softly closed the door behind you, then finally the tears spilled. You went to the bathroom downstairs, the farthest you could go away from him as the sobs broke from your throat violently.

Sliding down on the floor you wondered if everything was lie. You knew it wasn’t but the fact that he thought you were only there for the money was completely wrong. How long had he been thinking that? How many times had he heard you say “I love you” and thought it wasn’t true? You didn’t even know what to do or what to feel. How could you feel if this whole time while you were pouring your heart into this relationship he thought you were just leeching off of him? How can you love someone so deeply and still live with the fact they think of you as a freeloader? Did he joke with his friends like yeah, she’s a gold digger but at least she’s loyal and fucks me well? 

Your chest hurt and you felt repulsive, making your way to the living room, opening a bottle of his whiskey, not bothering with a glass, just sipping it straight from the bottle.

What could you do now? Talk to him? Tell him you’re not with him for his money? After two whole years accepting his every gift with open arms? After getting a fortune worth of presents? After letting him pay for your books, textbooks, new laptop? After letting him pay for dates, trips, clothes, accessories, shoes and jewelry?

You hated yourself for it now. For taking it just because you thought it was his love language, not because deep down he was trying to keep you, buying your affection.

After spending the whole night awake, nursing a bottle and with only your repulsive thoughts as company, you watched as the sun rose from the big living room window.

It was time to fix it.

Fernando was an early riser almost every morning, so after the sun fully rose in the sky, you went in the kitchen and prepared coffee, to cut the effect of the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, really.

“Morning, bebé! You woke up earlier than me today?” He said, passing you with a kiss to your cheek, then going to the cabinet for a mug. He was so unbothered by your argument last night it was pissing you off.

“I didn’t sleep.”

He paused, looking at your face.

“We should talk.” You readied yourself. Fernando stopped in front of you, attentive. “I’ve been hearing a lot this past week that I’m a gold digger, this has been making me feel some kind of way, and I wanted to address this with you. Last night you were tired and we probably misunderstood each other…”

“Where are you going with this, corazón?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not with you for your money, Fernando. Do you understand that?”

He stood silent, which only made you feel worse.

“I want you to stop giving me presents without a proper occasion. And I want you to stop paying stuff for me. And we’re going to share house bills.” You laid it all out, after thinking hard all throughout the night.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t accept it.” He frowned, “that wasn’t the deal when we moved in together.”

“Because I didn’t know everything back then. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t live at your cost like this.”

“No, Y/N.” He took a step back, shaking his head as if you had said the most stupid thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious, Fernando.”

“No, I’m not negotiating this. I pay for everything. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it will be.”

“I just want to show you that I’m not with you for the money! I’m not what they’re calling me! No more presents, Fernando.”

“You took them.”

“Because I thought you wanted me to have them!”

“I wanted you to have them so you would want to stay with me!”

You gasped, hearing it from his mouth finally. The tears finally started flowing, and you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady even with the tempest happening inside your chest, staining the beautiful story of your relationship. Well, what you thought was a beautiful relationship.

“You’re just like them, right?” You said, defeated, “you think of me as a gold digging whore. You probably never defended me when they called me that.”

“I gave you all this stuff because I didn’t want you to leave!”

“It was never about the fucking money! And guess what? You lost me anyway!” You marched to the bedroom, Fernando hot on your heels.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.” He said, following you. “I did everything for you to never leave!”

“Everything but loving me! I don’t fucking care!” You unlatched your necklace, putting it on the table, “I don’t care about your money and the jewelry and the clothes and the bags!” You put down your watch and earrings too. Everything he had given you not because he wanted you or loved you, but because he thought they were the price to pay to keep you around.

“Fuck, I love you!” You shouted, feeling desperate and lost, “And all you see me as is something you paid for. A toy you can parade around and look pretty in your arm! You don’t even love me, Fernando. I could write a list about everything I love about you, and none of it would be your stupid money!”

In the closet, you picked a bag, and started putting your clothes inside. Then you noticed how most of them were gifts from him. So you put it back, taking only what you had bought yourself. Fernando stood there, helpless as you packed, putting clothes and a few shoes in a couple of baggage. You also took your study material and laptop, which he had gifted you, but you knew you’d refund him.

“Stop, no,” Fernando tried to stop you as went into the garage, “I do, I love you.”

“You don’t, Fernando. You’re not even sure of that.” You shook your head, putting the bags inside the car. The Aston Martin he had given you, “you have to think. If you really love me as you say, then why do you love me? Because I’m eye candy you can take to galas? Because I’m a good fuck? Because I stand there and look pretty when you have to kiss those old men’s asses?”

You didn’t give him a second, getting in the car and starting the engine.

“This is so messed up, oh my god, how could I let myself believe this for two entire years?” You whispered to yourself, accelerating the car and driving off. 

Through the rear view, you could see Fernando standing there, doing nothing.

You drove and wiped the tears away, breathing in. When you moved in with Fernando, you hadn’t been able to get out of the lease of your flat because you still had a few months on your renting contract. Now it felt like luck that you had a place to stay. Despite getting your doctorate degree, you didn’t have any friends in the city, only a few acquaintances here and there.

You got to the apartament, not bothering to unpack your bags, only leaving it on the bedroom floor. You took your study material and with your phone in hand, you sent Fernando via transfer a total 4000 euros, for what you hoped covered the “laptop and books expenses” as you wrote in the little note.

Then you laid on the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

You woke up and it was getting dark, the sun setting outside. Checking your phone, there were fourteen missed calls from Fernando, and a notification, showing that he had returned the money to you, with additional 30000 euros and only “no” written on the little note. Huffing, you sent the whole amount back and blocked him, so he couldn’t transfer any more money to you.

He still had not realized what was wrong, he was still thinking money was your motivation.

The next few days felt like a haze, you were barely getting any sleep, only eating and writing your research, which ultimately reminded you of Fernando, since it was a study on aerodynamics. You couldn’t lie to yourself, thinking of how many times you stared at the door, waiting and hoping he would understand and come after you.

-

Fernando had work commitments in England, and going back to Madrid, he ended up giving George and his girlfriend a lift. Fernando was visibly not himself as soon as George saw him.

“How’s Y/N doing?” George asked, casually. But from the way Fernando’s face dropped, he could tell something was wrong, “trouble with the missus?” He joked, tried to lighten the mood.

“She- uh, she left.” Fernando muttered.

“What do you mean, she left?” Carmen joined the conversation, “She’s traveling?”

“No- no- I guess we broke up.”

“You guess?!” George’s voice went a little high pitched out of nervousness.

“Fernando, what happened?” Carmen tried to understand. 

Despite not being exactly best friends, you and her were pretty close, always spending time together whenever both of you were on race weekends. The fact that you’re both engaged academics was also a common topic between you.

“You know about the rumors, right?” Fernando started, hesitating.

“What rumors?” George paused.

“That she’s only with me for the money,” Fernando muttered.

“All girlfriends of drivers are accused of that at some point, what’s new?” George pushed.

“I might have implied that I agree with that.”

“Oh, my god,” Carmen covered her mouth, absolutely shocked, “What?”

“Fernando, respectfully- Are you fucking insane?!” George exclaimed, jaw slack, “she looks at you all lovey-dovey, like- like- you’re the only person in the entire earth and you think she’s with you for the money?”

“She would never be like that! She’s so smart and kind,” Carmen added.

“I know- I just- I don’t know! Maybe I let the rumors get to my head!” he ran both hands over his face, exasperated, “And she always lets me pay, and she always takes the presents, I don’t know!”

Then, Fernando explained about how you tried to pay for dinner, and you refused his gift, he told them about the argument and how you wanted to set boundaries about money and gifts.

“She was trying to prove to you that she’s not a freeloader. She was trying to show that the money didn’t matter, and what did you do? You pushed more money on her!” George practically spat the words in Fernando’s face.

“Eres muy estúpido, Fernando. Te lo digo como tu amiga.” Carmen muttered.

“I don’t know what she said but I heard the word stupid, and I agree.” George backed her up, “Go talk to her, apologize and fix it.”

“That is,” Carmen interrupted, face serious, “If you really love her. Otherwise, better let her go find someone who can really love her, it’s what she deserves. Love and happiness.”

Fernando swallowed, his chest constricting with the mere thought of you moving on, of someone else having you in their arms.

Getting back home without you there felt like a thick fog day, cold and empty and he missed you, he missed his sun. He missed you jumping into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He missed the smell of the candles you always lit while studying. He even missed the little mess of textbooks, colorful highlighters and notes scattered around.

Home didn’t feel like home without you.

In the middle of the living room, there were big cardboard boxes, as he opened, he noticed they were full of clothes, shoes and bags he had gifted you throughout your relationship. In a smaller box, all the jewelry he had given you, even anniversary gifts. Even the beauty products he had given you like perfumes, makeup products, and face creams.

You had returned every single thing.

And on the coffee table, your keys to the house and the keys of your Aston Martin DB12.

It seemed like you had returned everything that could tie you to him, everything that made him wrongly call you a gold digger. And it felt painfully like a goodbye.

-

While mixing your homemade coffee, your eyes flicked to the door, then to your phone on the table, facing up. Despite the searing pain in your chest, and the sorrowful hole in your heart, maybe it was time to start to move on. It had been more than a week, if he wanted to come back to you, he would’ve come by now.

You got ready to meet with your advisor, and she brought up a topic that had been common now, about you taking a position as a professor for a couple of Engineering subjects. She said it’d be good for you to work in your area while on the last few months before getting your doctorate degree. You had mostly denied the other times she offered the position, because you wanted more time with Fernando, because you wanted the freedom to fly around the world following him to his races.

Now- now you had more bills to pay and no boyfriend to follow. You also had more free time, a broken heart and a vacant mind. 

“I’m considering the position. I believe it could do me good right now.” You said to her, thoughtful, “can I confirm with you tomorrow?”

After going through the meeting and getting a review on your thesis, you went back to your flat, taking a long shower. You had just dressed in pajamas when the doorbell rang. With long strides, you were faced with Carmen, and not Fernando as you expected.

“From your face I take it he hasn’t spoken to you, yes?” Carmen muttered, seeing the visible disappointment in your face.

“I’m sorry, please come in,” you opened the door wider, forcing a smile. Carmen had a couple of bags that she set on a nearby table.

“He told us what happened, I’m so sorry,” Carmen hugged you and you immediately started crying, since you had no one to talk about the past few days, “I brought chocolates and wine, so we can talk.”

Over chocolates and a bottle of Merlot, you told her everything, starting at the deuxmoi rumor. She looked horrified when you said word for word what had transpired the last time you spoke with him.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t come talk to you yet,” Carmen added, at some point.

“Because he won’t, at all.” You say with your voice shaky from crying so much the past hour.

“Don’t say that. He loves you.” Carmen said.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “He’ll find another one, someone who can enjoy his money since it seems like it’s all that matters to him.”

Carmen didn’t say anything to that and you knew she couldn’t argue with the facts. Later, George dropped by to get her, going up to your flat so he could hug you quickly and mutter “I’m sorry”.

With a heavy heart, you slowly rebuild a healthy routine again, doing grocery shopping, cooking meals, going to the gym, studying and everything.

One day, you went back home after going on a shopping spree, and as you got into the hall, Fernando was there, standing in your hall, waiting by the door. You stopped, almost losing the timing to leave the elevator. When you walked closer, he noticed you. Meeting his eyes was different this time, uncertain and a little distant.

“What do you want?” You asked, you hoped your voice would come out harsh, but it only sounded defeated.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you put the shopping bags down. After doing that, you crossed your arms and stood against a side table, waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for not fully believing your love, I guess I was so focused in protecting myself, that I ended up hurting you, and it was never my intention,” Fernando stood just two steps away from you, his eyes holding such pain and fear, that it made you crumble, he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well, “I love you, I really do. For who you are and nothing else.”

You wanted to give in so bad, you wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but you also didn’t want to suffer again.

“How do you know? You never knew that for two years, how would you know it now?” You shook your head, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Because it is hard being without you,” he said, like he was trying to find the right words, “I can’t sleep without you. My life is miserable without you around.”

You only nodded, covering your lips with a hand. You wanted to tell him that you had not gotten proper sleep without him, that your life feels empty, that not knowing about him everyday was painful. But you needed more. You needed something you could hold onto, and maybe, just maybe take another chance at the two of you.

“I- I made a list. Like you said,” his voice failed, and you noticed his hand was shaking a little as he held the paper, “I love you. I love coming home to you every time and feel our house so lived in. I love how you always hug me first thing after I’m back home. I love the silly texts you send me randomly throughout the day talking about your day. I love the selfies with your tongue out too,” that made you two chuckle, and the movement made your tears fall, so you wiped them, staring at him intently, “I love that you’re always the smartest person in any room we’re in. I love that you’re humble, never showing off or being a smartass. I love how cheeky and witty you are. I love that you talk in your sleep. I love that scar in your knee, because it shows you were always a little naughty, even as a kid. I love that there’s always fresh flowers at home. I love that you love kids. I love that you get along well with my family. I love that you-”

He didn’t finish, as you closed the distance and launched yourself at him, hugging him tight. Fernando held you close, pressing you into him, inhaling your perfume, feeling like he was at home again.

“I’m so sorry, princesa. So so sorry. I missed you so much,” he whispered against your cheek, kissing it softly.

“I missed you too, Nando” you said, eyes closed and allowing yourself to just feel him again, “I love you so much.”

You let go, holding his face with both hands, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly. He, on the other hand, held the back of your neck firmly, licking your mouth open, until he had tasted your mouth, leaving you breathless.

“Come back home with me, princesa.”

At that, you took a step back.

“I- I can’t, Nando. I got a new job at the university.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to me,” you muttered, and your words made him wince, “I needed something to hold on to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed for taking so long to come after you.

“I believe we should- we should take a step back, rethink a bit about our dynamic,” you told him, hesitant of his reaction.

“Are you unsure about us?” He asked, visibly worried.

“No, no- I love you- I do-” You started, taking his hand, holding it firmly against yours, “I just think we should rewind a bit. Have my own place and pay my own bills, I just don’t want to feel like that again, I need to regain my dignity in this.”

He kept quiet, because he knew deep down you were right. He felt awful about all the misunderstandings, but he knew you probably felt much, much worse. He should just get on his knees and be thankful you still loved him and still wanted him. He’d take all your conditions to get back with him.

And deep down both of you knew it was for the best. Moving out and living alone, working and seeing him occasionally as a boyfriend. 

Holding your face, he kissed you, leaving little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss you, and he muttered how much loved you and how much he missed you, kissing down the side of your neck. He walked you inside and let him, feeling his hands quickly peeling your clothes off, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to your bedroom.

You parted so you could undress him, pulling at his jacket and the t-shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbled into a kiss, laying you down in bed.

You laid on the bed and he hugged him, making space for him between your legs. He held you, touching your nose with his gently.

“I missed you, princesa,” he kissed your cheek, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

“I know you will, baby.” You kissed him again, running your hand down his back, “make love to me now.”

He filled you up at once, and you groaned into his mouth, scratching your nails down his back as you cunt welcomed him. As he fucked into you, slowly at first then picking up pace, he muttered how much he loved you and how sorry he was, over and over.

As you cuddled after, quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

“What do we do about all your gifts?”

“Give them away,” you shrugged.

“Can I convince you to take it back?”

“Not if you still want me in your life,” you muttered. He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“You know how I know I love you?” Fernando asked, drawing invisible patterns on your back, “there’s an engagement ring in the third drawer of my bedside table.”

You hesitated for a second, but he knew you well. Better than anyone else.

“I know what you said, I just wanted to let you know. I bought it a week after you moved in with me. I know we’re rewinding a little bit for now, but you’ll be my wife one day.”

“And what if I refuse when you propose?” You smirked, and he pulled your leg over his waist.

“You won’t.”

Note: UGH IDK GUYS :(

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #Spotify

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Facesitting, Breast Play, Body Worship, Praise, Aftercare

Summary: darlin' hold me while you wipe my tears, fallin’ you say i’m wise beyond my years

A/N: An anonymous request that I LIVE for!!! Inspired by @osaemu's fic.

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

You should have used waterproof mascara.

You should have known no matter how sparkly your dresses were, how perfect your makeup was, or how pretty you looked, he’d always find attention from someone else who did it ten times better. But you had still hoped. Hoped that on your own goddamn birthday, your own boyfriend would spare you even a second of attention. Instead, you’re tilting your head back outside on his shitty mansion’s balcony so your tears don’t ruin your makeup. 

If your boyfriend was going to fuck every girl at this party but you, you wanted to at least look somewhat pretty and not like the sad, lonely mess you know you are. You embarrassed yourself enough when you had stormed up to him, interrupted his groupie make out session, and slapped him across the face screaming about breaking up with him. You can feel your chin wobble at the thought, and you sniffle and blink rapidly at the sky in an attempt to banish the new wave of sadness that courses through you. Best present ever! Your late twenties are treating you sooo well!

The sound of the balcony door opening catches your attention, and you’re quick to hastily wipe the tears streaming down your face as you clear your throat. You turn towards the door, ready to give whoever it is a wavering smile and a, Oh! I’m just out getting some fresh air! The smell of cigarettes was so strong haha! I promise I’m not crazy and go around slapping people on my birthday! But, you’re surprised to see Miguel, Gabe’s dad, standing there with a bottle of beer in his hand. And he's staring at you. You sniffle again, blinking rapidly. Gabe’s almost a carbon copy of his father, minus the ruggedness that comes with aging. Miguel also has the working man appearance to him, rough around the edges from hard work that his son doesn’t have. Miguel looks exactly like your usual type, but of course you had to go for his young, stupid son. 

You can feel tears beginning to spill from your eyes again and you turn away. You’re sure he’s going to kick you out, question you on why you’re still here after making a scene and slapping his son in front of everyone. You try to muffle your teary hiccup by placing your palm over your mouth as you rest your elbows on your knees. Miguel sighs deeply, moving to sit on the chair parallel to yours. You turn your head slightly as you catch movement, wet eyes noticing the half empty beer bottle Miguel silently holds out for you. You blink at it for a few seconds in confusion, only understanding that he’s offering it to you when he shakes it slightly in his hand. 

You pull your mouth away from the palm of your hand and shake your head slightly as you mumble, “I don’t drink.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, taking the bottle back and taking a sip. You study him for a second, waiting for him to get mad or something, but he just looks straight ahead admiring the view as he sips on his beer. After a while, you do the same. You look straight ahead, feeling the tears dry on your face. Your face feels slightly sticky from the tears, and you have a feeling you’ve smudged your mascara and eyeliner. 

Now that you’re not focused on crying all the water out of your body, you realize how cold it is outside. You shiver, only lasting a few more minutes before you’ve decided you rather not die of hypothermia tonight. As you’re about to get up, Miguel speaks up. 

“I’m sorry about, Gabe. I don’t know how he turned into such an ass. He’s a piece of shit for making a pretty thing like you cry on your birthday.”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you. You give him a tight lipped smile, shrugging in mock-indifference. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t like him that much anyways, no offense.” Then, to lighten the mood, “I’m not an expert on feelings, but I don’t think he liked me that much either.”

Miguel stares at you like he doesn’t believe you when you say you don’t like him, but it’s the truth. You haven’t really felt anything romantic for Gabe in a while. The only reason you’ve stuck by him was because he’s the only person you really know in Nueva York. But now, you’re all by yourself in this big ass city. At least you love your job. 

“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot for letting you go. Trust me, sooner or later he’s going to regret it.” Miguel defends you. He looks personally offended at the thought of his son, or anyone, not liking you. 

His words make your smile brighten slightly and you laugh, “Thank you, but I really doubt that. By tomorrow he’ll probably forget I even existed.”

Miguel scowls at that, and you yelp when his hand reaches out and pulls your chair towards his. Your knees knock with his, and you have to hold onto the armrest of his chair to prevent yourself from falling on top of him. You look up at him with wide eyes, breath stifling from how close his face is to yours. Your heart beats erratically as he leans in close, the almost red-brown of his eyes getting more detailed. Your eyes can’t help but trail down to his lips. They’re slightly glossy from his beer, and for the first time, you're tempted to try it. 

You’re quickly startled out of your thoughts when Miguel’s hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. They’re slightly hooded as he looks down the end of his nose at you, and you gulp nervously. His thumb caresses your skin gently, and you have to work hard to not close your eyes as he leans his face down. Instead of the kiss you thought he was going to give you, he shifts until his mouth is close to your ear. 

Your disappointment quickly disappears as your breath hitches. His breath his warm against your ear as he whispers, “He should have treated you like a fucking queen.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes dropping to your thigh as Miguel’s other hand moves to rest on it. It kneads the plush skin softly before sliding up and fiddling with the ends of your dress. His hand looks so big on your body. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, they’re rough and cracked. Totally different from the too soft hands of Gabe. The hard difference between a man who works hard to get what he wants and a boy who expects everything served to him on a silver platter. 

Miguel’s hand begins to slip under the edge of your dress, and your body straightens with your gasp as his fingers skim the center of your panties. You can practically sense Miguel’s smile as his fingers ever so lightly brush up and down. You can’t help the way your body squirms at his touch, thighs threatening to close around his hand. His fingers float higher and higher, until they’re pressing against your clothed clit. You can feel yourself dripping into your panties and you whine. 

“I can treat you like the queen you are.” 

Miguel’s voice distracts you from his hand, eyes moving up to his face as he moves away from your ear. His eyes are glossy with lust, something hot in his gaze. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, and based on the way Miguel’s eyes darken, he felt it too. His words pound against the walls of your brain, repeating and stretching as you think up of what he means. 

In the end, all you can let out is a: “W-what?”

Behind the lust, Miguel’s eyes flicker in amusement. His hand leaves your chin, sliding up your face until he’s twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Let me show you how you should be treated. How a man would treat you.”

His proposal burns through your stomach, your eyes blinking rapidly as you breathe in deeply. You can smell the slight tinge of beer mixed with the masculine scent of cinnamon and firewood. It makes your brain dizzy, coaxing you to nod in agreement. Miguel’s hand stops playing with your hair instantly, eyes falling over your face for any sign of indecision. He doesn’t find any, but he still needs verbal confirmation. 

“You gotta tell me clearly, baby.” He urges, leaning his face close again.

He’s a millimeter away, your lips brushing against his as you say, “Please.”

Your only warning is the rumbling groan he lets out before he’s catching your lips in a searing kiss. You whine against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. You lean more into him, arms hesitantly coming to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair. Your lips part when you feel his own hand push onto the small of your back, allowing his tongue to slip through. Both of you moan into the kiss when your tongues meet, the remains of bitter beer invading your taste buds. It should be disgusting, should remind you of all the times Gabe slobbered all over your mouth in a drunken make out, but it doesn’t. Miguel is experienced, knowing where to place his hands and where to caress with his tongue. His lips move with calculated confidence where Gabe would open and close his mouth like a fish. 

Right as your mind becomes slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Miguel pulls away. His eyes are still trained to your lips, now plump and wet with spit. He hisses under his breath, cherishing the yelp you let out as he quickly lifts you as he stands. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, only tightening as he sets you into a bridal-style carry. His sudden display of strength makes you clench your thighs. Gabe never offered to carry you, mumbling something about not wanting his arms to get sore. But Miguel carries you like you weigh nothing, even trusting to support you with a single hand as he opens the sliding door and closes it behind the two of you. 

The loud music hits you full blast, the smell of nicotine and alcohol following. From Miguel’s arms, you can see Gabe still on the couch with his entourage of girls. Even from the distance and colored lights, you can see the redness of his cheek where you’ve slapped him. You’re quickly forgetting about him again when Miguel starts moving, carrying you up the stairs. He pauses in front of the door two away from Gabe’s. Miguel’s room. He opens it and locks it behind the two of you, depositing you on his large bed. 

It smells strongly of him, and you have to fight yourself to not breathe in deeply. His sheets feel heavenly against your skin, caressing it like silk. The mattress sinks under you slightly, cocooning your body. It sinks deeper as Miguel crawls on top of you. Your hips are caged by his knees as he kneels, arms holding him up by your head. They come to rest under your head, pulling you up to kiss you again. The two of you sink back into the bed as your tongues clash, and you squeal when Miguel flips you over so you’ve swapped positions. He chuckles against your lips, pulling away and smiling when you pout at him. 

“Shhh,” He smiles, hands sliding down to the zipper of your dress. He drags it down slowly, watching as the straps of your dress fall away and slide down your shoulders, “Let me worship you.”

Your thighs tighten around his waist, blinking down at him as he pushes your dress down to reveal your bare breasts. There wasn’t any need for a bra with your dress having built in padding. You gasp when he surges forward, holding you in place with his hands on your waist as he sucks one of your boobs into his mouth. Your hands tangled into his hair, head tilting back with a moan as he licks and teasingly bites down on your nipple. One of his hands slides up to your upper back, pressing so your chest is pushed against his face. He moans around your nipple, hungrily lapping and sucking as he looks up at you. He’s entranced by the way your lips part as you moan and whine, your neck revealed to him as your face faces the ceiling. 

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, distracting himself by giving your other breast attention. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head as you tug on his hair. When he’s satisfied, he parts from your breasts with a final kiss to both of your nipples. They’re hardened and shiny with his saliva, and he’s almost tempted to go back for seconds. But he has other things in mind. You watch him as he lays flat on his back, the hand at your back returning to your waist so his other can reach under your dress. You gasp, hands planting on his chest as he rips your underwear off of you. Your eyes are wide as he brings them up to his nose, squeezing at your waist as he moans at the scent. 

He stuffs them into his pocket, both hands now planted on your waist again. He bunches your dress around your waist, looking like a goddess as all your privates are revealed to him. He picks you up, your hands gripping the headboard as he sits you on his face. The noise you let out is close to a scream as his lips instantly attack your clit, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue is warm against your aching bud, your eyes rolling back with another loud moan when his tongue slides against your folds. You want to cry when he pulls you off his face slightly, his chin already sparkly with slick. 

“Gods baby, you’re so sensitive. Gabe never eat you out before?” He teases, but he quickly loses the smirk on his face when you whimper out a no. He rolls his eyes, mumbling out pinche imbécil before diving back into your folds. 

You can’t help bucking against his mouth, his nose beginning to nudge at the bud between your legs. He groans under you in appreciation, and you feel it throughout your whole body. You’re a whiny mess on top of him, your sounds drowning out the music from downstairs. One of your hands comes to tangle in his hair to help guide your movements, and his hands start rocking your hips to help out. He can feel you clenching against his mouth, your orgasm close. For a second he debates not letting you finish and instead making you come around his cock. But no, he isn’t greedy. He’d let you have all the orgasms you want. You deserve to be deeply satisfied and fucked out. Plus, he needs to make up for all the times his son failed to get you to your peak. 

He’s definitely happy with his choice as you fucking scream his name, back arching as you lean against the headboard. Your thighs twitch around his head, your breath heavy as you whine. Your release flows into his mouth like thick honey, and it tastes just as sweet. He can feel himself twitch in his pants again, and he holds you down to prevent you from getting up. He needs to make sure he swallows every last drop you’re giving him. Has to show you how grateful he is that you’re giving him your sweet release. When he finally lets you off, you do so on numb legs. You roll to the side, chest still heaving as he groans.

“Fuck hermosa, taste fucking divine.” Miguel praises, his body hovering over yours again. 

You whine up at him, pulling him into a shy kiss that he returns desperately. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you whimper. As he shares your taste with you, his hands finally get rid of the rest of your dress. He pulls away once it’s off, resting his forehead against yours as his hands undo his belt buckle. 

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that? A fucking vision. And you’re all mine.”

Your body arches into him at his words, hands exploring the expanse of his clothed chest as he gets his pants off. His chest leaves your hands as he sits up again, rapidly undoing the buttons of his button-up and hurriedly taking it off. Both of you are naked, and his eyes get the chance to explore you as you explore him. He’s built in muscle, a little chub at his stomach that has you leaking onto his sheets. His cock hangs heavy in between his legs, unable to hold up its own weight. It makes your mouth water and you almost beg him to put it in your mouth. 

You’re distracted from your filthy fantasy when Miguel’s finger lands at the end of your throat and in between your collarbones. He slides it down, goosebumps mapping where he touched. He brings his finger down the valley between your breasts, dragging it to your stomach, and ending its journey at your clit where he taps on it gently. The whole time he holds his breath as if breathing would disturb the perfection in front of him. It makes your body sing, arching into his touch with a small noise that he soaks up. 

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back over you.

You can fill his tip rubbing between your thighs, smearing his precum on your skin. You spread your legs wider for him, and you gasp when he grabs them and pushes them up to your chest and over his shoulders. He kisses the side of your knee, eyes peering down at your face as he guides his tip to your entrance. He rubs it up and down slowly, collecting your dripping arousal and nudging at your clit until your body is jolting in sensitivity. When he brings it back to your weeping hole, it slides in with little resistance.

You moan needily as it enters you, and you clench around his tip. It makes Miguel’s mouth drop with a groan, trying to push past your tightness, “You’re so tight, loosen up for me baby.”

You try to relax your walls, but every time he slides further in, your walls clench in pleasure. It makes him chuckle, and he toys with your clit to help your efforts. It works well, and he slides in easily as he rolls your bud in circles. 

“Fuckkk, that’s it baby. Taking this cock so well.”

You whine, back arching as he bottoms out. His balls are flush against your skin, and you squirm on his cock as he begins to slide out. You gasp out when he thrusts back in, hitting against your cervix. Your hands reach above you to bury into the plush pillows, mewling as he starts building up a pace. You try to turn your head away, closing your eyes tight as you moan, but Miguel reaches down so you face him and force eye contact. Your eyes are completely dazed from pleasure, lust threatening to spill through your tears. Miguel groans at the sight, his hips beginning to thrust into you faster. Your gummy walls drag against his length, fluttering every now and then as he works you towards another orgasm. It makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he hides his face in your neck and leaves bruising marks. The way he presses into you makes him hit deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you impossibly close to climax. Your hands leave the pillows to rake down Miguel’s back with hiccuped mewls of his name as you feel your stomach burn. 

“I know, baby,” Miguel grunts, teeth clenched as his hips start stuttering. “I know, I’m right there too. Let go, I got you.”

With his reassurance and the persuasion of a few more thrusts, your body tenses. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, body arching and twitching as you come. Feeling your walls clench so tightly around him makes Miguel explode soon after, moaning out your name. He works both of you through your orgasms with shallow thrusts that slowly dwindle to a halt. He breathes heavily into your neck, groaning as he slowly pulls out of you with a wet squelch. His face hovers over yours, showering you in chaste kisses that have you letting out breathy giggles. 

Once Miguel has caught his breath he gets up, carrying you as he stands off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. He places you down on the sink’s large counter top, your body shocked by the cold marble. He parts from you with a slow kiss to your lips, turning to prepare a bath for you. When the tub fills with steamy water, he picks you up again, stepping in and sitting down with you between his legs. You sigh as the water soothes your aching body. Miguel’s hands begin to massage your body, whispering small praises into your skin and leaving kisses along your neck and shoulders. The coziness of the atmosphere makes you sleepy and you try to stifle a yawn. 

Miguel smiles against your skin as he hears it, and he begins to run his fingers through your hair, “Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.”

And just like that you’re asleep.

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

The next morning, you’re woken up with kisses along your naked shoulder. You smile before you open your eyes, turning around to meet Miguel’s face. He hums when you turn to him, pulling you against him more and kissing your cheek. You chuckle at the affection, kissing the crown of his head as you rake your hands through his hair. 

“Morning, hermosa.” He mumbles to you, eyes shining at your presence. 

“Good morning, handsome. Want some coffee?” You reply, smiling wider when Miguel nods. 

You get out of bed, grabbing Miguel’s button up from last night off the floor. You button it up just enough to cover everything, and you hear Miguel groan from the sight from his place on the bed. You giggle, promising to be quick as you leave his room. When you go downstairs, the place is still trashed from the party. You roll your eyes at the mess, feeling bad for the cleaners and already knowing you’re going to offer them help. Luckily, the kitchen is still functional and you begin to brew Miguel’s coffee. You hear footsteps approaching as you fill a mug, turning to see Gabe. 

He’s rubbing his eyes when he enters, the tell-tale expression of a hangover on his face. He pauses when he sees you, squinting as the sunlight pours from the kitchen window. 

“What are you still doing here?” He asks gruffly, eyes falling to the mug of coffee in your hands. You don’t like coffee, he only knows because you complained about it all the time when he got you one. 

You roll your eyes at his tone, setting the spoon down on the sink. You grab the mug and begin walking over to Gabe. For a moment, he thinks the coffee is for him and he begins to reach out for it. But he pauses as your hand cups his cheek mockingly and you coo at him like he's simply a toddler with an attitude.

“Now, now, Gabe. That isn't how you should treat your step-mom, is it?”

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[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part One

Summary: Some of your closest friends betray you and somehow push you into the arms of someone unsuspected. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: Mentions of cheating resulting in pregnancy and explicit language...I think that's it lol (Barely edited per usual lmao) a/n: You guys seemed really excited for this fic so I'm gonna make it a miniseries since even the poll results were so close so anyways I hope you enjoy! Requested by the lovely @kkusadmirer 💜

"Is everything ready?" I ask my best friend Jina for the hundredth time today. "Yes y/n calm down. This party is going to be perfect don't worry" she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, making me even more apprehensive but decide it's best to just take her for her word instead of digging deeper. 

"You're right, I should probably just go back upstairs and get ready huh?" I say and start heading upstairs to take the curlers out of my hair and finish up my makeup in her old bedroom. "Let me know if you need help, I'll just be putting the finishing touches on everything in the meantime" she calls after me and I respond with a quick 'okay' before running up the rest of the steps I had been ascending.

I walk down the hallway lost in thought and am stopped in my tracks when I find myself bumping into someone, almost falling over but he luckily catches me before I even have a chance to stumble back more than a few steps. 

"Careful there" he teases and I look up and apologize immediately. "I'm sorry Mr. Jeon I wasn't watching where I was going" I say quickly and he smiles at my flustered state. "It's okay darling don't worry about it" he says in a deep tone that has always gotten to me. I take a quick step back to create some much needed distance and to cover up the awkwardness that had settled in. 

"Thank you again for letting us hold our engagement party in your home. Are you sure you still don't mind?" I ask him as well for the hundredth time as if we had time to change things with mine and my fiancé's relatives already on the way. 

"Y/n if I minded I would've said no a long time ago. Don't worry, I'd do anything for you, since you and Jared have been such amazing friends to my daughter. It truly means more to me than you know" he says placing his hand on my bicep to aide in showing his sincerity. 

"Of course Mr. Jeon. Moving to a new state in the middle of your Sophomore year of  college has gotta be difficult for anyone so I'm just happy we could be there for her" I say smiling up at him. He stares at me for a second, studying my features before breaking out of the slight trace he had caught himself in to continue the conversation. 

"I'm sorry you're probably wanting to finish getting ready and I'm holding you up" he says taking his hand off of me and stepping aside so I can walk down the hallway to my intended destination. 

"Don't worry about it. We've got plenty of time as it is so I'm in no rush. Thanks again Mr Jeon" I say, quickly wrapping up the conversation and walk into Jina's room. Before I'm able to close the door though he makes it a point to remind me of something I've always forgotten.

"Haven't we agreed upon calling me Jungkook? Mr. Jeon makes me feel so old" he teases and we both laugh at his words. "Thank you, Jungkook" I say and he smiles, satisfied with the change. "You're welcome" he replies with an heir of sensuality that leaves my brain buzzing and I close the door before either of us has the chance to say another word. 

He's always made me nervous but why does today feel different? It's not like his playful nature is anything new. He's acted like this since the first day I met him and when I had brought it up to Jina she just said he was being friendly so I never really gave it a second thought. 

There's no denying he's a handsome man and from what I can tell him and his ex wife had Jina when they were quite young so he's not anywhere near old enough to make it seem a bit strange but I tend to just deal with the butterflies by ignoring them as much as I can. 

He makes sure to be respectful when Jared's around and he hasn't crossed any lines to my knowledge so I don't mind it. It makes me feel confident more than anything and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. 

I shake off those thoughts and finish getting ready before I start to panic about being late and end up finishing up a lot sooner than I had planned and as I'm putting on my heels I hear a faint knock at the door. 

"Come in" I call out and my fiancé pops his head in from behind the door. "Aw I thought I would catch you while you were changing" he says with a fake pout leaving me smiling and shaking my head at him. "You'll get to do that plenty of times once we're married you pervert" I tease and he scoffs playfully. 

"You know, now that I think about it I kind of am a pervert aren't I?" he says while stalking towards me, making my breath hitch and my adrenaline start pumping but I have to tell myself to calm down before I do anything stupid. "After the wedding I warn and he backs off like he always does.

I smile and get up from the bed I had been sitting on and give him a quick kiss but he holds onto the back of my neck, keeping me there for a little while longer and deepening the kiss. "You look gorgeous" he whispers against my lips and I smile before giving him a quick peck and pulling back to look at him.

"You don't look half bad yourself" I taunt and he scoffs before granting me a sarcastic 'thank you'. "I'm kidding baby you look handsome as always" I say and he smiles at that and places a quick kiss on my cheek before taking my hand and leading me downstairs to where we're met with a few of our family and friends having already arrived. 

"You should've told me they were here sooner" I whisper to him while I wave at them as we walk downstairs. "I didn't want to rush you" he replies, giving my hand a gentle squeeze leaving my heart fluttering at how thoughtful he had been.

"Thank you love" I say looking at him as if he's the only one I need. "For what?" he chuckles, studying my features almost as if he's committing them to memory. "For wanting to marry me" I say and he laughs at my cute sentiment. "Thank you for saying yes" he replies and at that we start mingling together throughout the crowd and thanking everyone for coming. 

~~~~~

We part ways after a few more groups of people come in and around the time we're going to bring out the champagne I start to look around to see if I can find him so we can both be ready to make a toast once everyone's gotten a glass.

As I look around and ask a few people where he might be they point toward the far end of the house where not many people had wandered to and so I curiously make my way over to the room I had assumed he would be in but before I'm even able to put my hand on the door I hear the voices of not only Jared but Jina as well. 

"We have to tell her" I hear her say and stop short, my heartbeat immediately raising as I hold my breath, waiting for the response. "You told me you were on the pill though. How did this happen?" and at that my heart breaks. "I don't know I guess I forgot to take a couple of them and-" "And so what? You decided that screwing me without protection would work out just fine? Fuck Jina" Jared cuts her off and I hold my hand over my mouth to stop the sobs that I know are sure to come. 

"You were the one that said you wanted to stop using them" she defends. "Oh and so now it's my fault. Jina we both agreed to that and you know it" he says and at that the room falls silent for a moment before he speaks up again.

"What are we gonna do?" he mumbles, leaving the choice in her hands. "We need to tell her because I'm not getting rid of this baby. I don't care if you're going to be in our kid's life or not but either way we're telling her" she says, standing firm on what she thinks is right. 'She should've thought about that before she started fucking my boyfriend' I think to myself and wait for the conversation to continue.

"She deserves to know" she says in a hushed tone and they both agree moments later that they'll tell me after the party to avoid both of our families catching wind of it and at that I walk away as quietly as I can, heading to the bathroom across the house to collect myself before I even try to face anyone. 

'How the fuck could they do this to me? How could they do this to us? Did everything the three of us did together really not matter? All of this love that I gave Jared and he gave me made me feel like we were gonna last forever but I guess my wants and needs weren't enough for him. He wanted what he wanted and found that in my best fucking friend. 

I chuckle dryly at that thought and how ironic it sounds at the moment. The wants to avoid the drama of the rest of the family knowing? Well they don't have that kind of luxury anymore. 

I collect myself a few moments later and make my way out of the bathroom to intermingle again until I happen upon my soon to be ex fiancé in the crowd. 

"Hey honey" I say and I can see him trying to hold back the guilt at my words and I hold back from ripping his head off for the sake of what I'm about to do. "Should we go ahead and bring out the champagne and make a toast?" I ask and he nods his head agreeing wordlessly. 

"Great I'll ask Jina to help us out" I say and I can see how stiff his whole body becomes after I mention her name and he laughs it off and walks closer to me and I hold out my hand for him and guide us both over to where we've placed everything for the toasts. 

~~~~

"Does everyone have a glass?" I call out and everyone says yes and Jina makes her way around, filling everyone's glasses but her own. "Okay great Jina go ahead and grab a glass and then if you guys don't mind we'd like to pose a toast!" I say and everyone places their full attention on both Jared and I who are standing side by side. 

I watch as Jina tentatively fills her glass half full knowing full well that she won't be drinking any of that but I singled her out as a way to make her even more uncomfortable. Serves her right honestly but it's only just begun. 

"Okay everyone, firsts things first I would just like to thank all of you for coming. It is just so wonderful we could all gather here together and the fact that you all made the effort to come and celebrate Jared and I is just something that I won't ever forget so thank you again from the bottom of my heart" I say and hear murmurs of 'You're welcome's and 'Thank you for inviting us' throughout the crowd and I continue on after those die down.

"Another person I would like to thank would be my best friend who I couldn't have any of this without her including being able to host this party in her's and her father's wonderful home so thank you both for that" I continue and I look for Jungkook in the crowd and see him raising his glass to me and I turn my attention to Jina moments later and see the forced smile on her face and I smile back at her and take a deep breath before continuing. 

"You know Jina has been such a great friend to both Jared and I and the countless memories we've made together are something that I'll always hold close to my heart. One memory in particular is one that I think we'll all remember for the rest of our lives is one that I would like to share with you all" I say and I watch as Jared and Jina make nervous glances at each other but I hear the room fill with words mentioning how cute our friendship is and how it's nice to have close friends that get along. Oh boy they're about to know just how well we all get along. 

"This one actually just happened not too long ago, in fact it was just today wasn't it guys?" I say making eye contact with the both of them and I can see as both of them realize that they've been caught. 

"Yeah it's funny I was looking for Jared not too long ago to try to find where he had scurried off to and low and behold I found him and Jina having a cute little chat together just over there" I say and motion to the secluded part of the house where they had been and I see the crowd go from happy to confused. 

"They had been talking about how they had a surprise and they needed to tell me after the party but I figured that I would just give them an opportunity to say it now so all of us can hear it together. Would you guys like to share it with everyone?" I ask the two of them and wait a few moments before Jared tries to shut me down. 

"I think that's probably a conversation we should have in private right Jina?" Jared says, pleading with her to back him up. "Oh are you guys too shy? Don't worry I can say it" I counter, brushing him off. "Y/n I don't really think that's necessary" Jina now tries to reason with me but I'm way too far gone by now.

"Why not? Doesn't everyone deserve to know that you're pregnant" I say, pausing for the rest of the family to smile at the surprise and some of them start to congratulate her but before they can get too far I continue on. 

"Yeah she's pregnant with Jared's baby! Isn't that so sweet?" I say and at that point the room goes so silent you would hear a pin drop and I break it by continuing to rub salt into the wound. 

"I know right? It's so crazy isn't it? It was a surprise to me too. Congratulations to the both of you" I say and down my drink while they stand there speechless as does the rest of the crowd. 

"So yeah anyways thank you all so much for coming and get home safe!" I say and make an exit into the backyard while Jared and Jina chase after me. 

"Y/n, y/n wait. Please" Jina calls after me first, following as I make my way over to the clearing behind the house and away from prying eyes. "Why should I wait huh? It's not like you waited and thought 'Hey maybe it's not the best idea to be raw doggin my best friend's boy friend' or were you guys still fucking by the time you asked me to marry you?" I ask the two of them and they both just stand there in silence. 

"You know what, you guys are perfect for each other. The whore I thought was my best friend and the whore who chased after her because neither of you could keep it in your pants. Thanks a lot, have a nice life" I say and storm off into the small clearing behind Jungkook's house, praying they won't follow me. 

"Oh and another thing" I say before walking too far, "I'm keeping the ring to compensate for emotional damage you bastard" I spit at my ex and his jaw drops, never having heard words like that come out of my mouth ever let alone directed at him. 

"Baby wait I can explain" he says trying a pathetic excuse of trying to get me to get him to hear him out. "Pretty sure I heard everything I needed to hear when you were having your little rendezvous earlier" I say, fully admitting to listening in on their conversation. 

"If I never see either of you again it'll be too soon" I say and continue on into the clearing, walking just far enough to be out of their view. "We really fucked up didn't we?" I hear Jina say and soon hear Jared scoff in return. "We fucked up? No you fucked up! You should've been more responsible" he throws back at her and storms off. "What the fuck Jared don't you dare walk away from me" she yells and chases after him, following him back into the house. 

After taking a few deep breaths and convincing myself over and over again that this is for the best and I'm better off without them I slowly make my way back into the yard and sit on the bench that's furthest away from everything, hoping no one finds me out here. Luckily it does the trick and I'm able to avoid facing anyone from the party and soon hear all of their cars leaving and the place falls silent. 

"They're all gone now if you want to come inside" Jungkook says, walking over to me tentatively, making sure he doesn't do something to make me run off. I look up at him with a tear streaked face and try to smile but ultimately end up hanging my head, hiding what little emotions I've let myself show and he walks over and sits on the far side of the bench I'm on. He doesn't say anything, he just sits with me and lets me ride the wave of emotions I'm feeling but also letting me know he's there if I need him.

I let out a few shaky breath after having let a few more tears fall before collecting myself and drying my eyes. "I'm sorry" I whisper and he turns towards me with a confused look on his face. "Whatever for?" he questions, puzzled as to why I could possibly be apologizing. 

"For the show I put on back there. I was just so mad when I overheard them talking and I don't know, I felt like I wanted to humiliate them since they decided to fuck behind my back like how fucked up can you be to sleep with your best friend's boyfriend?" I spout off and then look over and remember who I'm talking to. 

"I- I didn't mean. I'm sorry Mr. Jeon" I apologize again and hang my head in shame. I'm met with a chuckle as a response and when I look up at him I can see that he's clearly very amused. "What's so funny?" I question and he continues to laugh. 

"I'm sorry darling, just seeing how horrified you looked when you remembered that you were talking shit about Jina to her father was kind of hilarious and honestly adorable" he chuckles and I let out a breath and smile at him, happy he wasn't offended by it. 

"I wasn't thinking straight, I'm sorry" I apologize again, feeling so so guilty for bringing all of this drama to his house. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for" he says softly, placing his hand on top on mine. The one that happens to be sitting on my thigh and I gulp at the sight of his big hand enveloping the sight of my hand and now has his fingers resting high up on the inside of my thigh. 

"It's not your fault that they're both fucked up and you got caught in the crossfire okay? So please don't apologize about that again" he says and I nod my head mindlessly, my eyes still focused on the hand that is now squeezing my thigh in reassurance but I can't get past the feeling of having his hands on me like this. 

He stands up a second later, taking his hand off of me and I look up at him, almost as if questioning why he stopped and he simply smiles at my cute reaction. "Let's head inside alright? It's gonna start getting cold out here soon" he says and I nod my head, wordlessly following him back into his home. 

"Did you want a drink?" he asks and I jump at the opportunity. "Yeah I'll just take this" I say while grabbing one of the barely opened champagne bottles. "Did you want a glass?" he chuckles, watching as I take a big gulp out of the bottle. "No need, this is fine. Might as well not let it go to waste right?" I say and he hums in acknowledgement while poring himself a drink. 

I walk around his living room and take in everything about it, reminiscing about all the memories and shared laughter there had been here over the last couple of years and find my mind wandering a bit. "I'm really gonna miss this place" I say, meaning to keep it to myself but accidentally voicing it loud enough for Jungkook to hear as well. 

"You're welcome to come back here anytime you'd like" he replies, startling me when I realize he's gotten closer and is now sitting on the couch directly behind where I stand, facing the mantle and looking at the various pictures placed on it. Pictures of Jina, Jared and I over the years, ones that no doubt Jungkook had taken. 

"I always hated this picture" I say mindlessly and I hear him get up off the couch so he can see which one I'm referring to. "Oh the one where I took all of you to the beach house a few years ago for your birthday? Why? Didn't you have fun?" Jungkook questions, genuinely surprised with my reaction to it. 

"No it's not that, I had a great time. I just feel like I look like a wet dog in that picture" I admit and I'm granted with a little chuckle beside me. "Hey" I whine and glance over at him, my breath hitching when I realize just how close he's gotten. 

"You know what? Now that I think about it I don't really like that picture either" he says and I turn my body to fully face him, highly offended and demanding he explain himself. "I didn't like the way that Jared was touching you that day. He couldn't keep his hands off you and I know that it was making you uncomfortable" he says, lowering his voice an octave and causing a shiver to run through my body. 

"How did you-" "When a man really pays attention and cares for you he can tell from the slightest change how their woman is feeling. I guess he just never got the memo" he says, glaring at Jared in the picture and how he unashamedly has his hand placed directly on my ass while I'm wearing a swimsuit that I had already felt uncomfortable in in the first place. 

My mind goes into overdrive with what those words could've possibly meant. 'Was he paying that close of attention to me that he noticed something small like that? Has he been jealous of Jared? Does he care for me?' are just some of the questions that start swirling around in my brain and before I can register what had happened next he's gone and sat on the couch and is suggesting I come sit down as well. 

"You've had a long day don't you think?" he asks and I nod my head and sit on the other side of the couch making sure to keep proper distance between us. "Yeah I guess you could say that" I chuckle dryly and take a drink from the champagne bottle I still have in my hand but end up spilling it on myself. 

"Shit" I say and Jungkook quickly grabs a napkin to help clean up having spilled some on the couch as well. "I'm sorry" I apologize, constantly finding more and more reasons to apologize and he shuts me down again. "A little champagne never hurt anybody don't worry about it" he says, brushing it off and leaving me feeling a little less guilty. 

"Why don't I grab you a glass and give you some of my clothes to wear so if we have another little mishap it won't be as big of a deal" he offers and before I can refuse he's already given me a glass and is halfway up the stairs. Gosh my brain really must be working in slow motion already. 

~~~~~

After Jungkook gives me a big t shirt and sweats I change into them and tie the drawstring tight to aide in keeping the pants up and look in the mirror of the bathroom I had been changing in and realize how much of a mess I look like right now with smudges of mascara under my eyes and my nose all red from all of the crying I had been doing earlier. 

I quickly wash and dry my face and throw my hair up and out of the way since at this point theres no saving this look and just accept defeat, walking out in my now more casual look and find him sporting an almost identical one. 

"Feel better?" he asks and I nod my head and walk towards where he's standing. "Come here" he says holding out his arm and pulling me into a hug. I melt in his embrace and almost start tearing up a bit again, but push back a little and softly break apart from his embrace before the two of us sit down. 

"I don't know how to feel honestly. I feel angry and sad and betrayed and relieved and heart broken and I don't know. I'm just confused" I start and he nods his head, encouraging me to continue and so I do. 

"We've been together since before Jina and I had ever met and things had always been so good between us and then when Jina came along it felt like things had gotten even better if that's makes sense. We had our three amigos group going and whenever we were together it felt like the rest of the world didn't matter. Or I guess at least that's how I felt" I say and take a shaky breath in and out before preparing to say the next part. 

"When Jared and I got together, I told him right off the bat that I wanted to save myself for marriage and he respected that. I will admit that we both had gotten close to breaking that boundary I set  once or twice but he always backed off when I asked him to and I was thankful for that. Guys my age or guys in general don't really respect that sort of outlook anymore so the fact that he was more or less willing to date me after knowing that gave me hope for us" I say, letting everything off my chest.   

I down my glass and pour myself another one before continuing on and I take into account that he's watching my every move. "I figured 'If he had a problem with it and got tired of it then he would've dumped me' or 'He's had really good self control all of these years so that must mean there's something special between us'. So when he asked me to marry him I said yes without thinking twice. I had my knight in shining armor, the one who waited for me and I couldn't be happier" I scoff, taking another gulp of champagne. 

"Looks like he waited to have me but got someone else to fulfill his needs on the side" I mumble and down the rest of my glass before pouring another and I can see the concern in Jungkook's eyes growing but I pay no mind to it. 

"You know after all that I just can't help but wonder 'Was it all worth it? Was saving myself and in the end losing the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with worth it?' At this point my virginity is becoming more of a hassle than anything and honestly I don't want it anymore" I say, finally voicing how I had been feeling about keeping myself pure for a while. 

"I feel like it would be best if I just got it over with and went on with my life you know?" I say, finally looking at Jungkook and I can see how dilated his pupils are and how ragged his breath has gotten, doing a horrible job at concealing it.

"Can I ask you something Mr. Jeon?" I question, leaning towards him, a new gained confidence flowing through me from all the alcohol that I had consumed in such a short time. Downing glass after glass throughout our whole evening. "Jungkook" he rasps and I feel a fluttery feeling building in my stomach. 

"I'm sorry, I always seem to forget. Jungkook, can I ask you something?" I repeat placing my hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense up at the contact but he nods nevertheless and waits for me to continue. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" I question, wondering what his experience might've been like. 

"Um, when I was about eighteen I guess. It was right before I graduated high school" he answers truthfully and I nod my head, mulling over what I plan to say next.

"It seems like a man of your age has had his fair share of sex am I right?" I ask and see him gulp at my assumption. "I guess you could say that" he responds and leans back a bit when I get closer. "Mr. Jeon do you have a girlfriend right now? Someone you might be seeing?" I ask, making sure that in my tipsy state I won't make the same mistake my hopeless excuse of a best friend and ex made. 

"No, I uh I'm not seeing anyone" he says quickly and I nod my head and wait a moment to get my words together. "Do you think you would mind taking my virginity?" I ask and at that his jaw drops, not expecting to be asked something like that straight away but in this state I guess you could say I'm full of surprises. 

"I- What?" he asks, confused and concerned as to if I actually meant what I said and not only that but clarifying to make sure he's heard me right. "I'm asking you if you would take my virginity. You said you'd do anything for me remember?" reminding him of his words from earlier in the day. 

"Y/n I think you might've had a little bit too much to drink" he says scooting back from me to create some distance but I close that distance moments later. "No I'm fine, I haven't even had that much silly" I say, slowly starting to slur my words but still conscious enough to make them coherent. 

"Look I think that's something you should keep until you have a chance to give it to someone special. Someone who you care about and cares about you too" he says, trying to softly reject me but it falls of deff ears.

"I care about you though. Don't you care about me?" I pout and he shakes his head and tries hard to hide a smile but fails. "Of course I care about you darling but I think you're too confused and too drunk to be making this sort of decision" he say holding my shoulders at arms length to keep me from getting any closer to him.

"It's okay Mr. Jeon I know what I'm doing. Oh! I mean Jungkook" I say cutely, leaning in a bit more and his arms give in, letting me get a bit closer so as to not harm either one of us. "Don't worry I won't tell Jina" I say and he clears this throat at the sound of his daughter's name. 

"Y/n I really don't think this is a good idea" he says, watching almost helplessly as I place my hand on his shoulder and use it to anchor myself as I climb onto his lap and although his words have said otherwise, his hands are the ones that guide me by my hips to sit on his lap, giving me a boost of confidence in my decision.

"Can you do this for me?" I ask and his eyes ping pong between mine, seeing how blown out my pupils are and notices how hot my skin has become. He stays silent and just takes in all of my features and waits for my next move. I lean in closer to him and run my fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

"Just take it" I say against his lips and without a seconds hesitation he grabs the back of my head and smashes his lips against mine. 

It's a mess of lips and tongue and teeth, accompanied by the sound of him groaning and pulling me closer and me moaning at the feeling of being desired by someone like him. Someone strong and confident and undeniably sexy. Someone who wants me just as much as I want him but before I can fully grasp what's about to happen I feel myself slipping away and lose control of my body. 

"Y/n?" Jungkook questions feeling my body slump against him after I had broken the kiss and rested my head on his shoulder. He smiles at the realization that I had fallen asleep in the midst of it all and wordlessly stands up, carrying me off into the guest bedroom and laying me down to sleep there for the night.

"Goodnight darling" he says, placing a kiss on my forehead before walking out of the room and slowly closing the door behind him.

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[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Waiting for You

A Michael Gavey Drabble

Author’s Note: I guess I’m doing drabbles now? This came to me when I was in my third meeting in a row that covered the same information we got in meeting #1 lol

Summary: It’s the evening of your first date with Michael Gavey, but a phone call with your mum lasted way longer than it should have and now you’re running a little bit late. Unfortunately, you forgot your phone at your dorm, so you have no way of letting Michael know.

Waiting for You

7:15

That was the time you had agreed to meet Michael at the pub. He was completely certain about that - he’d written it in his planner, the calendar on the wall of his dorm, and his Yahoo calendar.

He looked at his watch again.

7:23

Being a few minutes late made sense, he thought. You didn’t have a car, and public transportation can be somewhat unreliable on weekends. But now, you were nearly ten minutes late. Even with imprecise bus timings, that seemed like a lot.

It certainly seemed long enough for Michael’s mind to start spiraling.

Maybe you had forgotten. Maybe you got on the wrong bus. Maybe the bus had a mechanical failure, or was stuck in unavoidable traffic.

The longer he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he stared at the pavement outside the pub, the more far-fetched his thoughts became.

Maybe a faculty member had suddenly needed your help and you couldn’t say no. Maybe your bud had been in an accident. Maybe you’d been kidnapped somehow.

Maybe…

7:28

Maybe you’d realized you didn’t actually want to go out with him.

Why would you? After his outburst in the dining hall at the beginning of the year, he was infamous within your college. Everyone knew the creepy maths nerd who’d made a fool of himself on the first day.

It made perfect sense that you wouldn’t want to be seen with him. What if the essence of his social pariah-dom would rub off on you somehow, and people started treating you the way they treated him?

You wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want that for you.

Ditching him would be the smart move. After all, it had apparently worked well for Oliver Quick, the cunt. Maybe if you abandoned him as well, you’d also get an invite to Felix Carton’s estate for the summer. For all he knew, it was a requirement.

7:34

It had been stupid of him to even think you’d want to go out with him.

You were popular and well-liked. You were gorgeous. You were smart. All things that should have wiped Michael off your radar entirely.

But you were also kind. You were friendly to him. You talked to him.

When he asked if you wanted to study with him, you’d said yes. When he asked to exchange phone numbers, you’d said yes. And when he asked you out on a date - this date - you’d said yes.

The memory returned, even as he tried to shove it away. When he asked Oliver if he would get him another pint, he’d said yes, too.

Then, he’d abandoned him.

7:41

Apparently, this was just what happened to Michael. He found someone he liked, thought they liked him, too, then was left behind when something better turned up.

It had happened many times before, and would probably happen many times in the future.

Michael bit hard on the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would chase away the monumental feeling of loneliness that threatened to overtake him. He should just go back to his dorm. It was pathetic to wait out here for this long. He should -

7:44

“Michael!”

He looked up and saw you running toward him, your cheeks flushed as you pushed through the crowd. When you finally stopped in front of him, panting from exertion, you grimaced slightly. He braved himself for what you would say.

“I am so, so sorry I’m late!” You said breathlessly. “My mum called, and she could talk for hours and hours if she wanted, and I tried to tell her I had to leave, but she wouldn’t…”

You half-sighed, half-groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “And then I left my phone in my room and I couldn’t tell you I was on my way, so…”

Michael stared at you blankly as you continued to explain. He had almost completely resigned himself to the fact that you weren’t coming. But here you were.

Not only had you actually come, but you had ran to him. You were trying so hard to make him see that it wasn’t intentional. You… you were still talking.

“It’s fine,” he said, halting your babbling. “I understand.”

Your smile of relief was quite possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

He laughed in awe, then tried to play it off. “My mum doesn’t know when to shut up, either.”

You laughed with him and grabbed his hand. “Still, I’m so sorry. You’ve been waiting here, probably bored out of your mind, and…”

“Nah,” he shrugged, “it’s all forgotten now.” Indeed, he could hardly remember the panicked train of thought he’d been on for the last half hour. “Thank you - for coming, I mean.”

You smiled again. “Of course! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Without giving him time to respond, you pulled him into the pub, both of you now laughing. “Since I was late, I’m paying!”

#michael Gavey #Michael Gavey fic #Michael Gavey Drabble #Michael Gavey imagine #Drabble #ewan mitchell

[undercoverpena]

arepas

javier peña x f!reader

summary: when you’re single, it’s complicated. messy. he can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him.

an: dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing @halfmoth-halfman - i told you that i'd write you something, and here it is. I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile. word count: 9.3k (sorry, not sorry) warnings: developing feelings, slow burn -> colleagues to friends to lovers. usual jo angst, but with lots of banter. fingering, p in v, angst, sweet ending, spoilers for narcos season two.

friend noun /frɛnd/ a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. "she's a friend of mine."

It starts in Bogotá. 

His eyes rake over you—the new pretty secretary who won't meet his eyes as though you’d heard all about him. 

It's why he waits. Biding his time before gracing your desk. A file in hand, leaning down—forcing your eyes to meet his. Javi's smirk almost eclipses his face, only doing so when you lift your chin and he finds your lips have slid so far up one side as you stare at his hand.

Agent Pe— I know who you are, Peña. Your reputation precedes you. Good things, I hope?  Depends on who you ask. 

You call him Peña all the time. Even as days slip into weeks, even if he insists you call him Javier or Javi. The tension building, thickening—just like a dish left on a hob. 

He’s used to the whispers, but he’s not used to the ignorance. The way you don’t look at him like the others, instead always trying to find out what he needs from you, rather than what he wants. 

It allows him the chance to study, to watch. Noticing the way you work, the way you converse easily with others and how you walk around the office like you barely notice him. 

It wasn’t through a lack of trying why he hadn’t worsened his reputation. It wasn’t fear of fucking you, of muddying his place of work further—his focus, mission, objective wasn’t to keep the piece inside crumbling Colombian walls. It was more that the fact his usual tactics weren’t working even when his intention was there, clear as the sky on a sunny morning. 

You seemed stressed. Aren’t we all, Peña? I know how to get around that… I’ve heard. 

It’s not that your tongue is quick or icy—it’s that you do it all without looking at him. You bite back without lifting your eyes or turning to him when he stands beside you. An indifference he had usually woven under in the time you’ve been here, but finding troublesome with you. 

So, he tries smiling when smoke swirls around the ceiling fan, and you drop a file off; he drops his voice when he bumps into you by the water machine, holding your sight—commanding it. Which is why he notices the irritation simmering in yours. Growing, and grating more so by his mere breath, never mind his words. 

You don’t like me much.  I don’t know you.  You could. Know me.  What would be the point, Peña? You don’t listen, you interrupt everyone, you fuck everything with a pulse— Tell me how you really feel, hermosa.  I’m trying, but once again, you’re only half listening. 

Determined—that’s how he was often described. 

It was, for this reason, that he has poured so many of his years into catching Escobar. Why he’d looked for whores to get information, not banking on caring and emotions. It’s why he hadn’t looked for anything outside of a quick fuck, a friend, or a sense of belonging—he didn’t have another ounce left in him. It was all spent on the reason he was here: narcos. 

There had been others, naturally. Not all bent to his charm, even if the majority did. He should add you to the list, to the small pile that had amassed through the building and beyond. 

Javi doesn’t. 

And it doesn’t get better, easier. You decline his invites for drinks, even if you do begin to aid him. You refuse grabbing food for lunch with him, even if you have started taking paperwork off him to type up. You’ve even begun making comments, funny ones about his typing abilities, even shooting him a smile as you travel back to your desk. Yet, you don’t even let him drive you home when your car isn’t working. 

Purposefully, you’re a bag of mixed messages. Not because you decline him but because he cannot find a rational reason as to why. You’ve begun moving his paperwork up, but you flirt back. Flimsy, thin excuses find your tongue quicker when he invites you to drinks, not even just with him.  

You’re confusing. A brand of difficult he hadn’t had the opportunity to circle before, something which bothers the shit out of him. 

Which is why he’s coating his throat in whiskey—getting through his pack of Marlboro’s quicker than he usually would be in a bar like this. 

Because, while he doesn’t get you, he hates work functions more. Despising with each growing minute that he’s at one. 

He prefers to choose his company—paid or unpaid. And the sole reason he’d even gone in the first place was to get you to stop calling him Peña—and to keep the CIA away from you. 

He ends up being successful at one of those things. It’s not that he wasn’t sure how to befriend women, just that he usually chooses not to. He ruins any possibility of it by turning on the charm, having their blouse in his fingers and his hand stuffed in their lace. Even for all his charm, it is hard to get them back on his side when he doesn’t call them, or mistakenly calls out the wrong name or avoids them. 

It’s why he knows his name is dirt amongst several secretaries. He’s aware of how gossip spreads like wildfire amongst the secretaries, receptionists, file room assistants, watching it happen as their eyes glisten when he walks past, their whispers dropping an octave when he is within ears reach. 

You don’t partake in it. Digging your pretty eyes into him rather than fluttering your eyelashes. You can put those puppy-dog eyes away, Peña. I’m immune to putas. You can wait like everyone else. Chin lifting at the last second, smothering him in stifled stress and a please-don't-push-me-look. It’s how he learnt you were going for drinks with the CIA, how he discovered the bar and time. 

Why he went in the first place. 

It crossed his mind this could be the night. He could keep you company, find a way in when your wall was down because of the liquor on your tongue. The moment fizzled when he chose to be a gentleman—helping you into his car, guiding you into your place. Even holding your hair back as you vomited the contents of your stomach out. Maybe he should have warned you about doing shots with Jacoby in the first place, but then, he wouldn’t be alone with you. 

See the way you put your weapons down and looked at him pitifully when you couldn’t get the key in your door.

I’ve got you, Bonita.  Bet you say—hiccup—that to all the whores.  You’re not a whore.  No. No, I’m not.

He’d expected you to push him, fight him once inside your place, but you were silent. Occasionally frowning with glossed-over eyes as he continued to help you. You even allow him to help you to bed—without so much as removing his clothes. He’d been almost out of your bedroom door when he heard it:

Still gonna call you Peña, Peña. I know, bonita. There’s a glass of water on your table. 

It played on his mind. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be chivalrous, just that it was rare. Stuffed down into his tight jeans and under layers of Colombian grief. While he cares about the people in his life, even the ones at arms reach—the ones he pays and the ones he takes home from a hard day—he doesn’t show it. Keeping it tightly wrapped and away, not willing to let simple and futile emotions blur the lines of why he was here. 

So it surprises him when you leave him a thank you. 

A small note on his desk attached to a bottle containing amber and a large packet of Marlboros.

Still think you’re an asshole, Peña. 

It was the worst thank you note he’s ever had, yet it made him smile. Unthreads annoyances of his day, sewing in a piece of niceness in a tapestry of shit. 

What he did know is that the window of sleeping with you was growing smaller, only fully shutting on him when he uncapped the bottle and poured you a glass when you knocked on his door for his signature. The small office he resided in—all dark, simmering with disappointment and failure after another dead end. Not that you commented on it—even if your eyes narrowed and your lips spread thin. 

You were polite like that. Didn’t call into question or hold a mirror up to him. Just let him be. Tapping your glass against his, his eyes watching as you take a sip—not hissing, not flinching as the taste slides down your throat. Not even when it collects somewhere in your stomach. If anything, you smile. 

Running his hand along his chin, letting his eyes roam as you take in the walls—the files. Your glass teetering on your bottom lip, painted in a shade he wanted staining on various parts of his body—

“Surprised you’re having a drink with me, Peña,” you say, all airy and light—glancing over your shoulder, shining him in mischievous twinkles. “Especially when you could be… paying for better company.” 

He snorts at that, lets a laugh escape—puncture the air. “You know, you bring it up so often, bonita. I’m beginning to think you’re jealous.”  

“Not in the slightest—I don’t do one-night stands.” 

“Two night stands?” He muses. 

And you smirk. Gloriously. Wide and large, the closest he’s gotten you to smile. “If it’s good enough to go back again, why stop at twice?” 

He struggles for a retort, the acidic nature of it being swallowed by whiskey as he raises his glass to his lips. 

Then it shifts the conversation. Returns to normal, safer topics, finding he snorts a few more times as the drinks flow. Even finding you pull a rich laugh from him—one that erases some of the tension, unknots his shoulders from his ears. 

It isn’t until he hears the sweetness of your laugh that he finds that a quarter of the bottle has gone. The paper you’d come in to have signed, still at the top of a forgotten pile. 

You weren't looking, having already turned your back to him, eyes fixed on the wall—the little pins and photos. Allowing him to run his eyes along your back, to your clothe-covered hips and the curves that had been front and centre of his thoughts when he fucked his fist. Your name has been simmering on his tongue for weeks, since you’d been introduced.  

Something stopping him from acting on his thoughts, from standing up and coming up behind you. That very thing being the foundation of what he’d been after from the start. 

“Am I still an asshole, bonita?” He asks when he finally signs the sheet. 

You take the paper, offering a softer smile with a head tilt. “We should drink in your office again. You’re less of one in here, Javi.” 

“It’s cheaper.” “Cheaper?” You groan, and he slides his hand over his face to hide his smile.  “Fine, Peña—“ “Javi. Come on, bonita. We made progress.”  Glaring, you straighten your spine. “Javi, I wanna eat greasy food in a baggy t-shirt and watch shit TV that I can only partially keep up with. Do you want to do that with me?”  How could he say no? “Do I have to eat greasy food?” “Yes. It’s the law.”  Snorting, he picks up the file, tapping the end of your desk. “I’ll be there around nine.” 

You’re everywhere. 

He begins finding you at his favourite food stand, conversing with the owner, grin so large it hits your eyes. Another time, you’re at the shop on the corner near his place, brown bag in hand, a knowing nod sent his way when you pass. 

It throws him off, continuing to do so until it changes, and he comes to expect you. Doesn’t brace or freeze, but welcomes you. Leaning into it that you’re there, everywhere he doesn’t expect you to be. Slowly, bleeding across his life, planting yourself in the soil he hadn’t known surrounded him. 

Your name falls from his lips with simplicity, you call him Javi as though it’s all you’ve ever called him. 

Things shifting, changing just like the temperature in Bogotá. He chooses to sit beside you when he spots you at the bar, and not close to the table who were giggling and whispering at his arrival. He opts to ask you for help, over the secretary who has been giving him heart-shaped eyes since she heard something or another. 

Javi is smart, and isn't an idiot. He knows it has shifted. Changed. 

For the better, he isn’t entirely sure. 

He finds comfort in you in a way he doesn’t usually pay for. The desire to fuck you because you were attractive lessening, and rather because, on some level, he suspected he actually liked you. Especially when you invited him for drinks at yours, instead of a bar. 

It was easier not to question it. To not change. To not ask and ruin it. He went round to yours, or you to his. A gap forming, welcomed and strong. Javi fucked who he wanted to fuck, and sought companionship (fully clothed, a glass of liquor variation in hand) from you. The contents of it shifted depending entirely on the situation. Sometimes, it was accompanied by home-cooked food, and sometimes he brought warm trays in a bag that you groaned in appreciation upon arrival. 

Javi told himself you reminded him of Laredo. Of high-school friends and easy laughter. You reminded him of girls who never became more than friends, the ones he’d grown apart from when they settled and married, and he ran as far away as possible. 

That and he just liked your company. You made it easy. You were his… Friend. 

You were something different than what he had with Carillo. Something other than the partnership he was now bedding in with Murphy. 

You had embedded yourself as much in work as you were out of it. As time ticked on, his brain slowly filled with useless information about likes and dislikes in a drawer in his mind, he marked just for you. They weren’t things he usually didn’t care to know about anyone. Not since he’d been in Colombia. Not since he’d been in Laredo, where he’d never been short of a friend to two. 

Being your friend became a thing he suddenly wanted to cling to. Not wanting to lose it—lose you, not wanting to fuck it up. 

So, he didn’t. 

Even if you looked at him with pretty eyes, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip. Even if sometimes the silenced humming with something different, something less friendly. 

He cared. 

Really cared. He found himself annoyed if you seemed a little off, and found himself wanting to make you smile. The two of you spread past the line into an area out of his usual wheelhouse. Friendship. A relationship that had him around your place so many nights a week, tucking into spirits and beer you’d begun keeping just for him. It was normal. Nice. 

Or it was, until you curled into one side of the sofa, him on the other. Your foot isn’t close to his thigh, no leg draped over his—your behaviour not like normal. 

He’d put it down to another shit date. One he’d been tortured with hearing about—the only downside to the arrangement, the friendship. 

But, as you wrap your fingers around your calf, he realises it isn’t the date, the bad food or the day. 

“Being your friend is kinda hard.”

Frowning, he sits up a little more. “Why?”

You shrug. He doesn’t like it when you do. You have answers, usually quick ones. A shrug meaning you don’t or you’re afraid of speaking them—letting them ball and fester in your throat. 

“‘Cause you do thoughtful shit, and it makes me think things.”

He bites his smirk, and savours it. Knowing and understanding more than he can acknowledge as he folds his arms. “Not a smart move, thinking about me, hermosa.” 

“Don’t I know it.” 

"Bonita...."

"Why'd you call me that?"

You don't ask it rudely, more questionably. Brows knitting together in confusion as you watch him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not in the slightest."

He smirks, letting out a sharp laugh. "Go get another drink, bonita."

“So, the two of you haven’t… you know?” Leaning in the chair, he stares at him. “No. We haven’t.” “I don’t believe you?” Smirking, he shifts his hips. “Go ask her. She’ll say the same.” He snorts. “You’re telling me you go round her place, have fun, laugh, and leave—I don’t believe it.”  “Believe it, Murphy.” 

It’s hard not to call back to the words spoken that night. 

Let them loop around and around, wrap themselves around other phrases—micro-expressions and bothersome avoidance. 

Your eyes were dark, chin resting on your knee, looking at him as though you wanted to burn everything to the ground. He’d swallowed, and hesitated—two things he never did. 

But with you, he wasn’t exactly himself. 

You had found a way to unlock a part of him he kept away from everyone else. He was still an asshole, still selfish and cocky. But he also bit back more around you and found ways to annoy you playfully, rather than to piss you off. 

“Here.”

“You bought me a book?” 

He smirks, gripping his arms as he watches you turn it over, “You like reading.”

Smirking, you scan the blurb, your brain trying to translate it quickly. “What gave you that impression?” 

Shrugging, he trails a finger across his bottom lip. The signature smirk started growing, spreading, eclipsing whatever was there previously. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hermosa. I see you reading on your lunch.” He looks you up and down. “Thought you could do with some fresh material.” 

“So you bought me a romance book.”

Dropping his arms, he rolls his lips. “Everyone needs a little romance in their life, don’t they?” 

“Well, you’re the expert. I hear you’ve been getting some “romance” nightly,” you smirk, placing the book down.

He had. 

Almost determined to do so. Needing to bury himself to the hilt in others to distract him from you. Secretly thinking of you, trying to imagine the way your skin would feel under his calloused palms. 

“Jealous, bonita?”

Smiling, you tilt your head. “Why? I’ve got a romance book.”

He tries to tell himself he’s not affected by you. 

That it’s protectiveness why he sits at the bar in the restaurant you’re in. Why he chooses a seat where he can see the reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, able to see you without watching you. 

He tells himself it’s to ensure you’re okay. Nothing else. The convincing goes well until your finger taps him on the shoulder, practically dragging him outside by his elbow. 

The cooler temperature bites his skin, but your eyes full of fire keep him warm. Digging into him, inflicting flames that lick at muscle and bone.

“Why are you here, Peña?”

He masks a shudder. “Don’t… don’t call me, Peña—“

“—you fucked all the whores?” 

“I was drinking.” 

Raising your brow, you fold your arms. “You’re ruining my date.” 

He lets his eyes drop. Knowing he is. He knew he would when he scrunched the piece of paper in his hand as he overheard you talking about some black dress and little heels for it. 

The same ones you’re standing in front of him in, looking nothing short of radiant—the slightest shiver misting over you.

“You deserve better.”

Folding your arms, you sigh. “What, like you?” 

He runs a hand over his chin, leaning against the wall. “No, bonita. Better than me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, the shiver more obvious. So much so, he removes his jacket, considering draping it over you, but instead hands it to you. 

“Look, I know I ruined your date, but he’s an asshole.”

Swallowing, you let out a heavy breath. “I’m mad at you, but… he really is awful.”

He smothers his relief. Ensures his tone is normal as he murmurs, “Yeah?” 

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Can you… could y—“

“Go get your bag, hermosa.”

It’s quiet, the car ride. 

Your knee nervously bounces, the fabric of your dress rising up your thigh as you do. 

He’s being tested. He’s sure of it. Adamantly so when he pulls up outside yours, and you invite him in. It’s confirmed when you tell him to help himself while you change, stepping into your room. 

A version of him wanting to follow. To place his hand on the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin up, kissing the name of your date tonight. Pulling your body close, making it forget it ever shivered from anything less than pleasure. 

He thinks about it as he fills his glass, and keeps yours empty. Javi thinks it as his jeans become tight and his pulse quickens, wondering if you sprayed your perfume anywhere other than your neck and wrist—whether you’d taste as sweetly as you say his name. Whether you’d dig your nails in when he stuffed you full of him—

“Not pouring me one?” 

Blinking, you’re in his T-shirt and some leggings. 

The former is something you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on your blouse. A band tee, one from a concert when he was younger and happier, and less confused what the fuck all of this meant. 

He hadn’t realised how much he had been holding himself back until you sank onto your sofa, looking serious—brows and forehead creasing. 

It made him want to nurse it out of you, find a solution to stop you from worrying or overthinking. 

“You’ve never tried to sleep with me.” 

He scoffs, loud and undignified. The sentence catches and cuts through the air. All the letters of it punctuated by a thin silence, lightly chopped—not allowing interjection or regret. 

You're waiting. 

Nervously. Plucking your bottom lip between your white teeth like you’re picking guitar strings. 

He considers telling you the truth. That fucking you had been the sole and only intention for a long time. Seeing if you could bend in two, what noises you would make—see if he could get you to chant his name. 

That had been his goal… until it wasn’t. 

Javi drains his glass, knowing you’re astute. That you work with agents of all kinds—you hold your fucking own around all sorts of them. So you know (of course you know) when someone is lying—so he offers something else entirely. 

A slither of truth, an offering of it—if that. 

“Didn’t wanna fuck this up, bonita.”

You take a sip of your own, not smiling, not smirking. Silence thumps between the two of you as you likely process the information, both in word form and in heavy silence. Then you land your eyes on him, something blossoming in them, spreading and taking over as they seemingly darken like the sky before a storm. 

“That because you don’t think you could make me come, Peña?” 

He spreads his palm against his jeans, resting the glass against his other as he drags his eyes to the floor. Biting the inside of his cheek. Wondering to himself why he’d stopped trying so quickly, knowing he was usually much more persistent. His perseverance was why he was still here, hunting Escobar. Yet, he’d folded like a piece of fucking paper when it came to you. 

“Fine,” you commented, placing your glass down. “If we… don’t want to fuck this up. I think we need a codeword. An unsexy one. One that sorta tells the other to stop doing whatever they’re fucking doing….”

“Because…?” 

You give him a look, a sharp one with soft edges. “Because we’re friends, right?”

He nods. 

“So, as friends, I need a word to shout at you when you’re… Peñaring.” Frowning, he watches you smirk. “Javi, you’re handsome. And I spend… I spend more time with you than anyone else. The whole time I was on that date, I was thinking of you—and then there you fucking were. Being my friend.” 

No. He thinks. 

Knowing inside of him he wasn’t there to be your friend, but something he can’t quite acknowledge. A thing which vibrates inside of him, that gallops when you’re around and worsens when you’re not. 

A thing he cannot give into. Not with what he does. 

Not with what happened to Helena… 

The remembrance, the horrid wake-up call that continues to paralyse him. The larger need to keep you safe. 

“You like whores and quick-fucks. I like fucking one person who will only fuck me while they’re fucking me. And, I need the word—a word—because we spend a lot of time together, and you look like you do.” 

His lip twitches, his moustache moving as he drags his eyes back to you. Unsure how you haven’t thrown it out there that you looking the way you do is also a problem.

As though you’re ignoring how fucking sinful you always look—especially in his fucking clothes. 

He doesn’t because, if anything, he doesn’t hate the idea. Not immediately. Somewhat struggling to hide the way you make his cock twitch when you flirt, when you lean on his desk, the top two buttons undone on your blouse. That he sometimes fucks and wishes it was you and not the woman he’s chosen. 

The two of you toeing the line of being friends to the point it sometimes makes his head hurt and his cock throb. 

“What you got in mind?” 

“Apuñalarme?”

He shouldn’t be surprised you’d thought of a word. Always methodical, always thinking ahead. 

“Thinkin’ that one could be taken the wrong way.”

Frowning, you reach forward for some of the leftovers. “How?” 

He stares, and then he swallows. “Well, I could stab you with my co—“

“OKAY. Fine. Who knew it would be so hard to pick a word to keep our friendship intact? What about… arepa?” 

Taking a sip of his drink, his brow slowly arched.

“Well, it’s food—“

“Food can be sexy, bonita.”

“Yes, but if I said arepas, I don’t think: fuck me, Peña—I think fuck I could really eat some stuffed arepas with my friend Peña. Plus, we can then use it around people, ‘cause they’ll just think I’m after food.”

He plays with the glass, staring at your coffee table as he takes it in. Considering it. Finding it plausible—a good enough excuse. A thing to say other than ‘I don’t wanna hear about you going on a date, bonita’—probably around the same as you don’t wanna hear about his conquests. 

You’re nervous, teeth picking at your skin. 

Something blooming in his chest, smothering warmth across his heart and skin. You want to be his friend—you want him in your life. 

“Alright, bonita, let’s give it a go.”

You pout, sighing. “You driving me home?” “Arepas.”  “Funny, Peña. So funny.” “You made the rule, bonita.”  Rolling your lips, he watches as you fold your arms under your dress. The fabric flows, blowing around your legs. “I can make this hard for you.”  “That so?” He should have guessed it from the smirk alone.  “I’m not wearing any underwear,” you say, pulling on his door handle and stepping in before slamming it.  Leaving him processing, eyes staring at where you’d just been standing.

It became complicated in Medellín. 

The routine, the lines—the friendship. 

Everyone is forced all under one roof. The closer proximity means he has to listen to how the others talk to you, how you smile, and how you laugh with every single person. He can’t avoid your laugh—especially the ones you force from bad jokes. Javi has to listen to how others talk about you and how they describe the way they look at you. 

He also has to deal with how your perfume simmers in the air here, how it lingers and clings, even if he does his best to drown it out with smoke. 

In truth, he knows he is just annoyed that you’re even there, to begin with. And, not in Bogotá—where you would have been safer. 

And, as annoying as he finds it, Javi supposes you must suffer through your fair share. His eyes catch yours when someone has called for him, his voice low, a smirk halfway up his face until he sees you ducking your head. 

At the end of the first few days, he realises he misses his evenings with you back in Bogotá. Now, he has to share you in the open office space or hope you’re both free to go to one of the shitty bare rooms you’d both been given. 

Yours at least was more private, Messina having fought for you to have your own as soon as you were relocated to her. 

“Jealous, Peña?” “Yes, hermosa. You don’t have to share with Murphy.”

It worsens when he learns you’re single again. 

You populate his thoughts all over again, having previously stifled them when he knew you were taken. Now that the few month-long situation-ship with someone from the president's building had ended, he found you half a bottle of wine down in your room with several sad Spanish songs. 

When you’re single, it’s complicated. Messy. 

He can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him. Before, he could convince himself that flirting is just how the two of you talk. He could comment slyly how he could give you a reason to be silent or him unable to tear his eyes off you when you bend down to get him something from the bottom shelf. 

Even if you’re taken, he thinks arepas repeatedly as you look up at him with wide eyes and gloss-covered lips. But, it’s harmless when you’re unavailable—a foundation of who the two of you were. Now it was confusing again. 

Especially when you begin wearing tight jeans. And you wait until Murphy leaves to pull his chair across and place a bottle on his desk. 

“I need to get drunk.”

Blowing into a spare mug, Javi slams it down next to the bottle. “We can’t leave the base.”

“No, we cannot.”

“Any reason as to why you wanna get drunk?”

You uncap the bottle, glaring at him as you clamp your lips together. The sound of alcohol sloshing into the mug before you begin pouring him one. 

“Hermosa…” 

You take a mouthful from the mug, flicking your eyes to him as he leans back, whispering your name.

“I’m frustrated.”

“Messina busting your—“

“Not like that, Javi.”

It takes him a second. 

A second too long for him, and then he almost chokes on his drink. “Arepas.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back in Murphy’s chair. “You asked.” 

His thoughts run ahead of him. The idea of pressing you against the desk, hooking a finger in a belt loop as he tugs your tight jeans to your thighs. The way you’d moan his name—not Javier, Javi. Your hands splayed across his desk, taking everything he—

“—so I need to get drunk because otherwise, I’m going to jump someone, because this job is stressful, and I miss my place, my… privacy, and I also miss food truck nights.” 

Swallowing, he places his mug down. 

“I need to have sex—“

“—Arepas—“

“But by someone who won’t lord it over me.” 

You stare at your mug, swirling it—biting the bottom of your lip as you do. 

And he’s all set to tell you that you drive him crazy, that he’d make you feel good—you just have to ask. His hand slides across the desk, all set to tug your hand closer as he mumbles it. 

Then fucking Murphy arrives. 

Him slamming a mug down next to the bottle, muttering about crashing the party as he massages his temple and slides back into his chair. 

It consumes him. The thoughts which he has let run free in the brief moment with you. How he’d fill you and make you hiss his name and make you come undone until you had no thoughts left. 

If he thinks he’s alone, you show your cards when he’s helping you move your bed. 

Your eyes are on him as he leans against the metal frame, staring off as he processes how he will have to move it. He doesn’t notice that the edge of his tan shirt has risen until he feels your eyes on him. 

“Arepas!” 

He flinches, ripped from his thoughts as he blinks, turning to look at you, watching you shift on the spot, a slow realisation coming to him as to why you shouted it. A smirk so large spreading, not even trying to hide it. 

“I haven’t… I haven’t even fuckin’ done anything.”

You fold your arms, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks, the pulse in your ears. “Yes, well… I’ll move the bed myself.”

“Bonita?”

“—I gotta go—“

“This is your room.” 

But you’re already heading to the door, flustered. He calls your name, but you’re gone—leaving him with only your scent and the last trailing sound of your voice. 

For a second, staring at the empty doorway, not hating it for one minute, all of it evidenced by the growing smirk on his face. 

The one not easily rid, even by the end of the day.  

“Your room is…. nice?” He sniggers, grabbing his jacket as you stand awkwardly. “Y’alright, bonita?”  Swallowing, you narrow your eyes when they land on him. Not cutting, but assessing. “Why have I heard from two separate people that they’ve been warned from me?”  Shrugging his shoulders, he slides his arms into his jacket, frowning—painting it on thickly, maybe even by too much.  “Javi.” “What?”  You look at him, challenging him. Looking every bit like the secretary he met in Bogotá and less like the friend he’s come to know you as.  “Did you warn people from asking me out?”  Adjusting his jacket, he sighs. “Yeah. I did.” 

Javi knows many things about you. 

Some he has learnt against his will, others he’s learnt from watching you. One thing he knows, more than anything else, is that you’re never late. Not even if the world was on fire. 

It’s why it coils inside him when he’s standing at the stairwell waiting for you. It chills him, prickles something inside. And then, it knots as his watch ticks on ripples out as more seconds become minutes. 

He must shift, stress rolling off of him as he finds Steve’s brow raised, flicking his eyes up at him before shaking his head. 

“Go on. I’ll let Messina know you’re both on your way.”

He doesn’t thank him, even if he makes a note to do so later. His feet taking the steps two at a time. Palm brushes over people as he moves them so he can get to your door quicker. 

It’s his sole thing, a crystallising focus that glimmers like a goal, a light around your door as he makes a beeline for it. For you. Not slowing or stopping until he’s outside of it, his knuckles hammering into it.

He tries not to smirk at the expletives he hears, the mix of English and Spanish coming from the other side. The beautiful blend he’s heard so often when you’ve dropped food, wine or burnt yourself. 

“One minute—“

“It’s me, bonita.”

He expects to hear a noise. Javi doesn’t expect a pause. A lengthy one.

“Oh.”

Oh? He thinks. 

“Um, Javi, just gimme….”

It bubbles. 

It fucking roars. It produces steam and fire—all of it feeling a lot like jealousy. Because: do you have someone in there with you? His jaw tightens at the idea, almost snapping into pieces, hammering against his feet. He hears a loud crash to the floor, shattering. His mind conjures images of two pairs of feet (at best), two awkward souls trying to move around one another littered by a sea of expletives and hisses.

“Bonita… open the f—door.” 

He doesn’t mean to use a tone. Unable to cage it, the fury which doubles and triples inside of him. Only just about managed to stifle the word fucking from being in the sentence.

Javi regrets it when you rip open your door, standing with more skin on show than he’s ever seen. Your privacy is covered by the thinnest pieces of black lace possible—lace that would be easy to snap, to rip from you as he drags his eyes up and down.

Unable to think; unable to process—

“I overslept.”

“…Bonita…”

“I am running late.”

“I can see that.” 

You jab him, light, making your body twist as you do. Something he can’t tear his eyes from, least of all when you turn, his feet following. It’s autopilot as he shuts your door behind him, not hearing another person—the anger and jealousy simmering at knowing you’re alone. 

You’re just… in your underwear. 

Around him. 

“Arepas.”

“What?” you call out, bending down, grabbing clothes as he averts his eyes. 

His brain forces his feet to come to a stop, his hand adjusting himself as he tries to swallow. Because whatever he’d imagined you’d look like, has just been beaten—you’re… fucking gorgeous. 

“Nothing,” he manages, staring around your place. Finding a bottle of half-drunk wine on the desk—sat beside one glass. “You had a fun night without me?” 

You laugh, turning to face you, finding you with trousers on. “I… I’m struggling to sleep… here.” 

He can relate. 

“How was Gabby?” 

He pulls a face, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah—she’s fine.” 

You fasten your blouse, moving towards him, closer and closer, until you’re in front of him, and his mind is fucking blank. 

“You’re standing over my shoes, Javi.” 

It shouldn’t stick to him—your words. But they do. How they’re sickly sweet, how they clag and cling to the edges of his mind as he tries to concentrate. He’s typing, and then he’ll replay it, fingers pausing on the heavy keys of the typewriter. 

Fuck. 

Not able to tear his fucking eyes off of you. Not that you have noticed. You barely look his way with the mountain of shit Messina’s given you to do in one day. Hammering down on you, reminding them all they can’t make mistakes—more so since the toilet debacle. The heaviness of how close they’d been weighed on them. All of them.  

So close. 

He watches you stand up, calling after someone as you do a little run in your heels until there’s none of you left to watch. Staring at where you’d been, somehow still flickering between seeing you the way he saw you this morning and the well-put-together version just in here. 

“What’s up with you?

“Nothing.”

Steve snorts, leaning against the wall. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘cause you look like—“

“She answered the door in her fuckin’ underwear.”

Steve widens his eyes, pulling out his cigarettes. “And that’s something you’ve not seen before?”

He glares. Chewing a retort as he furiously stubs out his cigarette. 

“Alright, so, now what?”

“I have no fucking idea.” 

“Your word come in use?” 

He shoots another glare, watching his partner hold his hands up. 

“Not fucking helping, Murphy.” 

“The fuck you mean she was sent to take some papers?” Him storming out of the building, hearing Murphy close behind. Not thinking. Thumb brushes over his fingers as something surges through him. Thumping. Building. Pushing past people, moving out of the way from the ones he comes into contact with, stepping out into the warm air as he sees hell. Men bleeding, carried by other men. His heart in his throat, furiously pounding, unsure where to start, where to go— Then he sees you.  Time slows, people coming to a halt as he watches you and his feet begin to move. His hands guide him past people, walking and walking until he pulls you close—not caring for the blood on his shirt from your head, or the way you whimper when you crash into him.  He meets your eyes, staring into them, finding his throat dry as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Arepas.” “Arepas…” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. 

When it rains, it pours. 

It’s what he thinks as he sinks another glass, elbowing digging into the desk, all set to shout at Messina to leave him alone, suspecting she had returned. 

But then, he’d seen you. 

Face lit up by the yellowing light, a softness to your features and a shyness to your frame. 

Javi isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Whether the guilt would shift at the sight of you, whether the sadness would stop laying on thickly. 

For a second, nothing happens. 

He doesn’t move. You don’t move. 

And then he’s standing, and you’re crossing the room, pulling him close, hands around him as you keep him close. It’s friendly, he thinks—suspects. A simple hug. Something the two of you have done only a handful of times, but twice so recently. 

In the fog of regret and alcohol, he can barely convince himself, his grip on it lost when you’re in his lap. His face in your neck, bathed in you—the distinct scent which clings to some of his clothes, the warmth he feels when he knows he shouldn’t. 

It’s easy, simple—and also everything. 

Shards of himself held in place by your grip on him, his own hand placing the glass down so he can clutch you that much tighter. 

It isn’t him. A thing he’s acutely aware of, yet he buries his face into your neck. Breath dancing along your neck, feeling you still, wondering if you’re thinking the word as he is when you pull back, eyes meeting his. 

“Oh, Javi…”

He chews his tongue, lessening his hold on you. Allowing you to move—giving you free rein to leave. 

“Messina send you?” 

You stand, tilting the bottle beside the glass, staring at the label. Your silence fills the gaps, finding the cracks of regret and guilt, layering itself thickly in it. 

Answer me, he thinks. Almost wanting to command it. 

“Boni—“

“No,” you say, curt, sharp. 

Your eyes dig in, taking a step back, running the back of your hand over your forehead. 

“Didn’t… I haven’t even seen her.” 

He could speak, but it would be useless. No words can conjure that would make any of it okay—heaviness adding in bulk to his shoulders as he stands. Making his legs feel like jelly and his spine wanting to bend. 

And then, he’s walking towards you, your back meeting a wall as he presses you against the wall, keeping you close. Just like you were minutes ago. 

He traces the tip of his nose against your cheek, catching the scent of your perfume. Your eyes are on him, watching his movements as he places his hand on your hip. 

“Arepas…”

He snorts, pressing his forehead softly against yours. “You want me to stop, bonita?” 

Your lips twitch, eyes flicking. 

A thousand thoughts dashing and darting in the shades he has memorised. Then you’re moving closer, mouth delicately pressing against his—testing, teasing. Saying no wordlessly.

It’s easy to return it, to give in—to kiss you like he has thought about since your name fell from your lips. A  thousand missed moments and building will-they-won’t-they slamming into the both of you. 

It’s why it shifts, his mouth not being gentle, his grip more desperate. His tongue sliding past your teeth, your hips flush against his as you curl your fingers into his hair. 

He’s on fire. Scorched. Changed. 

Flashes of you standing in the doorway in your underwear blending with the feel of you right now, how your lips move against his like the two are you well-versed in kissing one another. 

“Dreamt about you, bonita.” 

You murmur at his words, whimpering at his teeth, latching on the space under your lobe and neck. 

“Thought of the sounds I’d make you make….”

“Fuck, Javi...” 

Your nails dig into his neck, pulling and twisting him so you can marry your lips back to his. You kiss him like you want to conquer him, and own him. Something you’ve done since the moment you met—something he responds with how he licks into your mouth. Just pausing at your moan, tasting it—capturing it.

Your lips part as you clutch his cheek, breath ghosting as he lets dark brown wash over you. “I’m here. I’m here, Javi.” 

He knows what you mean, what you’re implying: I’m here, you need someone, I’m yours. 

The sound of him swallowing sounds louder, sharper—even against his ears as he flicks his sight over you. You’re better than it, better than him. You’re too good, too perfect—something he doesn’t want to break, snap or ruin. 

Sometimes, you’re the only thing that feels untouched, unblemished. You were the one who saw him after he’d gotten back from the brothel. When Carillo…

He blinks, finding your fingers still on his cheek, eyes still on him—but he’s unsure if he’s misheard you. Misunderstood. 

You don’t do quick fucks.

But you’re clever. You’re always fucking clever. Kissing him, hooking a finger in a belt loop, pulling him flush. As you show him that you mean it. 

“Need you, Javi. Just you.” 

He growls, moving you to push you down on the awkward, creaking bed. He watches dumbfounded as your fingers begin to aid the removal of your clothes. Exposing skin, inch by inch, to him—looking every bit inviting as you have done since the first day he fucking met you. 

Throwing your trousers to some distant corner, he parts your knees with his waist, pushing the damp green lace to the side, as he coats his finger in your want. 

“Javi…” 

“You suit green, bonita.” 

He eases a finger in, watching your mouth part as he does. 

“But, I can’t stop picturing that black set.”

“Like it, did you?” 

It’s breathy, desperate. Your lips ghost over his as he stiffens, pausing his ministrations, needing to look you in the eyes.

“It’s all I’ve thought about since, bonita.” 

Leaning over, he captures your moan, sliding in another finger as his name vibrates against his lips. Your eyes are so full of adoration, lust and want—it almost shatters him—but it’s the desperation that coils around him. The neediness which is falling from your lips makes him want more. 

He’s thorough, listening to your whines, finding each place inside you that makes you twitch and moan. He’s learning you, studying every inch, so he can please you from the get-go—if he ever gets the chance again. 

It’s his knuckle that undoes you the first time, rolling quick circles around the bundle of nerves which has fingers in his hair and your breath against his cheek. 

Javi, fuck—you, Javi, you. 

His breathing is shallow when you come down, feeling your hands—shaky but determined—tugging him to join you in being naked, his hand grabbing the one thing he needs outside of you. 

“Wanna taste you, but need to fuck you, bonita. Can I? Can I fuck your pretty pussy?” 

You groan, kissing his jaw and his neck. A chorus of yes and pleases bless his skin as his teeth rip the wrapper, fingers expertly sliding it over his length to not waste time. 

And then, your fingers leave bruises as you tug on his chin, pulling his eyes to you. A thought rolls, building; Tell me I’ve not ruined this. That I’ve not fucked up another thing. 

“Yours, Javi. I’m yours.”

His hand clutches your cheek, fingers pressing against your ear and hairline as you nod. His mouth smothers yours, stealing a moan, air and whatever thoughts were trying to populate. He does so as he lines himself up with you, when you wrap him in warm bliss. 

Your fingers on his shoulders, digging in, please move, Javi. And then, his hips move with yours, something swelling inside of him, a thing which makes it hard to stop kissing you, to ever want to stop being between your thighs—

He doesn’t usually fuck like this. 

It starts that way, but never ends that way—and yet here he is. Never with them on their backs, eye to eye, lip to lip. But then, you’ve never been them. You’re nothing like them. 

And he won’t move, can’t. He slides his tongue past your teeth and grips your hip that bit tighter as he feels your walls grip him desperately. 

“Feel so good, Javi—y’fuck me so good.” 

He knows. 

Knows because you’re fucking heavenly—perfection sent just for him. Something he whispers into your lips, lets you taste it as he feels you getting closer and closer. 

Then he just hears you. And the sound is prettier than his mind could ever conjure.

Just feels you. And it's better than he ever thought it could feel.

Then, there's nothing else, until he feels pleasure—until it’s white light and your name spluttering from his lips. Your hands in his hair, hips slowing with his as his lips sloppily find yours.

“We should talk.” You frown, looking over your desk as he leans both palms down. “Bonita… we had sex.”  “A few times, if I recall.”  “You… you seem rather calm about this?”  You smirk, lifting your mug to your lips. “Should I not be?”  He’s silent, uncharacteristically so. Never short of words, not with you. “Javi, I almost fucking died… then Carrillo… I-I needed… I just needed you.”  “Bonita…” “I don’t need pity. Do not worry. I’m not expecting anything, I know you, I’m not complicating this, and I’m not asking to change you. I like you as you are, and I know for you, last night for you was just a one-night thing—”  He whispers your name, wrapped in confusion and surprise— Your hand pats his chest, “—and I’m off to the funeral. Please try not to drown yourself in whiskey while I’m gone.”  “You know I’m not going...” Smiling, you let your fingers linger on his shirt button, twisting it. “You don’t do funerals—it was one of the first things you told me.”  Letting your hand drop before you walk away, leaving him with his thoughts. 

It unravels. 

Looking every bit like the day he’d been running around the ranch, knocking into the table beside his momma’s armchair, watching in horror as spools of cotton spread out. They ran uncontrollably away, undoing in a fit of rainbow shades and mess. It had taken him an age to fix, fingers raw from cotton against his fingers. 

That’s what it was like now—except he wasn’t sure he could fix it.  

If anything, he knows he can't.

He realises it when he tells you. A wave of disappointment ascended and crashed in your eyes until you looked at him with an expression painted in worry. It makes him want to kiss it from you, but your hand brushes his cheek—keeping him where he was, close but not too close. 

Don’t… What? Worry about you? Yeah, I don’t… I don’t deserve it.  Tough, Javi. I’ve worried about you since the moment you bought me food truck food and told me I had sauce on my chin.  Why's that? You just seemed like someone who I needed to worry about.

He wanted to kiss you differently then. Softly—gently. Almost greedily. Show you the words he wishes he could say easily. Let you feel how much he adores you, how much he cares, that he even wants to…  

Javi doesn’t. 

His brain too quick to remind him that you deserve solid truths, not hopeful lies. Tells himself that he’s anything with him will end in ruin, evidenced by the way things keep crumbling, the grip on helping having become closer to hurting. 

He tries to build walls to keep you out, ones you chip out with more force than he bargained for. Your nails pulling at bricks, eyes burning through gaps: Do not keep me out, Peña. 

So he stops. The energy wasted, even if he wants nothing but to protect you. Doing poorly at it—so much so he doesn’t realise you’re even swept up in it. Not in the moments where he comes find you for a moment of reprieve in the swirling hurricane he created.

You look like shit. Tell me how you really feel, bonita. Javi... I'm fine. You're not. No, I'm not.

He could kick himself when he realises it.

Only seeing it when he returns to the base, stopping short of your desk and finds it bare. No mug. No papers. No little notes you write yourself so you never forget a thing.

Bare. Empty.

There's no scent of your perfume and the air is absent of your laugh.

You had always found him, whether in his room, in a cupboard, at his desk. But, he hadn't thought to look for you today. Just put it aside, suspecting he'd find you later.

"Shit."

Sweat pools at the base of his back as he heads to Messina's. Hating himself, wondering if you'd been questioned. He'd never even tried to make sure you were okay with the knowledge of what he had done, what he continued to do in an effort to fix it. 

I’m here, Javi. I'm yours, Javi. 

He knows you are a part of the fallout when he sees Stechner behind Messina's desk.

It confirming it. Almost wanting to cut him off from saying your name—not wanting to hear it from his lips. Stechner says it anyway, as though knowing. Purposefully adding more poison to it and accompanying it with a cold smirk. One which almost makes him grip the man by the arm and land his fist in his teeth. 

You should have stayed in your lane…

Everything tightened inside of him. While everything around him crumbled, slowly crashing down: the walls, the ceiling—the pretence.

It makes his blood run cold, his heart crack right in the centre.  

Ambassador wants to see you. Get your passport. 

Tightening his jaw, he hammers his feet up the stairs, taking them two by two. Needing his room, needing a moment.

His hand rubbing over his face, mind populated with memories—ones both good and bad. Your voice swirling around them. Your smile, your laugh, all appearing before they burst, showering him in a mess of confetti he’ll never be able to clean. One he doesn’t want to, if they all he has left of you. 

He tries to think of his passport. Where it could be. The location of it in the mess of his room—trying not to wonder, worry or think about where you are. What his mess has done to you. 

Opening the door, he comes to a halt when he finds both standing in the centre of the room. 

Time comes to a stop. His heart pausing mid-slam into his ribs, the pain rippling out, as he takes you in. Watching your fingers and hand slowly rise, holding not one, but two passports, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi.” 

He lets the door shut behind him, suddenly able to breathe. The weight, the one crushing him for ages, finally stepping up from him, allowing air to fill his lungs, allowing his chest to rise and fall as you softly smile. 

“Bonita… what… how?” 

“I handed my notice in… Messina, she knew about—she advised me, said it would buy me more time. It did—has. Stechner—” 

It takes three strides—three—and even those felt long before his lips crashed into yours, silencing you, not wanting your pretty lips to ever mouth his name. Feeling your hand, the one clutching the passports, against his shoulder and the other on his hip. Pulling him in, wanting him—even still. 

He feels like he’s dreaming, until you bite his lip. Smirking against his lips as the two of you part. The feel of it bringing him back to earth, trying not to overthink it and let the moment ruin.

Javi just holds you—like he should have done earlier this morning when he'd seen you, and from the very beginning.

Pulling you close as he humanly can, for as long as he’s able to. Doing so selfishly until both of you are just staring at one another, the gap so thin between you, you’re not all in focus.

“Ask me.”

His knuckles slide along your cheek, knowing what you’re implying. Something coiling at what you’re suggesting—something he’d thought about days ago. Regretted not asking minutes ago… 

“Javi.” Your fingers wrapping around his chin. “Ask me or let me go….” 

Clearing his throat and licking his lips—sighing. 

Wanting to. Nothing compelled him more. But the wounded part, the one which is sore and raw, tells him not to. To put distance, space, time—and fucking everything else—between you both. 

To protect you. To love you from afar. 

“Be with me.”

Smiling, you whisper, “Please?” 

“Please,” he adds, a light smirk threatening to spill. 

You let your fingers slide over it, the little crease at the end of the hair on his upper lip. “I’m yours, Javi. All yours.” 

“You have to know what that means, bo—”

“I already know,” you cut him off, fingers dancing along his cheek. "I don't care."

an: thank you for reading, feel i should apologise for the length ha!

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x reader smut #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña smut #javi peña smut #pedrostories

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter One

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This might not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

This is a quick sample chapter to test the waters and see what people think! If you’d like to see more, please comment, reblog, or like!

The streets of The Capitol looked different during the day. 

You were used to the shadows, two feet in the dark at all times kept you secret, kept you safe, hiding was not cowardly, it was instinctual.

But you weren’t hiding now, a coward in high heels and stockings dark enough to hide the  purpling bruises that kissed the back of your legs, a high collar dress and coat the color of fresh blood concealed the rest that served as a reminder of how you got there in the first place.

Somewhere, a clock struck noon and as if on a timer of his own, Coriolanus Snow emerged from the university doors, chiseled face even more sculpted in person and  you took your place on the opposite side of the road.

You stepped off the curb, turning your face ever so slightly towards a camera and a tucked curl behind your ear signaled the car Gaul had waiting to come barreling around the corner and down the street.

A few capitol citizens jumped back onto the sidewalk but not you, you had your nose in a book, seemingly oblivious to the car that would surely end your miserable little life if this plan did not work.

You did not know Coriolanus Snow, but you did know men. 

Peacekeepers who’d do anything to relax after a hard day, Capitol boys who wanted to know if district lips tasted like treason or honey wine, they were all the same when the lights were off and pockets went unattended.

You tripped and dropped the books, loud enough for Snow to look up and see the car mere feet from you now as you bent down to retrieve the books,  silently cursing everything and everyone that had led you to this moment.

It occurred to you now that perhaps the madwoman in the lab had no designs on Snow that required you and this was an opportunity for her to kill someone in a fun, if not slightly convoluted, way.

You were going to die.

And then, you weren’t.

The lean body of Panem’s golden boy crashed into yours before the car did, strong arms around your middle and sent you both tumbling out of harm’s way. That pretty face of his blocked out the sun and the whole world went still, freezing the pair of you in a tableau of heaving chests and scraped hands.

Beauty made men blind and you had made a blind man of Coriolanus Snow.

And now, the games begin.

#coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus Snow x black!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you

[igotanidea]

Spoiled: Dick Grayson x reader

Summary: Women's day with Dick.

Warning: a little innuendo at the end, but no worries, minors allowed ;)

***

After knowing each other for a few years they became a couple in June, hence 8th March of a current year was their first International Women’s Day together.

Well- to say the whole truth – it was her first IWD with him, but the point stood.

And Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-way when it came to his girlfriend(s).

Since he might have fucked up Valentines’ day (in his defense he wasn’t entirely sure of how she felt about it since there was never even a hint on her part that she wanted to celebrate it and their relationship was still kind of fresh) it was obvious he had to make up for it, by giving her the best 8th March celebration ever.

“Morning sweetheart.”

At this point she should have been used to him visiting her apartment in the most abnormal morning hours, coming back from his Nightwinging-shit. Regardless, being torn from the sleep by his blue and black silhouette and domino mask, sometimes with the widest, charming, boyish grin and some other with blood and injuries all over was something she couldn’t move past.

“mmhmh….” She muttered rolling on her side in the bed to check the hour. 5 am. 5 am at fucking Friday. “are you hurt….?” Poor girl couldn’t even find any strength to bash him.

“no, not exactly—”

“then I’m sure it can wait for two or three hours? Come on, Grayson. I start my shift at 9 today, let me have some more rest….”

“But—” Dick frowned taking off his mask and studying her silhouette curled under the cover, one leg still in the dreamland. Did she really forget what day was it today?

“Mh. Just shut up and come here….” She mumbled again lifting the hem of the blanket, silently inviting him in and it actually did lift his spirits.

As quick as possible he stripped of his suit and slid into the bed next to her, immediately wrapping arms around her waist pulling her close. Unsure whether it was him looking for comfort and assurance he would always have someone to come home to, or rather him giving her love and warmth and safety – a must have for a woman.

“Y/n….” he whispered in her ear, running fingers up and down her back soothingly, creating the atmosphere of intimacy and love.

“The hell you want?” she snuggled closer

“Best wishes…”

“What…?” she raised her head, searching his eyes, all the sleepiness leaving her at once “you sure you’re not injured? Like – your head for example? My b-day are in September, our anniversary is in June, I didn’t win a lottery, there’s no occasion today so what are you talking about?”

“Y/N! baby!” Dick laughed pecking the top of her nose playfully “come on, think for a moment!”

“It’s 5 a.m. are you seriously asking me to freaking think?”

“What kind of special day do we have in March?”

“World Self-harm Awareness Day?”

“What?” he laughed whole-heartedly “that’s really the first thing that came to your pretty little head?”

“Jerk.”

“Come on baby… Flowers, chocolates, fancy dates…”

“Are you trying to remind me you fucked up Valentines’ Day?”

“It was not me! It was Nightwing’s fault.”

“Oh yeah, right. Blame your alter ego and you’re on a highway to split personality. Seriously what-“ she lift herself, a bit annoyed at his games now and her eyes landed on the calendar on the wall, noticing the date marked in a red circle and an exclamation mark. “Oh….”

“You there now?” Dick smirked

“I hate you Grayson-“ she muttered leaning forward to kiss him softly

“Just wait till you see what I planned for the day.”

***

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Wait? Did I already say that? Too bad.

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Such a shame that the festive day was taking place on Friday, cause otherwise he would lock her inside the apartment keeping her all to himself and spoiling her on the entire day.

But it was obvious from the get go that she was not going to skip a work day and there was no way to stop her (power girl simply liking her work, it was not a crime).

On the bright side – it was the perfect opportunity to extend the celebration on a whole weekend.

Starting from having the perfect evening.

Y/N could only do as little as step inside the apartment, after work, exhausted after all week with her brain becoming a jello, legs giving up, when she was snatched by a pair of strong arms and held close to a broad warm chest. And the contented sigh that escaped her lips was definitely not a sign of complaint.

"Missed you my beautiful woman."

"I can tell." she chuckled in response, glad to be back home to him.

"Now come on, pick up your prettiest dress and we're going out.'

"We're what?" that was unexpected "and what do you mean prettiest dress? I don’t have any dresses-"

"Good thing your boyfriend thought of that too-" Dick grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom where the most elegant and a bit revealing (but still chic) piece of clothing was spread on the bed.

"Grayson...." no matter how much she tried to deny her own instincts there was no way to stop herself from running fingers over the soft silky fabric and delighting in its sensation on her skin. She could only imagine how it would feel having that masterpiece hugging her body.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" she turned to face him, her eyes showing all the adoration of the gift. "But - I can't accept it. I mean - I'm sure it was--"

"Don't you dare saying it."

"But-"

"I bought it for you, you hear me? Because you deserve it, because I love you, because you're my woman and I’m your man." he grabbed her by the waist spinning her around and pulling to him. The fact that he was towering over her, holding her so firmly and giving her that man-like look silenced all her words of opposition. “Accept it, okay? Accept the fact that there’s me in your life now.”

“Right. The great, famous, handsome Dick Grayson the Wayne prodigy”

“Did you say handsome?” he smirked causing her to roll her eyes “seriously Y/N, I’m in your life. To stay. So the sooner you get used to unexpected gifts and surprises and being treated like a woman the better.”

“You still fucked up Valentine’s day.”

“You’ll be reminding me of that till the rest of my life, won’t you?”

“Of course.” She ginned playfully leaning to kiss him “I’m a woman. We collect such thing to use them as a potential argument in a quarrel.” She winked and this time it was him who rolled his eyes at her antics before silencing her with a proper make out session.

***

Clearly the dress was not enough for him.

Clearly taking a private Wayne jet and flying to NY was not enough for him.

He had to make a reservation at the most exquisite restaurant in the country. With the table in the secluded part of the spot, on the balcony with the perfect view on the night skyline, illuminated by the millions of little bright flickering lights.

And despite all that wonders all over them his eyes were focused solely on her.

From the way she looked in that dress (smoking hot, cause he knew what he was choosing after all), through the way her eyes were shining, hair flowing and cheeks flushing all the way to the fact that she finally allowed herself to relax and not overthinking all the stuff about expenses or being demanding.

Dream come true.

Living a fantasy when he grabbed her hand over the table and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles looking deep into her eyes.

Getting lost in their own private paradise when after the dinner they were just standing next to the railing, enjoying the peace and calmness, his arms around her waist, her back to his chest, not caring about problems, stuff to do or other people.

It was not often they could indulge and Dick was not going to miss the opportunity of being free for one night, able to plant little soft kisses on her neck, whispering soft words of love and feeling her body so close to him, while the a sign on the hotel room door clearly announced that guests requested privacy.

The silkiness of the sheets paled in comparison to the softness and delicacy of her skin and lips.

And the silence that was punctuated by her soft sighs and breathy words couldn't have been more perfect.

His woman.

Her man.

World could wait.

After all what could it do in a clash with a blooming love?

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: stalker/ unsuccessful kidnap, violence, depictions of blood and assault (let me know if I should add more)

Chapter Word Count: 2318

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sooooo I’m sorry it’s not spicy like I said it would be… But I absolutely promise the next one will be! Chapters 5 and 6 were supposed to be just one chapter but it got too long so I had to split it… And again please let me know of any errors because this is only proof read by myself.

——————————————————————

Please Read the Below First:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I’m Not You’re F*cking Maid

Chapter 5

After thorough interviewing of the staff and regular patrons; long searches through copious auction records and meticulous studying of the items in the shop we narrowed our search down to one item: an old jade hairpin. The hairpin belonged to a young lady who was given the gift as a wedding present, however when she found out on her wedding night that her new husband was having an affair, she stabbed him to death with it before jumping to her own demise from their third floor balcony. That was just over a century ago, and she was still wreaking havoc on unfaithful men to this day.

“I mean I get where she’s coming from,” I shrugged as we walked back to the motel. Both brothers turned to look at me with concern smeared over their features. “OBVIOUSLY I don’t agree with all the murder,” they breathed a sigh of relief, “but you can’t hate her for being mad. I would be too.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows a little and holding his hands up. I gave him a look of bewilderment.

“What side do you think you’re on, Dean? Because this,” I gestured between us, “isn’t my good side.” He mumbled something incoherent as we got to the motel so I chose to ignore him completely.

“So what’s the plan? It’s getting late and we can’t really do anything now until that charity event taking place at the auction house tomorrow. We’re already pretty clued up on how to get rid of ghosts so there’s really not much to do except to get both your names on that guest list,” Sam patted his laptop, looking at both of us.

“Food?” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Food sounds good,” Sam nodded. The boys turned around to leave when I stopped them.

“Just whilst we’re still at the motel, I’m just going to freshen up real quick.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “really?” I flipped him the bird.

“I can just meet you there? There’s like only one diner in this town and I know the way. I won’t be long.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Sam looked at me and smiled.

“Sure ok, we’ll get a seat in the window so we can see you coming.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” I grinned at the younger Winchester before turning away and letting myself into my room.

I had the worlds quickest shower and threw on some clean underwear and a clean top, feeling better after getting the grime from the day off. I pulled on my jeans, socks and boots, applied a small amount of eyeliner and mascara and tidied my hair the best I could before slinging on my jacket and applying some perfume to my wrists and neck. It was one of my favourite scents: I’d bought it from some lingerie store a year or so ago and it’s apparently one of those aphrodisiac perfumes, however I have no idea if it even works or not. It’s probably a scam, nothing works that well in real life.

After I’d finished sorting myself out - which took no longer than half an hour - I grabbed my phone and keys and left the room, locking up before making my way towards the diner. Night had descended, the air turning cold against my warm skin and the usually busy streets now lay deserted and car-free. It was only about a five minute walk or so from the motel and I was now only about a minute away when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. I’d caught a glimpse of a figure dressed from head to toe in black in the reflection of several shop windows, and they were following my exact trail. I sped up, walking faster down the empty main road and hoping it was all a coincidence as worst case scenarios started to race through my mind. It wasn’t long until the diner was in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief, however the relief was short lived when those footsteps were getting closer and closer, quicker and quicker right behind me. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a coincidence at all - I was definitely being stalked. I started to run, my legs moving before my brain had kicked into gear and I was only inches from the front door when the stranger caught up, slamming me against the wall of the building and putting a knife to my throat, covering my mouth with a gloved hand.

“Don’t make a fucking noise - you’re coming with me,” he said aggressively yet quietly. I could feel the blade of the knife pressing against the soft skin of my neck and I couldn’t help but feel tears well in my eyes, my breath turning shaky as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t even get any words out as his hand was too tight over my lips.

I wanted to cry out for help so badly it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this was all a bad dream. My cheek was pushed into the rough brick which grazed my skin, and I silently prayed for my attacker to just let me go or for some hero to come and save me. At that very moment I heard the door to the diner and my eyes shot open, instantly connecting with Deans. I watched as surprise turned to horror which then turned to pure feral rage on his face and before I even had a chance to blink he was gone from my line of sight - but so was the pressure keeping me pinned against the wall. I spun around and I watched Dean throw the stalker to the floor with more force that I thought he could muster and tower over him. Dean didn’t say a word, but the stranger let out a sharp cry of pain as Dean instantly brought his boot down on his ribs. There was a CRACK. He did it again.

And again.

And again.

And then he got down and pinned my attacker flush against the tarmac before he brought a closed fist down on his face over and over and over again, cracking his jaw and breaking his nose. Dean didn’t stop until the man was totally unrecognisable and unresponsive. Standing up off of his limp body, he looked over to me, his furious, almost animalistic stare softening instantly, even through all the blood that now painted his face. He took one step towards me before my feet worked on their own and carried me straight to him. I put my arms out to reach for him and he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest with zero hesitation, his arms circling me and his blood-soaked palms gently stroking my hair. I sobbed. I sobbed from the fear I felt, I sobbed for feeling like such a victim and I sobbed for the relief I now felt flooding my veins as Dean held me, not saying a word. Listening to his heartbeat with my ear to his chest, I felt so safe and secure that it made me want to sob even more.

*

Dean ended up taking me straight back to my room - he called Sam to tell him what had happened as he wasn’t going to be returning to the diner. I had my second shower of the day as soon as we returned, wanting to scrub everywhere that horrible man had touched. Whilst I was washing, Dean had headed back to his own room to shower off the layer of blood coating his skin. After I was satisfactorily clean, I dried myself and dressed in that old T-shirt I wore the night before, pulling on some fresh underwear and perching on the end of the bed. I picked up the remote and started mindlessly flicking through channels, hoping to find something to distract my racing brain.

I’d been sitting in the same position for around ten minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. I held my breath as I got up and walked over, looking through the peephole. It was Dean. I released that breath as I opened the door and let him in. He’d changed from his usual gruff attire to something way more comfortable - a plain white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He smiled at me. A kind smile, nothing like those teasing and sly ones we’d been throwing at each other since yesterday. This one was genuine, and it made my chest feel warm. He locked the door behind him as I padded back over to the bed and climbed on it, sitting right in the centre with my legs crossed. I pulled the T-shirt down to cover my dignity as Dean placed a carrier bag in front of me. I peeked inside. It was full to the brim of all different types of snacks and I grinned up at him.

“You sure do know how to treat a girl, Winchester.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked down at the floor before taking residence beside me.

“You’re the first one who thinks so”.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s a long line of women who definitely think otherwise,” he smiled a slightly sad smile. We both paused before I continued.

“Well if it means anything, what you did for me today, I-” he held a hand up to stop me as he saw the look of fear flit across my features again, the horrid memory bubbling to the surface.

“It was the least I could do,” he said softly before his brows furrowed, “but to be honest I should never have let you out of my sight.” The almost protective tone of his voice made my heart flutter a little, but It was my turn to reassure him as I placed my hand on his shoulder delicately.

“Dean, none of us knew that would happen. I know you wouldn’t have left me alone if you genuinely thought I was in danger - after all, you DID promise to keep me safe from my own shadow,” I flashed him a grin which he quickly returned, chuckling. We sat for a few moments in a strangely comfortable silence before there was another knock at the door. I went to get up to answer it but Dean beat me to it, swinging it open to show a very concerned Sam stood in the doorway. He looked at me with those big ever-worried eyes and I shot him my best ‘please don’t worry’ grin.

“I’m fine, Sam” I called out to him as I tried to listen in on the hushed words Dean was speaking. They conversed for a while, occasionally throwing glances at me as I rustled around in the bag of goodies Dean had supplied. Growing bored of not being involved with their conversation, I scooted back on the bed to lean back on the headboard and proceeded to flick through dozens of channels until I found something decent to watch. A few more minutes had passed and I’d munched my way through almost half a bag of Doritos when I heard the door close and it was just me and Dean again. He had a paper bag that Sam must’ve passed him, which he held up and pointed to.

“The blood stains came out of my clothes, although Sam said the people in the laundromat were giving him strange looks,” he laughed slightly, those striking eyes of his looking down into mine as he took a few steps closer. I laughed slightly, only imagining Sam’s awkwardness in that situation. I broke my gaze away from Dean for a few seconds, looking down at my hands before looking back up. I could tell he was hovering now, just waiting for me to say something.

“Dean I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if you need me to” his hand ran over the stubble on his chin, his eyes not leaving me.

“Really, I’m ok. I’m probably just going to sit here and watch whatever this is-”

“It’s obviously Men in Black,” Dean scoffed. I smiled, finding comfort in the familiar snarky remark.

“Obviously - I don’t live under a rock Dean,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up, placing my hands on his chest. He was so warm to the touch that it was almost enticing me not to let go. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat was so soothing. But I did let go, and I spun him around to start ushering him to the door. As he was leaving, I grabbed my half eaten bag of chips and started munching again. He opened the door, stepping outside.

“Go back to your room Dean. I promise I’m ok. I don’t want you both hovering over me constantly making sure I’m fine; that will just make me feel worse,” I said as he spun to face me, nodding his head.

“Back to normal. Got it.”

“Great,” I said, sucking the tangy chip dust from my thumb. Dean suddenly reached out and snatched the half-eaten bag from my hand before quickly walking away.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” He shouted back at me before shovelling food into his mouth.

“You ass! I was eating those!” He shrugged in an overly animated fashion, not bothering to turn and look at me as he continued towards his room. I sighed, closing the door and locking it, sliding the chain across this time too. I padded back towards the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I started to drift off, the buzz of the movie still playing in the background, I smiled a little to myself:

Fucking Winchester.

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Up Next:

Chapter 6

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn

[beebeetheclown]

Quiet as a Mouse

Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Summary: You attend college with Oliver Quick. He is quiet and a little strange. You think you are nothing alike, he proves you wrong when you are assigned partners for an assignment.

Notes: This is different from what I usually write so bear with me here👀 I needed to write about Oliver as soon as I watched Saltburn because I love little freaky men and I know you do too, don’t lie😏 Hope you enjoy it😊

Also, go read my bestie’s, @aurorag98’s, Saltburn fic if you haven’t already, it is perfect in every way.

Read here on ao3

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It was your second year of college when you first spoke to Oliver, he was in one of your classes. You thought you were different from one another as he was quiet and you were more talkative and went out to a lot of parties. In your first year, you weren’t as extroverted, it was actually your boyfriend who helped you come out of your shell more, he was the one who dragged you out to all the parties. Now that you have been with your boyfriend for a while, you became more like him and enjoyed things that he liked, which was mostly drinking and partying.

It was hard to focus on studies when you went out a lot as it would give you less time to study and actually focus as you would sometimes go to class with a hangover. You were very smart though, so even when you felt like shit from the other night, you managed to keep your grades high.

The only reason you had spoken to Oliver was because you had been assigned as partners for a big assignment. You would much rather have the professor let you pick your own partners but he said that it was better that he picked as it would make people fool around less. He also said that it was good to get to know others.

You figured Oliver was pretty smart, he’d attend every class and you had seen him in the library often either studying or reading. You didn’t really want to be his partner though because you knew nothing about him and he didn’t know anything about you, so it would probably be awkward.

“Switch tables and sit with your partners, this will be the seating plan now as you will be working on this project until the break. You have three weeks to complete it.” The professor says.

You sigh a little, not wanting to have to sit next to him because you knew you’d most likely have to do all the talking, but you had no choice, you collect your things and go to sit next to him.

He looks up at you, and to your surprise, he’s the first one to speak, “Looks like we’re partners.”

“Looks like it.” You reply and sit next to him, “So, I guess we just decide which part we will each work on. I’ll choose mine and you’ll choose yours, we work on it individually then share them and put them together the last week before it's due.” He just looks at you with his blue eyes before looking down at the paper, you could tell something was on his mind, “Unless, there was something else you had planned.”

“Well, the professor said we work on it together, not individually.” He says quietly, continuing to keep his eyes on the instruction paper.

You grew annoyed easily when things didn’t go your way, it was something you got from your boyfriend. You didn’t let your annoyance show as you knew that you’d be with him for the next three weeks. You had to get along with him otherwise the three weeks would feel even longer.

“Yes, it’s just harder to work together as we, you know, don’t know each other well. But it’s fine, we can figure something out.” You say and then your phone buzzes, it’s a text from your boyfriend and you immediately smile and text him back. Oliver was now annoyed with you, but like you, he didn’t let it show.

“So, I think we should pick our parts now, class is almost over, I want to start early so we can finish early. That way, we’ll have free time for a while in the end.” He says as he looks at you typing on your phone.

“Alright, you can pick your parts, I’m fine with whatever.” You say, still looking at your phone. Oliver just takes a deep breath in and exhales before he looks over the papers while you stay on your phone. A few minutes pass and he has read them over,

“Okay, I think I’ll do part 1, 5, and 8. You can have the others.” Finally, you put your phone down and look at the parts he gave you, they are a lot of work but you shrug it off.

“Cool, sounds good to me.”

“Would it… be okay if you started tonight? You don’t have to do much, even a little research is fine.”

You look at him, “Yeah, I’ll start some, no problem.” You give him a fake little smile. You knew that you most likely wouldn’t start anything. Soon, class ends and you are done for the day. Your only plans now were to go to the library after dinner to help your boyfriend with his school work, he wasn’t the brightest at school, it was almost like his party life was more important to him.

Hardly anyone was in the campus library as it was later in the evening and it was closing in an hour or so. The two of you enter the library and laugh together as you hold hands and you walk with him to find a computer. When you sit down next to him, you look up only to see Oliver sitting at another table a few feet away from you.

“Shit.” You say quietly and laugh.

“What?”

“My project partner is here. I told him that I’d work on the project. I haven’t even started.” You can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Just lie to him, no big deal. Now, help me with this essay before I fall asleep.” You begin to help him and Oliver soon notices you. He can’t seem to stop studying you. He was watching you to see if you were working, seeing who you were with. He hesitated for a second but when he sees you laugh with your boyfriend and put your hands in his hair, he stands and makes his way over to you.

“Hey, sorry I don’t mean to bother you.”

You turn and look up at him, “No, don’t worry about it. Is there something you need?”

“I just come over here to tell you that I’ve got part one started, you know, for the project.”

“Oh, okay um, that’s good. You can share it next class.”

“Yeah, okay. I was just wondering if you… got any work for the project done?”

You side glance at your boyfriend before answering. Oliver captured the small glance, he was good at catching the small details of a person, the side glance told him everything he needed to know. He knew you hadn’t started, but he let you finish speaking anyway.

“Oh, yeah. I got a little research done earlier today.”

“Great, you can share it with me in the next class.” He grins a little, knowing now that if you were going to keep lying to him, you’d have to get work done now as you’d have to show it to him next class.

“Uh huh, right. It’s uh, that’s not a problem. See you next class Oliver.”

“Okay, see you.” Before he leaves, he looks over at your boyfriend for just a second with a blank expression.

Your boyfriend leans into you and speaks into your ear when Oliver is walking back to his own table, “Yikes.”

You playfully hit him in the arm and laugh. Little did the two of you know, Oliver heard the words leave your boyfriend's lips and he felt upset. He already hated your boyfriend. Oliver wanted to be better than him in some way, he didn’t know how yet, but he would find a way. He always found a way to get what he wanted.

…

The next few classes, Oliver knew that you didn’t start the work. He had listened to so many of your lies, hearing you say that you forgot your notebook, saying that your laptop with all of your work on it was dead, or that you had forgotten your USB stick. He came up with a plan, he knew how to make sure you would actually start working.

“Why don’t you just come to my dorm room tonight? That way, we can work together. I can even help you with yours.” He looks down at the table, “... Or start yours.”

You look at him, “I have started.” You lie.

This only makes him look back at you, “Look, you don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know you haven’t started. I won’t get angry with you if you come and work with me, just this one time. Please?”

You think for a moment, you really didn’t want to go to his dorm because you felt as if it would be both awkward and boring, but you did have to get work done eventually, “Okay, I’ll come over, but just this once. You can just help me get started and I’ll go from there.”

He smiles a little, “Perfect. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Six sounds fine.” He soon gives you where his dorm was located and unlike you, he was actually excited to have you over. He wanted to get closer with you, not just for the project, but in general. He found a lot of people pretty or handsome, you were one of those people.

…

You went out to dinner that night at a little pub with your boyfriend. You went out at four, you knew you had to be over at Oliver’s by six, but you didn’t see a problem if you would be a little late.

Coincidentally, he was at the pub too. Well, he was outside of the pub. He was on the street when he saw you a few feet ahead of him with your boyfriend and he watched you enter the pub. He slowly made his way closer to the building and gazed through one of the windows and he spotted you sitting at a booth. He watched you for a moment and you didn’t notice him watching. There were a few tables outside, so when one of the waiters asked if he needed something, it kicked him back into reality.

“No, sorry. Just looking.” He says, but before the waiter can walk away further, he stops her, “Hey, actually could I just get one drink?”

“Of course, would you like to sit inside or outside?”

“Inside please.”

“Of course, we should have a table open for you.” He follows the waiter inside and she begins to lead him closer to your table, you still didn’t see him as your back was to him.

He notices that the booth next to yours is empty and he knows that the waiter most likely was leading him to it, he stops in his tracks, “Hey, actually, I might just sit at the bar on one of the stools. Thanks though.” With that, he turns and walks to the bar and sits down. You were still in his vision.

While he is sitting at the bar counter, you are still at your booth just a few feet away. Your boyfriend is facing where Oliver was sitting and he sees him, “Hey, isn’t that the guy? Your nerdy project partner?”

You stop smiling before turning you back to look where your boyfriend was looking and you spot him. He is looking at you but when he catches your gaze, he quickly turns to face forward again.

“What is he doing here?” You say, half laughing and half annoyed.

“Maybe he is following you.”

“What’s the time?”

Your boyfriend checks his phone, “five thirty, why?”

“He wanted me to come over to his dorm at six so we could start this stupid project early.”

“You’re going to his place?” Your boyfriend asked with a concerned look on his face, “You didn't tell me.”

“Well, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Why can’t you just work on it at school?”

You shrug, “He seemed to really want to work on it at his place.”

“The campus isn’t far, I wonder if he walked here as well. You should ask him to walk back with us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we should just leave him alone. He’d probably rather walk back alone anyway.” You reply. “We should actually head back.”

He pays for your meals and begins to walk towards the door with you. In order to get to the door, you’d have to walk right past the bar where Oliver was sitting.

Your boyfriend tends to always do what he wants so when the group walks past Oliver, he stops right next to Oliver, “Hey, you’re my girlfriend's project partner, am I correct?”

You turn back to look, annoyed that he said anything even after you told him not to.

Oliver looks at him, then to you, and then to him again, “That would be correct, yes.”

Your boyfriend gives him a fake little grin, “We were just heading back to the campus. She tells me that you two are planning to work together soon. Would you like to walk back with us?”

Oliver just looks at the two of you. Before he can say anything, you speak, “You don’t have to. I can just meet you at your place. I have your dorm number.”

Your boyfriend barges in, “No, no. We insist you come with us.”

You give your boyfriend an annoyed glare but he ignores it. Oliver speaks again, “Alright, sure. I can walk back with you guys. I was planning to leave now anyway.”

“Great.” Your boyfriend replies, and soon, you along with Oliver make your way back to campus with you both.

Your boyfriend was the one who did most of the talking, once in a while, his friends would join in. They paid most of their attention to Oliver.

“So, Oliver, what brought you to the pub? We maybe thought you were following us.”

“No, I came for the same reason as you, I wanted to get out for a bit.”

“Right. But you went out alone.” Your boyfriend replies. “This must be weird to you, hey? Walking with us. I seen you around, you seem like you don’t hang out with people like us, or you are and I’m just not seeing it.”

You stay quiet and listen to what Oliver replies with,

“People like you?”

“Yeah, people like us. We party, go out, get drunk. It’s fun, you should try it sometime.” Your boyfriend continues blabbering, “I’m curious now as to why you chose my girlfriend as your partner.”

You finally speak up, “He didn’t choose, the professor did.”

“Ah, I see. That’s a shame for you isn’t it.” He jokes and nudges his arm into yours playfully.

You look at Oliver then at your boyfriend, “Stop.” You say quietly. He was beginning to get on your nerves a little. The one thing you didn’t really like about him is that he could be mean at times and he would be cocky about it.

“What? Oh, come on. It was a joke. It was a joke Oliver, clearly you aren’t offended, right?’

“No, I’m not offended.” He replies coldly.

“See? You are too soft sometimes.” He wraps his arm around you and kisses the side of your head. Oliver watched as your boyfriend held you close to him and kissed your head. There was some sort of anger building up in his stomach.

Soon, the three of you finally make it back to the campus and it is now time to break apart. You were going with Oliver to his dorm. Your boyfriend whispered “Good luck” to you before he left the two of you and it now grew silent for a moment as you both just stood still in the hallway.

“It’s just down this way.” Oliver says, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You follow him down the hallway, the whole time your mind was only thinking about how you wanted to apologize to him for how your boyfriend was treating him. You don’t apologize right away and just walk in silence beside him. You couldn’t help but notice that Oliver smelt good, you didn’t know exactly what he smelt like, maybe a flower of some kind, but all you knew was that he smelt good.

He breaks you out of your thoughts as he makes it to the door of his dorm and unlocks it, “You don’t have your things. It’s okay, I probably have paper or something you can borrow.” He could have just sent you to go get your things as it would probably only take you about ten minutes, but he was growing impatient and he even thought that maybe if you left him, you’d run away.

When you enter his room, you look around and see that everything is clean and so organized, crazy organized. Everything everywhere was straightened out, the things on his desk, the pillows on his bed, everything. The one thing you did realize was that he had no pictures or posters on his walls, they were bare.

“No posters?” You ask.

“No, I like how it is.”

Something was on his mind, and you could tell, “Hey, I’m sorry about him. My boyfriend can sometimes say a lot of stupid things. He is kind of cocky.”

“Cocky?”

“Yes.”

He looks at you deeply and says your name, “Your boyfriend’s a dick.”

Your eyes widen, “I’m sorry?”

“He’s a dick. I don’t know why you are with him. You deserve someone better.” He walks over to his desk and gets papers out, “We should start now.”

“Hold on, you just called my-”

“Yes, I did. Can we work now, please.”

“So that’s why you are alone often. You are quiet but when you speak to someone, you insult them.”

“I am not insulting you, I am insulting your idiot boy.”

“Okay, and? That’s basically the same thing.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your little feelings, all I’m saying is,” he pauses for a minute, “What’s happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year, you were like me. Quiet, smart, focused on work. You were these things but not a total ‘nerd’. We were similar and now ever since you met this guy, you’ve acted differently. I liked you better before.”

Hearing him say all of this just makes you still in silence for a moment. You barely even remembered him from last year and he seemed to remember you so well, as if the two of you had spoken before.

“How did you know that?”

He shrugs, “I’ve seen you around. Is it fun hanging out with them? Do you like it better than how it was before?”

You think for a moment, you honestly had never thought about it before, “I don’t know.” You reply softly, “I can’t remember what I liked about being quiet rather than outgoing. Do you like it quiet? Do you like it this way?”

“I do. It’s peaceful really. But I hate being looked down on by people like your boyfriend. I sometimes want to be the way he is, not give a shit about anything and have fun.”

“Then how come you don’t go out more? You can come out with my group of friends if you’d like.” You saw Oliver in yourself now, he was alone but was too afraid to go out because everyone else felt different than him. He felt alienated.

“They wouldn’t like me. I am not like you anymore. You have changed into a copy of everyone else. At least I stay the same.”

Just as you thought you were finally getting along with him, he gets on your nerves again and you get on his. You would just be annoyed with him but his annoyance felt different, he was annoyed with you but felt a weird connection to you. He wanted you to like him but he also wanted to show you that he could be strong and that he didn’t just pretend to be strong.

“I was trying to be nice. You make it really difficult for me to like you more, you know that?”

“I don’t need you to like me, I just want you to respect me. Look at me as if I am the same as you.”

“Well, we are not the same. Maybe we were a year ago, but not anymore.”

“We are the same. Deep down, you are just like me.” He walks closer to you now, “I can see right through you.”

“You’re crazy. I came here to work on this stupid assignment and all you’re doing is insulting me and speaking nonsense.”

He chuckles softly, “You’re boyfriend was right, you are too soft, aren’t you? I am not insulting you, I am just telling you the truth. Truths aren’t always what we want to hear, most people hate the truth, but you can’t run away from it. You can’t run away from reality no matter how hard you try. Trust me.”

Your faces were inches apart now and it seems as if he has trapped you in place somehow because you feel as if you can’t move back or push him away, you just stand still and let him inch closer.

“You need help Oliver. You need fucking help. You are even crazier than I thought.”

His smile only grows, “I think you’ve got the wrong word. I am real, raw, not crazy. God, there are not enough real people here. That’s why I liked seeing you last year, you were real like me, I could feel it.” He brings his hand and tucks hair behind your ears and you let him, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You whisper back.

“Then why’d you change yourself? You changed yourself to be better for him, changed to be how society makes people like your boyfriend cool and people like us strange. You didn’t want to be strange, so you changed.”

All of his words were true, you couldn’t believe that you only started talking to him and he was revealing truths that were hidden deeply in your mind. You thought no one else knew about your truth, but he did.

You begin to cry very quietly, a couple of tears run down your cheeks. “You are pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that?” He asks. You shake your head and continue to cry softly, “So quiet, so small, like a little mouse. Your eyes look all glassy when you cry, it brings out the beautiful colour of them more.”

He leans in closer and brings his tongue to your cheek, licking the tear off your skin with the tip of his tongue. You could feel his warm breath on your skin. He moves his lips to the left side of your face and does the same, bringing his tongue to lick away your tears.

He holds the sides of your face in between his hands and looks at you in the eyes, “You are like me, and I am like you. Just give it up, give in and admit that it’s the truth.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Let me hear you say it. I need you to say it. Tell me what I just told you.”

It takes you a couple of seconds before you obey and repeat his words, “You are like me and I am like you.”

“Good girl. Say it again.” His voice was soft but demanding. You’ve never been in a situation like this. You were under his control, his power. You were too weak to move, you couldn’t do anything else but listen to him and do as he told you. You didn’t know how he did it. Oliver was quiet, but had so much control, he had you at the palm of his hands, right where he wanted you.

“You are like me and I am like you.”

“Again.”

You keep on repeating the same sentence over and over again. You only stop when he runs his tongue along your lower lip very slowly before he kisses you. He still has his hands at the sides of your head as he continues to kiss you. You kiss him back and part your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth to meet your tongue.

Your mind was running with so many thoughts, it was so loud and everything didn’t seem like it was real, you felt as if you were in some crazy dream, a crazy nightmare. He begins to push you gently backwards so you make it to his bed. When the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed, he pushes you so you sit on his bed.

“Who are you Oliver?” You ask.

He leans down so his lips are close to yours again, “Do you want to find out?”

You shake your head and continue to look into his eyes, “Why are you doing this? How- why can’t I stop you?”

“You can’t stop me because you want me. You want me just like I knew you would.” He begins to drag his fingers up your thigh, “Are you going to take off your clothes, or are you just going to sit there and stare?”

You finally snap back into reality, “No, Oliver. You are not doing this. I can’t. I have to switch partners, I have to tell the professor-”

He stops your words by putting his hand over your mouth, “Can’t you just give in for just a moment? You are so difficult. Are you this difficult with him? Does he even know how to fuck you?” He doesn’t remove his hand yet and he just looks you in the eyes. His eyes were the colour of water, but they were burning through you like fire, “Now, when I remove my hand, you are going to smarten up. You are going to be quiet and give in to what you want. No more lies, all we want here is truth, okay?”

You can’t help but nod your head and he removes his hand and the room falls silent for a minute. You were wet between your thighs and that was no lie. You shouldn’t have been, you liked your boyfriend. You felt like you couldn’t say you loved him yet but that didn’t mean that cheating on him was not a big deal. It was a huge deal, if he found out about it. Oliver was quiet, the secret would be in good hands.

“I don’t want to take my top off.” You whisper, “I will feel guilty.”

“Then take off your pants.” He brings the back of his hand to stroke the side of your face, “He won’t find out. If you stay quiet, it will be easy; he won’t catch on. All you have to do is be quiet about it. Be quiet like me. You get away with a lot more things when you keep to yourself.”

You look at him the whole time you begin to remove both your pants and panties, you are soaking wet, you shouldn’t be but you are. He is already hard in his pants, he was dreaming about having you like this ever since he first saw you.

“Now it’s my turn. I am going to remove everything and you are going to watch.” He says and pulls his shirt over his head. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, sitting half nude on Oliver’s bed and watching him undress himself. First of all, you had your boyfriend, and second, you never thought Oliver would be like this. You saw him like a deer, quiet with pretty eyes. But he wasn’t a deer when he was alone with you, if anything, he was the opposite. He still looked like a little deer, but he didn’t act like one.

Soon, he is standing in front of you naked, you don’t even look at his body and just keep your eyes on his, feeling as if it would make you feel less guilty of cheating on your boyfriend if you didn’t look at his body.

“What now?” You ask innocently.”

“What now? What do you mean ‘what now’? Has your boyfriend never fucked you good enough? I bet he just gets right into it doesn’t he, bet he doesn’t even excite you first.” He chuckles a little, “That dumb boy. Spread your legs, quit being so scared.”

You do as you’re told and just sit there, waiting for what to be told to do next. He kneels down in front of you now and admires your pussy, “Does he ever eat you out before fucking you?”

“Sometimes.” You reply, “I don’t want to talk about him, Oliver, not when I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Having you in front of me while my legs are spread. It’s so wrong.”

“Oh, but it’s so right. You want this, look at how wet you are. Stop pretending to be someone you’re not just to get him to like you. You’ll regret it, trust me.” Right after he says this, he latches his lips onto you and tastes you, gliding his tongue along your walls. Your hand falls down to his hair and you brush your fingers through it. A loud noise leaves your lips and it makes him hum into you in satisfaction. He ate your pussy as if he was starving.

He doesn’t let you cum, he removes his mouth from you and brings his lips an inch away from yours, “Kiss me. Taste yourself on me to know how good you taste.” You thought he was crazy and doing such a thing was bizarre, but you bring your lips to him and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on him, “Now, I’m going to fuck you.” He says bluntly when he pulls away, “I was going to fuck you with my fingers like I’ve wanted, but you’ve got me so hard I can’t wait any longer. Maybe next time.”

“There will be no next-” You can’t finish what you were going to say as he pushes you down so you are now on your back and he stands. He pulls you by your legs to get closer to you,

“You’re going to see just how much pleasure you’ve never received, how much time you’ve wasted by fucking pretty boy when you could have had me this whole time.” He grinds his hips forward and fits himself inside you and you both let out sounds. He grins as he fucks you, thinking that he has won, he finally has you like this and made you pick him over your boyfriend.

He watches every part of you as he fucks you, looking at your stomach, your breasts, your face and how you reacted to the pleasure he was giving you. Your boyfriend wasn’t that bad at sex, but something about how Oliver was working you made it feel like your boyfriend was completely clueless on how to fuck. Oliver fucked you with such need, with a mixtare of love and hate.

“Oliver, wait.” you whimper out, “Let me ride you.”

He paused inside of you for a moment, “You want to ride me? You’re more of a slut than I thought.” He pulls out of you then the two of you immediately switch positions. He leans against the headboard of the bed and you climb on top of him and lower yourself down. You couldn’t get yourself to look at him, otherwise guilt came over you, so you just put your face in the nape of his neck as you kept moving your hips up and down to ride his dick.

Hearing your sounds in his ear along with having your hot breath against his skin already made him close. He grabs your hips tightly, digging his nails into your soft skin. “Fuck, I need to cum inside you.” He groans out.

“No, no, you can’t Oliver.” You don’t stop your movements, you wanted to let yourself come over the edge too, it felt too good to stop

“Why not? Let me cum inside you.”

“No.” You reply. He growls and then suddenly flips you over so you are underneath him again and he begins to fuck you harsher. The change of pace makes you even closer. He brings his fingers down to play with your clit and that’s all that it takes for you, you moan out loudly and cum around him. He finishes right after you. He wanted to spill inside of you so badly but he decides not to, he pulls out and spills onto your stomach.

In the end, you never ended up working on your project. You only let him fuck you and then you left and went back to your own dorm room. Your boyfriend called you later in the night and you have no choice but to answer it and act as if nothing happened. You smiled and laughed at his stupid jokes through the phone. You pretended and lied to yourself that nothing between you and Oliver ever happened. You knew that it would never happen again, hoped it would never happen again. But you wanted him so badly.

You ended up switching partners, telling your professor that you and Oliver were not getting along and having a hard time working together. The professor thought about it for a while but then gave in and switched you to work with someone else. Oliver was angry but he didn’t tell anyone the real reason why you wanted to switch so bad. He wouldn’t be that cruel to you, he still wanted you to like him. He liked that you and him had a little secret between the two of you.

He grew more than angry as more days passed of you ignoring him and his glances, he practically grew obsessive. He’d follow you around the hallways when your boyfriend wasn’t with you and you were alone, asking you why you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore and why you didn’t even want to speak to him anymore. You got angry at him every time he mentioned the two of you sleeping together and told him to keep his voice down even though he was already talking quietly.

Oliver was always sneaking around now, watching you. One night, your boyfriend's dorm room window was open, facing the campus fields, and Oliver stood there watching through the window. Watching how your boyfriend would kiss you and how your body and your face would react to his touch and his kisses. He felt himself getting hard the more he watched but soon, the two of you were out of his view as you moved away from the window. Oliver was only mad now.

He wanted to find a way to have you again; he would find a way, he always did.

#saltburn #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #barry keoghan #saltburn fic #saltburn fanfiction #oliver quick fanfic

[neowinestainedress]

close as strangers | jeong jaehyun

title: close as strangers

pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends, college!au, fluff, angst | requested

warnings: angst

summary: something breaks between you and Jaehyun when he starts dating the one who seems to be the love of his life. And you’re not sure you can cope with him slowly pushing you out of his life.

words: 7.446k

a/n: can't believe I finally wrote another one of the requests I got, the others will come out, I promise. I'm not sure it's exactly what the requester wanted (probably it's not sad enough, idk??) but I hope you'll like it anyway. Please let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or even asks!

“I’m not being annoying, I’m telling the truth,” you huff when Jaehyun pushes you away with a playful tug and calls you annoying for the nthtime. 

“I’m not a loser, I have never been,” he replies, crossing his arms on his chest, and staring straight in front of him, trying to ignore you.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, jumping on top of him and pulling his cheeks, moving his face side to side.  

“Ouch, ouch,” he hisses, trying to pull away from your hold, but you only laugh and think that he looks so cute with his red cheeks, soft brown hair falling delicately on his forehead and beautiful eyes. “Stop it, fine, fine, I’m a loser.” 

You cheer, happy about your victory but don’t move away from him. To strangers’ eyes it should be weird but for you two it’s only normal. You can’t even remember a moment when Jaehyun wasn’t by your side after you became best friends in kindergarten. 

“I’m always right,” you quip, kissing his still red cheeks. 

“She looked intimidating, I’m not like this anymore,” he defends himself again, and you find it entertaining. “You can’t call me a loser because my first crush was a failure. It’s been years.” 

You shake your head, “I give it to you that she was too beautiful to even look at you,” you joke and at that he playfully hits your arm, only making you chuckle. “You were a loser in a cute kind of way. And you still act the same.” 

Jaehyun huffs, shaking his head and gesturing for you to get off him. “See, you are annoying.” 

You smile, silently following him into the kitchen, watching as he grabs a drink from the fridge and hands one to you. “So annoying I’m not even sure I can confess something to you.” 

A furrow forms on your face, studying him with your tilted head. “Confess?” 

“Yeah,” he says and when he meets your eyes his face blushes even more, “God, no, don’t think what you’re thinking, I don’t love you.” 

“Oh, thank god,” you reply, but your heart doesn’t feel as light as your voice coming out of your lips. You hate it, or maybe you hate the way he says it, as if it would be so weird for him to love you. But you’re quick at shaking those thoughts out of your brain, at least for now. “So what is it?” 

Jaehyun sighs, scratching his neck before nodding at the drink in your head, “You don’t want it?” 

You gulp, you’d need it, but you’re not sure you’ll love whatever news he will drop and you’d like to avoid spitting it on his face. “No, sorry.” 

He shrugs, grabbing it from your hand, and the light touch sends shivers down your skin. 

“So, there’s this girl…” 

There’s this girl…

Unfortunately, there’s this girl. Unfortunately, Jaehyun is head over heels for her. 

He’s a loser, or maybe even more. So much that he gets annoying and you can’t stand him. 

There should be nothing wrong with it, you should live this like any other of his crush, or relationships, but something inside of you is not letting it happen. You blame it on the fact he always talks about her, bringing her into every conversation even when she’s got nothing to do with it. You can’t see that you’re blinded by a feeling you never even imagined feeling.

Jaehyun is your best friend, nothing less, nothing more. 

But apparently, your heart stopped seeing him this way a long time ago. 

“I hate this class with a burning passion,” Jaehyun huffs, throwing away the pen he’s writing with as if he could throw away the headache that’s torturing him while he’s uselessly trying to memorize everything he needs for the exam. 

You chuckle, lifting your eyes for a split second to look at him, grey hoodie over his hair and pissed-off expression staring at you as if you’re an alien for understanding everything so easily. 

“I envy you so much, you’re so smart,” he complains again, drifting his gaze because the more he looks at you the madder he gets. 

Your eyes roll back. “I’m not smart, lately all your blood is flowing in your pants, that’s why you can’t understand anything about uni lessons anymore.” 

He glares at you. “Shut up, we didn’t even fuck.” 

“Us?” 

“Me and her,” he almost screams, staring at you with wide eyes. “Don’t make weird assumptions about us.” 

You bite your lip, but not enough that you can stop yourself from asking a question you shouldn’t ask. “You wouldn’t?” 

Jaehyun blinks repeatedly, staring at you with a furrow on his face. “Would, what?” 

“Fuck with me.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head, “Are you serious? Of course, I wouldn’t, we’re best friends.” 

“Well, there are a lot of best friends that do it.” You know you’re shocking him with every word, you can see it in his wide-open eyes and mouth, but you can’t stop. It shouldn’t, but it is hurting your pride. 

“Not us,” he replies as if it is obvious, it should be obvious, at least, and he doesn’t understand what had taken over you today. “Why would we?” 

“I’m not saying we have to,” you whisper, tapping your shoes against the floor. “But you know, it can happen.” 

Jaehyun laughs, “Sex never happens. It’s not some kind of fatality.” 

“When you’re drunk?” 

“Oh, yeah, depending on how drunk you are that falls into assault actually.” 

You roll your eyes, “You know what I meant, just enough that you… you know what is happening but not enough to think about the consequences.” 

“Yeah, that’s why we make sure to never cross that line when we drink, because we won’t let it happen.” 

You hold back a bitter laugh, “You’re talking as if I’m the ugliest person you have ever seen.” 

“I didn’t say that, you’re beautiful, you know I think that. I even think you can be hot when you want to,” he laughs, surely referring to your personal struggles of stepping out of certain comfort zones but you don’t find it funny. “Come on, you know I’m saying I won’t because we’re best friends, I’ve known you since you eat stick glue and the teachers wouldn’t let you close to them.” 

You ignore his recall of that fun memory and go straight to the point, brain completely fogged by your hurt pride, rationality gone. “What if we weren’t?” 

“But we are.” 

“What if we weren’t?” 

Jaehyun chuckles, at this point his laugh is awkward, and he hates he can’t seem to find any sign of a joke in your eyes. “Yes…” he answers hesitantly, and you don’t know if he means it or if it’s because he wants to make you happy and fool. 

But you don’t press him anymore, after all, it doesn’t matter, you are best friends, and you can’t turn back time and change the events that lead you there right now, so you bring your attention back to the books. 

“I can help you with what you don’t understand, I’m here for that,” you say. 

“Are you mad? I genuinely think you’re beautiful, you know it. I just don’t want to lose you with sex.” 

“I know, I agree, it got nothing to do with you, actually. Sorry, a bit of paranoia for a dick absence of six months,” you lie, blaming it on your lack of activity in bed would’ve dusted off that awkward moment you were going to reply in your brain for months probably. And Jaehyun believes it, an expression full of pity forming on his face and the same usual ‘your value doesn’t come from men wanting you,’ and you know, it might not come from men but from him? It does. 

But it’s fine like this, at least with that lie you’re sure you didn’t scare him off, and when you propose to stay for dinner he doesn’t run away but helps you with that. It’s just you and him, like it had always been, only with a fire inside of you that you never wanted to light up, and you know it will burn you. 

“You need to fix this room,” Jaehyun jokes, his breath puffing against your hair while you’re lying in your bed. 

“Leave me alone, I’ve been sad lately,” you pout, rolling your body and hiding your face in the crook of his neck, his scent filling your senses. 

“I can help you if you want,” he replies, caressing your back in circles. 

“With my sadness?” You lift your neck to stare at him, finding him looking at you. 

“With your room,” he shrugs. 

You let out a whine, groaning while you pull away from his hold against your will. You like being there, embraced in his warmth. Jaehyun feels familiar, he always had, even before he actually was. And now you need to lull yourself into that feeling more than ever. But as you look around and see the state of your bedroom you realize he’s not wrong. 

“You know how you could help?” You say, jumping around and facing him. 

Jaehyun smiles, sitting up straight and leaning in. He’s so close to you that you can only see his eyes while all the rest fades away. “With a kiss?” 

Your heart starts throbbing and you’re sure the temperature of your skin is rising, but you try to hide the dumb smile that’s forming on your face. You don’t answer, only melt on the spot when his lips meet your skin, pressing against your cheek with a loud sound. 

“Fixed,” he giggles, caressing your cheek, ear and hair in a move he had always done since you were kids, the only difference was that now his hand cupped half of your face with ease. “Better?” 

You hum, smiling but feeling another sting in your chest. You hopeful, hopeful girl wishing he would’ve kissed your lips instead. 

“I wanted to propose to go buy groceries, by the way,” you chuckle, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands. 

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, your weird second sadness fixing.”

“Hey!” You yell, faking an offended grin on your face and he only pulls out his tongue before jumping in front of the closet and opening the doors. You don’t have time to tell him to stop that he’s crushed by a mass of clothes, and you’d like to be mad about it but when he sits on the floor with clothes all over him and glares at you, you can only laugh. 

“It’s funny? I could’ve been killed and you’re laughing,” he jokes, scrolling the clothes off him and reaching you, starting to tickle you. “God, I’m a loser but you are so messy.” 

“Stop, you will kill me,” you cry when his fingers are still torturing you, and only when you kiss his cheek he stops. “I’m sorry, I tried to warn you but you were too fast.” 

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh before a nervous laugh rolls out of his lips when he sees the mess in the room. “Now we will have to fix this, you know?” 

You hum, hugging him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “It won’t take long if we’re two.” 

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” 

“You decided to open my closet, and for what?” 

“I wanted to pick your clothes,” he whines, grabbing a handful of clothes and placing them on the bed to fold them. “Remember we used to do it?” 

You laugh, doing the same and facing him on the other side. “When we had to go somewhere together and we wanted to have the same vibes, not to go buy some bread.” 

“When aren’t we together?” He asks, staring at you with a superior grin. 

“Fine, you’re right,” you give up, not able to hide the smile on your face. “But it wasn’t a sabotaging program from me.” 

After half an hour the clothes are back at their place, this time folded and placed so they won’t fall on whoever dares to open the doors. And Jaehyun is waiting for you to change into the clothes he picked. 

“All black because I have to match you?” You ask, looking at what he chose. 

“Of course,” he shrugs, sitting on the bed, waiting for you to change into the new clothes. “Where are you going?” He asks when you start making your way to the door. 

“Bathroom? I have to change?” 

He chuckles before a furrow forms on his face when you stare at him with a serious expression, “We never changed in another room.”

“Yeah, but you’re dating now, or sort of.” 

“Sort of,” he says, shaking his head to move back the hair that covers his eyes. “Come on, we always did that, even when one of us was dating.” 

You hum, walking back toward the bed, placing the clothes on the soft duvet to get rid of the ones you’re already wearing. Jaehyun is right, you’ve always done it. Things like this, so intimate, so private, always happened between you two without a glint of embarrassment. But now it’s different. Now that your fingers slowly grip the hem of your sweater to pull it over your head, you feel as if he’s eyes are burning into your skin. You know he’s not looking at you in a different way, but you wish he did. You wish he would stand up and stand close to you, letting the sweater fall at your feet, while his broad body presses against you, slowly trapping you between him and the wall before he kisses you as if he waited all his life for that moment. 

But it doesn’t happen. He never waited for that moment to happen, you did, probably, without realizing, thinking that this, the beautiful relationship you had, was going to turn into something different. But when you’re out of the sweater, it doesn’t fall at your feet, and your back is not pressing against the wall, and the humiliation of the thought that crossed your mind makes you dress once again quickly. 

“Should we get something for dinner,” he proposes when you’re almost done with the shopping, cart half-full. 

“Are you staying?” 

“You don’t want me anymore?” He pretends to be offended, staring at you with wide eyes and a hand on his chest. 

You roll your eyes, “Okay drama queen, let’s choose something and then let’s go, you need to help me with all these things.” 

“See, you only use me for my muscles,” he pouts, pushing the cart, and purposefully hitting you with a swing of the hip. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have any other strong man like you in my life,” you mimic in a silly voice, fanning yourself and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Though I was a loser,” he grins, looking down at you. 

“Oh, you are.” 

The evening proceeds as usual for you two, he helps you put things back in place, you spend a good ten minutes bickering over what you should choose to eat for dinner (as if the fight at the shop wasn’t enough), and then you settle down on the couch to eat while watching one of your favorite series, one of the few things you don’t even take a second to decide. Your head rests against his shoulder when you’re not eating or commenting on something, and his arms stay wrapped around your shoulder for the whole time. 

It feels like home. 

Jaehyun knows exactly where to throw the things you used, he even washes the dishes while you go wash up and then you switch places, drying them while he does what you just did. He even knows where you keep the blankets so you could lay back on the couch comfortably. 

And that’s how you fall asleep, with Jaehyun’s arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head, squeezing into the small couch because sleep took over you before you could even think of dragging your tired legs to your bedroom. Netflix is still running, playing more episodes before it goes on standby and the night is quiet outside while you lull into each other. 

It feels like home. 

The bubble that you and Jaehyun lived in is menacing to burst. You don’t want to be a hater, but every time he talks about her you feel your insides turn upside down. 

You think that meeting her will soothe you down a little, that maybe you can find something in her that it’s not as amazing as Jaehyun says to be, something he hates but he didn’t see, too focused in the rush of the moment. 

But when you meet her, your last hope falls apart. 

Of course, Jaehyun is head over heels for her. 

Not only she is objectively beautiful, funny and smart, but she’s everything he ever wanted. 

You know his type, thanks to all the nights up spent talking about love and the other kids in your classes, from the silly, meaningless flings in elementary school, until now. His type never changed a lot, and now that you look back at it, and stare at her in silence, you realize you never fit in the box. 

Yes, you’re beautiful, funny, and smart, but not in the same way she is, not in the way Jaehyun wants. 

If you had to place her and yourself on a line, you would be on the far opposite ends. 

“So, how did you meet?” You ask, even if you already know it, but you need to fill the silence while Jaehyun left you two alone to get in line to grab the food, and somehow you don’t want to know more about her. 

She smiles at you, teeth so perfect that you wonder how they aren’t fake and then says, “It was a coincidence, you know those cliché types of meeting in movies?” You nod, playing with the napkin at your side. “We run into each other while we were both running late for the bus, we never caught it but we met each other. Destiny is great sometimes.” 

You nod, mumbling ‘sure,’ forcing yourself to be happier about it. Because if he’s happy, you’re happy and vice versa, that’s how it always worked in your friendship. But right now you can’t be happy about anything, you can’t do anything but feel a lump in your throat when Jaehyun comes back and leaves a small peck on her forehead while placing the food in front of her but doesn’t do the same with you. He would’ve had. He used to be so physical with you and now you feel like you can’t even remember what a hug feels like. 

But you swallow the gulp in your throat and try to make conversation, trying not to hate her because she doesn’t deserve it. Because now you know that even if you went back in time and changed things, Jaehyun wouldn’t have looked at you anyway. He probably wouldn’t have even looked at you like a friend, so this was the best you could get. 

This was a dream. The same dream that was before, only with a stinging pain in your chest. 

Somewhere along the line, it turns into a nightmare. It’s not when you realize that this is meant to be, that they are not a temporary story bound to break but something meant to last. After six months Jaehyun still looks at her with the same heart-shaped eyes, ears almost perking up like a dog when her name is spoken, and cheeks turning cheesily red every time she looks at him. 

And you can only shake your head thinking that he is a loser, and the reason you hate it so much it’s because Jaehyun is not a loser for you. 

You are for him. You are a clown, probably, and it’s even worst. 

“Where were we when it happened?” You barely register Jaehyun talking to you, too lost in your thoughts, shaking your head to stare at him while your brain works fast to remember what he was talking about. 

“Oh, it was the cabin we went to for my eighteenth birthday,” you say, forcing a smile to curl your lips. 

“Yeah, right, that place was magical, we should go someday.” 

“Oh, yes, that would be great,” you reply, thinking he’s talking to you but when he giggles your smile drops. 

“No, honey, me and her,” he says, finger moving back and forth between himself and his girlfriend. “Remember that there was some sort of couples discounts or tours, there was a spa, right?” 

You gulp, but push down the burning sensation in your throat it’s hard. “I guess, I don’t remember,” your voice comes out more stern than you want but Jaehyun doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care. 

“Maybe I’ll text your mom, she’ll definitely know,” he says before turning to her again. 

And you sit there, in silence, fighting back the tears because selfishly you don’t want your memories of your eighteenth birthday to be fogged by their new ones. That was your place, one of the many, and the idea of him going there kills you. 

It’s dramatic, it’s stupid, but it’s exactly how you feel.

“I booked two seats at our favorite movie theatre, and you won’t believe it, but the movie we wanted to see it’s in our favorite room and I also got our favorite seats, the magic of the internet,” you cheer happily over the phone, your pc still open on the cinema page with the confirmation of the payment. 

“Oh,” you hear Jaehyun from the other side. “For this Friday?” 

You hum, still smiling thinking that you finally got to see the sequel you both waited for so long. 

“I don’t think I can.” 

You furrow. “What do you mean? Friday it’s our cinema night out, we always go there when there are new movies we like. We’ve been waiting for this for years.” 

“Yeah, I know but it slipped my mind,” he says. “I have to meet her parents.” 

Your jaw falls on the floor. It feels surreal, at this point you’re not even mad because he forgot but he’s going to meet her parents? After eight months? 

“You hate meeting parents,” you chuckle, the words coming out of your mouth in a way that’s screaming you can’t believe them. 

“Not hers.” 

“What do you mean? The only parents you don’t hate are mine.” 

“Maybe not anymore,”  he sighs, and you can picture him rubbing his chin from the other side of the line. “Listen, she cares about this a lot.” 

“I care about it too.” 

“A movie over a dinner with my girlfriend’s parents? Please be serious.” 

You hate how mocking his voice is, you hate that to him your plans are nothing. 

“But I told you this Monday I was going to book them, why couldn’t you postpone it with her?” 

“Because her mother proposed, I couldn’t say I couldn’t go because I had to watch a stupid movie.” 

You hum, squeezing your eyes shut to push back tears, hoping he couldn’t hear your sniffle. 

“Yeah, sure, have fun.” You have to close the call, his words and voice hurting you like thousands of needles against your skin. 

You stare blankly at the screen, the map of the theatre still open with the colored seats you had selected and the transaction approved. A small crack forms in your heart when you realise that the night you had planned together wasn’t going to happen. 

You get up, closing the laptop, you would’ve checked later if you could’ve got a refund, but now you just wanted to stare at your ceiling and let yourself go to silent tears. 

It was just a stupid movie. 

It was just a stupid movie. 

If only after a while a lot of things didn’t start to be stupid. 

Lunches out at your favorite place during lesson breaks. 

Nights up playing video games at your place or watching movies at his. 

Even studying together for the exams, or your usual study hangouts to keep up with the lessons, became stupid. 

Jaehyun being in love wasn’t painful anymore, but Jaehyun cutting you out of his life was killing you. 

If he sat next to you during lessons it felt like a miracle and even then he would talk to you just a little. And you couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t the first time he was in love, and for how serious their story could be, was it necessary to cut you out like that? 

You shared every moment together. And you can’t accept this ending like this. 

“It’s been a lot since we last have been together,” you say, for a mere coincidence you two are walking together out of the last lesson of the day and he still hasn’t pulled away to go somewhere else, barely even warning you. 

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” Jaehyun replies, head low on his white converse on the ground. 

You’ve been ignoring me, you’d like to answer but don’t. Not really in the mood to ruin this moment, it feels normal, like all the days you used to share going everywhere together. There weren’t silly jokes, and your arms weren’t intertwined, but it was better than nothing. 

“Why don’t you come to mine this weekend? We don’t have a lot of essays, we could just order take out and spend some time together, like the old times.” 

“Yeah, why not,” Jaehyun replies, turning his head to look at you with a smile. 

Yeah, the old times. 

The ones that are long gone now that you’re sitting on the floor, pillows all around you, your blanket covering your bodies, empty food boxes at your feet and the tv playing a movie not you nor him are paying attention to. 

You’re too focused on him and he’s too focused on his phone. 

You can see from the smile on his face that he’s texting her, he had been since all night actually. You could barely make a conversation while you were eating, either receiving no answer or syllables as one. 

The old times are long gone, and you’re not sure you can live like this. 

The decision came to you one night, after hours of crying all your tears while going through your old chats with Jaehyun and scrolling through the pictures you’ve taken together. 

You couldn’t live like this anymore. 

If he had decided to cut you out of his life, you were going to do the same with him. 

But saying it was easier than doing it, and now that you found yourself under the tree you used to wait for him when you had different lessons, you don’t feel so confident about this anymore. 

This is worst than confessing, it’s more humiliating because if you did that, he would simply reply that he doesn’t like you back, but saying you need to cut strings with him means that he won’t fight for you. You already know it, it had been written in the last months when he started to slip away from your hold more and more, at first without you even noticing, and now you were there. 

“Hey,” he calls your name, and it feels weird on his tongue now, it’s not playfully, it’s not teasing, it’s not full of love, it’s cold and distant, and you hate that his happiness with another person took you there. You can’t blame yourself, because even though the pain, you always supported them, you couldn’t make him pay for not proving something for you, so why was he making you pay for feeling something for somebody else? 

“Hey,” you smile back before taking a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to break off the longest-running friendship of your life. But no amount of nights up and preparatory speeches prepared you for this. It’s a crash of words and screams. Jaehyun doesn’t get why you would break your friendship for some ‘no’ and you telling him it wasn’t just that. 

“Than what it is? I don’t get it, are you jealous I’m happy?” 

“God, no, why would I even be jealous,” you reply with a bitter offended chuckle. Yes, you are jealous, but jealousy is not the thing that is making you do this, you could live with that, you could live watching his eyes light up when he stares at somebody else, you could live hearing her name roll out of his lips so sweetly, you could even live with them being always together, reminding you every second how happy they were. What you can’t live with is the pain his detachment brings along. You can’t do it anymore because now that your head lifts up and you look at him, you can’t recognize the person you grew up with anymore. 

“Then can you tell me what’s wrong?” He insists, huffing loudly. 

You bite your tongue, you can’t confess, you can’t tell him you love him, you can’t. It’s a secret you want to bring to your tomb, but you slip. 

“You do what?” 

Your eyes widen when you realize what you said, hands covering your mouth as if you could take it back. And you find yourself thinking that having the power of turning back time would be a great thing. You would’ve used it so much, but you don’t have it, and you’re forced to pay the price for all the stupid mistakes you’re making. 

“Nothing.” 

“You love me?” He asks before a groan of your name comes out of his mouth to demand an answer you don’t want to give him. 

“No, I love you as a friend, and I… I hate that you’re cutting me off,” you lie, lips shaking, eyes full of tears falling freely down your cheeks. It’s pathetic, you can’t even remember the last time you cried in front of him, but it surely wasn’t as humiliating as this. There was no reassurance in his eyes this time, no strong arms to wrap around you and hold you tight while he whispered that everything would’ve been alright, but there was no use for a lie, nothing was going to be alright. It was just an already written mess. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses through gritted teeth, and you lower your head, sobbing silently. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you scream to the ground, to yourself. No, it doesn’t matter, what you feel doesn’t matter, you don’t matter. To him, you don’t matter, not like you used to for sure. 

“It does, that’s why you wanted to know if I would have sex with you?” 

You rub your face and shake your head. “No, I… I don’t care, I don’t even want you to love me back. I need us to be done.” 

“Because I said no? Because I hang out with my girlfriend? You are jealous, of course, you care.” 

“I’m not jealous, I wish I at least still had the same place in your heart, I was your best friend, you loved spending time with me, we were close, we were happy and now, you avoid me. You don’t even sit next to me in class.” 

Jaehyun sighs, shaking his head before turning around and walking in a circle. You wish you could read him like you used to do, but you can’t understand if he’s mad or sad, maybe both. 

“How you loving me doesn’t come between us?” He asks when it seems he made up his mind. 

“It doesn’t, it’s… it’s not even love. I need time alone, Jaehyun,” you sigh, his full name rolling out of your lips hurts. “I’m happy for you, I truly am, but you’re so distant and you’ve never been like this and I can’t take it.” 

Another loud sigh comes out of Jaehyun’s lips, the more he stares at you the less he could understand, but he couldn’t blame you for feeling what you felt, you surely didn’t do it on purpose and you hated what you felt more than him probably, considering you were suffering so much to the point of breaking what held you together for so long. 

“So what do we do? Ignore each other?” 

You sniffle. “You are already ignoring me.” 

“I – I’m sorry, maybe I did but I didn’t notice,” he justifies with a slightly offended tone. “I’ve never been better than now, and I don’t want this to change.” 

“And that’s fine,” you reply, holding your bag closer to you, “It’s fine but I need you out of my life because like this, with you being half in and half out, I can’t go on. I can’t move, and I… I just hate being this away from you. But it’s fine, as long as you’re happy, I’ll be fine.” 

You thought that was going to be liberating but it turned out not to be. Not when Jaehyun was the only one you knew. Sure, you talked around on campus here and there, but the only one you could count on was him. Too afraid to meet people and too tired to open up with them. 

Jaehyun already knew everything, in fact, no one else knew you how much Jaehyun did. 

And not having him anymore was the worst feeling ever. 

It was hard not picking up the phone to tell him something in the heat of the moment, but all your last sent texts with no answer or ‘I’ll watch it later,’ were the awakening you needed to put the phone down and feel your heart sink to your knees. You couldn’t have texted him anyway but the reminder of the last cold months was enough to make you believe it was the right choice. 

You had survived a lot of things, with him by your side, you could survive even this, without him. 

So you try to concentrate on your studies, hoping all the words will drown you in a sea that is not as acid as the one that your brain drags you into when Jaehyun crosses your mind. And it works, only until you decided that you can’t lose your sanity over books and essays and maybe you should find a better way to cope with this. 

It’s not easy, every step you move on your own reminds you of how present Jaehyun has always been in your life. From the silliest things such as studying or buying something you needed, to the biggest and most important steps of your life. 

It’s heart-wrenching, really, to imagine your future without him. The graduation you planned won’t be the same, the holiday you longed for so much after that won’t probably even exist, and there won’t be nights up spent together trying to navigate the job world. And when your mind wonders further you realize there will be no wedding day, even when you would’ve found the right person for you, the one that can truly take that place in your heart and push Jaehyun out of there, he won’t be there, by your side, being your man of honor. And you won’t be at his, and now it sounds better like this, but with time, knowing you would’ve moved on from him, it only brings a lingering pain in your chest. 

You miss him. 

You miss yourself with him. 

Because even after a few weeks when you decided to go out, sign in some college clubs to make new friends, and you do, you find a group of people you like, you still can’t be your true self like you were with him. They wouldn’t get you, there are high possibilities they might even find you weird, with your random singing and dancing, and your silly faces to make him laugh, or the started conversation in the middle of another one even if they weren’t related at all. There are so many more sides of you they would never understand. And you can only be yourself in the four walls of your room, but even there, you feel like you’re hard to find. 

Time passes by and you feel like you’re doing better. You finally found your place in the world without him, taking time to focus on your passions, your studies, and new people that are slowly making you feel understood. 

You barely see Jaehyun anymore, let alone interact with him. When you cross in the corridors or in class you ignore him just as much as he ignores you. Well, at least you try to, because you feel that if you stare for too long you will fall in the same hole you got yourself out of with difficulty. 

And you succeed until the holiday approach and you feel just a bit lonelier, you can’t help but think back at the times you spent together, afternoons spent walking around town to see the decorated shops and city’s lights, or drinking hot chocolate together while you studied the last things before the winter break, or how his mother would video call as a coincidence all the time when he was in the bathroom and you two would end up talking more than them. 

But you learned how to sigh and shrug those thoughts away, coming to terms with the fact that you will always miss the feeling of home he meant for you. 

But it still hurts, not like before, but it’s still there, when your eyes linger on him and his arm wrapped around her in some classes you share, or when you barge into them outside, his head laying against hers, or her eyes looking up at him while her nose scrunches and he kisses that playful pout away. 

It’s an annoying type of pain, it’s not even love anymore, or at least you try to convince yourself, it’s like when you feel the need to scratch a part of your body you just can’t scratch, that’s what Jaehyun is, a part you will have to carry with you forever, even if he’s not part of your life anymore, because he will always be a part of you. 

But you’re doing fine. 

You truly are. 

It simply gets heavy at times to carry that dead weight around, but you are light. There’s a bright future waiting for you, and you’re hopeful you won’t be alone with your new friends supporting you and distracting you when sometimes your brain decides to sabotage you. 

But you’re still moving on with your life, small steps taking you further on the road every day. Well, that’s it until one morning you open the door to find Jaehyun standing there with his same old brown jacket, ruined shoes and the same, somehow still familiar, face. 

“What are you doing here?” Is the only thing your brain manages to formulate, it’s not a harsh question, there’s not even hesitation in your voice, you’re just genuinely surprised. 

“Can we talk?” He asks, moving his weight side to side on his feet. 

So a few minutes later you are sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee in front of you and silence fills the room with a weird atmosphere. You don’t think it’s awkward, but it’s not even as comfortable as the silence between you two used to be. Anyway, you can’t keep this going for much longer, you’re not used to having him so close, you can still faintly make out his scent that now is surely mixed with hers, and that brings back too many memories you’re not sure you want to revive right there. 

“So? Do you need something? Or maybe something happened?” 

Jaehyun doesn’t answer right away, he sighs, nervously tapping his feet on the floor and playing with his thumbs before he turns around to look at you. 

“I know why you wanted us to stop being friends, and I respect that. I didn’t react in the best way but I was surprised and mad, I won’t lie, I know I pushed you away but back then I still had you, and when you decided to cut me off I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I had to do it,” you say, crossing your legs and studying his expression, he’s barely making eye contact with you, gaze moving around to room to find words he probably doesn’t even know. 

“I know,” he hums, lowering his head. “But I miss you. And I… I’d like to at least be friends again but I also respect if you don’t want to, maybe you still love m –” 

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t… I liked you, at least I think so.” 

“Is there really a difference?” 

“Yeah, the latter should be less painful.” 

“Was it?” 

You raise your gaze, locking eyes with him, and when you still feel a striking pain in your heart, you deny it with a movement of your head. “But I don’t love you anymore,” you still add. It’s true. You miss him, but that’s a different feeling. 

“So… can we be friends again? I promise I’ll make up time with you. I was so caught up in her that I just… I didn’t notice you were slipping out of my mind.” 

You hum, shaking your head and scratching your neck. “It’s fine, it was in the past.” 

“Yeah, but I hurt you.” 

“I’m fine, Jae. It doesn’t matter.” Or it does, but is there something you can do to fix it? You can’t turn back around. 

He nods, drifting his gaze away again and you know he’s waiting for an answer you’re not sure you can give him. Not right on the spot. It’s true that you want him back, but you’re not sure taking him back won’t break you down again. 

“I need to think about it,” you whisper after a few minutes, watching his eyes drop, that wasn’t the answer he wanted, but you have to put yourself first. If there was something that this taught you was that lesson. After all, you were always going to have yourself and not anybody else. 

“My mother says hi,” you say while pushing your phone back into your pocket and start to walk back to Jaehyun’s side. 

“Oh, it’s been a while since I last heard from her,” he replies, a small smile curls his lips as he keeps moving next to you to reach the closest cafe. 

Yes, after a week or more of asking yourself the same question you were able to make a decision and take him back. You had set some rules, telling him that you needed time, and maybe sometimes you would’ve needed time to yourself, but Jaehyun understood, after all, you two were always the same, even if you changed, even if you drifted apart, he was still the only one that knew you so deeply and vice versa. 

So, it started slowly, allowing each other to text, not as often as you used to do, not with the same tone or conversations of your old texts, but it was something. After a while, he started sitting close to you during some lessons, not always, and not only because he wanted to be with her, but also because you didn’t want to have him that close again. You still needed time, and even if you got back together you could feel it wasn’t the same as before. You don’t talk about the future anymore, and the few times some doubts spill out you two are never in each other’s plans. You don’t rest your head on his shoulder anymore, not that one night you decided to watch a movie together, not the few times you sit next to each other in class. You don’t poke his cheeks, burying your finger in his dimple. You don’t change in front of each other anymore. You don’t go grocery shopping together. You don’t spend nights up rewatching your favorite series. 

And you are terrified that with time you wouldn’t have recognized not even a small piece of him. But you let that in the future, deciding to focus on the present, and on yourself. 

You are fine, you found yourself again, and you had Jaehyun in your life. 

Nothing is as before, you used to be home to each other, different sides of the same coin, partners in life, and now, you’re just standing there, side by side, an invisible line separating you. 

In strangers’ eyes you two look just fine, like any other friends would appear, but to you, in your heart, you’re as close as strangers.

I hope you liked it, if you did please leave feedback is always appreciated! ♡

#nct fanfiction #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jeong jaehyun angst #jeong jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #requests

[shadowtriovibes]

dance in a storm in my best dress

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3K

Summary: by request: "I have a fun idea! How about Sebastian and f!mc are "just friends" until one day she asks him to help her try on/give his opinion on some new dresses, and desire and spice ensue??"

"Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow," the shopkeeper says. "I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly." While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options. "Have you even put one on yet?" you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. "Merlin's beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!"

“Thank you for coming with me,” you say softly, shyly tucking your face a bit deeper into your oversized scarf as you avoid snow swirling around you.

It’s not an intense blizzard by any means, but nevertheless you appreciate that Sebastian had agreed to trudge down to Hogsmeade with you that afternoon when he could have spent the day with a dreadfully boring book by the fire in his common room, which is typically how he spends any free time he has as a seventh-year N.E.W.T.s student.

“Of course,” he says easily. “It’s about time I came up for air, so to speak.”

Despite the ongoing pressure of your final year of school, it had felt like all of Hogwarts had been abuzz about the upcoming holiday ball for what felt like weeks. Even you and your treasured trio of Slytherins had made plans to go together, and your daydreams of twirling across an enchanted dance floor in a fabulous gown had helped get you through some of the most arduous study sessions you’ve ever experienced.

With your end-of-term exams having concluded the day before, there was now only one thing standing in the way of you blowing off some steam at the ball with your best friend.

You need a dress.

Poppy had been the one to inform you that Mr. Hill had specially ordered some lovely fabrics from London as soon as he’d caught wind of an upcoming formal occasion. While it’s certainly too late to have anything custom made, you hoped you’d be able to find something in his shop that would suit you with a few minor alterations.

You’d invited Sebastian to join you on your shopping trip primarily for moral support, as the two of you were going to the ball together as friends.

(Anne had been quick to claim Ominis as her date so that she wouldn’t have to take her own brother, and you and Sebastian had been equally loath to bother asking anyone else.)

However, you suspect you may also need some help physically donning the dresses. You may not know much about what’s in fashion these days, but hearing some of your classmates boast about precisely how many garment layers they’d be wearing had nearly made your head spin.

“Do you have your dress robes?” you press him skeptically. “Anne said you were procrastinating.”

“Yes, nosy,” he laughs. “Ominis made me pick some out last weekend, and Mr. Hill should have them in for me by now.”

“Good,” you say primly. “You’ll have to try them on while we’re there and make sure they fit.”

“This is now my second trek into Hogsmeade for this silly ball,” he points out with a cheeky grin. “I hope it’s going to be as enjoyable as you lot are saying it’ll be.”

“It will,” you insist. “We all need something like this, something that’s just… joyful, I suppose.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you with a tender smile.

“Fair point,” he agrees. “Right as usual, you are.”

“You’re still surprised after all this time?” you tease him, bumping your shoulder against his while he laughs.

When the two of you walk into Gladrags, Augustus Hill perks up excitedly and slips out from behind the ornate counter.

“Ah! Just the young witch and wizard I was hoping to see today,” he crows. “Come in, come in! I dare say, it’s awfully frigid today.”

You hang up your cloaks while Mr. Hill rustles up a tray of tea for the both of you. Ever since that troll encounter years ago, the Gladrags shopkeeper has always had a soft spot for you and Sebastian, which often results in the two of you feeling downright spoiled every time you visit him.

“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” you say as you accept the warm mug he offers.

“Mister Sallow,” he says as he hands Sebastian his tea. “Your dress robes came in just this morning! Why don’t I send you off with young Otto to try it on and mark up any alterations?”

You glance warily at Sebastian, reluctant to split from him as you do your shopping.

As though he’d read your mind, Mr. Hill laughs and insists, “He won’t be kept long, my dear! Fitting a young man’s dress robes is a much simpler task than that which you have on your hands, I should expect.”

“Why don’t you just pick out some things to try while Otto works his magic?” Sebastian teases. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Once you agree, Mr. Hill sends Sebastian to the backroom while you sip your tea and discuss some of your preferences with the kindly shopkeeper. You admit to not being very knowledgeable about fashion, but you have some colors in mind that you think may suit you – as well as very strict expectations on how much range of motion you want to maintain.

“I need to be able to breathe,” you insist, glancing hesitantly at some of the impossibly small corsets in the window display.

Peering over his spectacles with a wise smile, he answers, “I think that can be arranged.”

He then begins to show you the collection of remaining dresses he has in stock. As the premier clothier for the majority of your fellow witches at Hogwarts, he doesn’t have an unlimited supply this close to the ball, but his selections don’t disappoint.

“This blue color is quite pretty,” you sigh, gingerly inspecting the sleeve of one of the dresses he offers.

“I suspected you might like that one,” he says brightly. “Let us pull it for now and select a few more for you to try on, hmm?”

You end up also selecting a red gown with a smart-looking cape that would show off your house colors brilliantly and a crisply white evening dress with delicate golden embroidery around the bottom of the skirt.

“This should do for a start,” Mr. Hill says.

“Really? No green?” Sebastian asks from behind you.

When you turn to remind him pointlessly that you aren’t actually a Slytherin, your words fail you.

He looked utterly dashing in his dress robes. At first glance, he appeared to be wearing what looked like a Muggle tuxedo, but the extra-long tails and high collar gave away that it was most certainly wizarding apparel. His jacket and pants were both inky black – so dark that they appeared to even darken the room around him, or maybe you had just lost focus of everything that wasn’t him.

Of course, having been expertly fitted by Otto, Sebastian’s robes seem to cling to every inch of him. The waistcoat makes his waist look exceptionally narrow, or perhaps it’s that his chest looks so broad. His shoulders appear to be broader as well underneath his jacket, and while the long tails might appear to shorten other men, on Sebastian they merely elevate the length of his legs.

He slips on a pair of white gloves that Otto hands him and you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. He looks like a proper gentleman dressed like this, you think – not at all like the haphazardly-robed young man you’re used to seeing.

“Ah! Excellent,” Mr. Hill says with a clap, breaking your trance. “A perfect fit.”

“How do I look?” Sebastian asks you teasingly.

“B-brilliant,” you stammer. “It, um. Fits. You’re fit – I mean, it fits very well.”

“Of course, we’ll charm the waistcoat to whatever color you’d like to match your dress, once you’ve made your selection,” Mr. Hill explains as he gestures to the garment. “Or simply leave it white.”

“Of course we’ll match,” Sebastian says easily. “But getting this one to make a selection isn’t going to be easy.”

You scoff and turn back around to the rack of dresses to hide your persistent blush.

“Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow,” the shopkeeper says. “I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly.”

While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options.

“Have you even put one on yet?” you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. “Merlin’s beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!”

“Come and help me then!” you whine.

“Er – is that alright?” Sebastian asks Mr. Hill.

“Of course!” he exclaims. “He’s your date, it would be unchivalrous not to assist you.”

That’s when you realize that Mr. Hill probably thinks you and Sebastian are properly dating, but for reasons you don’t want to admit to yourself just yet, you don’t correct him.

You could also sorely use some help as well.

“Mind the petticoat,” you mumble as he ducks behind the screen.

You’re both quiet as Sebastian helps carefully bundle up the skirt of the dress and drape it over your upright arms, slowly working it down your body so that it doesn’t catch on any of the boning in your corset. Once the skirt gracefully pours down over your petticoat, you gently smooth the bodice and turn around so he can lace up the strings crossing your back.

“Too tight?” he asks softly.

“N-no,” you murmur. “You can even do them a bit tighter, actually.”

You gasp softly when he pulls on the strings and cinches your waist tighter, and Sebastian pauses for a beat, but you don’t instruct him to loosen it.

Once he fumblingly ties the strings together at the small of your back, he mumbles, “All set.”

He offers you a hand to steady you while you shuffle out from behind the screen. Mr. Hill immediately laves praise onto the dress, and while you agree that it is quite lovely, a glance in the mirror reveals that periwinkle blue just isn’t a color in which you shine.

“No matter,” the shopkeeper insists. “Onto the red, shall we?”

Sebastian again helps you slide the dress off up over your head and replace it with the red one, this time lacing you tightly from the start. There’s a delicate cape that goes with this one, so you turn around to face him so he can drape it over your shoulders and tie the small silk ribbons that sit just at your collarbones.

“Ought to be plenty warm in this one,” he jokes halfheartedly, trying and failing to resist the urge to sneak glances at your décolletage.

“Is the cape a bit…?” you ask quietly, wrinkling your nose. “Is it too much?”

“What?” he asks dumbly. “O-oh, no, I – I think you look great. It’s a great dress, really.”

You’re nearly as red as the dress when you emerge for a second time, and once again Mr. Hill thinks you look like “a buxom Beauxbatons beauty from the boulevards of Paris.” However, regardless of your house pride, if you’re going to be blushing like this all evening at the ball – and the odds on that are significant – you know you simply can’t go with red.

“I have one more to try on,” you tell Sebastian softly. “It’s that white one, just there.”

You notice Sebastian’s gaze linger on the ornate embroidery, a pleased look passing over his face.

“It’s stunning,” he tells you. “Shall we get it on you?”

You merely nod, not trusting yourself with words at the moment.

The moment Sebastian helps you slip into the white dress, you know you have a winner. As if imbued with magic (and perhaps it is indeed), the white silk shimmers almost like the fresh snow outside the shop window. However, instead of feeling like a proper ice princess, you feel warm all over – especially where Sebastian’s hands mindlessly reach out to trace the fine embroidered patterns on your bodice.

“You look…” he exhales. “You just need to see, come on.”

He walks you out for the last time and even Mr. Hill refrains from commenting until you twirl in front of the mirror, your skirt gracefully lifting and falling with your movement.

“...I look beautiful,” you whisper. “Oh, Mr. Hill, it’s just lovely.”

“This is the one,” Sebastian insists. “You have to pick this one, it’s hardly even a choice.”

“Your companion is correct!” Mr. Hill crows. “My dear, it’s as if that gown was made precisely for you.”

Otto comes by to charm a few simple adjustments into the fabric of the dress and you watch yourself in the mirror with wide eyes as it molds itself to your body. Now it looks just like one of those custom dresses in the illustrations that the girls in your year pour over in the shopping pages at the back of the Daily Prophet.

“I think we’re done here,” Sebastian says quietly, his eyes still fixed on that one embroidered seam at your waist where your bodice meets your skirt.

“Of course,” Mr. Hill agrees. “Let’s get you out of that crinoline so I can send you two lovebirds on your way for a nice Butterbeer or two!”

As he babbles on about how it’s just like the last time the two of you came into his shop together, you meet Sebastian’s gaze and realize both of you are steadfastly refusing to correct the man. You know that you’re blushing, but seeing him blush just as fiercely is quite revealing.

After you pay Mr. Hill and make plans for Otto to deliver the dress to the castle once the storm lets up, you and Sebastian wordlessly trudge down to Sirona’s lively pub. There you manage to snag a small booth in one of the far corners – one that you’re well aware is a popular spot for snogging.

“So…” he says softly. “Lovebirds, are we now?”

“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You know how Augustus is, it’s usually just better to let him talk than spend all afternoon trying to correct him.”

“You didn’t even try,” he observes.

You counter, “Nor did you.”

Just then Sirona drops off your drinks and Sebastian forfeits his turn in your verbal duel by taking a pointedly long sip.

Then you forfeit your own turn when you get too distracted by the bit of Butterbeer foam on his upper lip to offer anything remotely witty.

“Well, regardless,” Sebastian eventually murmurs. “You did look beautiful in that dress.”

“Thank you,” you say. “And you were very handsome in your robes.”

“Proper fit, one might say,” he retorts.

The cheek, honestly.

“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “I need you to be honest with me about something.”

“Go on,” he says, taking another long sip while you consider your words.

Slowly, you ask him, “Since we met… have you ever once thought about us being more than just friends?”

“Have I ever once thought about it?” he repeats. “Of course I have. Countless times, probably”

“Then why haven’t you ever said anything?” you ask, staring deep into your mug to avoid having to meet his eyes.

You flinch slightly when Sebastian reaches across the table and plucks one of your hands off your mug. He laces his fingers with yours and pulls you closer, and the noise in the room seems to dwindle to a whisper as he meets your gaze.

“Between you and me, you’ve always been the brave one,” he tells you earnestly. “And I’d rather have only friendship with you than ask for too much and lose you entirely. Believe it or not I have learned when to stop.”

You smile ruefully at the reminder of just how much Sebastian has grown since you chose to give him the chance to do so.

He drags his thumb across yours. “So, if you want to be brave, I’ll be brave with you.”

You exhale shakily before you finally confess, “Of course I want to, Seb.”

You’re nearly in his lap at this point, and there’s absolutely no way the conversation you’re having could be interpreted as merely friendly by any onlookers. So, you think, why not be brave?

When you kiss him, the first thing you notice is that he tastes like the caramelly richness of the Butterbeer you’d both been drinking. But then it melts away and it’s just him, just Sebastian. He’s wonderfully warm, and underneath the initial sweetness he tastes a bit like the fluxweed stem he mindlessly chews on while he studies to help him focus.

His nose slots against yours as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, and you wonder what he’s noticing about you.

But a moment later, the feeling of his warm hand on your thigh immediately makes you lose your train of thought.

“Seb,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to press your forehead to his.

“Let’s go back to the castle,” he blurts out eagerly.

You fondly roll your eyes and let him steal another kiss before you push him back with a gentle hand on his chest.

“I believe you just said something about having learned when to stop?” you tease him.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he says cheekily.

“You’re just going to have to be patient, Mister Sallow,” you insist as you reach for your drink. “I thought I saw quite the gentleman in you today. I don’t suppose you could act like him until after the ball?”

“I could,” he offers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Tell you what,” you bargain, leaning in close. “If you can be a perfect gentleman from now until the ball, I’ll let you help me put my dress on, and then afterward I’ll let you take it off.” 

You hear him loudly swallow and take a deep breath before he holds out a hand for you to shake and breathes, “You have yourself a deal, love.”

#my fic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #it's not the yule ball but not NOT the yule ball #i did so much googling about victorian era fashion but i'm probably still wrong #at least it was fun to look at pretty dresses #also when i say the image file i picked for this was originally fuck-off MASSIVE... converting took me like half an hour

[bluehourbucky]

drunken proposals

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: too much alcohol leads to proposals

-short little drabble bc I should be studying but I'd rather do something else

masterlist

___________________________________________

You don't remember how much you've drank but you're sure it's a lot. Everything is becoming so blurry. But apparently, being drunk doesn't mean you can't appreciate a good-looking man.

Bucky doesn't know how long he's been at this party or how much he had to drink, but he does know there's a pretty woman across the room he wants to talk to. He doesn't remember when he first saw you, but he knows you've had his attention from first glance.

"Steve, don't ya think she's so stunning? Ya think she's single?" Steve looks at his best friend laughing.

"You right she probably taken. A doll like that must have someone, so stupid of me." Bucky sighs sadly sipping on his drink.

"Why don't you go ask and find out?" Steve rubs Buckys shoulder.

"Hessopretty. Wantmyhusvand to look like that." you said your words slurred due to the alcohol. Your friend laughs looking where you pointed.

"Imma go and ask him to marry me." you say standing up, your friend catching you since you could barely stand up straight.

"Marriage, huh already?" your friend jokes and you nod confidently shaking her off.

"She coming over quick act normal." Bucky pushes Steve and straightens up almost falling off his chair. Steve catches him and let's out a chuckle.

"Hey! You!" Bucky looks around and points at himself when he hears the pretty woman point and yell at him.

"Yes, you!" You stumble a little when you reach the gorgeous man who catches you. You fall right into his muscular chest. Usually, you would ask for permission before touching anyone, but now you couldn't help yourself so your hands wonder and squeeze the mans chest, and then arms. One feels different than the other, but strong nonetheless.

"Not that I mind that a pretty doll like you is touching me like this but would love to know your name. Bucky finds it cute how you immediately put your hands up and tell him your name.

"Bucky." He introduces himself to you.

"THAT'S A SEXY NAME LIKE YOU!" Bucky backs away a little because you were yelling, he doesn't know why he could hear you the music isn't that loud.

"I know we jus met but got a question for you."

"MARRY ME?"

"MARRY ME?"

You and Bucky say at the same time, and then you both start laughing so hard you're holding on to each other.

"Great! We agree, let's talk wedding ideas!" You happily say, leading Bucky by the arm to dance with him. Bucky follows you like a lovesick puppy, excited to make plans with the most beautiful doll that's walking the earth.

"Should we tell them?" Steve nudges Sam.

"Tell them what?"

"That they've been married for 5 years???"

Sam shakes his head, taking out his phone to film you and Bucky trying to dance while you're absolutely wasted. He would use this video on the wedding you're planning currently but by tomorrow you'll probably come to your senses.

[The End]

hope you enjoyed <3

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky masterlist #sebastian stan characters #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff

[cuffmeinblack]

Ohhh I really enjoy your writing and your smut 😏 can I request Sebastian and female MC who are boyfriend and girlfriend just basically going at it anywhere and everywhere… I have issues and need to read this 🥵

Insatiable

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Tags: explicit | smut | cunnilingus | public sex | unprotected sex

Summary: Sebastian has an insatiable appetite when it comes to you. A boring afternoon in the library takes an exciting turn.

A/n: Some quick and dirty (unedited) Seb smut. *Gilderoy Lockhart voice* For shower sex and more fondling in the library, see my published works.

When it came to public displays of affection, Sebastian was far from shy, drawing groans and wolf whistles from your fellow students whenever you were together. He'd let everyone know you were his, keeping a tight hand on your waist, hand or thigh at all times. He also had an insatiable appetite when it came to you—on several occasions you'd been late to lessons because he'd pulled you into a quiet classroom for a kiss, which had become much more heated.

The previous week you'd been caught fondling in the Astronomy tower by an embarrassed prefect and shooed off of the Owlery steps by a testy Ravenclaw. Sebastian liked you anywhere and everywhere, and you were happy to oblige.

Today was no exception—you'd found yourself bored, twirling your wand in your hand as you tried to read a book about human transfiguration in the library. Sebastian came bounding into the room and planted a swift kiss on your cheek before dropping into the seat next to you. The room was quiet and fairly empty, save from a few older students enjoying their free period at the other end of the study area.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart," he said, lifting your hand off of the desk to kiss your knuckles.

You giggled and blushed, deciding to watch him unpack instead of divert your attention back to your work. His hair was ruffled more than usual from the wind outside the castle, his freckled cheeks taken on a distinct blush from the chill. He caught you watching, a smirk creeping onto his lips as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Something catch your eye?"

"You know very well what," you smiled.

Sebastian leaned towards you, his lips an inch away from your ear before whispering, "tell me you want me."

The softness of his voice and warm breath against your neck made you shudder and bit your lip in anticipation. You knew if you looked into his eyes you'd be done for, so pointedly looked at the wand in your hand, your fidgeting becoming more intense.

"You know I do," you replied in a low voice.

Sebastian brought a hand to your jaw to tilt your head towards him, forcing your gaze to meet his. Your stomach twisted and heat settled in your abdomen as you met his dark eyes—his intense stare was so penetrating and he didn't break it until you let out a small whimper.

Smirking, he kissed you gently and ran a hand under the desk to your thigh, gathering the fabric of your skirt to gain access to the bare skin underneath. 

"Get a room," a voice called across the room.

You broke off your kiss and looked over to the group of fifth years now shaking their heads in your direction. Sebastian was undeterred, continuing his fondling underneath the desk whilst making a rude hand gesture at the students.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," you suggested, suppressing a moan as his fingers slipped between your thighs to rub the soft fabric of your underwear.

"Ah, but that's no fun," Sebastian smirked. 

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and glanced back towards the group of students who had interrupted them, now absorbed in their studies. Satisfied that nobody was paying any attention, he removed his hand from your lap and ducked under the desk.

"What the…," you started.

"Shhhh."

He'd crawled completely underneath the large wooden desk out of view and you felt his hands gripping your ankles, running his fingers up your socks to your bare knees and pushing them apart. You gasped and gripped your wand, frantically scanning the room for any sign that someone had noticed.

You felt a tickle on the skin of your inner thighs as Sebastian's hand made its way towards your heat, the ache between your legs now almost unbearable as you waited for his touch. The press of his digits against your sensitive clit was enough to make you gasp and wriggle your hips, desperate for the friction.

He wasted no time in pulling your underwear to the side to gain access to your bare skin, running a finger to part your lips and find your wet entrance. 

"Mmmph, you're so wet," Sebastian whispered under the table.

You rocked your hips in response as he spread your arousal to your swollen clit, pressing a thumb to the area and starting a slow circular motion. Your heart hammered in your chest and face burned as he continued—it felt incredible, and the fact that it was so public was such a thrill.

Sebastian's mouth was pressed against the inside of your thigh, kissing and sucking at your skin, probably leaving the red and purple marks he loved to give you. You chanced a reach down to stroke the hand clinging to your hip as his fingers parted to hold your hand. It was a simple, sweet gesture, a reminder that Sebastian's affections reached farther than physical desire.

"I need you to sit on the edge of the chair," the whisper came from between your legs.

You obeyed, shuffling forward until the edge of the seat was pressed into your behind, leaning back slightly in an uncomfortable slouch. The awkwardness of the position was forgotten as soon as Sebastian's mouth pressed against you, his warm, wet tongue finding the sensitive nub. You clenched your jaw and gripped your wand tightly as you struggled to maintain your composure. 

Arousal and spit were running onto your cheeks, probably creating an unholy mess under the desk, but all you cared about in the moment was that Sebastian absolutely didn't stop. His tongue flicked over you with barely a pause as his fingers dug into your thigh and the other hand kept his grip on yours. You were approaching your climax, your breath growing ragged and skin burning all over under the stifling robes clothing your body.

Sebastian squeezed your hand as you tensed before your orgasm exploded, your legs gripping his head as the intense pulses surged through you. You slammed your wand against the desk, shooting green sparks from the tip as Madam Scribner turned the corner and hushed you with a furious glare. You hid your burning face and muttered an apology, setting your wand down and turning pages in your book until she retreated as Sebastian laughed quietly under the desk.

"You can come out now," you muttered under your breath.

Sebastian continued to kiss your legs before whispering a cleaning spell and crawling out from under the desk. His dark eyes were glittering, lips red and the unmistakeable bulge of his hard cock in his trousers.

"Want some help with that?" you said, barely containing the lust dripping from your voice.

He barely gave you a chance to steady your legs as he pulled you away from the desk, shifting his robes to hide his lower half. Thankfully the hallways were quiet as classes were running, and you dipped into the first free classroom you could find.

Sebastian pinned you against the wall as soon as the door clicked shut, pressing into your behind as he lifted your skirt and pulled down your underwear. He ripped open his buttons, pulling his throbbing erection out of his trousers and ran his head over your still dripping entrance.

"Oh Seb," you gasped as he pushed into you with a loud groan.

"You feel amazing, sweetheart," he whispered in your ear.

He didn't hold back, clutching your hips painfully tightly as he hit you hard and deep with every thrust. You could feel him tensing and his groans and gasps growing in intensity until he finally pushed you hard into the wall as he finished. You gasped and sighed with satisfaction as his cock pulsed inside you and he slumped against your back, breathing heavily.

"I'll never…get enough of you," he said, kissing your neck in between breaths.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow smut

[pockets-full-of-roses-writing]

Can’t Talk Right Now — Babysitting

brief summary: tom riddle wants to be in your presence. you have babysitting duties. he forces you to bring him along. wonder how that'll go..

[(very changed) tom riddle x reader; little to no use of y/n]

divider credits !

Tom Riddle is, at most, the coldest Slytherin you've ever met. He was the House itself. He wore his uniform with pride and passion, striding down the halls in his silver Prefect badge. His favorite part was patrolling down the halls and scolding the younger years. He loved it.

Riddle was very talented with his studies, too. He'd spend every waking moment either in the Library, in his classes, the Great Hall, or his dorm and he'd study. Top marks were all his papers read.

In fact, that's exactly how he met you. Rather, how you met him.

You were perfect. Good grades, a high average, and a good grasp on your subjects. So when you began getting confused in class, you knew you needed a quick solution.

You sought out Tom's help. He, at first, shot you down immediately. He saw you as a lower class. He barely knew you as it was so he didn't know exactly why he wanted to turn you down. After seeing your eyes and your pleading gaze, he gave in.

The two of you were study buddies, until he realized he liked your presence a lot more than he should. So? He quite literally obsessed over you. Spent his time (instead of studying his classes) studying you. He quickly learned all your habits and interests, using that too woo you.

Let's be honest. When a conventionally attractive man likes all the things you do and is wiling to talk about it, it's pretty hard to say no. The two of you have been dating ever since.

Your current dilemma? His constant urge to be by your side. At first, you loved it. Now, you still love it, but its a lot to handle. Especially when you took on the responsibility of babysitting.

"Why can't someone else watch their kids? Why do you have to go?"

"Tom, we've been over this. I'm doing it for my great aunt, she needs it."

"That old hag can call another babysitter. Love, c'mon, just cancel it. Please?"

You gave him a look, nudging his leg with your own. Tom Riddle, the coldest boy known in Hogwarts, was clinging to you like a child. He demanded you cuddle with him before you had to watch your baby cousin.

She was getting older and older. Soon you couldn't even call her a baby.

“Don’t call her that! It’s just three hours, darling. I’m sure you can wait that long for me?”

Tom huffed, crossing his arms. He withdrew his grip on you, pouting childishly.

“Tom!”

He glanced at you, then tilted his head upward. He looked rather posh now, something he had mastered over the years.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him to your chest. Sighing, you found a solution. It was a horrible idea, for Tom hated babies.

“Will you stop sulking if I let you come with me?”

Tom grimaced.

“That’s the only way you’ll get to be near me. Just saying~”

He now pondered the thought. He knew that you would never let him go. Especially if there were children around. There was no telling what he’d do. He could seriously teach this kids some bad things.

“Fine,” he hissed, pulling you into his embrace again.

He kissed the top of your head, a slight smile tugging his lips. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know.”

Around 7:30 PM, the two of you politely knocked on your great aunt’s door. To your forceful request, he wore something comfortable and pleasing to the eye. He wore a bright yellow shirt with his choice of black pants. You wanted your baby cousin to feel comfortable around him, not be scared.

Rapid footsteps approached the door. “Who is it?” your great aunt’s voice came from the door.

“Your babysitters for the night!” you called back, smiling at the peephole. There was a sound of locks turning before the door creaked open.

“Oh! Dearie! Thank you so much for- Who’s this fine gentleman?”

Her gaze scanned over your boyfriend, looking at him as if he were a threat.

“This is Tom! He’ll be helping me out with Eliana.”

She kept her eye on him, “Alright then.”

She smiled sweetly over to you, motioning for the both of you to step inside. The house was a mess; toys littered everywhere, stains on all the blankets, and the sound of a baby crying.

“I’ll be back around eleven. Dinners thawing out for you and your.. er.. boyfriend. You know what she likes,” your great aunt smiled tiredly, grabbing her keys and her bag. “Ciao! See you later, loves!”

The door slammed and locked, leaving Tom and you with the messy home. You turned to your boyfriend.

“I’ll get El, can you try to clean this up?”

He nodded, the two of you going to your respective places.

Your baby cousin was adorable, but problematic. She didn’t like the dinner your great aunt had left, demanding dinosaur nuggets. You tried calming her down, but she was so persistent.

Eliana was afraid of your boyfriend, too. Every time she saw him lurking, she was burst into tears. Tom didn’t know whether to rock her or slap her. Of course, you stepped in to make her happy again.

Tom had taken the duty of getting and making things, the home of her great aunt’s already looking spectacular.

“El, honey, do you want sauce with it?”

“Noo~”

“Okay, okay. Just give Tom five more minutes.”

“He’s- he’s taking soooooo long!”

“Honey, patience.”

Tom stifled a scoff, clearing his throat instead. You shot him a look. You, out of all people, knew what that sound meant.

This went on for a while. After dinner, you and Eliana played together. Tom hid himself doing the dishes. Eliana wanted to watch a movie? Tom hastily muttered something about cleaning up.

Your boyfriend was avoiding this adorable child, who was in a way better mood after eating. As soon as Eliana asked to do something she was going to need help with, Tom fled. Oh, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Tom? Love?” you called out, Eliana curiously perking up.

You heard a slight groan, but he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Could you watch Eliana for a bit? I just need to use the bathroom.”

Well, you didn’t have to before. But now you did. This was your way of saying, ‘Your selfish decisions have consequences.’ You smiled mischievously at him, and he knew. He knew what you were doing.

“But-”

“Okay thanks bye!” you quickly yelped, running away. That gave you a laugh from Eliana.

Tom and the young girl stared at each other, the sound of her music faint in the background. Eliana was the first to speak.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Tom.”

“Tom? But that’s not your name.”

Tom quirked a brow. “What’s my name then?”

“Love, obviously.”

She thought his name was love because of you. He smiled, then sat down beside her standing figure.

“Which one do you like best? Tom or Love?”

The small girl thought for a moment, sitting down beside him. “Tom. Love sounds like a dog!”

The two of them laughed and quickly adapted the situation. Tom played with her for about a couple minutes.

Then you came back wearily. “I’m back~!”

The two of them looked up, smiling immediately when they saw you.

It had been a successful plan, you thought, seeing the look in his eyes afterward.

The three of you played till the clock struck 7. Eliana looked down the moment she heard the strikes.

“You know what that means.”

“No!”

“El.”

“No!”

You sighed, looking at her stubbornly. “C’mon.”

Eliana crossed her arms and moved toward Tom. “I want him to help me.”

Tom looked down at the girl in surprise. You looked at your boyfriend proudly. “Sure, show him what you need to do.”

He looked up at you, confused. You just smiled back.

While the two of them left, you tidied the room. Her bed was ready for her, books laid out along her sheets. You laid down in her bed, exhausted.

The little girl ran into her room with a fit of giggles, jumping on top of you. You groaned playfully, holding her in your arms with a grin.

Tom knew, then, that he wanted this life with you. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the two girls that made his day brighter.

“So.. which book is first?”

The three of you went through all ten books, making Eliana laugh and smile. She was very tired afterward, sleepily making you promise that you wouldn’t leave her room.

You smiled, ruffling her hair as her eyes closed. You said nothing in return except, “Good night my darling.”

Pressing a small kiss to her forehead, you climbed out of her room. Tom was laying on the couch, the rooms spotless.

You laid partially on top of him, partially to the side.

“I am exhausted. Do you think she’ll come back any time soon?”

You heard Tom chuckle.

“I hope so. This couch might be my bed in a couple minutes.”

The two of you laid in silence. Then Tom broke it.

“Darling?”

“Mm?”

“.. Do you think we’ll have kids? Like El?”

You smiled, burying your head in his chest.

“I hope so,” your voice came muffled, but he heard it. Then he heard your soft snoring.

He turned the TV volume lower, kissing your head. With a small hopeful smile, he replied softly.

“I hope so too.”

A/N: so sorry this took so long! i was looking for a one-shot just like this but couldn’t find it for the life of me. so i made it myself (i love being a writer)!! hope y’all like it. it’s more on the long side i apologize. so sorry for people who use military time, i’m not quite sure what the time would be for you. (7:30 PM)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #harry potter microfic #lord voldemort #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #babysitting au #babysitting microfic #babysitting oneshot