#I feel like this could’ve been gold
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Stellerlune spoilers if you haven’t readit yet
Okay, so you know how we found Keefe in England or someplace in Britain (I forgot, please don’t kill me)
And he must’ve been there for about a few weeks, right.
Now, please consider, Keefe picked up the British accent either because he can mimic or just because.
And Sophie’s like “the fuck?”
#Stellerlune#Keefe Sencen#Sophie Foster#kotlc#Dex Dizznee#I feel like this could’ve been gold#but *sigh*#Tam Song
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⋆ beg until i'm in.
ambessa x wife!reader. men and minors dni.
synopsis: you and ambessa are estranged wives, but are you really estranged if she refuses to divorce you, and every time you see each other, you can't help but fall into bed?
cw: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, getting back together, top ambessa medarda, dom/sub, dom ambessa medarda, she has soft spot for you, pleasure dom ambessaaaaa, just for you though, strapping, rough sex, rough body play, hair-pulling, name-calling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, she is strapping you down, you will not be walking, cock worship, blow jobs, the strap is the cock in question no men i swear to god, mommy kink, praise kink, mating press, age difference, older woman/younger woman, marriage, she does not play about you, realizing this might have slight primal play, orgasm edging, begging, spanking, impact play notes: i am a FREAK about this woman. also i wrote this for @sheloveschai because she has been bringing me joy through their work and i want to do the same.
“she thinks i’m a monster.”
the words hung in the air, dense as the afternoon heat, heavy as ambessa’s head in your lap. how you’d ended up here—her armor gone, her weight so familiar—felt like one of those moments you’d look back on, trying to pin down the thread that led you here. you couldn’t.
your lives were separate. estranged wives, that’s what you told yourself. she wouldn’t divorce you, and you weren’t exactly rushing to draw up the papers. but estrangement was such a tidy, convenient word like the absence between you both was clean and intentional. it wasn’t. she blurred the edges every time she showed up unannounced, stepping into the space she left behind like it still belonged to her. and maybe it did.
she came today, her arrival marked by the low hum of her car pulling up the dirt road. the ranch was still, caught in that honeyed pause between afternoon and evening. the house she’d bought for you sat perched on its patch of green, neat but unpretentious—a porch for watching storms, white siding that seemed to glow in the late sun. the kind of place that felt like it had existed long before you arrived, waiting for someone to live in it properly. around it, the land stretched wide, unbroken except for the fences hemming in the garden you’d built with your own hands.
you were out there, barefoot and stubborn, locked in a battle with the soil. a carrot clung to the earth like it had something to prove, your hair slipping from its tie as you yanked at it, dirt smudged across your face from an earlier showdown with a deer that had dared to challenge your lettuce. the dress you wore—white, soft, and loose—shifted around you like a second skin, its ruffled straps falling to kiss your shoulders. it was stained at the hem, caught on brambles, but it moved with you, romantic in its simplicity, something that could’ve been borrowed from another life.
ambessa watched from the car. you didn’t notice her at first, too busy flailing after some audacious bit of wildlife, but she noticed you. her eyes followed the sway of your dress, the way the sun painted gold onto your skin, how your body moved with a kind of rawness that had always undone her. she waited because ambessa always waited. but there was a tension to it, like watching something she didn’t want to admit she needed.
hours later, she was here, sprawled in your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. her hand rested against the fabric of your dress, her breathing slow but uneven. you stroked her hair without thinking, staring out at the horizon. the horses were grazing, lazy against the emerald sprawl. the ranch, her gift, felt heavier than it had in a while.
“at one point in time,” you said finally, the words tasting of truth, “every daughter views her mother as her monster.”
her hand stilled. you could feel her thoughts shifting, coiling like a tide just out of reach. she didn’t say anything, but the silence was loud, charged. you didn’t press her.
“you were always so hard on yourself,” you continued, your voice quiet but steady. “you can be… strong, stubborn, cruel. i’ve felt it. i know it. so much of your decision-making is absolute like the world is this black-and-white chessboard you’re determined to win on. there’s no room for anyone else in that kind of thinking. it can be stifling. but—” you hesitated, fingers idly brushing the hem of your dress as you tried to hold her gaze.
“love is always the basis when it comes to the people you care about: mel, kino—”
“you,” she interjected softly, her voice barely audible but so certain it almost startled you.
you hummed in agreement, the corners of your mouth tugging into an easy smile.
“me,” you admitted, your chest tightening at the confession. you sighed, the sound carrying years of ache. “your problem is that you don’t believe we can love you back. not really. you think we can’t be safe with you. so you send us away, like that’s protecting us. you decide things for us—these big, sweeping decisions—and suddenly we’re standing outside looking in, strangers in our own lives with you.”
you paused, thinking of her daughter. “mel’s a teenager. she’s going to buck against you because that’s what teenagers do. you have to let her. you can’t control everything, ambessa. we don’t learn any other way.”
ambessa watched you, her face unreadable but her eyes dark and intent. her voice was indescribably tender when she spoke.
“you’re such a wonderful stepmother.”
the word made you scoff. you pushed her—gently but firmly—off your lap and rose to your feet. she let you, though her eyes lingered on you. she could never let go entirely.
“don’t let her hear you say that,” you muttered, shaking your head.
mel had not taken your marriage to her mother well. and really, who could blame her? you were more than half ambessa’s age. you’d once been mel’s peer at university, brushing shoulders in the same circles without a clue that your lives would one day intertwine like this. to make matters worse, mel hadn’t even learned of the relationship from her mother or you. no, she’d found out by walking in on the two of you in a position that still made your cheeks burn to think about.
what followed was relentless: the icy distance, the sharp words, the careful avoidance. love, for you, had always been hard, but this was a different kind of difficulty. you’d tried to explain yourself to mel, fumbling for words that didn’t sound hollow. you told her you loved her mother simply because you did. it wasn’t about their wealth or their influence. you’d come from nothing—a small town with a crumbling church, miles of barren land, and a quiet resignation to a life of struggle. you were used to living hard and mean, to fending for yourself.
but ambessa… she had swept into your life with the force of a storm. she needled at you, chipped away at your shell until you were belly-up and tender, soft between her teeth. you were an easy kill in her hunt, and she was ruthless, selfish, and she could be so fucking mean. but none of that mattered.
you loved her with the kind of blind devotion that defied reason, and you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. being her wife was your greatest pride, and tending to her was your guiltiest pleasure.
mel couldn’t understand that, and the rift between you grew wider with each passing day. then came the public’s growing animosity toward the medarda family, the rising tensions, and ambessa made one of her absolute decisions. the separation blindsided you. you’d cried so hard you blacked out in the hall, and when you woke, you left without looking back. you thought mel wouldn’t care.
which is why you were shocked when ambessa brought you mel’s request for your perspective.
you turned toward the stove, busying yourself with the rhythm of dinner prep. it was easier to focus on the small, manageable things—chopping vegetables, lighting the flame—than to meet her gaze.
“she doesn’t hate you, [name],” ambessa said suddenly, her voice calm but insistent.
you froze, the knife hovering mid-air before you carefully set it down and turned on the stove.
“you staying for dinner?” you asked carefully.
you heard her shift behind you, felt the warmth of her body as she closed the space between you. her arms circled your waist, firm but gentle, and you shivered, instinctively leaning into her. god knows you were never the strongest soldier. she pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering just long enough to make you melt.
“i admit,” she murmured, her voice low and quiet, “i had other motives for coming here.”
“bessa,” you began.
ambessa held you tighter, her lips brushing against your temple, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. her silence stretched just long enough for you to grow uneasy, but then she spoke, her voice low and thick with emotion.
“they’ve been asking for you,” she said, her hands smoothing over your waist.
you stiffened slightly, unsure if you’d heard her correctly.
“who?”
“mel. kino.” she pressed another kiss to your temple, then let her forehead rest against the side of your head. “they’ve been pleading with me to bring you back. they won’t admit it outright—god forbid they ever say they were wrong—”
you shot her a look.
“—but they’ve missed you. and they hate the way i’ve been without you. they say i’m different when you’re there.”
your breath hitched, your chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
“they don’t even like me,” you murmured, your voice cracking.
“that’s not true.” ambessa’s tone softened, her grip on you tightening like she was afraid you might slip away. “they’re too proud to say it, but they’ve developed a soft spot for you despite everything. they miss you as much as i do.”
you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her expression—open, raw, and devastatingly honest. by instinct, you lifted a hand and cradled her face. you hated it when she was sad.
“oh, bessa.”
“i’ve realized,” she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, “that i am nothing without you. i thought i was protecting you by letting you go, but i was wrong. i’m tired, my love. tired of waking up alone. tired of pretending i don’t need you. i do. god, i do.”
you felt a weight lift from the depths of your body. you’d waited so long to hear this—to feel wanted, needed, like you weren’t just a fleeting chapter in her life. tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, hot and fat.
ambessa turned you in her arms, her hands coming up to cup your face as you began to cry in earnest.
“oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “don’t cry. please don’t cry.”
“i don’t want to do this anymore,” you choked out between sobs, clutching at her arms like she was the only thing keeping you upright. you pressed down on the thick cords of muscle, pleading with the strength of your grip. “i don’t want the house or any of this shit. i’m so tired of taking care of myself, ambessa. i just want to come home.”
her expression crumpled, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability in her that she rarely let show.
“i’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight. “i’m so sorry, my love. i never should have let you go. i’ll make it right—i swear to you. i’ll spoil you, take care of you, and keep you forever. you’re mine, [name], and i’ll never let you forget it again.”
you sobbed harder, your face burying into her chest as her arms enveloped you completely.
“i know, baby. you did so well. i’m so proud of you,” she murmured.
she continued to whisper soft reassurances, mantras of “sweetheart,” “my sweet girl,” and “my sweet baby,” until the tears slowed and your breathing evened out. you shuddered against her, refusing to remove yourself from where you were pressed tightly against her chest. she shifted, and you jolted—fingers splaying desperately across her body.
“shh. i’m just making us more comfortable,” she told you.
the two of you moved, a single weeping entity across the floor of the kitchen into the living room. ambessa settled you on the couch, continuing to trace a hand across the landscape of your back.
“come back with me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your hair. “let me take care of you. let me love you the way you deserve, hmm?”
you nodded against her, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline.
“that's all i want. i never stopped loving you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
“i know,” she said, tilting your face up to hers.
the kiss she gave you was desperate and all-consuming, a culmination of every time you had woken and found yourself alone. her hands roamed over your hips and your waist, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. you gasped into her mouth, and she deepened the kiss.
“i’ve missed you,” she murmured against your lips, her voice low, rough with hunger. “did you miss me?”
you shivered, your body instinctively pressing into hers.
“yes. yes, i did. i swear, bessa,” you insisted, your voice trembling.
“shh, my love,” she said, her lips trailing down your jaw to your neck to soothe you. “i believe you. a sweet girl like you wouldn’t lie to me.”
with a groan, she lifted you, guiding you toward the bedroom, her hands never straying from your body, her kisses growing more frantic. when your back hit the bed, she hovered over you, her gaze dark, possessive. a hand came down to cup your cunt, firm and promising.
“yes or no?” she asked.
she only asked out of respect. ambessa had long ago perfected the art of taking what she wanted. you found you didn’t mind. it was easier this way, surrendering to her because she knew your body—your needs—better than you ever could. in her hands, the pressure of choice vanished. you trusted her to always know what was best.
suddenly, you were reminded of when she proposed. you felt the same now as you had then—wide-eyed, carnivorous. gently, you pulled her closer, brushing your lips against hers. the room smelled of apple blossoms and her intoxicating scent.
“yes,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.
satisfied, she lowered her mouth back to your neck. at that moment, you could have mistaken her for a vampire—hunting for your pulse, for that line of forever-promised blood.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“ambessa.”
“hmm?” she answered, her hand tightening where it reigned on the nape of your neck.
she had you face down with your ass up, her other hand holding you at the small of your back as she thrust into you. you let out a high moan as she began to move faster, her cock moving deeper as you bore down on her.
“you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. so tight and sweet for me. it’s almost as if you haven’t been touched in a long while.”
“bessa—” you choked out, and she let out a laugh.
“oh, baby. i know that’s not true.” bending forward to brace herself on the bed, she began to pump into you. “you were always so hungry for it, so eager. i know you’ve probably stuffed yourself every single night since i’ve been gone.”
you whimpered, drool beginning to spill from your lips.
“but it didn’t feel like this, did it?”
“no,” you answered, squealing as ambessa brought a hand down on your ass. “no, baby. i can’t take care of myself like you do.”
“no,” she agreed. “you can’t. you just get so stupid when you’re fucked. you have no chance of doing this alone. not well, at least.”
“bessa, please,” you mewled.
with a bored sigh, she tightened her grip around your band of hair and yanked your head back, pounding into you with predatorial precision. you moaned as she began to focus on your g-spot, pulling your head back roughly to further increase her control.
“shit, bessa. fuuuuuck.”
“yeah?”
all thoughts were being fucked out of your head. you managed to get a hand on your clit, rubbing furiously to add stimulation.
“uh, uh, uh. oh, fuck. holy shit. ambessa, fuck. please, baby. please don’t stop.”
for a moment, she paused, and you remembered how cruel she could be. tenderly, she turned you over on your back and slid back in, placing your hands on the back of your thighs so that you were holding yourself open. with a grunt, she sunk deep until her hips were once again clapping against your ass.
a strong hand came down, fingers hooking into your mouth and tugging till she could see your teeth. you felt like an animal.
“stop fucking talking,” she told you, and you nodded, spit slicking all over your mouth and her fingers. “good girl.”
the praise settled on you, and you moaned weakly. her next thrust hit you like a line of coke. she was pressing into you, working for something. you weren’t sure what, but you could feel the way she was aiming to break you in.
“come on,” she murmured, retracting her fingers to grope roughly at your tits. “say it.”
your brow furrowed, and she came to a slow, gradual stop. sliding out, ambessa crawled onto the bed and placed a hand on your chest. you watched her, eyes large and glittering with tears. her breasts hung heavy over you, ripe and full with age. you wanted to suck and bite her nipples till she was shaking on the bridge of your nose, pussy-deep into your throat.
carefully, she slipped the holster from her hips and removed the girthy dildo from where it sat, slick with your heat and arousal.
“maybe this will jog your memory,” she said, and you didn’t have a moment to think before her cock was in your mouth.
you choked loudly, but she paid you no mind. with a few circular motions of her wrist, she made you deepthroat every inch, her eyes darkening as you audibly gagged and sucked on it. you ran your tongue over the artificial veins, getting it as wet as possible.
you were tasting yourself, strawberry sweet with a hint of bitterness and slight musk. you could feel your cunt pulsing, fluttering as ambessa’s eyes grew darker. she prohibited you from letting your legs down, and your thighs were burning, sweat garnishing your skin with a light sheen.
you felt so exposed, so debased like this: holding yourself wide and open while gagging like a well-trained whore on the toy.
“remember now?” she asked, and you breathed hard through your nose.
you were trying, bless you, to remember, and she dropped a kiss on your cunt for the effort.
“look at this pussy, sweetheart. fuck, baby.” ambessa lifted from where she’d been dragging her free hand through your folds. her fingers were soaked. “you’re rinsing me.”
something about her tone jogged your memory, and suddenly, you knew what she wanted to hear. in your excitement, you whined, and she met your gaze. she considered you and then removed her cock from your mouth.
“mommy,” you breathed, and she smiled, her face warm and rivaling the sun.
“that’s it,” she said, pride drenching the words. “good job, sweet girl. you deserve a reward.”
you beamed and wiggled your pussy in silent demand. ambessa laughed at your eagerness, bending to kiss you. her lips trailed lower till she was mouthing over the sopping mound of your count. around and around, her tongue wet, her teeth softly grazing your clit. you snapped upward, letting go of your legs and clutching at her braids instead.
“goddamnit, ambessa! fuck!”
she continued to eat you out, shaking her head and sucking loudly. still, she found time to pinch the inside of your thigh in reprimand.
“that’s not my name, sweet girl. i won’t tell you again.”
“fuck. fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, mommy. just—please.” your voice cleaved in the middle. “please, i need to cum. i want to cum so bad for you, mommy. let me. please just let me—”
with a wet pop, ambessa broke away from your swollen pussy and looked at you. you breathed heavily, eyes caught on the way she gazed at you from between your legs.
“nothing is stopping you, my love. do what pleases you.”
she lowered down again and spat right into your cunt. you let your head fall back.
“i told you,” she said. “i plan to spoil you. this will only be your first.”
and with that, she suctioned her mouth around your rosy pussy and sucked, pointing her tongue and slipping inside of you. you came with a high wail, legs clamping around her head as you bowed over her. you felt light-headed, slit open, and destroyed.
and true to her nature, ambessa never stopped.
© hcneymooners.
#ambessa medarda#arcane ambessa#ambessa x reader#ambessa x you#wlw#sapphic#lesbian#wlw smut#arcane smut#mine ; 🐎.
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Proper Appreciation
It had started innocently enough. You were lounging around and admiring your Dragon Hybrid Husband as he hovered over the fire in your shared den, preparing a meal for the two of you. Always so happy to provide for you and take care of you. To make sure you were eating enough and happier than you could’ve ever dreamed.
You almost couldn’t believe it. This dragon was your mate. He was yours as much as you’re his. Emotion wells up inside your chest, gratitude and affection blossoming within you as you stare at your husband. A husband who is totally unaware of your current oogling or the hearts currently present in your eyes.
Now, now, that just wouldn’t do. Is a mate truly at their happiest unless they know how utterly loved and adored they are? You think not.
Throughout your relationship with your Dragon husband, it’s been revealed that there are many differences between the ways that humans and dragons show their affection for another. You sneakily glide up to your husband and give his ass an appreciative slap, but it’s not until he whirls around, staring at you as if you’ve lost your mind do you wonder if dragons have this sign of affection or not.
“Mind telling me what that was?” Dragon husband asks, his face aghast. Even as he shivers at the echos of the sting left on his bottom. A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you scramble to explain.
“I thought you looked hot.”
“And that’s how you think to tell me? Is this another human custom I have yet to learn?” He saunters over to you, walking around the fireplace like a predator cornering their prey. The dinner he was making now long forgotten.
Heat blooms in your belly as fierce as a dragon while you gush with arousal. One look at your Dragon Husband and you’re absolutely fucking soaked.
“Kind of,” you say, your voice sounding breathier than you expected. Your husband’s eyes flash with a deep simmering lust. The fire inside him sparks to life and you know you’re toast.
“And is that how a human male show his appreciation for his mate in return?” He rasps.
He scoops your plump form into his arms with ease and before you can even manage to hold on he’s plopping you down on the pile of furs that make up your bed.
He throws your body around like it’s nothing, flipping you over onto your belly and jerking your ass high up in the air. And you swear you’ve never been so desperate. You know he can see your glistening folds by his low growls, your arousal dripping down your thick thighs and onto the chains of gold he adorns you with.
You startle when you feel his hands cup your bottom, pulling the cheeks a part to make room for his big aching tip. You can feel how affected he is by this too as he smears his pre-cum into your slick, mixing them together and teasing you. Clearly waiting for your answer.
“Yes! F-fuck, yes they do,” you whine, rocking back into his cock and trying to take him inside you.
Just as eager as you are, your Dragon Husband slams into your wet scorching heat in one solid stroke. His hips slapping against your ass at the same moment his hand does. You release a pitiful scream, full of need. A need for more.
His hips move in a blur, pumping into your fat cunt at a brutal pace, spurned on by the act of spanking you. It drives you just as wild as you rock back, meeting his every hard thrust.
Obscene noises of pleasure fill the room as he fucks you like a beast unchained. The loud squelch of his massive length stuffing you full meets the loud ringing of his hand meeting your ass. Your toes curl as the delicious sting mixes with the waves of ecstasy that course through you with every jerk of his hips.
“Please, baby, please h-harder!” You beg, tears pricking at your eyes.
Your husband lets out a low hiss, his hand swinging down and delivering a hard smack on your ass. Your body surges forward at the force and you moan, body arching. The invitation more than clear.
“As you wish. My mate needs to know the true depth of my appreciation after all.”
With a renewed vigor, your husband picks up his back, pounding into your gummy walls with in-human stamina. His hands delivering blows in equal measure and his claws only adding to the sensation as they prick and tease at your skin with each smack.
The mix of pain and pleasure has the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter till you can’t take it anymore. The cord snaps and you don’t recognize the mewl that comes out of you as you cum so hard on his cock you see stars.
Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm and you lose all feeling besides the pleasure washing over you. You lay limp as your husband works you through the best release of your life. He cums deep inside your pussy with a roar that shakes your entire den.
The strength of his climax takes as much out of him as it did you as his tall form curls around you. Keeping his cock inside you to the hilt. Not wanting to put too much pressure on your red sore bottom.
Though He can’t stop himself from giving it a little squeeze, relishing the way you hiss and clench around his cock. His mouth hovers over your ear and his hot breath sends goosebumps down your arms.
“Think you got the message, mate?” He growls, giving your bottom one final little slap.
#terato#monster fucker#monster smut#monster lover#monster lust#exophelia#teratophillia#monster romance#monster fluff#monster fic#monster imagine#monster bf#monster boyfriend#furry nsft#hybrid furry#furry fiction#hybrid smut#hybrid fic#dragon smut#dragon fucker#dragon hybrid#dragon lover#dragon boyfriend#dragon born#x chubby reader#dragon x reader#dragon x human#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x chubby reader
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TW: nsfw, noncon, poverty & debt, gun violence, organized crime, death threats, arranged marriage
fem reader
Thinking about owing the mob…
Not you specifically, but your family – debt you weren’t aware of before you’re being cashed in to settle it.
You imagined several terrible things before the arrangement was explained to you.
One of the sons needs a wife with a clean reputation.
It’s a simple equation. You’re eligible, and he isn’t picky.
And though it leaves you in mourning for a life yet lived, it still comes with a sense of relief. It’s one of the better deals you could’ve gotten. At least you wouldn’t need to witness or partake in any crimes, nor act as a scapegoat for the likes either.
Besides… though you’ve yet to meet your fiancé, you’ve been explained that he only plans on treating you like a wife on and for the camera – that his tastes otherwise lie in the gentlemen’s lounge.
All you ever have to do is smile. He isn’t interested in anything else.
That’s what you were told, and yet…
“It’s funny.” Your husband says after the wedding ceremony.
You’re back at the mansion you’re meant to call home. The grounds are about twice the size of the block you come from. Marble, gold, and diamonds – it’s so outrageously excessive it’s shameless.
“I was told your brothers run routes for us to make ends meet.” He continues, looking at you and the expression on your face as you stare up at the chandelier – it’s clear you’ve never seen anything like it. “Fuck, I mean, I can’t imagine risking my life and still end up needing to pick between food or rent at the end of the day.”
Your gaze falls down to him at that.
Clad in lush wedding expense – white gown and silver tiara – you still stick out like a sore thumb. Something in the way it wears you and not the other way around. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with it all. It’s probably worth more than your family's ever owned.
He steps closer with a chuckle.
“Then, the poor suckers go and fuck up so bad they end up needing to sell their own sister.”
He spots your fists ball at your sides. But you keep your cool. Only a slight grimace curling your lips along a tiny furrow between your brows. It all smoothens into something else when he reaches out to grab your chin.
“What’s even more funny…” He tilts your face in his hand – jaded eyes assessing you like he’s found a coin on the ground. “You don’t look like street trash like I expected.”
Your frown returns, and you try pulling back – but he grabs your arm before you can.
Tsking, “Ah-ah – Remember,” His smile sharpens. “You’re property now. When I touch you, you let it happen.”
You weren’t that easily convinced. He bet you’ve had to fight off a lot of unwanted attention back where you come from. But he isn’t some back-alley thug. When he wants something, he expects it not only to be served on a silver platter but to be hand-fed to him with a silver spoon.
He pulls the gun out from behind him. Slotted in the band of his dress trousers, it had stayed hidden beneath the coverage of his suit jacket during the ceremony.
Your throat dries up, and any protests you had died of thirst along with it – eyes wide as you stare at the piece.
You can’t believe he’d carry that thing into a church with vows upon his lips – now pointing it at the very same wife he’d made those vows to.
“Make me spend a single bullet, and your family will share the rest.” He taps the barrel’s mouth against the quiver of your lips. “I’d rather not it come to that. It’ll ruin the carpet…”
You quiver, feeling weak with a shudder – your eyes slip closed with a shivering tear.
“Not to mention this…” He strokes the pitiful droplet off your cheek with the weapon while eyeing the way you quake with grinning eyes. “Pretty little body I’ve only just acquired.”
BNHA – Dabi
JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji
BLLK – Reo
HxH – Illumi
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#smut#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia smut#mha smut#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero smut#my hero academia smut#bnha smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut
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don’t embarrass me- l.norris
summary: lando and you have a fight on NYE
pairing: lando norris x fem! reader
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You were angry. Every five seconds you had a friend asking if you and Lando had broken up, all because Maugi (one of Lando’s friends) was trying to make it look like she was with Lando. It was infuriating.
“You alright baby?” Lando whispered as he leant against you, the party already in full swing. You looked fabulous. Silver and gold for the new year. You looked like a million bucks. Yet you felt like a fraud. Every time you saw them together you felt yourself… shrink. Like you had to make room for their friendship. Whenever you’d try to talk to him about it, you were met with more questions than answers, and a lot of aggression.
You didn’t care anymore.
“I’m good,” you smiled. “You?”
“I’m great,” he smirked, pulling your waist into his. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, dotting kisses against your cheek.
You grinned. “Thanks baby.”
His grip tightened but over his shoulder you saw him. Oscar. Lando’s teammate. Lando’s friend. You had a plan, and you were going to make Lando pay for brushing you off.
“Wanna get out of here-?” Lando had started to speak, but he was cut off when you walked away, and straight into Oscar’s arms. He assumed after a little while, you’d come back. You didn’t. You and Oscar spent all of New Year’s Together, while Lando was stuck with Max and Pietra looking every part the perfect couple.
“Why are you sulking?” Max laughed, clapping Lando on the back.
“She’s gone off with Oscar,” he mumbled, looking up as he leant against the balcony railing.
“He is her best mate,” he pointed out. “Join the conversation, or at least hang off her like you usually do.”
He huffed. “She’s mad at me.”
“What did you do this time?” P asked.
“The whole Maugi thing kind of got to her, and when she’d ask me… I kind of brushed her off. She's been off for weeks.”
“So you fucked up?” Max sighed.
“I fucked up,” he nodded. “And now she’s ignoring me, and it’s 3 minutes to midnight.”
“She’ll let you be her New Year’s kiss, surely,” Max scoffed.
Lando nodded, deciding to go find you, but the uncertainty in his stomach had settled long ago.
He caught you from across the room, the absolute picture of beauty. Dancing haphazardly with Lily as Oscar held both your drinks, you danced, somehow looking somehow carefree and elegant at the same time. He smiled. The anxiety in his chest settled momentarily. You were still you. You were still his. You were just upset.
“It’s almost midnight,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, joining you in dancing as Lily excused herself to the bar. The red flashing lights and alcohol in both your systems made your dancing look a lot dirtier than it had intended to be, but alas, he just enjoyed feeling you close.
“Oh yeah?” You asked, turning around to him. “Finding Maugi anytime soon?”
He rolled his eyes. “You think I’d want her over you?”
“You don’t make it look any different,” you scoffed.
“Baby,” he smirked, practically laughing. “You’re the most perfect, incredible, kind, woman I have ever met. I love you. You’re my everything. I’ll admit when you came to me about it, I could’ve responded better, and I’m sorry. I was stressed about the way the media saw it, and I didn’t know how to respond to you. I’m sorry.”
You smirked. “That’s all I needed.”
He giggled, pulling you into him. How had he ever pulled you? He was such a loser when it came to you. He’d do anything.
“Do I get my midnight kiss?” He smiled, his cheeks blushing.
“You’re such a baby,” you chuckled as the timer counted down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Don’t ever embarrass me like you have, ever again.”
You pressed your lips to his and bit down on his bottom lip. You made him scared. Is it bad that made him hard?
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untitled (part 3)
You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?
nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3
tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay
“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”
“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”
“Yup, congratulations!”
You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”
Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.
There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.
And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?
“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”
“No problem!”
Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.
You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.
In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.
Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.
For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.
—
You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.
It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.
The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.
Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.
You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.
Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.
In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.
Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.
Could it be…?
The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.
“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”
Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.
Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.
Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.
You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.
“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!
You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.
You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.
You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.
“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.
“Tell me about it.”
The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.
It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.
Blood.
A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.
You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.
You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.
Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.
The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.
“Sweetheart.”
The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.
You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.
And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.
note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO
nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3
check out my other works!
#ori.writes#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x mc#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#love and deepspace#sylus fluff#sylus angst#sylus hurt/comfort#sylus comfort
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can I request something where Spencer is already with and married to y/n and the rest of the team has never known about her and one day they find out he’s married when she meets the team for the first time coming to bring him lunch maybe and the team is just taken aback after all the teasing they used to do to him because y/n is just so beautiful and flirty and they weren’t expecting any of it? And Spencer is just like “yeah I did that 👀😌💅🏼”
thank you for requesting !! hope this is okay, fem!reader
“I have something I need to tell you.”
Derek looks up from his desk with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like the sounds of that.”
“I know you’re going to blow it out of proportion,” Spencer says, adjusting the strap of his watch where it lays over his sweater sleeve. “So I think I should tell you about it before she gets here with my lunch.”
Derek leans back in his chair and tosses the clipboard he’s ticking through into a pile of outgoings. “I’ll bite. ‘She’?”
Spencer holds his hands clasped in front of himself, looking cagey. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell the whole team, but it happened so quickly, and then I got it in my head that everyone would be mad at me or make fun of me and I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been a year and I kind of want to brag.” He ducks his head, scratches his neck, and refuses to meet Derek’s eye. “I wanted to tell you.”
“Reid, man, what are you talking about?” Derek feels himself soften. “I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“She’s over there,” Spencer says, pointing.
Derek follows his friend’s hand to you. You’re a lovely thing to look at because you’re smiling like you’ve never been happier, and you’re dressed in a simple, elegant sort of style that gives you a timeless feel, like you could’ve been in a romantic movie in the 50’s or just got back from walking the shiny streets of Paris. You aren’t his type at first glance, but you could be, the way you’re looking at him.
“Derek Morgan,” you say as you approach, your little black purse slipping down your shoulder, “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, do I know you?” Derek asks.
You give Spencer a loving, sorry look. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Sorry! I tried, but you know. I was nervous and I kind of chickened out when you got here.”
You shift the white plastic bag you’re holding in two hands to the crook of one arm and beckon him into your side. “It’s fine,” you say, leaning upward to kiss his pale cheek, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I like introducing myself, you know that already.” You give him a last friendly pat before removing yourself, your hand just close enough to brush against his as you offer your name. “I’m Spencer’s wife,” you add.
Derek laughs, the low first chuckle of disbelief. Spencer’s watching him carefully, and he thinks, oh, maybe she’s not kidding. “His wife.”
“Yes,” you say, taking Spencer’s shoulder into your hand. You don’t seem to notice that he’s a good few inches taller than you. “And I’m so happy to meet you, you know? I’ve heard so much about you, about everyone! I realise we waited too long. S’gonna make sending you the registry pretty awkward.”
Spencer laughs. You look at him like he’s put the sun in the sky.
“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.”
You turn your hand to show Derek the gold wedding band on your marriage finger. “For a year, almost.”
There’s just no way.
Derek watches in quiet shock as Emily and Hotch descend the steps into the bullpen. “Hi,” Emily says, plainly confused.
“Hi,” you say, deferring to Spencer with an encouraging glance.
Spencer puts his arm behind your shoulder, and Derek realises loverboy isn’t lying after all. The way he touches you is too familiar, speaking to a longstanding sort of love. His thumb immediately rubs gentle semi-circles into the fabric of your cardigan, circles you likely can’t even feel. “This is Y/N, she’s… my wife. We got married.”
“And didn’t invite us,” Derek says.
“You what?” Emily asks, head snapping to the side.
Hotch is smiling at you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“You knew?” Emily asks.
“It altered his health insurance,” Hotch says nonchalantly, stepping forward to shake your hand.
“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Hotchner.” Your eyes are sparkling. Derek can understand why Spencer’s married you from that look alone; you look overjoyed to be here, and to be speaking to them. “And you too, Emily. I've heard amazing things about all of you.”
“Wait a minute, when did this happen? Wha–” Emily shakes her head. “I feel like I’m on reality television.”
You turn to Spencer again, your eyes following up his cheek, a caress of a gaze as you begin to tell the story, “Well, we met by accident by at Christmas market on Cassidy square trying to buy stamps for cards, so that was sort of our first date a year and two months ago, but we didn’t get married until February, so a year.”
“You got married after two months?” Emily asks, saving Derek the breath but not the sentiment.
You don’t so much as wince, nor does Spencer. “It might’ve been unfair to her for me to rush things, but it didn’t feel like rushing at the time,” Spencer says surely.
Derek knows that Hotch would’ve mentioned you months ago if you were nefarious. You certainly don’t seem nefarious, melting under Spencer’s touching, your almost frantic excitement to be meeting them quelled to a softer happiness.
“Do you have any photos?” Emily asks.
It’s Spencer who moves for his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He flicks it open and pulls a photo from the clear window, unfolding it to reveal a shiny six by four of the two of you outside of a courthouse. Your dress is white and silk, his tuxedo made to fit. You both look amazing, but better, you look so, so happy.
“This is the weirdest prank ever,” Emily says.
You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
Spencer shuffles through a hundred shades of pink. Derek struggles to wrap his head around it, but he can’t wait to tell Penelope.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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same! not a big fan but brother it can be important for her character arc to have a person she can touch, completely. one can only hope her story will not be a stupid love triangle
the 5 rougeneto stans really won today
#i feel like rogneto it’s a constant way of showing you know ‘obscure x-men lore’ that the current writers use#which sucks#like i feel it could’ve been great… but it never has been#the thing is that like… it’s so complicated#but happy for the people who enjoy#oh and a gold old jealous gambit can’t hurt no one (i hope)#x men 97#magneto#erik lehnsherr#max eisenhardt#rogue#anna marie lebeau#x men
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𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sugar daddy!Ari Levinson x naive!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy Ari, age gap, smutt, daddy!kink, ab riding, dirty talk.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your sugar daddy decides to dress you up in a costume of his choice for Halloween.
𝐀/𝐍: Random spontaneous Halloween "drabble" that is 3.8k words long lol. Inspired by the hottest daddy of them all, Ari Levinson, and his gorgeous abs. Hence the gif. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween, despite the fact that this drabble is not spooky at all.
“Twirl for me again, princess.”
Ari leans back against the headboard of his king-sized bed, his blue eyes dark as navy as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips and takes a sip. His gaze is stuck on you as he lounges relaxedly, still dressed in his suit from work. Well, you’d taken his jacket off and loosened his tie for him before he’d patted you on your bum and sent you to your dressing room to try on the new costume he’d got for you.
You’d only been seeing Ari for two months. And by “seeing” you meant you’d only been his sugar baby for about two months, when you’d met him at the cocktail bar where you worked as a waitress. He’d come by one night with a bunch of his colleagues (all of them in expensive suits, clearly extremely wealthy). That notion had been confirmed when he’d pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into your hand at the end of the night, his eyes looking at you expectantly as if he knew you’d give him your number.
You had, of course. What followed was two months filled with expensive gifts, a hefty weekly allowance, a new designer wardrobe, glittering jewels and some incredible sex to top it all off. You’d gotten to know Ari in many different ways these past sixty days. But what you didn’t know he was so big on Halloween.
Your “costume” was for Ari’s eyes only, as he’d warningly told you when he’d handed you the shopping bag. And there was no way you could’ve worn it anywhere else: the baby pink satin negligee barely reached mid-thigh, but it was so breathtakingly pretty, so dainty with the lacy white trim and matching satin white gloves. The back was almost completely exposed, showcasing the pretty pink lace panties you had on underneath (with a heart-shaped cut-out that exposed your bum). A sparkly tiara on your head completed the look.
He'd dressed you as his little princess.
“How come you don’t have a costume, Ari?” You ask as you twirl around for him slowly, trying not to topple over in the expensive white pumps he’d also made you wear.
Ari licks his lips, beckoning you closer with just a look. He’d trained you well in the two months he’d had you, moulding you into his perfect angel who leapt at his slightest command. It was easy, since you were so cute and innocent, and so happy to please him. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you’d jump to obey him. He watches you closely now, looking so precious and hot in your little princess costume (or lingerie, rather) and your lips part as you eagerly move closer to him, almost tripping in your heels to do so.
He chuckles, “I’m too old to be dressing up for Halloween, sweetheart.”
You pout, “You’re not old, Ari! You’re just perfect!”
He can’t help but smile at your cuteness and naivety; he really had plucked up the prettiest and most innocent little girl with a heart of pure gold.
“That’s real sweet of you, baby. Now turn around and bend over for me so I can see that cute baby ass.” He takes another sip of his scotch. You’d made him his favourite drink the moment he’d walked into his penthouse apartment where you’d been waiting for him like the delectable little treat you were – sweeter than any Halloween candy, and he could ravage you forever without ever feeling sick.
You giggle, feeling slightly rebellious. You’d had a few sips of wine before he’d come home, your anticipations running high whilst you waited impatiently for him. He was like a drug to you, with his rugged good looks and muscular body and charming smile. You were also incredibly attracted to the power he wielded; Ari owned and was the CEO of multiple companies across the globe, and for the life of you, you couldn’t imagine how he’d ever decided to ask for your number that one fateful night two months ago.
“But Ari, since I’m a princess tonight, that means I’m royalty. Which means I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own, right?” You smile triumphantly.
Ari looks infinitely amused as he runs his hand through his unruly hair, his other hand inching down to palm his clothed crotch.
“Little princesses like you still have to take orders from their daddy,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you teeter in your high heels. “Which, by the way, is what you should be addressing me as. You call me Ari one more time and I’ll take you over my knee. I don’t care if it’s Halloween.”
You pout harder, looking so extra cute that Ari has to pace himself from reaching over and grabbing you right then and there. He’s waited to dress you up in this costume for a while now, though, and he knows he needs to savour it.
“That’s a good little princess,” he murmurs in approval once you turn around and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your cute ass. “Look at those pretty little princess panties, hugging that cute baby ass. You like your panties, baby?”
“Y-Yeah,” you pant, and he knows you’re turned on by his words. “Thank you, daddy, I really like them.”
“You like being my little princess?”
“Yes, daddy. Wanna be your princess forever.”
Ari can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are, and when you say things like that, he just wants to gather you in his arms and plant a thousand kisses to your face, cuddle with you and buy you whatever you please. But he has to keep a strong resolve tonight, because he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ravage you in your princess costume for ages now, and he’s been working overtime at the office and he knows he deserves this.
“Daddy? Can I stop bending over now? It’s startin’ to hurt.”
Ari swirls his glass of scotch around absentmindedly, a wicked look crossing his face, “Soon, baby. First, I want you to spank yourself.”
You gasp, and then there’s a pause.
“M-Me? Spank myself?”
“You heard me, baby. I won’t repeat myself.”
You reach back gingerly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’ve got your back to him and you know he can’t see (usually, he always demands you keep your eyes open). You give your behind a tentative little slap, feeling embarrassed to say the least.
“Harder, sweetheart. How can you be a princess if you don’t have a firm hand?” You can hear the smugness in his voice, and it just turns you on more. You know your new princess panties are soaked through, and you wonder if he can tell.
“B-But I don’t wanna have a firm hand,” you whimper, already feeling very submissive. You like it when he spanks you (although it hurts but it hurts so good). But you spanking yourself? It’s embarrassing. It turns you on because you’re doing it for him, but it’s still embarrassing.
“Are you talking back to me, baby?” Ari’s eyes are hooded with lust as he openly palms his dick.
“Sorry, daddy,” you bite your lip before giving your ass another slap – harder this time. And Ari exhales slowly as he watches your ass jiggle cutely, and he commands you to hit yourself again, to not stop until he says so. And he watches you spank yourself, turned on beyond belief at your complete submission.
“Fuck, you have such a cute ass, baby. Squeeze it for me.” He orders you, voice gruff and strained because of how horny he is.
You obey, squeezing the soft flesh through your barely-there panties. Ari’s fingers itch to touch you himself, make you mewl with pleasure just with his touch the way only he could. Because he’s the only one who’s ever touched you like that, who ever would touch you like that. You were his baby, his little princess and he’d take care of you forever.
“Stop. Now come here.”
You swallow, straightening up to walk over to him, except he stops you again by just a look.
“No, baby. On your knees. Daddy wants you to crawl.”
You decide to test your luck one last time, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, “But daddy, I’m supposed to be a princess and not a kitten. And princesses don’t crawl.”
Ari rolls his eyes, “You’ll do as I say. Baby princesses like you still need to obey their daddy because you’re not in charge, got that?”
“Y-Yeah, I got it.” You sink down to your knees and slink over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you crawl because you know he loves that. And you love how he looks at you darkly, his eyes so blown out with lust and want. As if he’s restraining himself from just grabbing you and fucking you. Because you know how virile he is, how high his sex drive is.
“That’s my good little girl,” he coos, making you feel all special. You stop at the foot of the bed and he reaches down, petting the top of your head, stroking your hair like you’re some kind of pet. Your sparkly tiara falls lopsided, but manages to stay on your head. But you like how he strokes you, you like how affectionate it feels, and so you nuzzle up into his palm, wanting him to stroke you some more.
Instead, he grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you up, manhandling you as if you’re his little baby, till he’s got you nestled on top of him, and you can feel his hard dick underneath you. A wicked look in his eye, he straightens your tiara before patting your cheek condescendingly.
“How’re you enjoying Halloween so far, princess?”
You mull over it, trying not to focus on his hard dick directly underneath your butt. “It’s nice. This is the first time in a few years that I’ve stayed in for Halloween, instead of going to a party.”
This was true, since being at college for the past two years meant that you always went out on Halloween.
“Oh yeah? You’d rather be at a frat party right now?” Ari’s hands land on your hips, grinding you down against his dick so that you’re effectively dry humping him. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, and you made grabby hands at him but he holds you at bay.
“No, no, no!” You answer desperately, trying to lean forward to kiss him but he holds you in place firmly, “Would much rather be with you, daddy. I love you so much.”
Ari can feel his heart melting fast. You’re just so delectable and cute, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. And it had been so easy for you to fall in love with him, you’d told him so only two weeks into your whirlwind romance. He’d taken you out on his private yacht, and he’d bought you the prettiest sailor outfit, and you’d clung to him because you were scared you might fall overboard because of how clumsy you were.
But you’d looked so pretty as the salty sea air rushed over your face, and how you just wouldn’t let go of his hand. You couldn’t stop smiling either, and when he’d kissed you on the deck, holding you firm against the railing as the sun set into the ocean behind you, that’s when you’d whispered it breathlessly against his lips. Like you couldn’t keep it in any longer: I love you.
You’d tried to tug away from him after that, embarrassed at how you’d let your inner feelings slip out so soon into your relationship with him. But you couldn’t help it, he just made you feel so safe, so alive, so wonderful, so you. You’d tried to make a hasty exit, making up an excuse that you had to make a phone call, and praying he hadn’t heard you whisper those three forbidden words…
But Ari had heard you, and his heart had swelled in a way he never thought it could. He’d entered this relationship with you because he needed someone to take care of, and well, you were so hot the night he’d first seen you. So pretty and innocent and lovely. And then he’d gotten to know you, and you were so lively, and made him feel so youthful, made him feel so powerful and important, made him feel like he had to protect you while you danced around his life and made him laugh and cheered him up the way only you could.
He’d held you tightly against him that night on the yacht, not letting you slip away as he’d cupped your beautiful face in his hands, and he’d told you that he loved you too, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. And the look on your face, that look of utter devotion and awe, like you had stars in your eyes – he wished he could bottle it up inside a jar and keep that look safe forever.
That’s how you’re looking at him now, in your cute little princess lingerie, and your lips are begging to be kissed. Ari can’t stand it any longer, and he grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you down, pressing his lips on yours in a heady kiss.
“You’ve been waiting for tonight, haven’t you?” He breathes against your lips.
You swallow harshly and nod. Of course you had, the moment he’d texted you this morning telling you to be ready for him at his apartment when he got home. That was obvious code that he was going to ruin you tonight, and the pretty princess costume was just the cherry on top of the cake.
Biting your lip, you shyly untuck his shirt from his pants and lift it up, revealing his toned, hairy abs. God, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen – with an amazing, buff body that was twice the size of yours. He was bigger than you in every single way possible, and you sigh as your fingers run over the deep ridges of his tanned six pack.
Ari snorts, “Like what you see, princess?”
“Uh huh. You’re so hot.” You blurt out.
“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you give me your panties?”
The way he so casually redirects the conversation has your cheeks feeling hot and your pussy clenching in anticipation. Taking your panties off while straddling his crotch proves to be difficult, but you’re nimble enough to make it work. The lace is wet with your juices and your cheeks heat up even more as you hand your panties to him.
Ari brings the lacy material up to his nose, sniffing in your pretty scent. God, he wanted to be buried with your scent if it was possible. He can’t help but find the gusset, sucking the silk into his mouth and tasting your juices.
“You’re so sweet, princess.” He mutters, before shoving the panties in his pocket.
“I’m all wet, daddy,” you pout, knowing your wetness has seeped over to stain his pants as you sit on top of his crotch.
“Oh yeah?” Ari feigns disinterest, busying himself with another sip of his scotch. “Is your little baby cunt getting needy?”
“Yeah!”
“You want daddy to take care of her? Your little cunt?”
You throb at his words, “Yes, please!”
He makes no move to put his scotch away. “I think I’d rather watch you, princess. You can rub yourself on me to make yourself cum.”
You shudder at how casually he says it, but at the same time bite your lip, “B-But daddy, I feel so empty down there. Need you inside me, pretty please?”
Ari pretends to mull over it, “I don’t know, gorgeous, your baby pussy’s awfully tight. I don’t think I’d even get a finger in.” (That was true, you were super tight, but he could work you open in a matter of minutes. He always did, after all, but he wants you to work for an orgasm tonight).
You grab his hand and push it between your legs, feeling like you’re about to go into heat by how turned on you are. “Y-You could stretch me open, daddy, I-I don’t mind! Just wanna feel you inside me.”
“Maybe later, sweetie,” Ari murmurs, indulgently brushing your hair off your face and pulling your cheek when you pout. Of course, he definitely intended to fill you up real good, fuck both your holes silly with his cock and his tongue and his fingers. But the night was still young, and right now he wanted a show while he enjoyed his drink. “C’mon, baby, it’s Halloween. Even a princess has to work a little to get her treat.”
He picks you up by your waist, placing you on his hairy abs, which are rock hard just like his cock which is still in the confines of his pants.
You grab on to his shoulders to steady yourself, before you start moving. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly, your quivering pussy rubbing against his hard abs, the hair on his torso catching against your swollen clit and immediately making you moan.
“F-Feels so good, daddy,” you whimper, and it makes Ari smile at how cute you are. How much you love it when he makes you feel good, how you selfishly chase after your own pleasure whenever you can because he knows it’s never felt this good for you before. You don’t have to tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had – he can see it in your eyes every time.
“Yeah? Is your cute baby cunt getting some relief? You enjoy using your daddy like this?” He mutters lowly, pinching your hip to make you move faster as he takes another sip of his scotch. His cock is incredibly tight still confined to his pants, and he’d have loved for you to grind against his cock instead but he knows he would’ve blown his load because of the friction paired with how hot you look right now.
“You enjoy dressing up like a little princess and giving your daddy a show?” He continues, feeling the beast inside him awaken as you whimper so cutely on top of him. With his fingers gripping your hip tightly, he roughly drags you back and forth over his abs, “That’s right, slutty baby, make a mess all over daddy, you like that, don’t you?”
“Yes!” You cry, getting to that point where everything that leaves your mouth is either a plea or incoherent gibberish and crying. That’s when you get so submissive that there isn’t a single thought in your head, and Ari’s sure he could make you do absolutely anything when you’re in that mindset.
His stomach is wet with your cream, and you’re grinding against him desperately now, and he knows you’ll cum any second because it doesn’t take much to get you to cum. He remembers doing this a lot with you in the early days of the relationship, when he knew for a fact you’d need a lot of prep before you could take his big, fat dick inside your pussy. So he’d made you grind on his torso instead, like how you were doing now, as a sort of practice before the real sex. And it’s like you’d never been pleasured before in your life because you came so quickly, over and over again, squirting all over him and begging for him to put it inside you.
Clearly, nothing had changed in two months.
He downs his scotch before setting the glass aside on his bedside table. Then he licks his lips, hand slipping down between your legs. He spreads your folds and you gasp, rocking your hips faster as you feel more now, your clit rubbing deliciously against his abs.
“C’mon, princess,” he urges, moving you up and down on his abs harder, “make yourself cum, baby, squirt all over daddy like the good little girl I know you can be. Like all good princesses squirt on their daddies. You wanna be a good princess, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do!”
“Say it, then.”
“W-Wanna be a good princess for you, daddy. Wanna be so good!” Your face is glistening with sweat and tears, and you’re working so hard for your release. He knows all he has to do is rub your clit once or twice, or even just press against it and you’d cum. But he wants you to work for it, so he can praise you for it and then reward you for making yourself cum with minimal help from daddy.
“You’re daddy’s sexy little princess,” Ari murmurs lowly, pulling you down by the neck till your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you bite at his skin and cry and moan his name as he talks, “you’re doing such a good job, baby, rubbing that baby cunt all over daddy’s abs. You’re so good for me, baby, so fucking good and I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much, honey. More than anything in the world.”
You squirt all over his stomach, your sweet cream covering ever ridge and dip of his muscular torso. You cry and cry, like how you often do when you’re overwhelmed when orgasming, grabbing at his face and kissing him, and he kisses you back fervently, allowing you to make out with him because he knows how overwhelmed and good you feel.
“That’s such a good girl,” he praises you, rubbing your back as you quiver in his arms, and he can feel your pussy quivering too, “such a good fucking girl, you worked so hard, baby and I’m so proud of you.”
“L-Love you so much, daddy,” you whimper pitifully, your poor tiara finally falling off your head, and Ari wants to chuckle at how spent you look, how exhausted you look from rubbing your pussy on him for a couple of minutes. He reminds himself to get you a bottle of water in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down, because he knows he’ll be keeping you busy for the better part of tonight and he wants you to have the energy for it.
But for now, he’ll let you rest for a few minutes. You snuggle up into his chest, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Ari pours himself another scotch, and lights up his cigar, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in your direction.
“Happy Halloween, sweetheart,” he grins wickedly, and you lift your head up slightly to offer him a weak smile. “Now put your tiara back on, princess. The night’s not over yet.”
AKSHDSAJGA WHAT DO YOU THINK???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS WAS EXTREMELY SPONTANEOUS AFNKLAGNSKAL I JUST AM OBSESSED WITH SUGAR DADDY ARI AND HIS ABS BYE.
anyways lemme know what you think and pls do reblog and leave any feedback thank you ily
#ari levinson#ari levinson x reader#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#sugar daddy ari
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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | FIVE
a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©
SUMMARY: finding you when he thought all hope was lost, rafe decides that this is the last time you two will ever be separated.. til’ death do you part.
WARNINGS: lots of emotions lol, crying, angst, description of unprotected sex, fluff
LINKS: series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
“how did you find me?” you’re pulling rafe inside by his shirt, his hands finding your hips as he stared at you incredulously. he couldn’t believe you were in front of him. he didn’t answer, instead he took your face in his hands, tears brimming his eyes as he rested his forehead on yours. “please never do that again.” you felt your heart break when his voice came out shaky, your own tears already rolling down your cheeks. “i’m so sorry—” rafe shut the door, clicking the lock shut before sitting you down on the motel bed.
“i got your note,” rafe made sure to keep your hand in his as he spoke, “i know that you left because you felt like you were doing the right thing.” he laughed bitterly, flashbacks of the look on his dad’s face when he saw that you didn’t take the money ran through his mind. “but i need you to know something else..” your heart was beating out of your chest, a million words sitting on the tip of your tongue. there was so many things you wanted to say, but you didn’t know where to start.
“doing the ‘right thing’ would never result in us being away from each other. you sacrificed everything and left behind everything you’ve ever known for me, so i made my own sacrifices too.” just as you were going to question what he meant, he held up his hand, the gold ring that he once wore with the utmost pride was now gone. your eyes widened, your lips parting as you shook your head. “oh, rafe..” inspecting his fingers, you couldn’t help but run your digits over his palm, “what did you do? what did i do?”
regret pooled in your stomach. the one thing you didn’t want to happen, happened. “hey, look at me— you didn’t do a damn thing, alright? my dad didn’t take anything from me, i left it. the same way you walked away from everything, so did i.” your head shot up at his words. “you left it? the business, your family ring, everything?” rafe watched as the corner of your eyes became wet with tears, your chin wobbling slightly. “y/n,” he stroked the side of your face, “everything means absolutely nothing if i don’t have you by my side.” you swore you could’ve died right there.
rafe embraced you as you let out a sob, your hands clinging onto him as if he’d disappear from your grasp. “i’m so sorry i left!” you cried out into his chest, “i’ll never leave you again, i swear it!” your arms moved to wrap around his neck, your heart finally feeling full again. rafe shushed you, rubbing your back soothingly as you two cried in each other’s embrace. rafe knew it was now or never. everything that you two have been through— all the tears, all the scrutiny and pain, trials and tribulations, all the laughs, the sweet moments, the whispering of words in the dark, all of it was meant to lead up to this very moment.
rafe pulled away, taking both of your hands in his as he moved down to the floor— on one knee. sniffling, you watched with a confused gaze as rafe reached into his pocket. “i bought this ring the morning i first left your camper,” your eyes widened as he pulled out a small box, “you left one of your rings on the bathroom sink and i took it with me to get an accurate size on this one,” he laughed, “i thought i was crazy when i was there buying it from the jeweler, but it all makes sense now.” a small gasp left your lips when he opened the box, revealing a dainty diamond ring. “rafe..” your voice was barely above a whisper.
“marry me.”
his words cut through the air, your breath catching in your throat. “what?” a hint of a smile played on your lips as his eyes got lost in your own. “marry me,” he repeated, “you fulfilled wedding vows since the very beginning. ‘for better, for worse.’ you and me made decisions, we let go of things despite how painful it was, we did it for each other,” rafe swallowed thickly. ‘for richer, for poorer.’ you never cared about how much money i had, you welcomed me into your camper and we made the best of it,” he rose his eyebrows suggestively, making a giggle fall from your lips at the memories of you two getting tangled in your bed.
tightening your grip on his hand, your smile faded when he broke down, his shoulders shaking slightly as his head hung in complete surrender. “you didn’t give up on me when you had every reason to. ‘in sickness and in health.’ you stuck by me when i was at the height of my addiction, and i could never thank you enough for never losing faith in me. i yelled at you, i talked to you harshly— fuck, i hate myself for that. i was in the worst shape i had ever been in, and you still looked at me as if i hung the stars up for you. you loved me at my worst, and brought me back up to be my best.” now you were crying too, small hiccups emitting from your throat.
“y/n, will you please do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?” rafe glanced up at you, the expression on your face unreadable. “of course i will.” that was all rafe needed before he slid the beautiful ring on your finger, both of you pulling each other into a searing kiss. with his lips still connected to yours, rafe took a seat on the bed, pulling you on top of his lap effortlessly. you two stayed like this until the tears on your cheeks dried, both of you growing needy for something more than just rushed kisses and lingering touches.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered against his lips, “i never want to be away from you ever again.” rafe’s eyes were now clouded with something else other than tears— lust. “stop saying sorry. nothing else matters right now.” rafe’s fingers slipped underneath your top, your eyes fluttering shut as he licked a stripe up the column of your throat. groaning at the taste of your skin, you gasped when he cupped you through the lacey material of your bra. being apart from one another was one thing, but not being able to hold, love, or touch each other was completely different.
“i’ve been staying at your camper for this past week, you wanna know why?” you moaned softly as he took your top off, humming a small ‘why?’ before you tugged at his shirt. “because it smells like you. the sheets, your pillows, everything, it all smelled like you and i needed to feel you close somehow.” you pulled away at the revelation, your hands coming up to cup cheeks. “please let me make it up to you..” your voice was so sweet, but the indication of your words was even sweeter. “oh, you will.” rafe nodded to himself, his hand coming up to unclasp your bra.
rafe laid you down and worshipped your body as if it was your first time together all over’s again. not a single inch of your body went untouched, the man above you whispering praises again your skin. you two laughed, cried, kissed, and hugged all while he rocked inside of you, his fingers intertwined with yours as he continuously placed kisses to your knuckles. he was gentle, yet so precise with his movements, you were easily gasping his name in no time. never looking away from each other once, you held eye contact while he spilled into you, his lips molding to yours as if they were made just for you.
“i love you.” you smiled softly as his breath fanned against your cheek. pulling him flush against your chest, you wrapped your legs around his waist in order to keep him between your thighs. “i love you, too.” rafe rested his forehead in the curve of your neck, his large palms rubbing soft circles into your skin. you two stayed like this until he pecked the corner of your lips, rolling to your side before taking you in his arms. with your back to him, both of you admired your ring as if you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “rafe?” you whispered, a smile gracing your lips when he hummed.
“i can’t believe it..” rafe trailed kisses along the back of your shoulder, his hand holding up your own. “i can,” he started, “i knew this day was going to come, i just wish i did it sooner.” you turned around in his embrace, running your index finger along his jaw. “you never answered my question earlier.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “what? how i found you?” nodding, you let your eyes trail over his features as he explained himself. “well i searched the whole island, and when people told me they hadn’t see you anywhere i figured that meant you left it altogether.”
your eyes widened at his words. “you looked for me all this time?” you already felt bad for leaving in the first place, but now you felt even worse. “of course i did. i went to the icecream parlor and asked around for you there, and then i went to the country club, but everyone just kept saying the same thing.” you closed your eyes, a defeated sigh falling from your lips. “i looked up the closest motel and this place showed up, so now i’m here.” rafe was unbelievable. “i need to get you a wedding band!” you gasped, the realization dawning on you once you stroked his empty fingers.
“i already got one. it’s at the camper.” you stared at him blankly. “rafe cameron.” he smiled when you said his full name, finding amusement in the way your voice sounded serious all of a sudden. “i mean it when i say i thought everything through already,” he kissed you, “i never really understood what people said, but now i get it.” smiling against his lips, you looked up at him through your lashes. “what do you mean? what did they say?” rafe cradled your head, those blue eyes of his dripping pure adoration for you as he spoke.
“when you know, you know.”
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where stars can't reach
sunday x reader. astral express sunday
summary: you and sunday find yourselves on the observation deck on the express on a sleepless night. amidst the hum of the express car and the infinite expanse of space, a candid discussion about regrets, choices, and the meaning of the trailblaze brings you closer.
the observation deck of the astral express was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the stars streaking past outside. you leaned against the glass railing, arms folded, watching the endless cascade of light. the train's hum filled the quiet— a constant, steady rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of something alive.
it was peaceful, or at least it should have been. but tonight, your thoughts were restless, looping endlessly over the events of penacony and the strange, quiet man who had chosen to stay. the sound of soft footsteps drew your attention. you didn't have to look to know who it was.
"couldn't sleep either?" you asked, your voice low.
sunday stepped into view, his coat gone, replaced by a loose sweater that made him seem... softer somehow. less like the enigmatic enforcer of the order and more like someone trying to figure out what to do next.
"guess not," he said simply, moving to stand beside you. he rested his forearms on the railing, gaze fixed on the stars outside. for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either. it carried the weight of unspoken things, of questions you weren't sure you wanted to ask.
"how does it feel?" you asked finally, breaking the stillness. "being here, i mean."
sunday's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "different."
you turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “that’s all i get? just ‘different’?”
he shrugged, gaze never leaving the stars outside. "not much else to say. it's... quieter than i expected."
you laughed softly, shaking your head. "quieter? on the express? have you met march and the trailblazer?"
he huffed out a laugh, low and barely audible, but it was there. “fair point.” the quiet settled again, but this time it felt lighter, less heavy. you leaned back against the railing, tilting your head to watch him.
“do you regret it?” you asked, your tone careful.
“regret what?”
“leaving penacony. coming here. everything.”
sunday didn’t answer right away. his gaze was still fixed on the stars, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it. “sometimes,” he admitted. “it’s hard not to think about what could’ve been different. what i could’ve done differently.”
you felt your chest tighten at his words, the raw honesty in them.
“but,” he continued, glancing at you, “regret’s not the same as wishing i hadn’t done it. sometimes, things just... are. you can’t change them, only decide what you do next.”
you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. “and what do you want to do next?”
sunday leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. his gaze drifted to the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass. “i haven't figured that part out yet, i guess that's the point of being here."
"finding your trailblaze?" you offered, a small smile tugging at your lips.
he gave a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the hum of the train. "something like that." the two of you stood there for a while longer, the stars outside painting the room in shifting patterns of gold and silver.
"do you miss it?" sunday asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.
"my life before the express?"
"yeah."
you thought about it, your mind flickering back to the chaos of your home world, the suffocating systems, the fleeting moments of joy amidst everything. "sometimes," you admitted. "but not the way it was. just the people. the good parts."
sunday nodded, his expression thoughtful. “agreed.”
the stars streaked on, endless and unchanging, but the two of you stayed rooted in that moment, side by side. for the first time since everything, the weight on your chest felt lighter.
“you’ll figure it out,” you said softly, glancing at him. “what you want to do next, i mean.”
he tilted his head slightly, amber eyes searching yours, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“you will,” you insisted, your voice steadier this time. “that’s what the trailblaze is about, isn’t it? finding your way forward, even when you don’t know what that looks like yet. it’s not about having all the answers or knowing exactly where you’re going. it’s about choosing to keep moving. to trust that every step will lead you somewhere worth being.”
sunday's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. the soft glow of the stars outside cast shifting patterns across his face, and for a moment, he didn't seem like the man you'd met in penacony— the one weighed down by his past, his responsibilities as the former head of the oak family.
“you make it sound simple,” he said finally, his voice low but not dismissive.
you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “it’s not, but nothing worth doing ever is. the trailblaze isn’t about the destination— it’s about what you discover along the way. about finding the pieces of yourself you didn’t know you’d lost.”
he looked away then, his gaze shifting back to the stars outside. his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, like the weight he carried had eased, even if just for a moment.
“guess i’ve got a lot of pieces to find,” he murmured.
“and you’ll find them,” you said with quiet confidence. “one step at a time. everyone here on the express is rooting for you, me included.”
the stars streaked on outside, endless and infinite, but the moment between you felt grounded—solid, real. sunday didn’t say anything more, but the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, and for the first time, you thought he might just believe it too.
© liyue-harbour 2024 (lil author's note: in celebration of sunday's longgg anticipated release, here's a fic! i hope that everyone who plans on pulling gets him~ likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated) masterlist
#sunday x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#x reader#hsr#sunday#sunday x you#hsr imagines#hsr sunday
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TITLE: lights will guide you home
CHAPTER: 11
PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.
At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.
You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.
(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)
TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying
NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist
“And you haven’t heard from Bakugou?”
“I haven’t.” Kirishima wrings his hands as you nod and look away, trying to hide your expression. In other circumstances, the sight of such a big man—fiery red hair, sharp teeth, muscles and all—fretting in such a way would’ve been funny. Sweet. But as it is, your worry shadows everything.
The first couple of days after Bakugou falls off the grid, you’re a little annoyed. He couldn’t have spared a minute to reply before leaving? Or at least given you an estimate about when he’d be back? Given you a heads up at all?
But a couple days quickly turn into a week, and you begin to worry. Is this normal? Can you call his agency to ask? Or would that be inappropriate, you butting your head into hero business?
You don’t know if you’re being irrational or if you’re being overbearing when you and Bakugou are just friends. Unrequited soulmates don’t count. You have no real claim to knowledge regarding his whereabouts, his movements. You’re just friends.
But friends can worry about their friends. That’s totally normal. So you figure—it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Just one call.
“Hi Aiko. I was just wondering…” You hesitate. “You know how Bakugou—Dynamight is away on a mission right now? Would you happen to know when he’ll be back?”
“I’m sorry.” Even over the phone, her regret comes clear through. “I don’t have high enough clearance to know that info. And even if I did, it’s agency policy not to share that kind of information.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” you tell her, forcing a cheerful tone. You gnaw at your lip, feeling a little lost. What now?
“But I’m sure Red Riot would know!” she says, just as you make up your mind to say your goodbyes and hang up. “Would you like to schedule a meeting with him?”
You immediately perk up.
“Yes, please!”
Kirishima touches your shoulder. He says, “I think Bakugou’s been instructed to go dark for this mission.”
You look up into his earnest eyes.
“None of our friends have heard from him either,” he tells you.
“Oh.” The ball of anxiety that’s been sitting on your chest like a weight lightens just a little. So it’s not just you.
But is that a bad thing? No one’s heard from him?
The weight returns.
“Is it normal for him to take missions like this?” you ask. “You guys are used to it?”
Kirishima frowns, looking conflicted. “No… These longer missions are usually reconnaissance or stealth missions, and Bakugou’s quirk doesn’t really mix well with them. But there might be other reasons for him to go dark.”
“I see,” you say, gaze falling to the ground as frustration swells in you.
You’re so clueless about the hero profession. You don’t know what’s normal, how you should be feeling. If the relative calm Kirishima’s exuding is something you should mimic or if the calm’s due to his familiarity with situations like this. And it’s your own fault. Because in the months you’ve spent learning Bakugou, you could’ve asked about all this. About what he does and what’s to be expected. But you didn’t.
“Look, please don’t worry.” Kirishima ducks his head to look you in the eye. “Bakugou’s really, really good at what we do. He wouldn’t want you to stress over him being gone.”
“Right,” you say, summoning a weak smile.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Kirishima promises.
“Thanks Kirishima,” you say.
“Call me Kiri, if you’re comfortable with it!” he says, grinning. “And send me pics of Mikan and Natsu. Bakugou’s stingy about sharing them.”
Laughing, you agree.
You: I finally got Kirishima’s number! Remembered to ask him while stopping by the agency this morning 😌
You send a picture you’d taken—Kirishima grinning in the background with the smoothie you’d gotten him, and you throwing up a peace sign at the camera.
Smiling a little, you imagine Bakugou’s reaction upon seeing the picture, seeing your message. He has no right calling you squirrely when he’s so weird about you being friendly with Kirishima. You’re not sure, but if you could hazard a guess, you think it’s because he’s uncomfortable with mixing friend groups. Which you can understand—sometimes it just doesn’t work, or it’s awkward to facilitate. But still.
You admit that it’s fun getting reactions out of Bakugou, that sometimes you do things on purpose. You miss messing with him.
Your messages finish sending, finally. But just like the other texts you’ve sent over the past few days, there’s no indication that they’ve been delivered.
Your smile fades.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Your head jerks up from your phone as you meet your friend’s eyes. Feeling strangely guilty, you set it down on the table in front of you as she settles back into her seat.
Mitsuru raises an eyebrow at you. “You’ve been glued to that thing today. You expecting to hear from someone?”
“Kind of,” you say, then make a face. “Or, I guess, not really. I’m not sure.”
“The most convoluted answer,” she says, snorting. “Here, pick something from the dessert menu while I flag down that server. You can tell me what’s up with you while we eat.”
Sighing, you take the menu from her.
Mitsuru’s sharp as a tack in general, but she’s also known you since middle school. It’s not often you wish you could hide things from her, but this time might be one of them.
You haven’t told anyone about reconnecting with Bakugou. Not Mitsuru, or any of your other friends. You hadn’t even noticed you’d kept your friendship with Bakugou to yourself until recently. You’re not sure why. It’s not like you’re actively hiding it. It’s just… how it’s turned out.
Okay, maybe you’ve been hiding it a little from Mitsuru specifically. But it’s because she knows him from your time at Aldera. She’d witnessed how mean he was to you, had gotten into verbal scuffles with him, defending you, until you’d asked her to stop.
So. You know that she doesn’t have a good impression of Bakugou. Even after all these years, when she sees ads or merch of him, she rolls her eyes.
But you do want to talk to someone about it, about him, if only to get some objectivity about your worry. And Mitsuru, with her frank, realistic outlook on the world, is perfect for the job.
So you tell her about it—an abbreviated, edited version of it. About this friend you’d gotten to know over the past couple months. The “business trip” he’d gone on with little notice and no heads up about when he’d be back. That’s you’re worried because you haven’t heard from him.
Hiding details—that it’s Bakugou, that the trip is a hero mission—makes you shift in your seat, a stone in your stomach. But you’re scared of what Mitsuru would say. What she’d think if she knew. She’d only ever seen the cruel child he’d been.
Mitsuru gives you a look when you finally fall silent. She plays with her nails, painted to look like glass, haloed like cat’s eyes, then lifts a hand to wrap a strand of black hair around her finger.
“This friend of yours,” she says. “It’s Dynamight, isn’t it.”
Your eyes widen. You choke on the water you’d been sipping.
“What? Why would you—”
Mitsuru watches as you stumble over your words, mind racing as you try to figure out what to say. She sighs.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to confirm anything if it’ll get you into trouble or something. But I’ve had my suspicions since I saw those promotional pics he took with those kittens. They’re the ones you’re fostering, right?”
Fuck. You should’ve thought of that. Mitsuru was the first to meet them, all those months ago.
“And then there was that noise on social media about Dynamight at that fancy pet store you were excited to try out a couple months back. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the back of your little head,” Mitsuru says, eyes narrowed at you.
You stare at her for a long moment, scrambling for things to say to deny it. She’s cool, eyes steady.
You cover your face with a hand.
“You can’t tell anyone,” you say, letting your hand fall, and she scoffs.
“Who do you think I am,” she says.
“You’re the only one I’ve told about him.”
Mitsuru raises a brow. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I appreciate you confiding in me, I do, but… I remember that little shit did to you when we were in junior high. What the hell are you thinking?”
You wince. “I know how it sounds. But he really has changed, Mitsuru. He’s not that little kid anymore. That bully. People grow up.”
Mitsuru’s mouth remains downturned, eyes distrustful.
“We really did meet months ago,” you say. “And within the first five minutes of conversation, he apologized. I wasn’t ready for it then, but… But since then, we’ve spent time together. Gotten to know each other. And he’s only ever been kind to me.”
You find that your words catch in your throat, an unexpected wave of emotion flowing through you. Fiddling with your fingers, you say quietly, “We’re friends now.”
You raise your eyes to meet Mitsuru’s.
Her expression has changed, softened a little. She reaches over and rubs your arm up and down briskly.
“Hey,” she says. “You don’t have to justify anything or feel any type of way about being friends with him given your history. I trust your judgement. I’m just worried, is all.”
“I get it,” you say. “He really was an asshole as a kid. But he’s a better person now. Promise.”
You feel your words with a certainty you didn’t have months ago. The Bakugou you know, who cares deeply for his friends, who’s always honest, who admits his mistakes, who puts so much effort and care into his job, helping people, protecting people—he’s a good person. One of the best people in your life.
Mitsuru leans back into her chair. She inhales deeply, exhales. She says, “Just one more thing. I… I know you say he’s your soulmate, that you can see his lights—”
Your breath catches. You know she doesn’t mean anything by it. But her doubt hurts. It echoes yours, feeds into an insecurity that’s only just tempered by the reassuring flicker of orange and gold when you see Bakugou.
“—but I remember how unkind he was when he told you it’s not a mutual thing. I don’t know if you’ve already resolved that with him, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know.” You tap your foot against hers under the table. “Thank you. Really. And we… haven’t talked about it yet. It hasn’t come up.”
“Why not?”
You shrug, looking away. Prickles of discomfort race up and down your arms. You should talk about it. But. What if it changes things between you?
Mitsuru studies you for a long moment, then sighs. “All right. All right. But as your friend, I reserve the right to yell at him the second he fucks up. Just letting you know.”
You snort, tension releasing. “Yes, yes.”
“And you gotta introduce us. Re-introduce us.”
“I will!”
Mitsuru reaches over and pinches you in the arm. You whine.
She grins. “Okay, now tell me how the cats got tangled up in being promotional material for Super Explosion Guy blah blah blah. I can be nosy now that you’ve said something.”
You laugh. “His hero name is one of the funniest things about him, isn’t it? So it started because of that pet shop…”
Natsu, your sweet girl, is finally adopted. The paperwork is finalized, Bakugou’s PR people and the foster organization wrap up all loose ends, and you say goodbye.
It’s quieter, once she’s gone. Lonelier. She was never a noisy cat, but she would always curl up in your lap whenever you’d read or watch something on the couch. Make biscuits on you when you’d drape a blanket over your legs. She was the cuddliest of the three.
Mikan’s lost both his playmates, and you try to make up for it with extra play time and mental stimulation via things like treat puzzles. You’re glad you still have him. You don’t know what you’ll do when he leaves you too. He’s so big now.
To distract yourself, you sign up for a cooking class. It’s just one lesson, two and a half hours. You want to feel out the chef instructor, the vibes of doing something like this, before investing in other packages where more lessons are offered over the course of several weeks.
It’s surprisingly really fun. You’d gone in worried about your knife skills, about keeping up with the instructor. But you shouldn’t have because everyone is super nice and encouraging. The instructor is attentive, patient. And what you make ends up being surprisingly delicious.
Mitsuru comes over for dinner the next night and you prepare it for her. It’s a hit.
“How’s pilates been?” you ask, and Mitsuru groans, reclining further into the couch and patting her belly.
“A nightmare,” she says. “I didn’t think it’d be so tough. You’d think two decades of playing sports and generally being active would help. It does in some ways, but not really. You know, I got the shakes yesterday? We were doing an exercise on the reformer and my leg kept shaking, like I had no control over it. It was so embarrassing, jeez. I was at the front of the room, too.”
You laugh, imagining it, then shake your head. “If you think it’s hard, there’s no hope for me.”
She turns her head to look at you, eyes brightening. “Are you interested? Forget everything I said. It’s amazing. Life-changing. So fun. Easy, even. Come join.”
Laughing, you push her away as she smacks your leg in enthusiasm.
“Have you tried pilates?” you ask Kirishima as he finishes taking a big sip of the smoothie you’d gotten him. He’s just wrapped up a workout, and you’re visiting on your lunch break.
“No,” he says, tilting his head. “My friend Mina does classes at a studio, though, if you’re interested.”
“I’m definitely not,” you say. You give him a quick rundown of the conversation you had with Mitsuru, adding, “It just got me thinking about maybe joining a gym or picking up something easy I can do consistently. When I moved to this neighborhood two years ago, I canceled my old membership because of the distance. But with how much I’m chained to my desk at work, I figure I should find a new gym.”
“If you’re down, I can get you started with a couple workouts here at our agency’s gym until you find something you like,” Kirishima tells you. “I know some gyms in this area, so if you want, I’d be happy to help you look, too!”
You smile up at him.
“That’d be great, Kiri, thank you! You sure helping me with workouts won’t interfere with your schedule?”
“We’ll work it out, don’t worry.” He grins at you, giving you a look as if to say, Did you catch that? Did you get it?
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m going to ignore that. That’s terrible.”
“Aww.” Kirishima ducks his head.
You shake yours. “But really, thank you. For the gym stuff and just for being so nice in general.”
“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we? Always happy to help a friend.”
You smile. You open your mouth, then hesitate.
You like Kirishima, think you can become even better friends with time. Still, you’re conscious that you haven’t known him long. That the topics of your conversations have been everyday, casual ones.
But lately, certain heavier thoughts have been plaguing you. Despite keeping busy at work, indulging your interests, investing in your other relationships, you can’t stop thinking about Bakugou. It’s been two weeks now.
Before, Bakugou being a pro hero meant that every once in a while you’d see him on the news if a villain altercation was serious enough to get covered. It meant seeing him in uniform on the streets during patrol, discreetly waving at him as you passed by on your way to and from work.
Now it means struggling with not knowing where he is, when he’ll be back, if he’s safe. When you’ll see him again and if he’s okay.
How do heroes, especially ones who grow up together as classmates like those attending UA or Shiketsu, handle all these feelings? How do their—their friends, their families, and their partners manage the fear and uncertainty?
You know you’re not doing a good job of it.
Looking up into Kirishima’s friendly face, those bright eyes and comforting smile, you take a little leap.
“Can I ask you a question? A kind of serious one.”
“Anything!” Kirishima says. He gestures for you to sit on a nearby bench, taking a seat next to you after you’re settled.
“What’s up?” he asks.
You take a deep breath and decide to just go for it.
“How do you deal with it? The worry, the… all these terrible feelings when your friends are risking their lives fighting people or going off on these long missions?” You have to stop yourself there, worried that if you keep going, you won’t be able to stop; all of these feelings you’ve been grappling with will just come rushing out.
Kirishima’s gaze softens, understanding. His mouth sets into a thoughtful line as he considers your question.
“It never stops being tough,” he says slowly. “Simple patrols can turn into fights, or chases, or rescues all the time. Other heroes with more specialized quirks and jobs can be put into even more danger than us regular heroes, depending. I went to school with people who told us the risks, and we faced them. Even earlier than we should’ve.”
For a moment, the planes of his face fall into a weariness, a seriousness you’d never seen on him before. That lovely light in his eyes dims, just a little.
He meets your gaze. “And we still stayed on with the job. For lots of us, helping people, keeping people safe, it’s worth all of it. But for our family, partners, who’re civilians, it’s hard.”
“So it never gets easy? You just have to live with it?” you ask quietly, that burden settling heavy in your heart.
“I don’t know about easy. But. For me, uh. I don’t know if this’ll be helpful at all, but, um, I try to stay in the present. I used to always be thinking about what ifs or things that hadn’t happened—yet, I thought, and worked myself up. Still do sometimes. But one of my former teachers told me that that’s no way to live your life. Miss out on so much doing that.”
You can relate.
Kirishima tilts his head, thinking for a moment.
“Oh! And of course there are, like, mental health professionals and support groups I can connect you to. If you want! Lots of heroes see someone regularly, and so do their family members or partners,” he says.
“I’d like that,” you tell him.
He smiles at you, reaches out to pat your hand. “Talking about it helps. Having community helps me most, personally. Friends who have my back, family who care. So. If you need someone. I’m always here, okay? I got you.”
An open hand, so readily offered.
A little lump rises in your throat. These people you’ve met—Bakugou, Kiri, Pulsar, Shieldmaiden—really are heroes. They’re such good people.
“Thanks, Kiri,” you say with a wobbly smile.
The days continue to pass, and you try to stay balanced, focused. Some days you succeed, and others you don’t.
A new restaurant near your work opens up, specializing in your favorite cuisine, and you and a coworker head out to try it.
You’re waiting for the light to change for the crossing, chatting with your coworker, when a flicker of orange catches your eye.
You raise your head, your coworker’s voice receding into the background as you slowly scan the streets for what’d caught your attention.
There. That orange and gold is unmistakable. Your breath catches.
“Bakugou,” you say, and—his name feels like it’s ripped out of you, a compulsion. The vowels and consonants are lost to the bustle of city life, but his name remains, a question on your tongue.
You nearly start forward, stepping into the street, before remembering yourself. It’s so hard to resist the urge to run after him, cars be damned, what your coworker would think be damned. But you hold yourself still, tense. Eyes locked on the man walking further and further away from you.
It’s him, right? If he wasn’t wearing a hoodie, you’d be able to tell for sure by his hair, his build. But the hoodie obscures the lines of his body. This far away, you can no longer make out any flashes of orange and gold.
The wait for this pedestrian crossing is so fucking long. You’re going to file a complaint to—to someone, to whomever is in charge of this shit. Fuck.
Biting your lip, you watch as his figure disappears around the corner.
“What’d you say?” your coworker asks, jostling you.
You blink, feeling a little out of body, dazed. Your coworker peers into your face, concerned.
“You good?”
“I—yeah. I’m fine.” Forget about lunch. You need to check your phone.
But before you can do so, your coworker grabs your elbow, propelling you forward. “Hey, the light’s changing, c’mon.”
Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it wasn’t him.
The second you got the chance, you checked your phone. But there were no messages from Bakugou waiting for you, none from Kiri. Just a couple from Mitsuru, one from your mom, another from a coworker asking you to pick something up from the restaurant for them.
Maybe you’re losing it.
You sigh, stroking down the length of Mikan’s back, eyes watching but not perceiving the show you’d put on.
He’d text you if he were back in town, right? Kiri would give you a heads up. So it was your wishful thinking earlier, your imagination.
You miss him. It’s been almost three weeks. You’ve thought about reaching out to the groups Kiri recommended to you, but you always chicken out at the last minute, phone in hand, number undialed.
Kiri’d said that heroes’ family or partners go to these things. He hadn’t mentioned friends. Would it be weird to show up just as a hero’s friend? Would telling them he’s your soulmate help justify it?
But no, because. What would you even say? Hi, I’m a hero’s friend. Yeah, just friends. Well, no, technically he’s also my soulmate. What do I mean by technically? Well, he’s mine but I’m not his. So yeah.
Even the thought of admitting that to strangers makes you nauseous.
And what if you slip and say his name? You don’t want people to know you’re talking about Bakugou. You’re not sure you’re allowed to say he’s on a mission. You’re still not sure you want people outside your personal lives aware that you know each other, are friends.
You pick Mikan up, lifting him to eye level, and bury your face in his side. That nice cat smell envelops you for a nice moment.
He squirms out of your grip, jumping to the floor. Giving you a look, he begins washing his fur with his tongue.
You slump into the couch, defeated.
Bright and early, the next morning finds you at the agency in workout clothes.
All night, you’d tossed and turned, mind busy. You’d fallen into a fitful sleep around 2 AM, only to wake up again around 5 AM. At that point, you gave up and decided that maybe if you tired your body out, your mind would shut up and let you rest. At the very least, you’re grateful it’s a Saturday and you don’t have to come in to work.
Flashing a quick smile and wave to the front desk, you use your access card to head up to the gym. The halls are quiet, and the few people using the gym are people you don’t know.
You slip on some headphones and get to work.
Truthfully, you shouldn’t be mooching off Kiri’s—and Bakugou’s—generosity. But you’ve really enjoyed the workouts you’ve had with Kiri this past week. He designed a workout routine for you and demonstrated the exercises you’ve been doing. He’s encouraging, and he knows just how far to push you. He really has a way with people. It’s made you less motivated to seek out your own gym. You’ve been spoiled.
You’ll look into the gyms Kiri recommended later today, you resolve. After a nap. The workout’s done its job. You clean up the machine you’d been using and head out.
You’re mid-yawn, eyes squinted and watering, so you don’t catch that someone’s trying to enter the gym at the same time as you’re exiting until it’s too late.
“Oh, sorry,” you say, quickly wiping at your eyes, embarrassed. When they’re clear, you look up, then freeze.
“Bakugou!”
Bakugou grunts. Says your name in greeting. His eyes quickly scan you up and down before coming to rest on your face.
You’re warm, very aware that you’re still a little sweaty. You hope you don’t smell. You want to hug him so badly, but you’re too nervous. You’re self-conscious, shy. You don’t know what’s gotten into you.
He looks tired, eyes weary. His hair’s grown out a little, longer than you’re used to seeing on him. A bandage rests right below his scar, stark against his skin.
The little details don’t matter. You’re so happy to see him. You’re smiling, not realizing it.
When Bakugou doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “When did you get back?”
He hesitates for a second, looks at the wall next to you, then back at you.
“A couple days ago,” he says shortly.
You pause.
“A couple days ago?” you repeat. A feeling you can’t quite name begins to creep up the back of your neck. It’s not a nice feeling. “Oh. Did you, I mean, were there a lot of post-mission things you needed to do?”
“Yeah. A bunch of annoying bullshit.”
You make a sympathetic sound. There, you tell yourself silently. He had reasons for not giving you a heads up that he’s been back. The world doesn’t revolve around you.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks.
The gym’s doors open behind you as someone exits, and Bakugou puts a hand on the small of your back, pulling you to the side and out of the way.
His hand on your back, even through your clothes, is warm.
It takes you a second to reply. “Kiri said it’d be okay if I use the agency’s gyms until I find my own. I hope that’s okay.”
“S’fine,” he says.
His hand’s still on your back. He’s standing so close to you, just looking at you. At your face, darting down your body, as if committing you to memory. As if it’s something you won’t notice. You don’t mind at all. You can’t take your eyes off him either.
But—
“I—sorry, I gotta ask, it’s bothering me,” you say. “I hear that you’ve been busy, but. A quick, ‘Hey I’m back, I’m fine’ message would’ve been appreciated, y’know? If you were allowed. Was it that you weren’t allowed to tell non-heroes that you’re back?”
Bakugou’s hand falls away from you. He exhales deeply and crosses his arms over his chest.
“No. Just didn’t have time to talk to you.”
Something sharp and unpleasant rises as a slow wave in you. You remind yourself that busy is busy, and some things aren’t in his control.
But—it’s been days. If it really was him you saw the other day, out in the city, it’s been at least four days. And it looks like he was heading into the gym before you bumped into him.
Frowning, you shift your gym bag to your other hand, bowing your head. “Bakugou. You were gone a long time, and I had no idea what was happening with you. I feel like you could’ve shot me a quick message.”
“I told you I was gonna be on a mission,” he says, furrowing his brows.
“Yeah, but you didn’t say when you’d be back, or if it’d be dangerous, or anything except just that,” you say, voice rising a little at the end.
Inhaling deeply, you force yourself to breathe, speak normally. “Neither Kiri nor the agency could tell me anything. It sucked, Bakugou. I just wanna know what’s going on.”
Bakugou scowls.
“Look, I told you I’ve been busy,” he says. “I just got back, give me a fucking second. And I can’t always tell you shit just because it’s inconvenient for you not to know.”
The gym doors open once more, another person leaving, and you become hyper aware that you’re having this conversation in public. Suddenly, you don’t want to be having this conversation anymore.
“You’re right,” you say evenly. “Sorry for overstepping. I’ll let you get to your workout.”
You move to get past him, and he steps in front of you. You stop just short of touching, your hands tightening into fists. The strap of your bag digs into the meat of your hand.
“Fuck,” Bakugou says. “You’re not getting it. Stop taking shit personally. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
You look at him. Shaking your head, you say, “You know what? I’m done here. Bye.”
“We’re not done with shit,” Bakugou says.
“Well I’m done, so back off.”
“Not until—”
“Look, Bakugou,” you say, voice trembling. Shit. You don’t want him to think you’re crying, because you’re not. You’re just so mad. “I’m really fucking upset right now. And the shit you’re saying’s just making things worse. Let’s table this. Let me go.”
He stares at you for a long moment. You stare back at him defiantly.
“Fine,” he growls.
“Great,” you say.
You turn on your heel and leave.
Your mind is empty the entire train ride home.
Distantly, you recognize that your back and neck ache from the tension you’re carrying, but it’s impossible to relax. You feel a little separate from your body, like you’re watching yourself move through the actions of getting off at your stop and walking back to your apartment.
Once you’re home, you throw yourself into a hot shower, hoping to jar yourself out of the mood you’re in. But even after it, you’re still tense, still aching.
You try to take a nap. But your body only remembers conflict; the normally satisfying ache and tiredness post-workout is nowhere to be found. You’re wide awake.
The anger rears its head once more. Why doesn’t he get it? That you were worried, that you wanted him to communicate as much as he could, as soon as he could.
You understand that he can’t tell you certain things because of the nature of his work. You just want him to think of you, of how you’d feel, of how you felt.
Then it’s like a switch flipping, and you’re just. Sad. What a dumb thing to argue over. Such a small thing. Did you overreact? Did you mess things up because you’re overthinking things?
But how would he feel, if you did the same thing to him? Just—fucked off to some place without telling him where or when you’d be back? And when you did get back, not let him know until it’s been days?
Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe it’s that you care too much, too much to be right for the relationship you have with him.
Sleep finds you, eventually. You’re grateful.
Author's Note: And... I'm terrible! Awful! First I left ya'll with a cliffhanger with chapter 10, and now I show up nearly a year later with this angsty chapter... Feel free to yell at me in the replies, I deserve it. 😔
But thank you to all of you who've liked, reblogged, and commented on chapters of this fic since last update! And sent in asks wondering if I'm ever going to update again!! LOL! Knowing that people are still reading and care to know the end of Bakugou and Reader's story motivates me to keep writing. 💖
I do have about 2K of chapter 12 written... Hoping to post that soon, and not after a year has passed lmao. 😅
Alrighty, take care everyone! Hugs and kisses!!!
#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugo katsuki x you#bakugou x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou x you#bakugo x reader#bnha x reader#bnha#lwgyh#jess scribbles
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Just Not Home
Lewis Hamilton x race engineer!Reader
Summary: and I can go anywhere I want … anywhere I want, just not home
The Bahrain sun hovers low over the paddock, stretching long shadows across the asphalt. It’s the first day of preseason testing, and everything feels like a half-forgotten memory — almost familiar, but not quite.
Lewis stands by the Ferrari garage, his arms crossed over the crimson of his new uniform. The Prancing Horse on his chest gleams under the fluorescent lights, a betrayal written in gold thread. He looks down at his phone, scrolling idly, but you know it’s an act. He’s waiting.
So are you.
The Mercedes garage hums around you with the buzz of drills and the low rumble of the cars firing up. It’s your world. It’s been your world for over a decade. But not his anymore. Not after last season.
And then you see him.
He looks up at just the right — or wrong — moment. His gaze locks with yours, and for a second, everything around you dissolves into static. There’s no garage, no engineers, no cars. Just you and him, separated by too many steps and too much history.
You hesitate, then force your feet to move, weaving through the pit lane toward him. He doesn’t look away.
“Didn’t think you’d come over,” Lewis says when you’re close enough to hear. His voice is steady, calm, but his eyes betray him. They’re searching your face like they haven’t seen it a thousand times before.
“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” you reply.
He exhales sharply, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I always want you to.”
It’s too much, too soon. You look down, focusing on the grease smudges on your hands. “How’s it feel? Being in red.”
Lewis glances down at his suit as if he hasn’t already spent hours adjusting to the unfamiliar color. “Strange. Feels like wearing someone else’s skin.”
You nod, unsure of what to say. The silence stretches, heavy and awkward, until he breaks it.
“Do you hate me?”
Your head snaps up. “What?”
“For leaving,” he clarifies. His tone is too casual, like he’s trying to keep it from hurting, but you know him too well. “Do you hate me for going to Ferrari?”
You laugh, short and humorless. “Hate you? No, Lewis. I don’t hate you. I just-” You pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t know what I feel. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” he repeats, rolling the word around like it tastes bitter. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
There’s another pause, filled with the distant roar of an engine.
“I miss you,” he says, quietly, like it’s a confession.
You look at him, really look at him. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, but his eyes — those damn eyes — are soft and full of something you can’t name.
“Don’t,” you whisper.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say things like that. Not here. Not now.”
“Why not?” He steps closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. “Why can’t I say it? It’s true.”
“Because it doesn’t change anything!” Your voice rises, drawing the attention of a few passing mechanics. You lower it again, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re here, and I’m there, and that’s how it’s going to be.”
“I didn’t want to leave,” he says, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word. “You think I wanted this?”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I had to.”
The words hang between you, heavy and unspoken for far too long.
“Had to?” You echo, your tone sharp. “No one made you, Lewis. No one put a gun to your head.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit.”
He flinches, just barely, and you immediately regret the harshness. But you don’t take it back.
“You could’ve stayed,” you continue, your voice trembling now. “You could’ve stayed, and we-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “But you didn’t. You chose this. You chose them.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away. But then he speaks, his voice low and raw.
“You think I wanted to leave the team? Leave you? I didn’t. But I don’t know. It’s like …” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere. Just not-”
“Home,” you finish for him, and the word tastes bitter.
His eyes snap to yours, and there’s something raw there, something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Just not home.”
Your breath catches in your throat. It’s too much, too honest, and you don’t know how to respond.
“Why are you telling me this now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I need you to know.” He looks at you, his eyes pleading. “I need you to know that it wasn’t about leaving you. It was about finding ... I don’t know. Something I’ve been chasing my whole life. But it’s not here either. I thought it would be, but it’s not.”
“Lewis,” you begin, but he cuts you off.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks on the word. “I’m so sorry. For leaving. For not telling you sooner. For everything.”
You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but it doesn’t help. His words are everywhere, wrapping around you like a net you can’t escape.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you admit.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” he replies. “I just ... I just wanted you to know.”
The silence between you is deafening, filled with all the things neither of you can say.
Finally, you look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, you see it. The weight he’s been carrying, the regret etched into every line of his face.
“I don’t hate you,” you say again, softer this time.
He nods, swallowing hard. “I know.”
And then, as if by some unspoken agreement, you both step back. The gap between you widens, filling with everything that could have been and never will be.
“Good luck this season,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.
“You too,” he replies.
And just like that, it’s over. You turn and walk back to the Mercedes garage, each step heavier than the last. You don’t look back.
Neither does he.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lh44#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton blurb#abu dhabi gp 2024#f1 angst#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lewis hamilton x y/n#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton fanfiction
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a digital love letter - ʟɴ4 ☆
✿ lando norris x influencer!reader
✿ a glimpse of all the post’s from when they were “just friends”, to there engagement announcement, to the announcement of there first child.
🝮
june 1st, 2020
lando.jpg
liked by pierregasly and 83,924 others
lando.jpg when i asked y/n if she wanted to quarantine with me i didn’t think it would be this long…
yn if you ask me to make one more batch of cloud bread i will lock you outside
⤷ lando.jpg well that’s awfully rude considering i offered you my home
⤷ yn you literally begged me to quarantine with you???
⤷ lando.jpg no need for the details
maxfewtrell couple goals
⤷ lando.jpg fuck off
hearts4lando “just friends” ok buddy 😭
beloved.hamilton just a COUPLE of friends!😄
charles_leclerc i think this quarantine has got your mind all mixed up cause…
lilac.leclerc there so oblivious 😭
f1wags i smell…a incoming wag 👀
🝮
august 10th, 2020
lando.jpg
liked by georgerussell63 and 984,118 others
lando.jpg took my girl to dinner and let her go shopping for her birthday…never again. she really knows how to spend money
carlossainz55 “my girl” ???
⤷ lando.jpg is she not my girl? she never leaves me alone
⤷ yn you give off this tough guy act like you don’t ask me to hangout every day
⤷ lando.jpg once again, no need for all the details jeez women
landolovesyn it’s the fact she literally makes so much money but he still wants to pay for her stuff really tugs on my heart strings 😪
sharls_lerklerk PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS
pierregasly cmon mate
⤷ lando.jpg what?
landolovesyn Heather 🤩
🝮
january 1st, 2021
lando.jpg
liked by charles_leclerc and 1,746,023 others
lando.jpg happy new year bitches 🥳
yn been waitin for this one
⤷ georgerussell63 We all have
⤷ alex_albon seriously everyone
⤷ carlossainz55 Seriously
danielricciardo Took you guys long enough
⤷ yn 1 year is a reasonable amount of time
maxfewtrell NO PHOTO CREDIT?
⤷ lando.jpg no
lilymhe sooo when’s the wedding?
⤷ alex_albon watch they’ll probably get engaged this year
♥︎ by author
ynissocutiepatootie IT FINALLY HAPPENED
lovely_leclerc stop he took her to see the lights 😢
daddyricciardo i wonder how long they’ve been dating before deciding to go public
🝮
april 14th, 2021
lando.jpg
liked by yukitsunoda05211 and 824,722 others
lando.jpg i was feeling a little down today, but you DEFINITELY turned me on
yn can i help loosen your belt? it looks really tight 😉
⤷ lando.jpg you’ll never catch me saying no to that baby 😏
charles_leclerc Oh come on there’s children on this app lando
carlossainz55 I just opened the app mate
maxverstappen1 Well enough instagram for the day
georgerussell63 I could’ve lived the rest of my life without seeing this
⤷ lando.jpg don’t be hating
estiebestie lando is just a horny teenage boy honestly
♥︎ by yn
landowantsrizz i feel like i’m interrupting something…
hoeforsianzzz so there definitely getting down every night
♥︎ by author & yn
⤷ lilac.leclerc HELLO??? THESE BITCHES MUST BE GETTING DOWN LIKE BUNNIES
🝮
october 22nd, 2021
lando.jpg
liked by lewishamilton and 7,824,023 others
lando.jpg i couldn’t wait any longer
yn so impatient
⤷ lando.jpg i just couldn’t wait to call you my wife
⤷ yn good thing i said yes then
carlossainz55 Congratulations mate! 🎉🥂
♥︎ by author
lewishamilton Congrats man that’s amazing ♥️
♥︎ by author
maxverstappen1 Congrats bro ♥️
♥︎ by author
lilymhe the gold band 😨
⤷ yn ikr i was flabbergasted
♥︎ by author
charles_leclerc Congrats lando! ❤️
♥︎ by author
danielricciardo Let’s go boys 🥳
♥︎ by author
oscarpiastri Congratulations mate, i’m so happy for you 🧡
⤷ lando.jpg 🧡
maxfewtrell little lando norris finally grew some balls
⤷ lando.jpg i can never win 💔
mclaren To forever! 🧡
♥︎ by author
alex_albon i called it
♥︎ by author
landolovesyn the fact this has 7 million likes and he doesn’t have 7 million followers on this account 😭
lando.norizz THE GOLD BAND? LANDO NORRIS YOU’VE OUTDONE YOURSELF
sharls_lerklerk been here since the video of her accidentally dropping her hydroflask on his foot at one of the races in 2019😭
⤷ lando.jpg i still have the tiny scar on my little toe
🝮
january 1st, 2022
lando.jpg
liked by oscarpiastri and 792,614 others
lando.jpg happy new year bitches 👀
yn happy new year whore
⤷ carlossainz55 and to think you two are getting married soon…
charles_leclerc Oh thanks mate
⤷ lando.jpg i wasn’t talking to you
⤷ charles_leclerc Alrighty…
georgerussell63 This was such a elegant, mature post, until i saw the caption
⤷ lando.jpg you shouldn’t be surprised
landolovesyn literally all of his posts are about y/n
⤷ hearts4lando basically a fan page
estiebestie i’ll never get tired of seeing lando’s posts for y/n
carlando there relationship is so perfect
lilymhe don’t think just because you two are getting married that she’s yours
⤷ lando.jpg take the L 🤣
🝮
october 22nd, 2022
lando.jpg
liked by lewishamilton and 28,942,861 others
lando.jpg My greatest love, you are my one and only. From the day you dropped your hydroflask on my foot and laughed until you were crying I knew you were gonna be mine one day, I can’t think of anyone better to spend eternity with. In every universe, I will find you. When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other, and promise to find you in every lifetime. I love you for everything you are, everything you have been, and everything you will be. You are my destiny, I love you endlessly. ♥️
yn ok…i’m literally sobbing right now i love you so much lando
⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most
danielricciardo Turned on auto caps for this one congrats man i’m so happy of you ♥️
♥︎ by author
lewishamilton I wish you two a lifetime of happiness and health ♥️
♥︎ by author
carlossainz55 To a lifetime of bullying each other! ♥️
♥︎ by author
charles_leclerc Little lando norris isn’t so little anymore? 😂 Congratulations man ♥️
♥︎ by author
mclaren Congratulations lando & y/n! 🧡
♥︎ by author & yn
landolovesyn y/n norris 🥹
lando.norizz crying in the club
lilymhe she was mine first.
⤷ lando.jpg not even
lilymhe congratulations, i guess ♥️
♥︎ by author
alex_albon Congratulations lando ♥️
♥︎ by author
georgerussell63 Can’t believe how far you’ve came mate! Congratulations ♥️
♥︎ by author
francisca.cgomes such a beautiful wedding…should’ve been me and y/n’s but still! ♥️
♥︎ by author
carmenmmundt Congratulations ♥️
♥︎ by author
🝮
february 29th, 2024
lando.jpg
liked by maxverstappen1 and 10,523,792 others
lando.jpg Mathéo Lee Norris. 2.10.23 ♥️
comments for this post have been limited
yn my boy 🤍 i love you lan
⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most baby
lilymhe cutest baby boy 💙
♥︎ by author & yn
charles_leclerc I bet he misses his favorite uncle already
⤷ carlossainz55 excuse me?
⤷ charles_leclerc your excused
⤷ maxfewtrell cmon guys, obviously i’m the favorite uncle
⤷ charles_leclerc no
alexandrasaintmleux cutie boy 💙
♥︎ by author & yn
carmenmmundt Mathéo is the cutest 🥰
♥︎ by author & yn
lewishamilton A gift from God ♥️
♥︎ by author & yn
alex_albon bro has more hair then me
♥︎ by author & yn
🝮
march 26th, 2024
lando.jpg
liked by carlossainz55 and 19,982,713 others
lando.jpg a digital love letter for you, the light of my life. my life long treasure of destiny. you are the greatest gift God has blessed me with. i love you endlessly ♥️
comments for this post have been limited
yn you sweet talker, i love you lan 🤍
⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most baby 🤍
landolovesyn guys…this might be heather
♥︎ by author
#lando norris#f1 smau#lando norris x reader#lando norris smau#lando norris fluff#f1 imagine#lando norris imagine
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From Gold to Mold
Chapter 6: The Return
A/N: Did this chapter during a slow day in class. Enjoy this mini chapter!
You tried to keep your promise to Alfred about taking regular breaks to stop for food and sleep, but the Megamycete gives you unlimited energy, reducing your need for food and rest and allowing you to focus only driving as much as you can before night because Alfred is no doubt keeping track of when you tell him you’re stopping and resuming your journey.
Finally, after forty hours (you wished you could’ve turned into a giant flying creature and carry your car all the way to Goodsprings, but you’d never be able to explain that to Alfred), you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home and you feel tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes.
(Your feelings for this home are quite profound,) it remarks as you make your way up the driveway. (May we ask a favor?)
“Yeah, of course?”
(Allow us to establish a root system around your house. We promise our roots will not damage anything.)
“Can I ask why?”
(You have longed to return to this house for years. We wish to ensure its protection. With a root system, we will be able to watch over your house and keep out undesirables, be they man or pest.)
“Sure,” you chuckle, bending down and touching the lawn and from your finger, a sliver of mold extends from your skin and disappears into the dirt.
(We thank you. Should anything threaten your home, we will intervene.)
“Thanks, buddy,” you chuckle as you walk up to the front door, pulling out the key that the Clark County Probate Office sent you after you turned eighteen.
As you insert the key into the keyhole, you realize that you’re holding your breath. You’ve dreamed on this moment for years and now that it’s here, you’re worried that the home you’ve wanted to return to won’t bring you the joy you thought it would.
(Do not let your fears stand in your way. This home contains memories of a time of your life that you cherish. You will also be able to walk through the halls of this house without fear. Within these four walls, you will create a new life that will bring you happiness.)
You’re thankful for accepting the Megamycete into your body. Not only has it given you powers and abilities that you could never dream of, but it’s provided you comfort and companionship. It’s been very helpful to have your own Jiminy Chricket, whispering guidance and help from your shoulder.
With that, you turn the key and push the door open, stepping into the small foyer. Sure, the house has that type of smell that says it’s been empty for years and it’s pitch black since the curtains are drawn, but you’re overwhelmed by so many memories all at once. You and your Momma chasing each other down the hall in a game of tag, you sprawled out on the couch in the adjacent living room to watch the latest episode of one of your favorite cartoons, and so many others.
As you make your way through the house and notice every piece of furniture is covered in white sheets, protecting them from being covered in dust. Probably Sheriff Foley, he was the last one here the day your left and from what you remember of the distinguished sheriff, he’d do everything in his power to preserve the house and make sure nothing happened to it.
Finally, you pass throgh the dining room attached to the kitchen, walk down the small hallway and stop at the door on the left.
“Momma’s study,” you say, looking at the door before you.
(A room she spent most of her time. Many hours spent at her desk, working on her books. And you would stay in here to watch her.)
You open the door to see her bookshelves, desk, and chair covered in white tarps and the curtains drawn just like the rest of the house. You walk over to the other side of the desk, pull the tarp off the chair, and plop down on it.
“Feels just like I remember it,” you say, spinning around in it.
(What will you do with this room? Will you keep it as a study, or repurpose it?)
“I can turn it into my own study. With all that money Lex gave me for Bruce’s secrets? I can buy one hell of a PC that’ll be perfect for making games.”
After the study, you head upstairs, which has your old room, your Momma’s room, an upstairs bathroom, and a bedroom she had turned into a storage room. Your old room’s empty since you took most of your belongings when you moved to Gotham, the only things left are a bed that you’ve long since outgrown and a small dresser, so you decide otherwise set up in your Momma’s old room, which has a large bed that’s been covered in a tarp for years, a large dresser perfect for your clothes, and a sizable private bathroom.
(This house seems perfect for your purposes. And your mood has definitely improved since arriving.)
“Yeah, we have the house all to ourselves and there’s no Waynes in sight. This is definitely better than Wayne Manor.” You look around at the dark room and sigh. “We have a lot of work to do.”
And you did. For a week, you worked tirelessly to get the house livable, making calls to utility companies to get power, water, and gas turned back on, airing out the house, taking down the tarps and making everything look presentable, and clearing out your Momma’s belongings. You kept as much of you could, like her books, movies, jewelry, and everything else in between, but her clothes were boxed up and donated, along with appliances that date back to the early 2000s.
You had a lot of shopping to do, replacing the old appliances you donated, groceries for the new refrigerator, and a new mattress for your new room since the thought of sleeping on a decade old mattress made you itch all over. If you could’ve, you would’ve done all the shopping online, but you didn’t want to risk attracting attention to your finances with so many large purchases, so going to stores and paying with cash was your only option.
The best part of all this was converting your old bedroom into your gamer cave, full of your Pokémon plushies, toys, and posters, LED strips lining the corners of the room, and a giant desk and a top-of-the-line gaming PC. As much as you loved your trusty laptop, this PC makes it look like a relic from over a hundred years ago, and you can now play more modern games without any kind of lag. You’re really looking forward to future video game sessions.
After your gamer cave came your office. You boxed up your Momma’s old books and placed them in the storage room, replacing them with a few art books and game guides and bought another top-of-the-line PC full of digital art and video game creation software and placed it on the desk. You also found a fancy pen stand and placed your Momma’s pen on it, retuning the pen to its proper place. Plus, it can give you inspiration while you work.
Thankfully, the Megamycete made this undertaking easier, giving you stamina and energy that allowed you to work for hours on end without getting tired and allowing you to summon tendrils so you can do something upstairs while your body’s downstairs.
“Finally,” you sigh, plopping down on the living room couch after finishing the second coat of paint in the living room. “We’re done.”
(You have turned this house into a place anyone would kill to live in. You should be proud.)
“You helped. Getting this place into shape would’ve a few weeks, probably a month.”
(What is your next course of action?)
“Right now? Rest. Tomorrow? Time to get back to work.”
(That is right, your game. With your new tools, you should create a masterpiece worthy of you in no time.)
“Glad to know you think so highly of me, bud,” you chuckle.
That’s when you hear your phone go off, indicating you have a text. You take the device off the table, which had been playing your playlist of video game soundtracks, and see a message from Alfred.
Alfred: I hope your first week back in Goodsprings and that you’re taking proper care of yourself. I was thinking about you earlier today and decided to make my chocolate chip cookies.
The text is accompanied by a picture of said cookies and you instantly start salivating at the sight of the baked goods.
(Yes, the butler’s treats were very palatable to you.)
That’s a gross understatement.when it comes to any form of cooking, especially baking, the man is a god, able to conjure up food that would bring tears to anyone’s eye. While you’re ecstatic to be back home and away from the Waynes, you miss the man and his cooking. Now, you have to make do with either what little restaurants Goodsprings has or try your hand at cooking your own meals. And while there are many in the Megamycete’s records that were good in the kitchen, none of them held a candle to Alfred.
Me: Looks delicious! Making me drool up a river in my living room.
Alfred: I certainly hope that’s a joke. A young man as respectable as you should never be caught doing something as disgraceful as drooling.
You laugh at the text. Bless him, the poor man really thinks of you as a member of the “prim and proper” Wayne Family instead of the product of a one-night stand. When you first moved in, he tried to teach you all the ways of high society, but none of it ever took. You are who you are and nothing’s going to change that.
Alfred: Is it too early to ask when I can expect a visit from you?
You feel your heart drop a bit. You miss Alfred and would do anything to see him again, but you promised yourself that when you left Gotham, you’d never step foot in that hellhole again. And you know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to get their shit together and remember the third child brought to live with him, but you hate all of them more than anything and if you never saw them again, it would be too soon.
Of course, you can’t tell him that. It would break his heart and make him feel guilty for not doing more. So, instead, you say:
Me: Sorry, I’m still getting things cleaned up around here and I’m trying to get my game working. Don’t know when I’ll be able to.
Alfred: I understand, my boy. I just ask that you try to carve out a little time to come back to Gotham and visit home when things calm down.
Home and Gotham definitely do not belong in the same sentence. Not for you, at least. Nevertheless:
Me: I promise!
Of course, you have no intention of going back there. You miss Alfred, but that city isn’t a place where good people end up. You were dragged there against your will and if it wasn’t for that drunk driver, you never would’ve lost the best years of your life to it and the Waynes. No matter what, you will never step foot in Gotham again.
You’d rather die.
#male reader#yandere batfamily#batfamily#batfamily x male reader#batman#yandere dc#dc x male reader#yandere barbara gordon#yandere cassandra cain#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere batfam#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere alfred pennyworth#from gold to mold
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Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.
Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.
Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.
Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi
Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi
Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII
Chapters: 4 / ?
Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers
A/N: Rollercoaster of sh*t.
ACT IV.
My head swam, but not from the alcohol this time. Of course, he owned the hottest spot in town. Why wouldn’t he? It was so… him. Dark, magnetic, and pulsing with an energy that felt alive.
I tilted my chin up, caught up by the warmth spreading in my chest. “You could’ve led with that, you know. Saved me the shock.” My words came out more sassy than I’d intended, but the moment they left my mouth, I realized I didn’t care.
Yoongi’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened. “And miss that reaction?” He shrugged. “Not a chance.”
Hoseok snorted beside me, nudging me playfully. “You’re a natural at this, Y/N. Keep him on his toes.”
I ignored Hoseok, my eyes locked on Yoongi’s. “So, what’s the deal? You walk in here like some dark prince, surveying your kingdom, and then just… what? Decide to mingle with the common folk?”
That earned me a genuine chuckle. Low and rich, it sent a ripple through me that I wasn’t prepared for. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, his tone almost teasing, “I’d think you were flirting.”
I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks burned. “I’m just calling it like I see it. Besides,” I gestured around, nearly knocking over an empty glass in the process, “you’re the one interrupting our little party.”
Yoongi leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Trust me, I’m not interrupting. I’m improving it.”
That stupid smirk again. He was too smooth for his own good.
I crossed my arms, standing my ground—or at least trying to, given my slightly unsteady balance. “Bold claim. Care to prove it?”
His gaze darkened, a spark of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Careful, Y/N. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
It was a challenge, plain and simple. And I was tipsy enough, bold enough, to take the bait.
Yoongi’s gaze lingered on me for a beat longer, the smirk on his lips softening into something dangerously close to intrigue, before he straightened up. “I’ll leave you to your… festivities,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes still locked on mine. “Don’t wander too far.”
And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, his presence like a phantom that left behind a trail of chaos.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, only to be jolted by the sound of Rya scooting closer. “What the hell was that?” she squeaked, her wide eyes darting between me and the direction Yoongi had gone.
Hoseok, ever the life of the party, burst into laughter, slapping his knee as if the entire exchange had been the highlight of his night. “Oh, this is gold. Y/N, I don’t know what you’re drinking, but you need to have it every time we go out. That was legendary.”
I flushed, suddenly feeling the heat of their stares more than Yoongi’s. “What are you talking about?” I asked, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant.
Rya gaped at me. “Are you kidding me? You were, like, full-on flirting with Min Yoongi. The Min Yoongi! Who owns this place! And he flirted back!”
“That wasn’t flirting,” I said quickly, though my voice wavered just enough to make my protest unconvincing.
“Oh, please,” Rya shot back, recovering from her shock to grin at me like she’d just uncovered a scandal. “He was looking at you like you were the only person here. And don’t think I didn’t catch that little breathy moment you had when he leaned in.”
“I did too!” Hoseok chimed in, his laughter subsiding into a knowing grin. “You might as well have swooned. It was like watching a scene from a K-drama.”
“I did not swoon!” I hissed, but my cheeks were betraying me, burning hotter by the second.
Rya leaned in, her teasing grin turning downright mischievous. “So? What’s the plan? Are you going to play coy, or are you going to see where this goes?”
“There’s no plan!” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “It’s not like that.”
“Right,” Rya said, drawing out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “And that’s why you’re still blushing.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Hoseok and Rya said in unison, and I groaned again, this time into my hands.
Rya gave my shoulder a playful nudge. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll make sure you’re ready for when Prince Yoongi decides to return for his damsel.”
“I hate you both,” I muttered, though I couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled up despite myself.
Hoseok raised his glass. “To Y/N, our fearless leader in the art of unexpected seduction!”
Rya clinked her glass against his with a giggle, and I shook my head, knowing there was no escaping their teasing tonight.
The night continued to spiral into a haze of drinks, laughter, and teasing. I couldn’t quite remember how many cocktails I’d had, but the warm, dizzying buzz was taking over. Hoseok kept encouraging me to try new drinks, and I, in my tipsy confidence, couldn’t say no. At some point, I realized my tolerance was slipping, and I needed a break from the noise and chatter.
“Alright, I’m calling it,” I muttered to Rya, who was currently nursing her own drink with that playful grin still plastered on her face. “I need a minute. Just a quick breather.”
“Good call,” she said, her tone teasing as always. “Let's go get some fresh air, princess.”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself as I pushed myself to my feet, a little unsteady but managing. The motion of the crowd around me made my head spin, and I began to make my way toward the back of the bar, where the balcony on the second floor awaited.
Rya followed without hesitation, catching up to me as I stumbled out onto the balcony, the cool night air hitting my face and doing little to clear the fog in my head. The balcony overlooked the main entrance, the buzzing energy of the bar below a stark contrast to the calmness of the night sky above.
I leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and for a moment, I almost felt like I could breathe again. Rya stood beside me, lighting up a cigarette. The first drag she took made me blink in surprise. I hadn’t expected her to be a smoker.
“You smoke?” I asked, my voice a little more slurred than I’d intended.
She shrugged, the cigarette hanging between her fingers. “Only when I’m stressed or need to think. Never really felt like it until tonight.” She gave me a sidelong glance, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. “I think you might’ve had a little too much fun tonight.”
I laughed weakly. “Maybe,” I admitted, feeling the buzzing in my head intensify with each word I spoke.
We both stood there in silence for a moment, watching the cars passing by below. The cool breeze was refreshing, but my mind couldn’t seem to quiet.
Rya took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling into the air. I could feel her eyes on me as the silence stretched on, but I didn’t know what to say. It was strange, talking to someone who wasn’t part of the world I used to know.
I leaned my elbows on the railing, staring down at the street, my thoughts swirling. “You know, this is weird,” I started, trying to make sense of the jumble in my head. “I’ve never been good at places like this. Clubs. Bars. I don’t know… it just feels like everyone’s always so... confident.”
Rya didn’t say anything at first, just continued to smoke, as if waiting for me to go on. When I did, my words came out more in a rush, as if I couldn’t stop them.
“I used to have this group of girls I called my friends. We’d go out together, but it was never real, you know? Everyone was always smiling at each other, acting like everything was fine, but... behind the scenes, it was all about tearing each other down. I felt like I was invisible half of the time. They only kept me around to make themselves feel better because I was the fat one and they weren't. I just felt... useless.”
I sighed, feeling a bit foolish for spilling all of this out to someone I barely knew. Rya didn’t seem surprised, though. She simply leaned against the railing beside me, flicking the ashes from her cigarette.
“Sounds like they were garbage people,” she said bluntly, without a hint of hesitation.
I blinked at her. “Yeah, well… I didn't know it at the time. I just kept thinking if I stayed, they’d notice me, or that maybe I wasn’t... that bad.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Rya said quietly, her voice softer now. She paused before speaking again, looking out over the railing as if gathering her own thoughts. “I think a lot of people feel that way at some point. Like they don’t belong, or like they’re just filling space.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t like I expected her to understand completely, but somehow, hearing it from her made me feel a little less crazy. A little less... alone.
“I guess that’s why tonight feels different,” I said after a pause, the words coming out softer, more vulnerable than I meant them to. “For the first time, a stranger actually... came up to me. Asked me to dance. No one’s ever done that before, not like that. I don’t know why, but... it feels like maybe I’m not invisible, you know?”
Rya’s gaze shifted to me then, her eyes softer than they’d been a moment ago. She let the silence stretch for a beat before she smiled. It wasn’t one of her teasing, playful grins. It was something more genuine.
“You’re not invisible, Y/N. Maybe it’s just taking some time for you to see it too.” She took a last drag of her cigarette, letting out a long exhale before tossing it over the side of the balcony. “But don’t let it take too long. You deserve to feel like you matter—like you’re seen.”
I felt a lump form in my throat, and for the first time in a long time, the words I’d wanted to say but never had a chance to were finally coming to the surface.
“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Really.”
She just nodded, her face lighting up with a kind of warmth I wasn’t used to, and I felt something shift inside me. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else entirely, but in that moment, with her standing beside me, the weight I’d carried for so long felt just a little bit lighter.
We stayed there for a while longer, the cool breeze calming the storm in my chest, and I let myself simply... be.
-
Rya and I made our way back into the club, the heat and noise almost overwhelming after the cool air outside. We weaved through the crowd until we found Hoseok sitting in the same booth we had claimed earlier. He was still chatting with Yoongi, who I now realized had been there for a while. He must have arrived earlier while we were outside, though I hadn’t noticed him.
I hadn’t expected him to be the owner of this place. Whilst tipsier earlier, I had came to that realization earlier when he visited us and it surprised me more than I wanted to admit. He didn’t look like the owner, or at least, not like any owner I’d ever imagined. There was something about his sly like fox presence that made him seem more like a mysterious figure who didn’t really want to be noticed.
As we approached, Hoseok greeted us with a bright grin. “Ah, there you are! It took you long enough!”
“We are here now,” I said, not quite ready to dive into anything more. My gaze flickered over to Yoongi, who was sitting back in his chair, relaxed but with his eyes fixed on me. I wasn’t sure if he noticed me looking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was like a shadow hanging over everything.
“You guys good?” Rya asked, taking her seat beside Hoseok as if nothing were unusual. I stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next. My glass was almost empty, so I motioned to the bartender for another drink, trying to focus on anything but the magnetic tension I felt from Yoongi.
Rya turned her attention to Hoseok, as usual, but I could feel Yoongi’s gaze on me like a weight. I was hyperaware of every step I took, every breath I made. His presence made my pulse quicken, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing how much it affected me.
Hoseok, blissfully oblivious to the tension between me and Yoongi, kept up his cheerful banter. “I swear, every time I see you two, I get more and more worried about your liver,” he teased, nudging Rya playfully.
Rya laughed. “We’re fine, Hoseok. Don’t worry about us.”
I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to Yoongi, and the more I thought about him, the more the atmosphere in the club felt charged. I had come here tonight for a fun distraction, not to get wrapped up in whatever unspoken connection existed between him and me. But there it was—always lingering in the background, impossible to ignore.
“Y/N, you’re drunk,” Yoongi says, leaning back against the couch with that smug grin plastered across his face. His eyes glint with amusement, the kind that makes my already warm cheeks burn hotter.
“I am not drunk,” I declare, pointing a finger at him dramatically. Okay, so maybe my hand wobbles a little—fine, a lot—but still, I’m holding my ground. “I’m just... delightfully loose. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t know a good time if it hit you in the face.”
His smirk deepens. God, that smirk. “Delightfully loose? Is that what we’re calling this?” He gestures vaguely at me, and I glare at him—or at least I try to glare.
“Yes, and you’re lucky to be in the presence of this level of charm,” I shoot back, crossing my arms. It’s supposed to be dramatic, but I nearly knock over my drink, so the impact is somewhat lessened.
Yoongi just laughs—a rare, low chuckle that makes me want to both punch him and grin like an idiot. “You’re a mess.”
I huff, sitting up straighter. “A delightful mess. Don’t forget the important adjectives, Yoongi.”
He shakes his head, looking at me with that infuriating mix of amusement and fondness. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”
I scoff, tossing my hair over my shoulder like the dramatic queen I absolutely am tonight. “Future me is tough as nails. She can handle it.”
“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, leaning closer now, his face annoyingly smug—and annoyingly close. “You’re fun when you’re drunk. Did I ever tell you that?”
“You’re always fun when you’re around me,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at him. “Which isn’t often, by the way. You’re too busy being sly as a fox.”
He raises a brow. “Sly as a fox?”
“Yes,” I say, leaning into my sass. “Like some sly fox lurking in the shadows, pretending to be all mysterious, but secretly just waiting for someone to feed your ego.”
That laugh again—soft, deep, and way too satisfying to hear. “You’ve got quite the imagination.”
“And you’ve got quite the ego,” I quip, smirking triumphantly. But before I can revel in my win, Yoongi shifts closer, the warmth of his presence suddenly tangible. My breath catches, and I hate how I feel my sass faltering under his gaze.
“You’re impossible,” he whispers, his voice quieter now, like the moment’s shifted without me realizing it.
“Impossibly charming,” I manage, my voice smaller than I’d like, my cheeks heating up even more.
From the corner of my eye, I see Rya grinning like a Cheshire cat, her phone raised. “Oh my God, you two, stay just like that.”
“What? No—Rya!” I protest, my voice going high-pitched and ridiculous, but before I can move, there’s the telltale click of her camera.
Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he chuckles, the sound so soft and close it sends a shiver down my spine. “Let her keep it,” he says, looking at me like he’s amused by my flustered state.
“But she’s going to use it against me!” I protest, trying to reach for her phone.
“Don’t worry,” Rya says, laughing as she holds the phone out of reach. “This one’s for memory purposes. You’ll thank me later.”
“Ryaaa!” I groan, but before I can fight back properly, Yoongi’s hand gently catches my wrist.
“Seriously,” he says, his tone low, almost... fond? “Let her keep it. Might be worth remembering tonight.”
I blink, caught completely off-guard by the softness in his voice. His dark eyes meet mine, and suddenly my mind’s gone blank. All the witty comebacks I had lined up? Gone. Just like that.
“I—yeah,” I mumble, the words slipping out before I can think. “Maybe it is.”
For a moment, the world seems to shrink around us, his face close enough that I can see the faintest crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
And in the background, Rya? She’s probably grinning like an idiot because she just captured something that wasn’t meant to be caught.
I finally snapped myself out of the haze and glanced at Rya. “Let’s go dance,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Her eyes lit up. “Now you’re speaking my language!” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the dance floor. I followed her eagerly, trying to push Yoongi from my mind as we joined the crowd.
As the music thumped in my chest, the mood shifted, and I started to let go. The music was slow, sensual, and I found myself following Rya’s lead, moving with her in time with the rhythm. I wasn’t focused on anyone else in the room—just the music, just the beat, just the moment.
But then I felt it again. That familiar, heavy weight of someone’s gaze on me. I looked up and met Yoongi’s eyes across the room. He was watching us. Watching me.
My heart skipped a beat. He didn’t look away this time. His gaze was piercing, intense. And something about the way he looked at me—like he saw right through the act I was putting on—had my chest tightening. The air felt thick, charged with something unspoken, and I felt exposed, like the whole world could see my vulnerability.
Rya must have noticed my shift in energy, because she leaned closer, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You know he’s still watching, right?”
I swallowed, trying to shake off the nervous feeling rising in my chest. “I know,” I muttered, though I was anything but casual about it. Every part of me wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t stop myself from being drawn to him.
Rya gave me a knowing look. “If you keep looking at him like that, you’re gonna end up in trouble.” Her words made me feel even more exposed, but she didn’t stop grinning.
I turned my attention back to the music, trying to lose myself in the rhythm again. But as much as I tried to ignore it, I could still feel Yoongi’s gaze on me, lingering like a weight on my shoulders. The heat from his eyes made everything feel heavier, more intense. It was as if the music wasn’t enough to drown out the way he was looking at me, the magnetic pull between us too strong to ignore.
As the night wore on and the effects of the alcohol finally began to hit me full force, my limbs felt heavy, my steps wobbly. Rya and Hoseok had been keeping an eye on me, and it wasn’t long before Rya grabbed my arm with a concerned look.
“Alright, party girl,” she said, her voice firm but affectionate. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to call it a night.”
Hoseok appeared beside her, nodding. “Yep. Before you start serenading the entire club with your ‘delightfully loose’ energy.”
I groaned, my head lolling against Rya’s shoulder. “I was having fun,” I mumbled, but I didn’t resist as they guided me toward the exit. The cool air hit me like a wave as we stepped outside, clearing my head just enough to realize how far gone I was.
“Let’s get her home,” Rya said to Hoseok, who fished out his phone, probably to call a cab.
Before he could, however, the door behind us opened, and Yoongi stepped out into the night. His expression was unreadable as his gaze landed on us—or maybe just on me. “You leaving already?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something in his voice that made me shiver.
Rya crossed her arms, immediately on guard. “Yeah. She’s had enough for one night.”
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to me, and I couldn’t decipher the look in them. “I’ll take you all home,” he offered, his voice calm but firm. “It’s late. Safer that way.”
Rya and Hoseok exchanged a skeptical glance. “I don’t know…” Rya started, clearly not thrilled about the idea of leaving me in his care.
Yoongi smirked slightly, his confidence frustratingly unwavering. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything. I’ll drop you both off first. She’ll be fine.”
“Will she?” Rya challenged, her sharp eyes narrowing.
“Rya,” Hoseok interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s late. He’s sober, and we’re all here. It’s probably better than waiting for a cab.”
Rya hesitated but finally relented with a sigh. “Fine,” she muttered, shooting Yoongi a pointed glare. “But if you try anything—”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Scout’s honor.”
With some reluctance, we all piled into Yoongi’s car. Hoseok and Rya sat in the back, with me in the passenger seat, my head leaning heavily against the window as the cool glass soothed my overheated skin. The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine almost lulling me to sleep.
Yoongi dropped Hoseok off first, who gave him a wary but grateful nod. Then it was Rya’s turn. Before she got out, she leaned over the seat, glaring at Yoongi. “I’m trusting you with her,” she said, her tone deadly serious. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re awfully protective.”
“She’s my best friend,” Rya shot back, her voice firm. “And I’ll hunt you down if you try anything.”
Yoongi chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly confident. “Noted.”
Rya turned to me, squeezing my hand. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”
I nodded, too tired to do more than mumble, “I will.”
Once Rya was gone, the silence in the car felt heavier. I shifted slightly in my seat, sneaking a glance at Yoongi. He was focused on the road, his expression unreadable, but the air between us was charged, thick with unspoken tension.
“You don’t have to take me home,” I mumbled, my voice softer now. “I could’ve taken a cab.”
“I know,” he said simply, not looking at me. “But I wanted to.”
Something about his tone made my heart skip a beat. I turned my gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur past, but I couldn’t shake the awareness of him beside me.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a moment, his voice breaking the silence.
“Just tired,” I replied, though it wasn’t the full truth. My thoughts were racing, filled with the way he looked at me earlier, the way he always seemed to carry himself with that infuriating mix of arrogance and mystery.
“You’re not as tough as you act, you know,” he said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.
I turned to look at him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He glanced at me, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Just an observation.”
I huffed, crossing my arms. “You don’t know me well enough to make observations.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone annoyingly calm. “But I think I’m starting to.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. My pulse quickened, and I hated how easily he got under my skin.
When we finally pulled up in front of my apartment, he parked the car and turned to me, his gaze steady. “Go inside. Text your friend like you promised.”
I nodded, fumbling with the door handle, but before I could get out, he spoke again.
“And Y/N?”
I paused, looking back at him.
He leaned slightly closer, his voice low. “You’re fun when you’re drunk. But you’re even more fun when you’re just you.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and for once, I had no witty comeback. Instead, I mumbled a quick goodnight and practically bolted out of the car, my heart racing as I fumbled for my keys.
As I stepped inside my apartment, I couldn’t help but glance out the window. His car was still there, idling for a moment before finally pulling away. And even as I closed the door behind me, my mind was still spinning, the memory of his words—and that look in his eyes—seared into my thoughts.
-
The next morning, I felt like death warmed over. My head throbbed with a relentless rhythm, and the sunlight streaming through the curtains made my eyes squeeze shut in protest. I groaned, rolling onto my side.
“Ugh... Hades,” I mumbled, squinting toward the edge of the bed. Sure enough, my little fluff ball of a dog was perched on his usual spot near my feet, his dark eyes fixed on me, ears perked in expectation. His tiny tail wagged as soon as I stirred.
“I know, I know,” I muttered, pushing myself up with far more effort than it should’ve taken. My mouth was dry, my muscles heavy, and my thoughts even heavier. “Breakfast first. Then I can hate myself for last night.”
Hades hopped off the bed and trotted ahead of me, his soft white fur bouncing with each step. By the time I reached the kitchen, he was already circling his food bowl, giving me a look that said, Hurry up, human.
I chuckled weakly, filling his dish and setting it down. “There. Happy?” I watched as he dove in, his tail wagging like I’d just given him the world. At least one of us was having a good morning.
While Hades busied himself with his food, I stumbled into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The hot water did its best to melt away my hangover, but the memories of last night refused to wash away so easily.
By the time I made it back to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee, my nerves were already fraying. With Hades trailing close behind, I shuffled out onto the balcony, cradling my mug like it was my last lifeline.
The crisp morning air helped a little, enough to jolt me out of the lingering haze of sleep. Hades curled up near my feet, his fluffy coat glowing in the soft sunlight as he rested his head on his paws.
I leaned back in my chair, taking a slow sip of coffee. For a moment, I let the stillness of the morning lull me, the warmth of the mug grounding me. But it didn’t last long.
Like an unwelcome tide, the memories from last night started flooding back.
The club. The drinks. The banter with Yoongi. My stomach twisted as flashes of my drunken antics resurfaced—the sass, the dramatic finger-pointing, the teasing.
“What the hell was I thinking?” I muttered, covering my face with one hand. Hades perked up slightly at the sound of my voice but settled back down when he realized I wasn’t going anywhere.
The memory of Yoongi’s smirk, his low chuckle, the way he’d looked at me—all of it came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. My cheeks burned as I remembered calling him a sly fox and declaring myself a “delightful mess.” The mortification was almost enough to make me curl up into a ball and stay there forever.
But what really made my chest tighten was the car ride home. His words, his gaze, the way he’d said, “You’re even more fun when you’re just you.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Why couldn’t I just forget about it? Why did that moment, of all things, have to stick with me?
The insecurities hit like a freight train, each one louder than the last. Did I look foolish to him? Did I come off as desperate? What if I’d ruined everything—whatever this was?
Hades shifted at my feet, letting out a soft whine, and I reached down to scratch behind his ears, needing the comfort. “It’s fine,” I told him softly, more to myself than to him. “It’s not like he’s going to bring it up. Right?”
Hades yawned, clearly uninterested in my crisis, and rested his head again. I let out a shaky sigh, sipping my coffee and staring out at the city.
I had no idea how to face him again. But no matter how much I panicked, I couldn’t stop replaying his words in my head, over and over again.
“You’re even more fun when you’re just you.”
Why did that have to be the part I remembered most?
I swirled the mug absently, staring at the skyline but not really seeing it. The memory of Yoongi’s smirk lingered in my mind, sharp and clear. The way his eyes had glinted with something unreadable, something that made me feel... seen, but not in a way I could understand.
And what if it was all just a game?
My stomach twisted violently at the thought, the unease clawing its way up my throat. What if Yoongi had just been toying with me? Testing how far he could push me before I broke? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had done that, the memory of teenage taunts and cruel laughter surfacing like ghosts I thought I’d buried.
What if he wanted to see if the fat girl would fall for his charms?
I felt sick. I set the mug down with shaky hands, clutching the edge of the table as if it could anchor me. My cheeks burned, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment—it was anger. Anger at myself for letting him get to me, for letting my guard down, for letting his words and his smile burrow under my skin like they had any right to be there.
Fucking hell, Y/N. Why did you let this happen?
I buried my face in my hands, the sharp edge of panic building in my chest. What if he laughed about it later? What if this was nothing but some joke to him? A story to share with Jungkook tomorrow at work?
Oh, God.
Was he going to mock me?
I could already picture it: Yoongi leaning back in his chair, smirking as he recounted the night to Jungkook. Talking about how easy it was to get a reaction out of me, how I’d blushed, how I’d been drunk enough to practically fall into his lap.
My breathing hitched, anxiety tightening its grip on me like a vise. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to will the spiral to stop, but it didn’t. The thoughts came faster, louder, each one worse than the last.
What if tomorrow at work he made some sly comment, dropping hints that only I would catch, smirking when I squirmed under the weight of it? What if Jungkook looked at me differently, pitying me for falling for Yoongi’s charms? What if—what if—
“Stop it,” I whispered harshly to myself, my voice trembling.
But the damage was done. The doubts had sunk their claws into me, and no matter how much I tried to shove them down, they lingered, festering like an open wound.
Hades whined softly at my feet, nudging my leg with his nose. I looked down at him, my chest tightening further. His dark eyes stared up at me, his tiny head tilted, as if asking, Why are you upset?
I reached down, stroking his soft fur with trembling hands. “I’m fine,” I murmured, though the words felt like a lie.
But I wasn’t fine.
I was panicking, spiraling, drowning in a tide of insecurities that felt too heavy to swim against. And no matter how hard I tried to push the memories of last night away, they clung to me, stubborn and sharp, refusing to let me forget just how vulnerable I’d been.
And how foolish I’d been to let myself believe, even for a second, that Yoongi might have meant any of it.
-
The Monday morning commute was a nightmare. Traffic was a mess, and I could feel the anxiety building with each minute I was stuck in place. My stomach twisted in knots, and by the time I made it to the office, I was already on edge. The weekend had been long and uncomfortable, and I was not in the mood to face everyone—especially Yoongi.
As soon as I stepped through the door of the office, I immediately felt the weight of all those eyes. The hum of the usual office chatter felt deafening.
I kept my head down as I walked toward my desk, hoping I could just blend into the sea of busy workers. I didn’t need anyone noticing me today. I didn’t need anyone talking to me.
I quickly sank into my chair and buried myself behind my computer, praying that I could get through the day without any awkward interactions. The worst part was that I could feel it—the tension in the air, thick and unspoken. The what ifs from the weekend were still swirling in my mind, and the fear of being the subject of office gossip made it hard to focus on anything else.
Just when I thought I might finally be safe, I heard the unmistakable sound of Rya’s footsteps approaching. My heart dropped into my stomach.
“Y/N,” she said, her tone already heavy with something I didn’t want to hear. “We need to talk.”
I looked up, already feeling a rush of dread. “What’s going on?”
Rya’s eyes were filled with concern, and there was something else, too—something I couldn’t quite place. She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “The picture of you and Yoongi… the one I took that night… it’s been uploaded to the company website.”
My blood ran cold. I could feel my face drain of color as I scrambled to process what she was saying. “What?!” I hissed, glancing around the office. Sure enough, a few people were looking in our direction, whispering to one another. I wanted to shrink into my chair, but it felt like all eyes were on me.
“What do you mean it was uploaded?” I felt the panic rising in my chest.
Rya sighed, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. It just appeared there. Some anonymous source uploaded it, and now… well, people are talking.”
I stood up so quickly that my chair nearly tipped over. My hands were shaking as I scanned the room, my eyes darting from one person to the next. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as the realization hit me: someone had posted the picture of Yoongi and me, and now it was out in the open for everyone to see.
“Did you do it?” I asked, my voice rising. Rya’s eyes widened, and she immediately shook her head.
“Y/N, no! I swear to you, I didn’t do it!” she protested. “Hoseok didn’t either. We’d never—”
I couldn’t stop the surge of frustration. I knew I wasn’t going crazy, but there was only one person who had been there with us, who could potentially have access to the photo. “Then who else was there, Rya?” I spat, my hands clenched into fists.
She blinked in surprise at the sudden heat in my voice, but I could see her starting to piece things together. “Wait… you don’t think… Yoongi, right?”
The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the only explanation that made sense. He had been there, and he was the one with the power to upload it. I felt my blood boil. Of course it was him.
I stormed down the hallway, my steps growing faster as I approached the balcony. I knew exactly where to find him—Yoongi was always there, cigarette in hand, leaning against the railing, as if the world outside could fix whatever thoughts were swirling in his head. But when I threw open the door, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
Jungkook was standing there, his hand gripping Yoongi’s collar, his face tight with anger. My heart sank, and for a split second, I didn’t even know how to react.
“Jungkook, what the hell—” I snapped, my voice sharp with confusion and frustration.
He turned to face me, his expression a mix of upset and disbelief. "You—" he started, cutting off mid-sentence, his gaze flicking to Yoongi, still holding him by the collar. "This picture, Y/N. You don’t get it. It’s going to ruin the company’s image!"
I could feel my pulse quicken, anger boiling in my veins. I hadn’t even had a chance to process what was happening before Yoongi spoke up, his voice low and mocking, as always.
"Relax," he drawled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I did not upload it. Not like you had much to worry about, though. The way you looked that night... You sure your friends are as real as they seem?”
His words hit like a slap, each syllable laced with venom, and I could feel my stomach churn in disbelief. The nerve of him, mocking me like this—mocking everything I’d been through. The image, my friends, all of it.
I was so angry, I couldn’t even speak. Instead, I just stared at him, every part of me wanting to explode. How dare he act like I was the one causing problems when he was the one toying with my life?
The sting of Yoongi’s words hit harder than I ever expected. It was like a punch to the gut, and I could feel every bit of my frustration and hurt boiling over. How could he say something like that? How could he act so differently now?
It felt like all the walls I had put up around myself were crashing down. I had trusted him. I had thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between us. But now—now he was just mocking me, belittling me, throwing all of my emotions in my face like they meant nothing.
Before I could even think, my hand was moving, slapping him across the face with all the force I could muster. His head snapped to the side, but the cold expression didn’t falter. And then, without thinking again, I shoved him hard—his cigarette flying from his hand as he stumbled back.
“Go to Hell.” I choked out, my voice trembling with rage and hurt.
Without giving him a chance to respond, I turned and stormed off the balcony, my chest tight and tears already starting to blur my vision. I couldn’t hold them back. They burned, hot and relentless, as I ran down the hall to find somewhere, anywhere, to hide.
I ended up in a bathroom, locking the door behind me. My legs gave way, and I collapsed onto the cold tiles, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t care anymore. Nothing mattered. My entire body shook with the weight of it—the betrayal, the pain, the confusion. Why did he have to hurt me like this? Why did he have to make me feel so small?
I spent what felt like hours on the bathroom floor, crying until my throat ached and my eyes burned. My makeup was ruined, my emotions shredded, and I couldn’t even think straight.
Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, I managed to pull myself together enough to stand and wipe my face. I wasn’t ready to face anyone, but I knew I had to. I took a deep breath, wiped away the last of the tears, and stepped out of the bathroom.
As soon as I did, I froze. Rya was standing there, her posture tense, her eyes full of regret. My heart sank.
"Y/N, wait," she began softly, stepping closer. "I—"
“What do you want, Rya?” I cut her off, my voice hoarse from crying. I wasn’t sure I could handle another person adding to my mess right now.
“I need to explain," she said, looking like she was about to cry too. "It was me. I—I sent the picture to Hoseok, and Hoseok... he sent it to his co-worker."
I felt the room spin, the anger and confusion flooding back all at once. "You did what?" I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.
She nodded, her eyes full of guilt. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would get out like this. It was a stupid mistake. I should’ve never sent it. Please, just... please understand. I never meant for any of this to happen."
The words didn’t feel real. I just stood there, my mind racing, my heart sinking deeper into my chest. So much had been messed up already. So much had been done, and now... now it was all just crashing down around me.
I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear Rya's apologies or explanations. I couldn’t. It was too much, and right now, I just needed to be alone. The last thing I wanted was to stand there and listen to her make excuses for what she’d done. So, without another word, I turned and walked away from her, heading straight for my desk.
My steps were heavy, each one feeling like a punishment as I walked through the hallway. I didn’t care who saw me, didn’t care about the mess I was. I just wanted to go back to my desk, to find some semblance of control in the chaos.
As soon as I reached my cubicle, I collapsed into my chair, my hands gripping the edge of the desk as I tried to steady my breathing. I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. My heart still ached from Yoongi's words, and now, the fallout from Rya’s actions, the picture… It was all just too much.
But the relief of sitting at my desk didn’t last long.
Tina’s voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking as she approached me. "Well, well, look who’s back," she sneered. “Had a nice little breakdown, huh? That photo was a real treat. It’s almost cute how hard you tried to pretend you had it together.”
I didn’t even look up at her. I couldn’t stomach the idea of interacting with someone like her right now.
But Tina wasn’t done. She moved closer, her voice dripping with venom. "You know, Y/N," she said, her tone laced with cruelty, "I don’t know why you even bother. People like you? You’re never going to be loved. A fatty like you will always just be a joke."
The words hit me like ice water, cold and suffocating. I could feel my stomach drop, my chest tightening with the sting of her words. Every single insult she hurled felt like it was carving into my skin, one cruel word after another.
"People like me?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, unable to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. "What does that even mean?"
Tina chuckled, a sound so bitter it made my skin crawl. "It means exactly what I said. You’re never going to fit in, Y/N. Not with your body, not with your face, not with any of it. No one’s going to look at you the way they look at someone who actually matters."
I felt every word sink deeper into me, like poison that was seeping into my soul. I couldn’t even breathe. The thought of her judging me, of everyone judging me, it was too much.
I felt myself shaking, not from anger, but from the hurt that felt too heavy to carry. It wasn’t just her words. It wasn’t just Tina or anyone else. It was everything—the picture, Yoongi’s mockery, Rya’s betrayal—and now this, this new low I hadn’t even anticipated.
My hands clenched into fists, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the tears from spilling over. Tina had done it—she’d finally broken me.
I was still sitting there, trying to gather myself, my hands trembling as I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. I could feel Tina’s eyes on me, her cruel words still ringing in my head like a broken record. I was trying so hard to keep it together, to not break completely, but every attempt felt futile.
Then, suddenly, I heard it—Jungkook's voice, sharper than I’d ever heard before.
"That’s enough," he snapped, his tone unlike anything I had ever heard from him. I looked up in surprise, my mind trying to process what was happening. His eyes were fierce, his jaw clenched as he stepped between me and Tina, standing protectively in front of me.
Tina scoffed, but there was a hesitant look in her eyes, as though she hadn’t expected Jungkook to speak up like that. "What, are you going to play the hero now after you were mocking her too?" she sneered, but her words lacked conviction.
"One word," Jungkook shot back, his voice like ice. "One word and you will get dismissed effective immediately."
He stood tall, unwavering, until Tina finally huffed and walked away, clearly unwilling to challenge him further. As she turned on her heel, I could hear her mutter something under her breath, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was Jungkook now.
He turned to me, his face softening a bit, though there was still a tightness in his expression. He knelt down in front of me, his presence oddly comforting despite everything I had been through today.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, but his concern was evident.
I shook my head, unable to find the words. There was too much going on inside my head, too much hurt and betrayal. I couldn’t trust anyone right now—not Tina, not even Rya or Yoongi. I couldn’t tell him that though. "Come to my office," he had whispered and before I could reply, my feet were dragging me there, following behind. He made sure to close the door as I sat on the soft cushioned sofa near his desk.
He didn't say anything nor pushed further. Instead, he walked to the side, pouring a glass of water and took out his handkerchief laying in one of his pockets. He returned and placed them in front of me, his movements careful, like he was trying to give me space but still offer some kind of comfort.
I glanced at the glass of water and the handkerchief. oddly enough I noticed red /JK/ initials on it. Funny.
I knew he was trying to help, but part of me didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know how to accept help from anyone right now. Everyone seemed so fake, so full of hidden motives, and I felt like I was surrounded by nothing but lies.
"Take it easy," Jungkook said, his voice calm and gentle. "You don’t have to stay here. If you need some time, take the day off. Go home. Just… take care of yourself, alright?"
I looked up at him, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude, suspicion, confusion. It was hard to trust anyone at this point, especially when I had been betrayed so many times today. I didn’t know if I could leave, if I could just walk away from all of this, but… it did sound like the right thing to do.
"You don’t have to figure it out all at once.." he answered, noticing the pain in my eyes.
He took a step back, allowing me the space to make my own decision. He didn’t push, just stood there quietly, waiting for me to come to my own conclusion.
I could feel the tears starting to well up again, but I didn’t want to break down in front of him. I needed to pull myself together.
I nodded slowly, still uncertain, but willing to listen for my own sake. "Okay. I’ll go home."
I let out a shaky breath, picking up the glass of water as my hands trembled. For the first time today, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely alone. But even then, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, telling me to be careful.
Trusting anyone right now seemed impossible.
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