#Please ignore the missing jacket I physically couldn’t

[denjidenjiji]

I put too much effort into this, just to NOT like it. maybe I’ll redraw Marcoh in the future because he deserves better..

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve tried to get you back, but it's not always easy to gain back the trust one loses.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: Angsts, like kind of a lot of it, injured character, but nobody dies. A bit of fluff with a happy ending.

Words: 9 224

AN: So, sweet anon asked about part two of Enough is Enough, and well, why the hell no :) I feel like shit (being sick isn't fun), so apologies x4 for any mistakes. My brain isn't braining...

Steve didn’t give up.

Steve’s first apology came in the form of flowers.

They arrived at the coffee shop just as you were opening. A delivery driver handed you the bouquet—a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath, wrapped in soft tissue paper. For a moment, you just stared at them, the scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the familiar aroma of coffee beans. The card nestled within the bouquet bore only three words: I’m so sorry.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to wonder who sent them.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” your coworker teased, grinning as she wiped down the counter.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you set the bouquet aside, trying to push down the lump rising in your throat. It was a beautiful gesture—one you might have cherished once—but now it felt hollow.

The flowers kept coming. Every morning, a new arrangement would appear. Daisies, tulips, sunflowers. Each accompanied by a note in Steve’s handwriting: I miss you. I love you. Let me fix this.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him the chance to make things right. But another part of you—the part still raw and aching—refused.

Then he started showing up.

The first time, you nearly dropped the coffee pot in your hand. He stood outside the shop, leaning against the lamppost with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He looked different—tired, almost haunted, as though the weight of your absence was something physical he carried with him.

You ignored him, focusing on your customers, but you could feel his presence like a shadow just beyond the glass. When you finally closed the shop, he was still there.

He said your name softly as you stepped outside, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Please,” he called after you, his tone desperate. “Just give me a chance to talk.”

You turned back, your jaw clenched. “Why now, Steve? Why couldn’t you talk to me when it mattered?”

His face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt. But you shook it off and kept walking.

It didn’t deter him. Steve came back the next day, and the day after that, always waiting silently as you worked. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally confronted him.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in months. “I want to make this right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you. I never stopped. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with conflicting emotions. He looked so sincere, so heartbroken, that for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“It’s too late,” you said finally, your voice barely audible. “You can’t fix this. I don’t trust you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes was like a physical blow, but you didn’t let it show. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, defeated.

But the truth was, you weren’t as strong as you seemed. Every step away from him felt like ripping a piece of yourself apart. By the time you got home, you were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed onto the couch.

You loved him. God, you still loved him. But love wasn’t enough anymore.

***

The days blurred together after that.

You went through the motions of your life—opening the coffee shop each morning, smiling at customers, making small talk with your coworkers—but it all felt mechanical, like a script you had memorized long ago. The warmth and joy that once fueled you were gone, replaced by an empty numbness you couldn’t seem to shake.

Nights were the worst.

Sleep eluded you, no matter how many hours you spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning under your blankets. The bed felt too big, too cold without him there. You hated yourself for missing him, for craving the comfort of his arms even after everything he’d done. But the longing wasn’t something you could control.

It wasn’t just the nights, though. Little things kept sneaking up on you, tearing at the fragile stitches holding you together.

The sight of his favorite mug on your kitchen counter. The book he’d borrowed but never finished, still sitting on your nightstand. The faint scent of his cologne that lingered on your favorite sweater, no matter how many times you washed it.

You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked. Books, once your solace, couldn’t hold your attention. The words blurred together, and you’d find yourself reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a single word.

Your friends noticed.

“You need to eat more,” one of them said during a group dinner you’d been forced to attend. She pushed a plate of pasta toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, picking at the food with a fork.

Kat wasn’t buying it. She leaned across the table, her sharp blue eyes cutting through your defenses. “You’re not fine. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you had to blink back the sting of tears.

Steve’s friends noticed too. Sam popped into the coffee shop one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you took his order.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with concern.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light. “Busy days, you know how it is.”

He didn’t press you further, but the look he gave you lingered long after he left.

***

The worst was when Steve came back.

It was late in the evening, just before closing, when he walked into the shop. You froze behind the counter, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of him.

He looked just as broken as you felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

You gripped the edge of the counter, steadying yourself. “We’re about to close.”

“I know,” he said, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

You turned away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening painfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And because I can’t stand knowing I hurt you like this.”

His words cracked something inside you, but you couldn’t let him see it. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if hoping you might change your mind. But when you didn’t, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty shop. And then you broke.

You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your grief crushed you.

You loved him. God, you still loved him.

But you didn’t know how to let yourself forgive him.

***

You didn’t expect to find Bucky Barnes on your doorstep.

It was a gray Saturday morning, and the porch floor creaked under your weight as you aimlessly swept away fallen leaves. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his blue-gray eyes watching you carefully, you froze.

“Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual, though his expression betrayed a flicker of hesitation. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitated. This was Steve’s best friend. Seeing him felt like reopening wounds that you’d been trying desperately to let heal. But there was no judgment in his gaze, no pressure—just concern. So, with a heavy sigh, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He stepped into the living room, glancing around like he was cataloging the space. You folded your arms, standing stiffly near the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, doll,” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice sharper now. “Why are you here?”

He sighed, the smirk fading. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. “I’m not with Steve anymore. There’s no obligation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the back of your couch. “Obligation? That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart. You’re my friend too. And whether or not you’re with Steve doesn’t change that.”

The softness in his tone made something crack inside you. You wanted to argue, to brush him off, but instead, you felt your defenses falter.

“Besides,” he continued with a wry grin, “someone’s gotta make sure you know not all men are idiots. Steve might be an amazing guy, but even amazing guys screw up sometimes.”

That last sentence hit you like a slap. You felt the tears coming before you could stop them, your vision blurring as all the emotions you’d been bottling up threatened to spill over. You turned away, trying to pull yourself together, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

That was all it took for the dam to break.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush.

Bucky froze, his expression softening as he watched the tears stream down your face. You sank onto the couch, your shoulders shaking, and he followed, sitting beside you without a word.

“I hate him for what he did,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I hate that he made me feel like I didn’t matter, like I was just… there. And now? Now he’s trying to fix it, like I’m supposed to just forget everything and let him back in.”

Bucky listened silently, his hands clasped together as you poured your heart out.

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you said, your chest heaving with each breath. “Like he thinks flowers and apologies will erase months of feeling invisible. I hate him for that. But more than anything, I hate that I still love him.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you added, “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want it to stop, Bucky. I want it all to stop.”

The room was quiet for a long moment. Then, Bucky sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Doll,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but loving him isn’t something to hate yourself for. Steve… he’s a complicated guy. He doesn’t always get things right, but I promise you, he loves you. More than you know.”

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “If he loved me so much, why did he treat me like that? Why did he make me feel like I didn’t matter?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “You’re right. He screwed up. Big time. But… he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years. It doesn’t excuse how he hurt you, but I’ve seen him lately, and he’s a wreck without you.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, your tears blurring the intensity in his gaze.

“He’s not good at showing it,” Bucky continued, “but he’s an amazing guy. I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. And I know he’ll never stop trying to make this right. The question is… would you ever let him? What would it take for you to let him back in?”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you stared down at the floor.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like… every time I see him, I remember how much it hurt. And even if I wanted to try again, I don’t know if I’d ever trust him not to hurt me like that again.”

Bucky reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said gently. “But whatever you choose, just know this: you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. Whether that’s with Steve or without him.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any trace of pity or judgment, but there was none. Just quiet understanding and unwavering support.

When he finally stood to leave, he gave you a small smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “And no matter what happens, I’m here. Steve or no Steve.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind long after the door closed.

And for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you could find a way forward.

***

The compound gym was almost empty, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. Steve Rogers stood at the far end of the room, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged. He’d been at it for hours, his frustration and grief pouring into every swing, every strike. The bag swayed violently under the force of his hits, the chain creaking with each impact.

“You keep that up, and you’ll be patching the damn thing again,” Bucky’s voice rang out, casual and dry as ever, though the concern in it was unmistakable.

Steve paused mid-swing, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he turned to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a softness Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse from hours of exertion.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Bucky replied, stepping into the gym. “Thought maybe you’d stop using that bag like it owes you money and actually talk to me.”

Steve sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not in the mood, Buck.”

“Well, tough,” Bucky shot back, grabbing a folding chair and dragging it noisily across the floor. He plopped it down unceremoniously a few feet away from Steve, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because I just came from seeing her.”

The color drained from Steve’s face. He froze, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You… you saw her?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said evenly, watching his friend’s reaction carefully. “She didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’d say I’m doing better than you.”

Steve flinched, the weight of Bucky’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned away, his hands gripping the edges of the punching bag as he tried to steady himself. “How… how is she?”

Bucky hesitated. He’d seen the raw pain in your eyes, the tears you tried to hide, and he knew Steve wasn’t ready for the truth. But lying wouldn’t help either.

“She’s a mess, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his head hanging low. “I did this to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I pushed her away, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now… now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bucky stood, closing the distance between them. “Steve, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned, his eyes red and tired.

“She still loves you,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady. “But she’s hurt, and she’s angry. And you can’t expect her to just forget all that because you’re showing up with flowers and apologies.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped, his voice breaking. “God, Buck, I know. But what else can I do? Every time I see her, it’s like she’s slipping further away, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You start by understanding that this isn’t about fixing things overnight. It’s about showing her that you’re willing to put in the work, no matter how long it takes. That you’re not just sorry—you’re ready to be better.”

Steve nodded, though the despair in his eyes didn’t fade. “She said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Then earn it back,” Bucky said simply. “Show her that you’re not the same guy who hurt her. And for God’s sake, stop treating this like a battle you can win with brute force. You’re not fighting Hydra here, Steve. You’re fighting for her.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t even know if she wants me to try.”

Bucky crouched slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze head-on. “I asked her,” he said quietly.

Steve’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide. “What? What did she say?”

“She doesn’t know,” Bucky admitted. “She’s scared, Steve. Scared that if she lets you back in, you’ll hurt her again. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

The words hit Steve like a blow, but he didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right.

“She told me something else too,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now. “She said she doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And it’s killing her.”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. “She… she said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She loves you, Steve. But love isn’t enough—not after what you put her through. You have to show her that you’re not just saying the right things. You have to be the right man for her. The man she fell in love with.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind racing with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, the way you’d look at him like he was your whole world. He’d taken that for granted, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

Bucky’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You don’t get to give up, punk. Not on her, and not on yourself. You want her back? Then fight for her. And don’t stop until you’ve shown her that she’s worth everything.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “How? How do I even start?”

Bucky gave him a small, knowing smile. “Start by listening. By showing up—not just for her, but for the life she wants. Show her that she’s not a convenience, Steve. She’s the center of it all.”

Steve nodded slowly, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

Bucky grinned, clapping him on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you.”

Steve nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take or if he’d even succeed, but for you, he’d move mountains.

Because losing you wasn’t an option. And he’d spend the rest of his life proving it if that’s what it took.

***

Steve left the gym after his conversation with Bucky feeling drained but determined. His best friend’s words weighed on him, both a reminder of the man he wanted to be and the man he hadn’t been for you. He knew Bucky was right—this wasn’t a fight he could win with brute force or a quick apology. It would take time, patience, and a quiet kind of devotion that he’d never had to show before.

He didn’t expect you to forgive him overnight. He didn’t even expect you to notice what he was doing right away. But he had to start somewhere.

***

It was early morning when Steve pushed open the door to your coffee shop.

The familiar bell jingled above him, the sound stirring memories of quieter, happier times. You were behind the counter, moving with practiced ease as you worked the espresso machine. You didn’t see him at first, but when you turned, your eyes locked, and Steve felt the air shift.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

You blinked, your expression guarded. “Morning.”

“I’m here for coffee,” he said, stepping forward. “For the team.”

Your brow furrowed, skeptical. “The team sent you?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not exactly. Thought I’d take my turn.”

You didn’t reply, but you turned back to the espresso machine, the hum of it filling the silence. Steve watched you work, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and for a moment, he was struck by how natural this scene felt, even with the tension between you.

When you handed him the tray of drinks, your fingers brushed his briefly, and he saw the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice warm but careful.

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, and he left without lingering, the bell jingling softly as the door swung shut behind him.

*

The next time he came, it was quieter. Midmorning, after the breakfast rush had died down, Steve appeared with a small brown paper bag in hand.

You were cleaning the counter, lost in thought, when his voice broke through the silence.

“You forget to eat when you’re busy,” he said simply, placing the bag on the counter.

You looked up, startled. “Steve…”

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall your protests. “Nothing more. Just thought you might need it.”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught somewhere in your throat. Slowly, you opened the bag, the warm scent of eggs and bacon wafting up to meet you.

“From that diner you like,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Figured it was better than you skipping meals.”

You stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t stay long, didn’t push for conversation. He just gave you a small nod and left, leaving you with breakfast and a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

*

Natasha was relentless when it came to her movie nights, and somehow, you found yourself at the Tower despite your protests. The room was cozy, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the scent of popcorn. You settled into one corner of the couch, trying to ignore the way Steve’s presence tugged at the edges of your awareness.

When the opening credits began to roll, Steve appeared beside you, holding something in his hands.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you a pair of thick woolen socks.

You frowned, confused. “What’s this?”

“Your feet get cold,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, your chest tightening, before reluctantly taking the socks. “Thanks,” you muttered, slipping them on.

He didn’t linger, didn’t push for more. But later, when the movie reached its tense climax, he handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, knowing smile.

“You love hot chocolate after horror movies,” he said, his tone soft. “Figured you might want some.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax.

*

The envelope was waiting for you in your mailbox, unassuming but carefully placed. Inside was a single ticket to the sold-out Broadway show you’d mentioned to Sam weeks ago.

The note tucked inside was brief, written in Steve’s familiar handwriting: Thought you’d like this. Hope it’s as good as you imagined.

You stared at the ticket for a long time, your heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. He remembered. Of course, he remembered.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a kind gesture, but deep down, it chipped away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

*

The night your car broke down was cold and quiet, the kind of night that made the world feel vast and lonely. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the lifeless dashboard, your breath fogging up the glass as you fought the urge to cry.

You tried calling a few friends, but no one answered. Finally, with trembling fingers, you dialed the one number you swore you wouldn’t.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice came through the line, steady and concerned.

“My car won’t start,” you said softly, ignoring the pet name, hating how small your voice sounded.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he didn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

When his truck pulled up beside you, he climbed out without a word, his breath misting in the cold air as he checked under your hood. His movements were sure and efficient, his presence steadying.

“Alternator’s shot,” he said finally, closing the hood. “I’ll take you home.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with your gratitude, but the freezing air made the decision for you.

The drive was quiet, the heater humming softly as Steve navigated the empty streets. He didn’t pry, didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He just… drove.

When you woke up the next morning, your car was back in its usual spot. The engine purred like new when you started it, and a small note was taped to the dashboard: Shouldn’t give you trouble anymore. Call me if it does.

*

Each gesture was small, unassuming. Steve never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give. He just… showed up, quietly and consistently, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

And slowly, despite yourself, you began to notice.

***

Three months had passed since the breakup.

You wouldn’t say things had gone back to normal���far from it—but something had undeniably shifted between you and Steve. His quiet persistence, the way he showed up without pushing or demanding anything from you, had started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

At first, your conversations were stiff and polite, nothing more than a few sentences exchanged when he stopped by the coffee shop or brought you breakfast. But as the weeks went by, those moments grew longer, softer. He’d ask about your day, about the books you were reading, or the things you enjoyed, and you found yourself answering more openly. It wasn’t quite like before, but it was closer to the first moments of your relationship, back when everything had been new and uncomplicated.

Still, there was a voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you forget. A quiet, insistent whisper that reminded you of how he’d hurt you, how he’d pushed you aside and made you feel invisible.

That voice grew louder the day he asked you to talk.

***

It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows of the coffee shop as you wiped down the counter. The shop was quiet, the usual morning and lunch rushes long gone, leaving you with only the hum of the espresso machine and the soft clatter of dishes.

The sound of the bell above the door caught your attention, and when you looked up, Steve was there.

He’d been coming in more often lately, not just to pick up coffee for the team but to see you, to talk to you. This time, though, something about the way he stood—his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched—told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, setting the towel aside.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, glancing around at the empty shop. “I mean… can we talk?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The vulnerability in his expression was disarming, but that voice in the back of your mind warned you to tread carefully. Still, you nodded, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.

Steve followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. For a moment, he said nothing, his hands clasped tightly on the table as he stared down at them. You waited, your heart thudding quietly in your chest as the silence stretched between you.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About what I should say. How I should say it. And the truth is… there’s no easy way to do this. So I’m just going to be honest.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you braced yourself for whatever was coming.

“I screwed up,” he said, the words heavy with regret. “I let you down in a way I never should have. And I’ve been trying to figure out why—why I acted the way I did, why I pushed you away when you were the best thing in my life.”

His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to find the right words. “I think… I think I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of dragging you into everything that comes with being me. The missions, the stress, the weight of it all—I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “So you decided to ignore me instead? To shut me out?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It was selfish and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… I thought if I kept it to myself, if I didn’t tell you about everything that was going on, I could protect you from it. But all I did was hurt you.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you were everything to me.”

The raw emotion in his voice made your chest ache, but the wounds he’d left were still fresh, still tender.

“Steve…” you began, your voice trembling, “you hurt me more than anyone ever has. Do you know that?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded.

“I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I kept asking myself why I wasn’t good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth your time or your attention. And then, when you finally started trying again, it felt like a slap in the face. Like you thought a few kind gestures could erase everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “I wanted so badly to be enough for you, Steve. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be enough.”

“You were,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “You are. God, you’re more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I didn’t know how to handle it—how to be the man you deserved—and I let that fear control me. But I swear to you, I see it now. I see what I lost because of it.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I might have ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do to change your mind, tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better, that I can be the man you need me to be.”

His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I just need to know if there’s any part of you that still believes in us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settled over you. The pain, the anger, the love—all of it swirled together in a storm of emotion that left you speechless.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you said, “I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I can forget how much it hurt.”

His face crumpled, but he nodded, accepting your words without argument.

“But…” you continued, your voice softer now, “I can’t pretend I don’t still feel something for you. I can’t pretend I don’t still love you.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths.

“That doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were,” you said quickly, your tone firm. “If we’re going to try… if we’re going to even think about trying, it has to be different. You have to be honest with me, Steve. About everything.”

“I will,” he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I will.”

You nodded, your throat tight with the weight of what you’d just said. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A small step toward rebuilding what had been broken.

And as Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours, you let yourself hope—for the first time in months—that maybe, just maybe, it was a step worth taking.

***

It had been a week since the conversation with Steve, and your emotions were in turmoil. You felt caught between the raw pain of the past and the cautious hope of what could be. His words haunted you—his apologies, his promises, the way his voice had cracked when he told you how much he still cared.

You needed clarity, and there was only one person who could give you the no-nonsense advice you desperately needed: Natasha.

She arrived at your place that evening, a takeout bag in hand, and didn’t waste a second settling herself at your kitchen table. Her sharp green eyes studied you as you sat down across from her, picking at the noodles she’d brought for you.

“All right,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Steve,” you admitted, your voice soft.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “We talked. Really talked. He told me everything—why he shut me out, how he felt, all of it. He apologized for everything and… I believe him, Nat. I really do.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you confessed, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I can let myself go through that again. He hurt me so much, Nat. How do I just move past that?”

Natasha studied you for a moment, her gaze piercing. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. “If you didn’t still love him, if you didn’t still want something with him deep down, would we even be having this conversation right now?”

You frowned, her words hitting you hard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three months,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If you were done with him, if you really didn’t care anymore, you’d have moved on by now. You wouldn’t still be here, agonizing over whether to give him another chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. She wasn’t wrong, and deep down, you knew it.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him tomorrow or even next week,” Natasha continued, leaning forward. “But if there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in him, don’t ignore that. You owe it to yourself to figure out what you really want. Not what you’re afraid of, not what you think you should do. What you want.”

Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet truth that refused to be ignored.

***

At the same time, Steve was grappling with his own uncertainty.

He sat in the Tower’s lounge, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he stared out the window. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation, about the raw pain in your voice when you told him how much he’d hurt you.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve turned to see both Sam and Bucky entering the room. They exchanged a look before sitting down on either side of him.

“You’ve been brooding,” Sam said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “It’s her,” he admitted.

“Figured,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

“I talked to her,” Steve said. “Told her everything—how I felt, why I shut her out. I apologized for all of it.”

“And?” Sam prompted.

“She said she doesn’t know if she can trust me again,” Steve said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “But she also said she still loves me. I don’t know what to do with that, Sam. I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Look, man, love isn’t always enough. Not when there’s hurt involved. If she doesn’t trust you right now, that’s on you to fix. You can’t just expect her to forgive and forget because you feel bad about it.”

“I know that,” Steve said quickly, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to mess this up again. I need to figure out how to show her that I’m serious without overwhelming her.”

Bucky gave him a long, measured look. “You’ve been trying,” he said finally. “We’ve all seen it—the little things you’ve been doing. But if you’re asking me, you’re not going to fix this by tiptoeing around her. You’ve got to be honest, Rogers. If you want her back, you need to let her see all of you. The good, the bad, and the stuff you think she won’t want to deal with.”

Steve frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What if she doesn’t want to deal with it?”

“Then she doesn’t,” Bucky said simply. “But if you hold back, you’re not giving her the chance to decide for herself. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to let her see that you’re not just saying the right things, Steve. You’ve got to show her. But don’t make it about fixing things fast. Healing takes time, for both of you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Sam said with a grin. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Cap.”

***

Steve spent the next few days thinking about their advice. He’d been so focused on not pushing you, on giving you space, that he hadn’t realized he might be holding back too much.

When he saw you next, it was at the coffee shop, just as you were closing up for the day. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his heart pounding.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Hey.”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “Sure.”

He gestured toward one of the empty tables, and you followed him, sitting down across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Steve began, his voice steady but low. “About how much I hurt you, how I made you feel like you weren’t enough. And you were right. I let you down in ways I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix things in small ways, trying to show you that I’m serious,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ve been honest enough with you. I don’t think I’ve let you see how much this has been tearing me apart.”

His hands tightened into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or push you, but I can’t hold this back anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. “If there’s anything—anything—I can do to earn your trust again, tell me. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Your own eyes burned with tears, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the walls you’d built around your heart. For the first time, you saw not just the man who’d hurt you but the man who was willing to fight for you, flaws and all.

You didn’t have an answer for him—not yet. But as you reached across the table and took his hand, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start finding one.

***

You were closing up the coffee shop when your phone buzzed. The message was from Natasha. That alone was unusual—Nat rarely texted without reason. You pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb.

The words on the screen made your blood run cold: We’ve lost contact with Steve and Bucky.

Your breath caught, and the phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands. For a moment, everything around you blurred—the soft hum of the espresso machine, the faint chatter of pedestrians outside, the smell of coffee beans—all of it faded into the background.

You didn’t think, didn’t even register dropping the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. Your hands shook as you locked the doors, fumbling with the keys before rushing to your car.

The drive to the Tower was a haze, your chest tight with panic as Natasha’s words repeated in your mind. You knew Steve went on dangerous missions. It was part of who he was. But something about those words—lost contact—made this time feel different.

***

By the time you arrived at the Tower, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribcage. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally slid open, you practically ran into the common room, where Natasha and Sam were already waiting.

“What happened?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Natasha turned toward you, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her concern. “They were on a mission. Everything was going according to plan, but then we lost contact about three hours ago. We’ve been trying to re-establish communication, but there’s been no response.”

Three hours. That might as well have been three days.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” you pressed, your voice rising. “How does that even happen?”

“It could be anything,” Sam said, his tone soothing but cautious. “Jammed signals, a misstep in the mission. We don’t know yet.”

You stared at them, your breathing shallow, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. “So they could be…”

“They’re not,” Natasha said firmly, cutting you off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a softness in her gaze. “Steve and Bucky have been in worse situations than this. They’ll find a way to get back to us.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “They’re two of the toughest guys I know,” he said. “If anyone can make it out of this, it’s them.”

You wanted to believe them, but the fear in your chest refused to let go. You sank into one of the chairs, your hands gripping the armrests so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The minutes dragged by like hours, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive. Natasha and Sam tried to make conversation, to keep you distracted, but you barely registered their words. Your mind was too consumed by the thought of what could happen—of what might have already happened.

***

When Natasha’s phone finally buzzed, the sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot. She snatched it up, her sharp gaze scanning the screen. Relief flickered across her face as she read aloud:

“It’s from Steve. They’re on their way back, but a medic is necessary.”

Your heart seized, a mixture of relief and panic coursing through you. “Who’s hurt?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He didn’t say,” Natasha replied, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen. You told yourself it didn’t matter who was hurt—they were alive, and they were coming back. But the not knowing gnawed at you, the fear for Steve settling deep in your bones.

No one told Steve you were here, and maybe that was for the best. But as you sat there, waiting for the jet to arrive, you realized just how fragile everything felt. The past few months flashed through your mind—all the moments of doubt, the anger, the hesitation—and for the first time, they seemed so small. In the grand scheme of things, you could have lost Steve today. That thought terrified you more than anything else.

***

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbling low overhead pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood with Natasha and Sam, your heart pounding as the aircraft touched down on the Tower’s private landing pad.

The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing you saw was Steve, his arm slung around Bucky to help him walk. Bucky looked pale, his arm hanging limp at his side, his face tight with pain. Medics rushed forward to meet him, but your eyes were locked on Steve.

He didn’t look much better than Bucky. His shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and his face bore a fresh collection of cuts and bruises. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his steps slow and measured.

But when his eyes found yours, he smiled.

Even battered and bloodied, he’d never looked more handsome. His beard, grown in over the time he’d been away, gave him a rugged edge, and his blue eyes still held that quiet strength you’d always admired.

The moment your gaze met his, something in you broke. You ran to him, barely aware of your surroundings, and threw your arms around him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. His shirt was rough against your skin, damp with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. “I was so scared. I thought… I thought I might lose you.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “I’m here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “You have to be more careful,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t… you can’t do this to me, Steve.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What went wrong?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate. He guided you to a quieter corner, his hand resting lightly on your back, and began to explain.

“The mission was supposed to be straightforward,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But things went sideways fast. There were more hostiles than we anticipated, and Bucky got hit—bad. I couldn’t leave him behind, so I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“You carried him out,” you finished, your throat tightening.

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from the overwhelming realization of who Steve truly was—the man who would sacrifice everything for the people he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I won’t make that mistake again. And if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you everything—about the missions, about what’s going on with me. No more shutting you out.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mixture of love and fear and hope. Slowly, you nodded. “I’m listening,” you said.

And as he began to speak, you felt the cracks in your heart begin to mend, one word at a time.

***

Steve stayed with you after the medics whisked Bucky away to the infirmary. He’d insisted Bucky was in good hands, though you could see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. You sat together in one of the quieter rooms in the Tower, the tension from the mission still clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his exhaustion, he refused to let go of your hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you sat beside him. “I know it’s late.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He gave you a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “No, Steve. I’m just—” You paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the adrenaline that had sustained him through the mission began to fade. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a vulnerability that left you breathless. “For scaring you, for shutting you out before… for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know I mean it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. For a long moment, you didn’t respond, your chest tight as you tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

“I was so scared today,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “When Nat texted me, when we didn’t know if you were okay… it was like the ground had been ripped out from under me.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I realized then how stupid these past few months have been. I was so caught up in my own hurt, my own doubts, that I didn’t see what we were losing.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You weren’t wrong to feel that way,” he said softly. “You had every right to be hurt, to doubt me. I earned that. But I don’t want to lose you, baby. Not now. Not ever.”

His words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and resolute.

***

The days following the mission passed in a haze of quiet moments and tentative steps forward. Steve stayed at the Tower to help Bucky recover, but he checked in with you constantly. Sometimes it was a quick text—How are you? Did you eat today?—and sometimes it was a phone call that lasted longer than either of you expected.

You visited the Tower often, bringing Bucky some of his favorite snacks and sitting with him while Steve caught up on reports. Bucky teased you relentlessly, of course, his dry humor cutting through the tension in ways only he could manage.

“So,” he said one afternoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When are you two going to stop tiptoeing around and just admit you’re back together?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “We’re not—”

“Sure,” Bucky interrupted, smirking. “And I’m the King of Wakanda.”

Steve, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glaring at Bucky.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Bucky said with a shrug, earning himself an eye-roll from both you and Steve.

Despite his teasing, Bucky’s words stayed with you. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The way you and Steve interacted had changed since the mission. There was a closeness now, a sense of trust that hadn’t been there before.

***

One evening, Steve invited you to dinner at the Tower. He didn’t call it a date, and you didn’t press him on it, but there was something deliberate about the way he’d set the table, the candles he’d lit, the care he’d taken with every detail.

The two of you sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candles casting warm light over his face. For a while, you just talked—about work, about Bucky’s recovery, about the books you’d been reading. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once lingered between you finally gone.

At one point, Steve leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “About how scared you were. How I need to be more careful.”

You frowned slightly. “Steve, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know your work is dangerous. I’ve always known that.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you were right. I can’t keep doing this—not without being honest with you about what’s going on. If I’m asking you to be part of my life, I need to make sure you feel like you’re part of it.”

His words sent a warmth through your chest, a feeling of being truly seen and valued. “I appreciate that,” you said softly.

Steve smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything between you was falling into place.

***

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Steve reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“I know we can’t go back to how things were before,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I think we can build something better. Something stronger. If you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Just quiet determination and a love that felt as steady and unshakable as the man himself.

“I want that too,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and for the first time in months, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift.

It wasn’t a perfect ending. There were still things to work through, still scars to heal. But as Steve reached for your hand, his grip warm and sure, you knew you were ready to take the next step—together.

[winchesterwild78]

Always Protected

I’ve got requests- ignore them if you want, but I had to try.

If you could I’d like (all plus sized/curvy reader):

Beau Arlen- meets reader in town, takes her out, maybe dancing, I picture him to be super protective if someone says something to her about her size. LOVES him some thick girl

*This is for you 😁 I hope I bring your vision to life. Thank you for trusting me with a request!!*

Characters:Beau Arlen x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Language, insecurities, physical violence, Fluff,

A/N: This is my 2nd request and I’m so excited to write it. I wrote it fast so please forgive any mistakes. This does not follow The Big Sky story line. I’m working on these requests fast because I’m inspired. 😁

All work is my own, don’t take it!!

Minors DNI 18+

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

“Come on Beau, you’ve got to get some food. You’ve been here all night and all day. When was the last time you actually slept?” Jenny asked. “I think yesterday afternoon I fell asleep at my desk. Jenny I have to get this solved. It’s driving me crazy. I’m missing something I know I am.” He grunted as he stood. “Go get something to eat. It will help clear your head. Get it to go if you want to. Just please go. We need our sheriff in too shape.” She pleaded. “Okay Hoyt. I’m getting it to go. I’ll be back. Want anything?” He asked as he grabbed his jacket. “Nope. I’m good thanks” she smiled.

Beau got in his truck and drove into town. He had to park further away from the diner because it was lunch time. As he walked down the street greeting people he smelled something amazing. There in the once vacant shop was a new bakery. How did he not know a bakery was opening. The smell coming from inside was drawing him in. He pushed open the door.

You were busy with a customer when you heard the bell chime above the door. “Welcome in. Please take a look around and I’ll be right with you.” You said without looking at the person who came in. You finished with the customer you were helping and noticed a very tall man standing with his back to you. He was looking at the dessert case on the opposite wall. You came around the counter and approached him. “Hello. Welcome in is there anything you’re looking for specifically today” you asked him.

He turned around and oh lord this man was gorgeous. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green and wow was he beautiful. You swallowed hard and shifted a little bit. “Oh I was walking by and smelled something amazing coming from in here and had to stop by.” His voice was like smooth whiskey.

You smiled and said “oh it could be the pecan pie I have in the oven.”

Beau’s eyes went wide. “You have pecan pie too? I’m from Texas and we love our pecan pie.” Beau said. “Yep I sure do. It has to cool but I can save you some if you want.” You smiled. “Yes. That will be perfect. I’m going to grab some lunch and I’ll come back later if that’s okay.” He said.

“Yep. Sounds great. I’ll save you some” you smiled. He nodded and smiled and headed towards the door. He stopped and turned around looking at you again and smiled. You blushed and started helping the next customer.

Beau walked over to the diner with a smile on his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were. Your smile, your y/e/c eyes, your curvy body, and your kindness. He knew you were new in town and he wanted to know more about you.

He decided to eat at the diner and while he was there he chatted with some of the people there. “Hey Sheriff Arlen, how are you today” Ms Carol asked from behind the counter. “I’m good. How are you doing” he smiled. “I’m good honey. I’m thankful for Miss Y/N next door at the bakery. She’s been helping us out with our desserts recently. I can’t keep up with the desserts like I used to and she offered to help us out. She’s a sweet girl. She won’t take any money either. She just swings by for some lunch when she gets a chance.” She told Beau.

Beau smiled. Wow she really is sweet he thought. “That’s really nice Ms Carol. I’m glad you’ve got some help.” He said. The bell above the door rang and you walked in. “Hey Ms Carol. Here’s your pies and some cookies for Mr John. I hope he gets to feeling better.” You said as you handed her the food. “Oh Y/N you are such a sweetheart. Thank you and I know John will love these.” She hugged you.

You looked over and saw Beau sitting at the counter. You smiled at him and he smiled at you. He extended his hand “we didn’t get properly introduced, I’m Beau Arlen. I’m the temporary Sheriff here.” “Hello Mr Arlen, Sheriff, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to officially meet you. Well I need to get back. Don’t forget to come by and get your pie.” You smiled. “No ma’am I won’t forget.” He smiled.

You nodded and said goodbye and left. Ms Carol was watching and smiled at Beau. “Beau, you know she’s single, right? Maybe you two could go out to dinner or something fun. You both deserve it.” She winked. Beau smiled and nodded. “Maybe Ms Carol. Maybe.”

He got up, paid his tab and headed back towards your bakery. He walked in and the sweet smell of the shop filled his nose. The place smelled like home. His mother loved to bake and the smell was bringing back sweet memories of her. You were stocking the case when he came back in and you greeted him with a smile.

“Welcome back Sheriff. I have your pie right here.” You handed him a full pie. “Please call me Beau, and you didn’t have to save the whole pie. Thank you Y/N.” “It’s my pleasure, Beau. The sheriff deserves his own pie. Especially a Texas boy.” You smiled and winked. “How much do I owe you Y/N?” He pulled out his wallet. “Nothing. This one is on the house” you told him. “What?! No, I can’t let you do that. Please let me pay for it.” He pleaded. You stood firm and shook your head no.

Beau knew it was a losing battle. “Well, then let me take you out to dinner as a thank you.” He said. You stood there with your words caught in your throat. “What do you say Y/N? Let me take you out tonight” he said. “Okay sure. I close at 6 so let me go home and change and you can pick me up at 7:30 or I can meet you there.” You said. Beau moved closer to you “I’ll pick you up and it’s a date.”

You bit your lip and smiled. A date?!? This gorgeous man was asking you out?!?

The rest of the day flew by and it was time to lock up and head home. You got home and got in the shower. You had no idea where he was taking you so you wanted to dress comfortable but nice. You decided to wear a pair of your favorite jeans that hugged every curve of your body perfectly, a nice top that showed off your cleavage just enough and a pair of boots that had a little heel. You put on a little makeup and your hair was half up and half down.

You took a step back looking in the mirror. You always had problems with your body. You carried a little more weight than you should and you were curvy. Most of your clothes hid your body well. The outfit you picked did just that. You liked Beau. You were just worried if he could like you, curves and all.

There was a knock at your door. You took a deep breath and opened it to see Beau standing on your porch. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a pair of worn cowboy boots. The wind shifted and you smelled his cologne. It was heavenly. “Hello Beau. Come on in. I’m almost ready.” You stepped to the side. He walked in and sat on the couch.

You finished getting ready and as you walked into the living room he stood and stared. “You’re absolutely beautiful Y/N. Wow!” He said and you blushed. “Thank you, Beau. You look very handsome tonight.” You smiled.

He guided you outside by the small of your back and opened the truck door for you. You climbed in and smiled. He got in and started the truck. “So where are we going” you asked. “I’m taking you to a restaurant a town over. Great food and music.” He smiled. You nodded.

He reached his hand over and took yours. “Is this okay” he questioned. You smiled “more than okay.” The drive to the restaurant was good. The two of you talked about life and how both of you ended up in Montana. You thought it was sweet he moved there to be closer to his daughter.

When you arrived at the restaurant Beau got out and came around opening your door. He offered you his hand helping you out of the truck. As you got out you lost your balance and started to fall. Beau caught you and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. He didn’t and you were a little disappointed.

As the two of you walked into the restaurant hand in hand a group of drunk men came out. They took one look at you and Beau and started talking about your weight and one of them went so far as to moo at you. You tried to ignore it but they kept going.

Beau stopped walking. “What the hell is y’all’s problem” he seethed. “No problem at all. How do you fuck her? Slap the leg and ride the wave?” The taller man said. Beau let go of your hand and stepped in front of you and between you and the men.

“You need to shut your mouth and leave before I shut it for you.” Beau growled. “Beau, come on. Let’s go. It’s okay. Please” you begged him as tears pricked your eyes. He turned and looked at you. His face was angry but softened when he looked at you. “It’s not okay. Nobody should ever speak to you like that.” He said.

“Beau, I’m used to it. I just want to go inside.” You told him. He nodded and smiled. Beau put his hand at the small of your back and led you inside. The two of you sat down and ordered your food. While you were waiting on the food the two of you talked more and got to know each other better. The food came and a comfortable silence fell between you two.

You excused yourself and went to the restroom. You steadied your breath. Beau was amazing and you could see yourself falling for him. You were scared though. How could he be with someone like you, and would he want to. Screw it you thought. He asked you out so that’s something. Throw caution to the wind you thought.

On your way back to the table a man that had been at the bar stepped in front of you. “Where you off to in such a hurry there princess” his alcohol smelling breath engulfed you. “Excuse me. I’m heading back to my boyfriend.” You said as you nodded towards Beau. “That string bean is your boyfriend? Honey a big girl like you needs a real man.” He said as he grabbed your arm.

You screamed for him to get off you and this caught Beau’s attention. Before you could process what was happening Beau was by your side pulling you to safety. The man had about 2-3 inches on him but Beau stood his ground. “Keep your hands off the lady” he growled. “Oh come on man I’m just trying to show her what a big girl like her really needs” he said laughing. Beau stood in between you two now. “I said back off. Don’t make me tell you again.” Beau said.

The man grabbed your arm again and pulled you hard causing you to yelp in pain. Beau knocked the guy flat on his ass and pulled you into his arms. “Are you okay darlin” he asked. Tears were streaming down your face and you shook your head no.

Beau paid the tab and helped you outside. You climbed in the truck and he held you as you cried. “I’m sorry Beau. I’m sorry you had to defend me because of my size. I’m sorry the man grabbed me. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.” You sobbed.

“Oh sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry for. That man was a jackass and he had no right talking to you like that or putting his hands on you. I love the way you look. You’re so beautiful to me. I’m sorry people don’t see how beautiful you are. Inside and out.” Beau wiped away the tears from your face.

He leaned over and kissed your lips softly. When he pulled away he looked at you. “Was that okay” he asked. “More than okay, Beau. It was amazing.” You whispered. “Good because I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you this morning and if you’re okay with it I’m going to do it again.” You smiled and nodded.

This time the kiss was deeper and passionate. Oh the way he kissed you set your soul on fire. He started the truck to drive home and he held your hand again. You knew Beau Arlen was going to be one of the best things in your life. You knew he was going to protect you, defend you and love you. You knew with him your heart would always be protected.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92 @suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 @manicjk

[1800-fight-me]

Freaks & Geeks Part Three

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (No Y/N)

Rating: T (though as a general rule my blog is 18+)

Warnings: Cursing, cigarette smoking, making out. Again, the reader is described as a senior in high school with Eddie and is also 18! The only physical description of the reader is that she’s shorter than Eddie. 

Word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: It’s your first day at school since you started dating Eddie, it will be okay....right? 

Author’s note: Here’s part three finally! Whoop whoop! Only two more parts left! Please leave me feedback it means the world to me! Also, my taglist is always open leave me a comment or an ask to be added! :) 

Part Two         Part Four         Series Masterlist         Main Masterlist 

You leaned against your car as you fiddled with your fingers anxiously. 

Everyone was staring at you as they passed you in the parking lot. 

How did you go from the nerd that no one noticed unless they needed help on their homework to the person everyone stares at and whispers about even though you’re definitely still within earshot. Turns out dating Eddie does have its downsides. 

How did word travel so fast at this stupid school? You were deeply uncomfortable with all of this attention. 

You were seconds from sprinting to class and hiding your face in your hands when Eddie pulled into the empty parking spot next to you. 

He smiled at you as he hopped out. You sighed in relief as he pulled you into his chest for a hug. 

“Hey princess, did you miss me?” 

“Yes,” you admitted as you held him tightly. “Everyone is looking at me and whispering when they walk past me. I hate it,” you grumbled. 

“They’ll find something else to gossip about soon enough,” he reassured and you nodded as you looked up at him. 

“You want me to keep my hands to myself while we’re at school?” he asked as he dramatically threw his hands up as if he were surrendering and you could’ve melted into a puddle over how sweet and thoughtful he is.

“Never,” you replied as you pulled him into a kiss. 

“Thank god, I was offering but honestly wasn’t sure if I could follow through,” he said as he kissed you again. 

The bell rang and he laced his fingers through yours and walked with you to the building. 

You shivered as a gust of wind blew, you were definitely underprepared for the surprisingly cool weather. 

Eddie kissed the top of your head and shrugged his leather jacket off his shoulders before placing it around yours. 

You smiled at him and thanked him. 

“It looks better on you,” he crooned and you looked away to hide how flustered his words made you. 

He walked you to class and kissed you on the forehead before he sauntered off. You were honestly not sure if he was going to class or not. He might be off to smoke, who knows with him. You shrugged and smiled as you watched him walk off. 

The teacher saw you in the doorway and called your name, you startled and rushed to your seat. 

“Hey,” someone whispered and you turned your head, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

You turned to see a cheerleader you’ve never spoken to in your life. You couldn’t even remember what her name was, but she was one of Chrissy’s posse. 

“Is it true you’re dating the freak?” 

Her eyes flicked back and forth from your face to the back of Eddie’s jacket. 

“No, I just murdered him and stole his jacket,” you whispered back with a roll of your eyes. 

She scoffed and you ignored her. 

You snuggled into his jacket and sighed softly as it smelled like him. 

You made it through your morning classes with a few more ridiculous comments from your classmates but otherwise things were fine. 

People still whispered when they saw you in the hallway but you just reminded yourself that Eddie was right, people would find something else to gossip about soon enough. 

When lunch came around, however, you were so anxious you were bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited at Victoria’s locker. 

“Hey! How’s your day been?” she calls to you as she walks up. 

“Uh, okay I guess. People keep staring at me or asking me asinine questions. One girl in chemistry asked me if it’s true that Eddie has a huge dick.”

Victoria snorted as she opened her locker and shoved her books inside. 

“People are idiots,” she said and you nodded in agreement. 

She looped her elbow through yours and led you towards the cafeteria. 

“You can do this,” she said gently and you nodded again, anxiety preventing you from speaking. 

As you neared the doors you saw Eddie leaning against the wall and talking animatedly with one of his little freshman friends. 

“Dustin, it’s fine, I promise. We’ll still meet every Thursday just like normal,” he said as he patted him roughly on the shoulder. 

“Hey Eds,” you said timidly and he turned to you with a grin. 

He let go of Dustin’s shoulder and practically yanked you into his body with a chuckle. Say what you will about Eddie but he is not afraid to show affection. 

You squeaked as he squeezed you into a tight hug and he laughed again. 

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he kissed you. 

Dustin made a gagging noise behind you. 

Eddie glared at him and jerked his chin towards the door, wordlessly commanding him to go inside. 

Dustin sighed and followed his orders and invited Victoria to go with him. 

“I missed you too,” you confessed as you kissed him softly. 

“Do we have to go in there?” you asked as he pulled back and placed his arm around your shoulder. 

He raised an eyebrow at you in silent question.

You sighed. “Everyone has been staring at me or talking about me or asking me stupid questions about you and I- I am not used to being the person people notice. I am supposed to be a boring invisible nerd, okay? I-”

“Hey,” he said softly, thankfully interrupting your rambling. 

You took a deep breath and looked into the deep warmth of his pretty brown eyes. 

“I’ve got you,” he reassured and you nodded. 

“I promise not to make a scene and draw more attention to you today,” he said and you giggled. 

“It’ll be okay,” you breathed out. 

“It will totally be okay,” he agreed. 

He kept you tucked close into his side as you walked into the cafeteria and towards the table full of his friends. 

People were staring, there were whispers, and you tried to keep your head down but the feeling of so many eyes on you was impossible to ignore. 

“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” you snap at a jock who walks by you with his mouth wide open in shock as he stares at you and Eddie. 

Eddie snorted and said, “Fuck off, dipshit.”

The jock just rolled his eyes and shook his head as he kept walking. 

When you finally made it to the table you sat next to Eddie. Hellfire welcomed you and Victoria with open arms and plenty of jokes. Though, the freshman seemed to flip between starstruck that two pretty senior girls sat at the table with them and annoyance that said girls didn’t know anything about D&D. 

You held Eddie’s hand throughout lunch and fiddled with the rings on his fingers anytime you were feeling anxious. 

“You could come to hellfire this week,” Jeff offered to Victoria and her eyes flitted to yours. You nodded and smiled encouragingly. 

She agreed and they grinned at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. You smirked at that. 

“How about you, princess? You want to come and see what it’s all about?” Eddie asked you and the hopefulness coloring his voice meant you couldn’t possibly turn him down. 

“Sure! We don’t get to play though right, just watch? I don’t want to slow the game down,” you said as your eyes flicked down the table to the kids who you now knew were Dustin and Mike. 

“You can play if you want,” Eddie said and Dustin and Mike groaned. 

“Hey, assholes. Who’s the dungeon master?” Eddie snapped at them. 

“I knew that you getting a girlfriend would ruin hellfire,” Mike exclaimed and your eyes widened. 

“I don’t have to come, it’s fine,” you said as you tried to ease the tension. 

Eddie gripped your thigh under the table. 

“You know what else would ruin hellfire for you, Wheeler? If I kicked you out for being such a prick,” Eddie said with a wild look in his eyes. 

Dustin shoved his shoulder against Mike and muttered, “Retreat. Retreat.” 

“Sorry,” Mike muttered as he looked down at the table. 

“Seriously, baby, I don’t have to go,” you whispered to Eddie and he shook his head. 

“No, you can come. Sometimes freshmen just have to learn their manners,” he said and Dustin let out an awkward chuckle as he elbowed Mike and they nodded. 

Eddie grabbed your hand and stood, effectively tugging you up with him. 

“See you all later,” he said with a firm nod as he led you towards the door. 

When you were outside he pulled you around the corner of the building to an area that was more secluded. 

“They’re going to give me fuckin’ grey hair,” he muttered as he tugged you close and stuck his hand in his jacket that you were still wearing. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took one out of the pack and lit it before taking a long drag. He looked up at the sky as he blew it out and you couldn’t look away from his neck, the veins in it, and the pretty bruise there you’d left the night before. He offered you the cigarette and you shook your head. 

“Seriously, I don’t want to be the cause of tension between you and your friends,” you said as it seemed the cigarette had helped him calm down a bit. 

“No, it’s not you,” he said as he ran a hand through his messy hair. God, is anything he does not attractive? He was just existing and you were practically frothing at the mouth. 

“They’re just young and immature. They’ll get over it. They blab about these make-believe girlfriends they have that live far away all the damn time but the moment I bring a woman around they lose it?” he shook his head. 

“They’ll get over it,” he repeated. 

“Well, maybe Victoria and I will just observe this week and go from there,” you offered and he nodded as if finally accepting your peace offering. 

You sighed in relief. Sure, Eddie was hot as fuck but you weren’t sure that even he could make you magically interested in playing D&D. 

You listened to him ramble about the upcoming campaign, you loved his enthusiasm even if it wasn’t a shared interest, until he finished his cigarette. As he stubbed it out you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the nearby picnic table. You hopped up and sat on top of it as you pulled him into a kiss. 

He grinned into the kiss as he placed his hands on your waist. 

You let him take control and he kissed you thoroughly as he deepened it and tangled his tongue with yours. 

You let out a groan as you gripped his shirt and tried to pull him closer. He yanked you closer to the edge of the table so your body was pressed against his. You spread your thighs so he could fit between them as he stood in front of you. 

His lips slid against yours and he moaned as his hands drifted down your body from your waist to your hips to the flesh where your thighs and ass meet. He gripped you tight and you whined into his mouth as he kissed you hard enough to see stars. 

“Students!” a reprimanding voice called and you looked over to see a teacher rushing towards you. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed as he brushed his hair out of his face. 

“Hello, Ms. O’Donnell! How are you today?” he said using an overly enthusiastic and therefore sarcastic tone that caused you to put your hand over your mouth to hide your smirk. 

“Hands to yourself Mr. Munson this is a school not a club,” she said angrily and you snorted as he took a step back from you and folded his arms across his chest. 

You suddenly realized how spread your legs were now that he was not between them and quickly crossed your legs with an embarrassed smile. 

Ms. O’Donnell raised a judgemental eyebrow at you and you grimaced. 

“Let’s all go to class together shall we?” she said, clearly exasperated. 

“Actually-” Eddie started to say but you hopped off the table and elbowed him. 

He stopped what was sure to be a ridiculous statement with a wink to you. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him with you as you walked with Ms. O’Donnell towards the school building. 

“I have a question,” he stated in a nonchalant tone. 

You gave him a warning glare but that didn’t stop him. 

“Is it only me that has to keep my hands to myself because I would be completely fine with just her touching me-” 

“Eddie!” you exclaimed in horror and he laughed loudly. 

“That’s it. Hands off each other and detention for both of you,” the teacher declared and you gasped. 

You dropped Eddie’s hand and crossed your arms. 

“Aw, c’mon Ms. O’Donnell-” he started but she cut him off. 

“No, I was already considering it and now my decision is final-” 

“Okay, but it was just a kiss,” you mumbled. 

She shot you a look and walked into the classroom without another word. 

Eddie looked at you with a grimace like he was worried you were upset with him. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

You sighed, “It’s fine. I just feel like she’s being kind of harsh right now. I mean how many times a day do we walk past couples making out in the goddamn hallways.”

“That is true,” he said as he pointed a finger at you. 

You both walked into class and slumped into your seats. 

“I’ve never gotten detention before,” you whispered to him and he cocked his head at you as he smiled. 

“You’re so cute.” 

“Ugh. Whatever Mr. Rule Breaker,” you said with a roll of your eyes and turned to the front of class and tried to pay attention to whatever was being taught. 

“Maybe she’s being harsher with you because she thinks I’m corrupting you,” he whispered in your ear as he leaned forward and you shivered. 

“I’m not so sure I’m the one doing the corrupting though, you were the one trying to seduce me at school,” he said as he reached up and squeezed your hip before he sat fully back in his seat. 

You swallowed hard and fidgeted in your seat and his soft chuckle and his words ringing in your ears kept you from hearing anything the teacher was saying. 

You somehow managed to make it through the rest of the day, though the day didn’t end when it was supposed to. 

You sat in detention with the other delinquents and drummed your fingers on the desk in front of you. 

“Hey,” Eddie said and you looked over at him. 

“Wanna make out?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows and you stared at him with a blank expression as you crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at his head. 

He laughed loudly and the teacher sitting at the front of class glared at the both of you. 

“You just look so pretty in my jacket,” he flirted and you smirked at him. 

You pulled your book out and started reading only for Eddie’s hand to be suddenly covering the words. 

You looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Whatcha reading?” 

You lifted up the book to show him. 

“The Hobbit is better,” he said and you rolled your eyes. 

“Obviously, but I’ve already read that way too many times so now I’m reading this,” you said and he grinned in excitement. 

This launched the two of you into an animated whispered discussion on Lord of the Rings that lasted nearly the rest of the detention. 

You were shushed by the teacher a few times, but the two of you continued to speak, only at a lower volume. 

You left your first detention with a smile on your face and Eddie’s hand in yours. 

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment

Eddie taglist:

@bunnywritesmarvel @crazycookiecrumbles @kindnonny23-2 @kaqua @ali-r3n​ @maskedmistressed @prettylestrange @gatewaytohenna 

[mandu-17]

In your eyes | Cho Miyeon x reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: Can you do an imagine with miyeon where reader and her are close friends and reader notices that miyeon keeps looking at her differently so reader helps miyeon by share their first kiss???? Sorry I couldn’t explain it properly!

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Wordcount: ~ 1,011

A/N: happy new year everyone, here's a little something for you all!! i took a small break from tumblr since i've had quite a lot going on in my life. now i'm trying to slowly get back into writing, but i probably won't be able to post once a week like i used to. thank you to those who continue to stick around, you guys have a very special place in my heart 🤍

It was long past midnight when you walked into an almost empty company building. Thankfully some lights were still on which helped you find the right way quickly. The reason for the sudden arrival in such unusual for you place, was already impatiently waiting for you.

Miyeon beamed the second your head popped in the door. Leaving everything behind, she excitedly got up to greet you. With a smile of your own, you hugged her tightly, letting yourself remind how much you missed her. Unfortunately, despite being close friends, Miyeon and you couldn’t meet often. As an idol, her schedule was always tightly packed. Although, you’ve always admired her passion to stay in touch with you and text you every few hours.

“Please tell me you didn’t get matcha again.” Her sweet voice hit your ear, while addressing the bag of beverages you brought.

“No, I remember your favorite by now.” You chuckled in response, slowly unwrapping your arms from Miyeon’s small waist.

She guided you to the seats and glanced at you curiously in a way showing that she was waiting for her drink.

“Milk tea for the coolest idol ever and a green tea for well… me.”

Miyeon bursted laughing at your words, but happily accepted the cup filled with her favorite tea.

“You’re the coolest person ever, though.”

You rolled your eyes at her answer, trying to ignore the way your face suddenly felt hot or how she kept smiling at you.

The thing with Miyeon was that you knew her for some time now and technically you should have already gotten used to her beauty, yet still whenever you faced her, your breath hitched a little. Although, you were aware of it, you never felt the need to label your feelings for her.

Yes, she was gorgeous and yes, she was an amazing friend. The one who knows you inside out.

Everything with Miyeon came naturally. Like the two of you were destined to meet and bond. Which always made you feel calm about your relationship. Even if you liked her more than a friend, you had a hunch that she might have liked you as well.

Actually, it was all in her eyes.

You could read her like your favorite book, which she kind of was at this point.

“I’m so exhausted, Y/N.” Brown haired rested her head on your shoulder, closing her eyes with a sigh.

The clock on the wall said that about an hour passed since you appeared in the studio. The two of you never stopped talking, eagerly wanting to catch up with another’s life.

You wrapped an arm around Miyeon’s shoulders and rested your head on top of hers, wishing she could get some rest. Gently, your fingers traced the soft fabric of her shirt. Although, your actions remained calm, on the inside you were uneasy. You couldn’t get out of your mind the way she kept looking at you earlier. Now, you finally had a chance to analyze how often she’d glance at your lips or not miss any chance to initiate physical touch.

All of the sudden, it felt like too much.

You knew Miyeon liked you. You had her figured out by now.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You said after a moment of comfortable silence, almost ready to get up and leave right away.

“Huh? Why so suddenly?” Miyeon stared at you confused, while rubbing her eyes.

“The weather is nice.” You responded simply, picking up empty cups and putting a jacket on.

“Oh, really?” There was only a little bit of teasing in her voice. She was by your side next second helping you with the cleaning.

Like an obeyed puppy Miyeon would follow you everywhere, she couldn't say no to you.

“You’ll like it.” You promised with a small nod.

With a huff, an eye roll and half of a smile, Miyeon also put more clothes on, letting you take the lead. Considering how it was middle of the night, the streets were empty and everything around was even more beautiful. Actually, it always was with Miyeon by your side. Somehow she managed to shine the brightest making all neon lights blend in the background.

You watch with a smile how she takes a big breath of fresh air, her shoulders relaxing a little. Judging by the corners of her lips slightly tugged up, Miyeon needed this. A small getaway from complicated reality.

“The weather is nice, indeed.” She says quietly, keeping up with your steady pace.

“Told you.” With a coy grin, you look at her, replying in the same low tone.

Your eyes meet again and you gulp.

There was something in them that made you feel warm. At peace, even. She looked at you, as if you put the stars on the sky, high above you. It was overwhelming and amazing at the same time.

“Miyeon.” You said, feeling as in trance.

Nothing else seemed to matter to you in that moment. City lights framing her face took every inch of your attention. She tilted her head and both of you stopped walking, deep into a park nearby. One of her eyebrows lifted slightly in anticipation.

It was right there and then.

You closed the distance to meet her in a quick, but meaningful kiss. The feeling of your lips brushing against each other awakening all butterflies in your insides. Before you could even pull away, Miyeon was already smiling from ear to ear.

She was waiting for it the whole time. Waiting for you to make the first move. But something deep inside you knew that as well.

“You’ve been doing this all along, haven’t you?” Teasingly you grin at her, while gently pulling her closer by the neck.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Y/N.” One look into her eyes gave you all the answers in the world.

It was probably the hundredth time she said your name, although this time felt different. Way more special and intimate.

Almost as special as the bond between Miyeon and you.

[ladylookslikeadude1]

Congratulations on 200!! For the prompt, because im weak to angst/hurt-comfort fics, what about one where Aizawa fucks up and unintentionally neglects Mido. It starts with getting home late to missing dates and forgetting things. Maybe because of a big year long case or maybe something with hizashi or oboro(to hurt more)but Mido feels thrown aside and forgotten. It adds up to Mido moving out and trying to leave because he wants to leave before being hurt again. Aizawa now trying to win him back.

So this is super super similar to the 'The Jealous Type' AU @rayshippouuchiha has going on, so I'm gonna absolutely suggest that you check out some of the bits that they've put out there! I've also written a prompt very similar to this already that I'm going to repost below. If this wasn't quite what you were thinking, let me know and I'll see what else I can wrangle up in that same vein!

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

Izuku tried to be reasonable.  He really did.  The first, fifth, even tenth time Shouta had to cancel a date because of either a patrol that went long, or his students, or something, he understood.  Every canceled date, every time dinner went cold with him at the table staring at a phone with no notifications, he understood.  Or he tried to, at least, and he felt like he succeeded as much as anyone could ask him to.  But this was just too much.

“Shouta.”  Izuku wanted to break something.  “I told you about this six months ago.  I reminded you last month, last week, and three days ago.  I could not have physically given you more of a heads up than I did.”

His boyfriend sighed, looking exhausted.  “Izuku, please.  It’s a class reunion.  I know it’s important to you, and I’m sorry, but this stakeout is important too.”

Izuku wanted to scream.  “Ok,” he said finally, exhausted with the entire situation.

“Izuku.”  Shouta’s voice was quiet as he pulled him into a hug.  “I really am sorry, I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku said quietly.  It wasn’t.  It wasn't even close to fine, but he was so tired of trying to convince his boyfriend that he was at least as important as his job.

“Go by yourself,” Shouta encouraged.  “I want you to have fun.”

So Izuku did just that.  Where he normally would have declined the invite since Shouta couldn’t come, he accepted and went to the reunion.  And, to his surprise, he had a blast.  Dancing and drinking with his peers, he found an acceptance with them that had been lacking when they were younger-with Izuku far less anxious and more likely to laugh than burst into tears now, he and his old classmates enjoyed each others company for what Izuku was pretty sure was the first time ever.

Eventually, he found himself on a barstool, listening to his old classmate talk about her ex-husband.  “Eventually,” she said, looking viciously amused, “He made it so I was happier by myself than I was with him-and what was the point of staying married when I hit that point?”

That question echoed in Izuku’s head as he unlocked his door later that night.  Every canceled plan, every cold dinner and ignored request for a day spent together swirled in his head as he shut the door behind himself.  He wouldn’t be happy without Shouta.  But would he be less unhappy than he was now if they broke up?  That was the real question that he needed to answer.

“You’re back late,” Shouta murmured from the couch, something dark in his eyes that Izuku had never seen before. 

Glancing at the clock, Izuku hesitated.  It was a little past eleven PM, which was later than Izuku normally made it home, but not so late Shouta should be as angry as he seemed.  “I was having a lot of fun,” he finally said, slipping out of his shoes and socks and tossing his jacket on the hook.  “I didn’t expect you to be here, actually.”  It was why he’d drank so much-he’d expected to have the night to himself to be maudlin and grumpy, and then actually make a decision once he’d sobered up.

Shouta’s eyes narrowed.  “Oh?  Planning on bringing someone back here?”  He asked, so lightly Izuku thought he was hearing things for a second.

“I’m sorry, what?”  He asked sharply, the anger he normally kept tightly leashed starting to slip from his control.  

There was something mean in Shouta’s expression as he tipped his head to the side.  “The stakeout ended early,” he said evenly.  “I decided to surprise you by meeting up with you at the reunion.  Imagine my surprise to see you dancing with people you always said you couldn’t stand.  Or,” his voice sharpened as he stood finally, “Listening so intently to a woman talking about how leaving her man was the best thing she could have done for herself.”

Izuku could make an excuse.  He could talk about how the woman had needed a friendly ear, how he wasn’t capable of looking disinterested when someone was talking about their problems-but it would be a lie.  He’d been lying every time he told Shouta it was ok when something was canceled or the man forgot to call-Izuku was tired of lying. 

“She said some things I think I needed to hear,” he said after considering his options.

Shouta had never used his size against Izuku, but the way he stalked over to him, invading his personal space aggressively felt for the first time like he was trying to intimidate Izuku.  “Are you thinking about leaving me?”  He asked, his voice quiet and furious.

Izuku sighed, moving away from him and farther into the living room.  He’d never let the older man intimidate him before, and he wouldn’t start now.  “I don’t know Shouta.  I’m tired and tipsy, so I’m not in a great place to be making any sort of decision at the moment.”  He paused.  “But you said, when we first started dating, that all I ever had to do was tell you I was done-that you wouldn’t fight me on it if that was what I decided.  Is that still the case?”  Izuku was honestly curious, because with how angry Shouta was it didn’t seem like it anymore.

Shouta reached out and threaded his fingers through Izuku’s gently.  “No,” he said quietly.  “That’s not the case at all.”  He tugged Izuku closer, using his free hand to brush Izuku’s hair out of his face as he kissed him sweetly on the mouth.  “You’re mine,” he said softly.  

Izuku sighed, pulling back.  He’d heard that before, along with promises to make more time for him that never actually panned out.  “When you say something so often, it eventually loses its meaning,” he said drily, tugging his hand free.  “Have you eaten?”  He was pretty well done with this conversation at this point.  

“Izuku.”  

He’d never heard that tone from Shouta before, so he turned immediately and was caught by the flatly furious look the man leveled at him.  “Shouta,” he returned after a moment, too tired to try to parse what his boyfriend meant this time.

“Are you really thinking about leaving me because I couldn’t go to this reunion?”  He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets with a scowl.

Izuku leaned against the doorway.  “I’ll tell you what,” he said.  “If you can tell me when the last time you and I had an uninterrupted evening together was, I’ll apologize for even considering it.”

And he waited.  Watching Shouta’s face, he saw him go from confused and slightly irritated, to concerned, and finally to a little bit horrified.  

“I can’t even remember the last time we spent uninterrupted time together was, let alone an entire evening,” Shouta murmured after a long moment.  “I…didn’t realize it had been so long.”

Sighing, Izuku told him, “I’ve asked you so many times to just make some time for me.  But there’s just no room for me in your life.”  He paused.  “You keep saying I’m yours, and maybe I am.  But I’m yours like a toy that you put up on a shelf, refusing to let anyone touch, and forgot about until you realize it’s been years since you’ve even looked at it.”  He shrugged then.  “I’m tired of trying to make myself fit into your life Shouta, when I don’t see you making the same effort.  I’m just done.”

It was a relief to admit it.  The idea had been slowly forming for months at this point, and hearing the exhausted woman tonight admit that leaving a man who didn’t make her life better had been the best choice for her had been the push he’d needed to finally admit to himself that he just wasn’t willing to try anymore.

“No.”  Shouta’s voice was perfectly calm, as if he was talking about the weather.

“No?”  Izuku repeated, puzzled.  “I-you don’t get to tell me that I’m not done, Shouta.  That’s not really how this works.”

Shouta moved closer, silent and predatory.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “That I’ve made you feel like this.  I’m sorry that I haven’t been paying enough attention to what’s going on in our relationship.”  His eyes were dark as he reached out and pulled Izuku close again.  “But you have my complete, undivided attention now,” he said quietly, fingers digging in slightly to Izuku’s hips.

“I don’t need your undivided attention,” Izuku said slowly.  He was pretty sure there was something he was missing here, but Shouta was acting so out of character that he just couldn’t put his finger on what was off.  “I just wanted you to make some time for me.  And I don't’ know what could make this time so different than every other time you’ve said you’ll do better and then two days later you’re five hours late without a single text letting me know our plans have changed.”

Shouta hummed, maneuvering them over to the couch and sitting down, pulling Izuku down onto his lap. “You’ve never threatened to leave before,” he pointed out.

Izuku paused.  “I…don’t want you to feel like this is an ultimatum,” he said.  Shouta didn’t react well to ultimatums at all, and while Izuku would never be afraid Shouta would harm him physically he didn’t want to deal with the anger that came from ultimatums.  “That’s not what this is.”

“I know,” Shouta soothed, gentling the fingers digging into Izuku’s hips and instead cupping his hip while running his thumb over Izuku’s hip bone.  “You’ve never played those sorts of games, I didn’t think you would start now.  But you threatened to leave, and I saw you dancing with that man at your reunion looking like you were having more fun than I’ve seen you have in a while.  And then you were talking to the woman who was talking about how she was happier after leaving her husband…” Shouta trailed off.  

Izuku leaned against him, unable to hold himself stiff and still when Shouta was so warm and inviting right behind him, still rubbing soothing little circles on his hip.  “I love you so much,” he sighed, “But I don’t know if I can try again.  I’ve tried so many times.”

“I’ve made it hard on you,” Shouta agreed, hooking his chin on Izuku’s shoulder.  “I can make you happy Izuku, I just need you to try one more time.  Because I won’t let you go.  I can’t.  You’re mine,” he repeated, breath brushing against Izuku’s ear.  “I’ve neglected you, but I don’t do that anymore.�� One more time,” he requested.

Letting out a shuddery little noise, Izuku shook his head slightly.  “I don’t think I can Shouta.”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, making Izuku freeze at his completely reasonable tone.  “You could go ahead and leave me.  And then I could go behind you ruining the life of everyone who thinks they have a chance with you-starting with the man you were dancing with tonight.”  His tone had slid from totally reasonable to slightly vicious by the time he stopped speaking.

Izuku was completely still.  He should feel trapped, he knew.  He should be considering options to seriously walk away and protect himself-but honestly?  He felt wanted in a way he hadn’t for months at this point, and it made heat pool in his stomach.

“Ok,” he breathed out.  “One more time Shouta.”

The other man tumbled Izuku onto the couch, landing on top of him with one hand bracing him above Izuku.  “One more time,” Shouta agreed, and their kiss tasted like victory.  

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bb / gg, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is the lead singer in a rock band and failed his Biology class last semester, so he has to take remedial classes over the summer. You're the Biology TA, double major in Psychology and Biology, watching him freak out over his make-up exam because he had overslept. Both of you are surrounded by rumors. Does the title stand for bad boy / good girl or bad bitch / good guy? Who knows.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; not the healthiest dynamic tbh; slight angst due to perceived unrequited love; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, begging, scratching / marking, choking, handjob (he is still wearing underwear), multiple orgasms, cowgirl, hair pulling, edging / orgasm denial, cock ring usage, m-masturbation, cum-eating); non-idol!BTS – rock singer, sub!Jungkook x studious, dom!reader

yes, it's SOWOOZOO JK, both the first yellow tropical look and the shredded black shirt look; for those who wanted him to be dom!JK, there is a moment when he is but not in the way you think because that's how I operate

--

Jeon Jungkook was a bad boy.

Wore too much black, dyed his hair too much, had tattoos, always had girls hanging around him. Sang in a rock band on the weekends, played electric guitar, played the game of how-many-numbers-can-I-get tonight? Never gave a girl his leather jacket to wear but was happy to buy her a drink and flirt with her until she got hot with arousal.

You were a good girl.

Always wore a blazer. Crisp white dress shirt and pleated skirt underneath, usually in a dark color. Sensible heels, but always heels. Did too many units a semester because you were double majoring in psychology and biology. Always arrived to class early, always turned in your assignments on time, always turned in your tests early and aced that shit. Took physics with calculus even though you didn’t have to because it was the harder one and you wanted a challenge.

-

Against the wall, shoving a fist into the neck, lips to lips, teeth snapping, hand travelling down, whimpering pleas and harsh growls, keep crying, I like it, ecstasy and pain, nails to skin. Tearing clothes off, biting, marking, I own you, and then, yes, you do, mouth and tongue, aching pleasure, cocked eyebrow, mocking the pathetic whines and cries, stopping right before the end, no, please, I’ve been good, and, you take what you get, hand fitting onto the neck, squeezing the sides, eyes rolling back, skin to skin, bruising slaps that would be seen tomorrow in the mirror, traced with shaking fingers and pants of an open mouth, moaning at the memory of sky-high pleasure while lightheaded and thoughtless, desperate to do it again.

-

There was a rumor.

Everyone liked Jeon Jungkook. He had two smiles, an endearing one and a teasing one. Both encapsulated the kind of person he was, honest and playful. He always sang with conviction, he rapped with savagery, and his lyrics were always from the heart. He always hung out with his bandmates after their performances at bars and interacted with those that came up to him. No one ever said Jungkook was mean or rude in any way.

And yet.

There was a rumor.

A rumor that Jeon Jungkook was taken.

He was the kind of guy that always made sure a drunk girl got home safe even though he didn’t know them. Paid for their taxi and everything. He focused a lot on his music and writing lyrics he thought would connect with others while taking into account his band members. He always told the truth if a girl confessed to him, saying he wasn’t looking right now, that he was very sorry if she thought otherwise, that there was someone he was already interested in.

-

“Oi.”

You slammed a hand onto the tabletop and Jeon Jungkook jumped, the shredded black shirt he was wearing falling down his shoulder, revealing his ink black tattoos on his tan skin. He was wearing a black tank top underneath.

“What’s with you? You missed the exam for your remedial class and you’ve spent the past ten minutes spacing out at your make-up exam,” you barked, pointing to his empty exam sheet. “You haven’t even filled out you name.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “S… Sorry.”

You frowned. Why was he apologizing to you? Honestly, why did you sign up for this summer TA position again? Oh, right, money and credits. Hmph. It was really just an excuse for the professor to slack off while you did the tedious things like grading and watching over idiots that skipped class. Sorry, overslept. Hung over, probably, since this was the Jeon Jungkook. Rockstar, hottie, famous in his own way.

Whatever.

He could be Jesus Christ and you would still be scolding him for missing his remedial Biology exam.

“Fill out your name so at least I can fail you properly.”

Not that it mattered, since you knew who he was. He didn’t know you knew who he was, and you had zero incentive to inform him that you were indeed aware of the existence of black-haired, tattooed, chiseled-jaw, sparkly-eyed Jeon Jungkook, all due to the constant snide remarks that followed you in your wake.

You wouldn’t be such a bitch if a guy like Jeon Jungkook put you in your place.

Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook?

This guy, this weirdo about to fail his fucking Biology exam in front of your face.

Impatiently, you rolled up the sleeves of your gray blazer and grabbed a chair, dragging it up to the table. You snapped the chair down and sat in it, smoothing your skirt. You liked to be neat. Even though university didn’t have a uniform, you liked to keep some sort of uniform for yourself. There was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to select an outfit every morning. Today, white dress shirt, gray blazer, pleated black skirt that hit slightly higher than mid-thigh. Every other outfit was some variation of this and, in the winter, you wore thick stockings.

You clicked your heels together under the table sharply.

He flinched at the sound.

Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. He was mumbling at his paper.

“I… I think I studied the wrong chapters…”

You clicked your tongue. Jeez.

His hand was shaking so bad that his pen was practically vibrating. You leaned over the table, grabbing his fist to still it.

“Stop.”

Your bare knees hit his bare knees, mostly because he was wearing black jeans with giant holes in them. Jungkook froze, head snapping up, silver earrings jangling, black hair flying, undercut visible for a second.

“You want to pass this class or what?”

He nodded quickly in response.

“Good. I want to get out of here. Keep your mouth shut. Answer to the first question is A.”

His eyes widened.

“Are you… helping me cheat?” he whispered, terrified.

You cocked your head, letting go of his hand. “You said you studied the wrong chapters. I’m not spending forty-five minutes of my life to watch you panic and then ten minutes more failing you,” you replied lowly, dangerous edge to your voice.

“I… couldn’t… I mean…”

You shoved his knees open with yours, narrowing your eyes as he yelped, pleading look in those brown doe eyes. You pressed your knees on the inside of his thighs, keeping them open.

“Answer to the second question is C.”

When Jungkook didn’t move, you reached over and cupped his chin. Felt his racing heartbeat pounding through his veins, coursing through your fingertips. Stared deep into those eyes, lowering the octave of your voice, keeping his thighs spread for you under the table.

“Listen to me,” you murmured softly. “Okay, Jungkook?”

“O… Okay…”

And he did.

-

There was a rumor.

Nobody liked you. Maybe it was because of your high scores ruining the class test average. Maybe it was the dismissive way you spoke to people, almost demeaning. Most likely it was a combination of the two. Students talked behind your back all the time, spreading rumors. Friends? What friends? You had an average of twenty class credits a semester. You didn’t have time to make friends. And besides, why try to make friends when clearly nobody wanted to be your friend?

And yet.

There was a rumor.

You ignored such things. You didn’t need such distractions.

-

“It would be too suspicious if you got full marks. This score is high enough.”

“O… Okay…”

“Get on the table.”

Jungkook scrambled on the wooden tabletop as you pushed his exam aside. You were still sitting in your chair. Your head tilted, eyebrow lifting at his speedy response to your rather suspicious request.

“You listened.”

He blinked at you. “Uh… yeah?”

Silence.

“Why?” you finally said.

Jungkook gulped. “Be… because you asked,” he mumbled, knees on the table, hands clutching his knees.

“You can just walk out and report me.”

He shook his head quickly, black hair flying everywhere. “I don’t want to.”

Your other eyebrow raised. He chewed on his lip, a flash of pink tongue in his movement.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”

Well.

You decided to test his conviction.

“Edge of the table. Spread your legs for me.”

Instantly, obediently, Jeon Jungkook surprised you by doing it, putting each leg on either side of you, chunky black sneakers hanging down. Shredded black shirt open, hands behind his ass, towering over you, and yet his eyes were watching you, waiting for more, begging for instruction.

“Hm.”

You raised your chin, seeing his impressively muscular thighs and body displayed for you to take. He was so close you could smell his clean, dreamy scent, like a meadow in summer dusk, surrounded by peeking stars and blinking fireflies. Interesting.

But you didn’t need the distraction.

“That’s it. You can go now,” you said dismissively, about to push your chair back.

His legs closed in, pressing firmly into your upper arms. Your eyes flickered up to him.

Jungkook shook his head very slowly.

“Do what you want.”

You saw his chest rise and fall, his silvery voice deepening, pupils expanding.

“I know you want to do something to me.”

His erection was bulging against the zipper of his black jeans. Your eyes went back to his face. He shivered at your sharp stare. All of this was happening in an otherwise empty lecture hall, with you and Jungkook at the very bottom.

Just you and him.

You placed your hands on his thighs. He jumped a little, but scooted closer to you. You slid your hands up. You undid the button of his jeans, scrutinizing those brown eyes. He raised his hips to help you as you pulled the zipper down.

“You don’t know me,” you finally said, no inflection in your voice.

He didn’t look away. “I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” You smirked. “Bad boy, aren’t you?”

Jungkook shook his head slightly, but didn’t break eye contact as you pulled his pants to his knees and reached for his black boxer briefs. “No. I’m a good guy. I want to give you what you want.” You hooked your fingers over the waistband and nicked his skin with your nails, making him gasp, the pleasure evident in his tone. He did not try to hide it from you. “I want to be good for you.”

“Why is that?”

He hung his head a little.

“Something about… how you make me feel…” he muttered. His gaze finally faltered. You reached up and righted his chin, forcing him to look at you. Saw that Jungkook had a mole under his mouth, perfectly in the center. He had a nice shape to his pink lips. You tapped his cheek, nudging him to elaborate. “You… You’re so pretty… and smart… Everyone looks up to you because you have such good grades…”

You doubted that.

Jungkook probably had no idea that most of the school hated your guts.

You didn’t have classes with Jungkook, but you were sure he knew your name because your name was posted on the Dean’s List of the highest-ranking students of the university every semester. Also, you weren’t hard to miss. Every student moved out of your way when you walked through the halls, whispering behind their hands.

Jungkook brought you back to the present.

“I feel,” he whispered, voice trembling, gaze locking with yours. “I feel like I want to be on my knees for you.”

His skin was warm under your nails.

“Like this is where I belong, in your hands.”

You stood up.

Jungkook started, turning into a tight squeak as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him down.

“Lift up your shirt with both hands.”

He did was he was told, revealing his toned abs and the lower half of his pecs, biting his lip, clutching onto his tank top, ears turning red as he craned his head to look down at you. You didn’t give him any satisfying response. His tan skin seemed to glow under the overhead lights. You studied his face.

Reached up and began to rub his erection through his underwear.

“A… ah…”

“Gonna make you cum like this.”

He shook his head quickly. “P… Please, no…”

You felt him swell and twitch under your hand. He was pretty big. Thick. Pretty boy with a pretty dick, probably. You rubbed the head with your palm, feeling his pre-cum leaking through the thin fabric. He wasn’t kidding when he said you made him feel some kind of way.

“Why not? Make you cum in your underwear and then you have to go all the way home covered in it. All dirty, just for me.”

His handsome face twisted with sinful pleasure at your suggestion, whimpers in his throat. His cock jerked with need, wanting it.

“O… Okay. Whatever you want.”

So obedient.

“So obedient, Jungkook,” you purred, rubbing faster.

He nodded. “For you. Only for you. Just for you.”

Was it just saying those things because he thought that was what you wanted to hear? Or was that how he actually felt? Surely not the latter, considering he didn’t really know you. You leaned over him, placing your free elbow on the table to stabilize yourself. You hadn’t even kissed him.

“You’re so hard for me,” your drawled, lowering your head, letting your warm breath float down onto his skin. “You want to cum for me, don’t you?”

“Y… yes, please…”

“You want to be my toy?”

You pressed your lips to his bellybutton, feeling the smoothness of his skin, tasting it. He moaned at your kiss, your swift tongue flickering out to that delicious skin, whining when your teeth nipped at the softness. Fuck, he tasted so good that you wanted to mark him. Looked so fucking good that you wanted to mess him up, mar him with temporary imperfections on the perfection that was Jeon Jungkook.

“Yes…”

With breathless, lustful conviction.

You licked up his abs, increasing the intensity and speed of rubbing the engorged head of his cock, the pre-cum already soaked through and creating a slippery surface, turning Jungkook’s pitched whines to deep moans, a melody that filled up the entire lecture hall until was the only thing you could hear, Jungkook’s moans as you bit his skin, his moans as you sucked on his skin, moans as you kissed the hard muscle, cries for more at you left marks, pleading for you, sweet and beautiful, clutching his shirt so tight that his knuckles were white, the black tattoos of his right hand standing out, his cock throbbing in your hand, his hips rising to hump your palm, your name on his lips, over and over and over.

“Gonna… gonna cum…” he panted, sniffing slightly, cheeks flushing pink. “Gonna cum like how you want me to, all over my underwear…”

Your fingertips touched his side, seeing him stiffen and then shudder at your gentle caress.

“Do it,” you murmured. “Show me how good you are at listening, Jungkook.”

He bit his lower lip, jaw clenching, squeezing his eyes shut, tipping his head back into the tabletop, whining your name in his chest, your palm working him, slick and hot and hard, pulsating under your roughness. With a sharp moan, his lower lip popped out of his teeth, dark red and swollen, small mole quivering.

“F-Fuck…!”

You felt it and heard it, the unmistakable jolt and squelch as his orgasm splattered inside his boxer briefs, drenching the fabric, drenching your hand, his embarrassed whines as he realized what he had done but still humping your hand, forcing out every last twitch of dribbling cum, causing you to smear it everywhere, coating the sensitive head and adding to the pleasure, his cheeks flushed red, eyes squeezed shut to savor the pleasure and avoid looking at you.

“Shh…”

You crawled onto the table, still holding his cock through his soiled underwear, squeezing it, free hand slipping under his head and lifting him, his eyes weakly opening, scared and anxious, but all you did was lean down and kiss him, pressing your lips to that pure softness, exhaling his name into his mouth, his scent staining your hand, his cologne filling your nose, your whisper in his throat.

“Time for you to go home.”

-

Jungkook thought you would tell everyone.

You did no such thing.

Instead, you ignored him.

He would see you three times a week and, three times a week, you arrived with the professor and left with the professor. Jungkook tried much harder to attend classes, but you seemed not to care either way. He would come to the front and collect his assignment and find that you had marked it up exactly like everyone else, red marks all over his incorrect answers. You didn’t even look in his direction.

The next exam was coming up quickly.

Part of him considered skipping exam day to have one-on-one time with you again.

“Jungkook.”

He jumped, jerking his head towards the hall, confused. Somehow, he had heard your voice. Or rather, did he imagine it? His teeth sunk into his lip, placing a hand on his forehead, confused. His head was confused. He couldn’t think straight. Why had he done such an embarrassing thing with you? Even you had told him to leave and report you. But Jungkook just couldn’t. Not then and not now. He had asked for it.

He still wanted it.

Nobody knew. Everybody thought he was a cocky, womanizing playboy. And he was, but not because of the sex. It was only because he was bored and that was all he could get. There was power in being on top.

And there was power in letting go.

You were bad for him.

He was a good guy.

You were a bad bitch.

And nobody knew.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and yanked him around, the loose short sleeves of his yellow tropical shirt flaring out, making his sunglasses rattle on his face. You narrowed your eyes at him. Instant shivers down his spine at your stern gaze.

“Are you deaf?” you snapped. “I’ve been calling your name for the past minute.”

“I… S-Sor–”

You waved a hand dismissively, grabbing his right hand and slapping down a post-it into it.

“Chapters for the exam, including the date and time. Do not miss it this time. I will not let you make it up and fail you on the spot.”

You turned on your heel, letting go of his hand.

His left one shot out and circled around your arm, his rings pressing into your skin.

“Wait.”

You jerked your head towards him, glaring sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

And you yanked your arm out of his grasp, but his legs made the choice for him, following your swift strides, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, clutching the post-it and his last strands of sanity.

“Please, wait.”

“What?” was your curt response, not looking back at him.

“Please do it again,” he gasped breathlessly, unable to stop himself.

“Do what?”

“Have your way with me.”

You stopped walking.

Jungkook walked straight into your back and banged his nose on your head. He winced, stepping back and rubbing it gingerly. He didn’t register you turning around until it was too late and you were right in his face. You raised your chin and eyebrow simultaneously.

“No.”

He blinked rapidly, his tinted sunglasses halfway down the bridge of his nose.

“W… Why? Did you not like it? Was… was I bad?”

You let out an amused scoff.

The side of your lips curved upwards.

He had made you smile, even if only a little bit. Just that small thing was enough to feed his courage.

“I…” Jungkook coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke again, voice still a soft whisper in his embarrassment even though no one was around to eavesdrop. “I can be better. I can do better.”

Silence.

He thought you were going to walk away again.

You reached up and plucked his glasses off his nose. Folded them neatly and tucked them in his tropical shirt pocket. Then your eyes found his again and he knew something was different. He could see you clearly now, his vision no longer clouded by sienna.

Now, Jungkook could no longer stop it.

He could feel it all over him, coursing through his veins, arousal like fire. Something about you and something about him. Jungkook could sense the danger, but he didn’t want to run even though he knew he should. He had heard the rumors surrounding you. They could be true.

And yet.

“I want it,” Jungkook breathed, inviting himself into the danger. “I want you. I want to be your toy.”

Your discerning expression didn’t change.

You reached up and gripped his chin, digging your nails into his soft skin.

He whimpered in his chest, moving closer to you.

“What’s my name?”

His brows furrowed, saying your name hesitantly.

You pulled his chin down so he was eye-level.

“Next time you say my name, I will be choking it out of you.”

-

Everyone thought Jeon Jungkook was the kind of guy to grip your wrist with his left hand and your throat in his right, his lips against your ear and his sweaty chest against your back as you slapped your ass into his crotch and fucked yourself with his rock-hard cock, his smirk in your ear as he provided you with a certain type of encouragement.

“That’s right, you want this dick, don’t you? Show me. Prove to me you want it.”

His fingertips tightening against the sides of your neck, listening to your pathetic cries and moans as you tried to squirm against him, brain running out of oxygen due to lack of blood, running out of thoughts, running out of pleas as Jungkook gripped your wrist, deep snarl against your hair as he roughly finished himself off using your body because that’s all you were, someone to be used by him and nothing more, neck suddenly released with a breathless gasp and shoved face first into the sheets with his right hand splayed on your back, his tattoos and your orgasm crashing down on you, his growls staining the air and a fierce jerk of his hips to spill into your tight hole and leave you moments after, nothing but a discarded toy in his eyes.

You thought.

That was what everyone thought when Jeon Jungkook stood on stage, flipping his dark violet microphone between verses and smirking like a devil, truly in command of every thought and every pair of eyes on him, surrounded by a heavy bass line and deafening drums, guitar solo tearing through the moment to emphasize the next of his lips nearing the mic again, entrancing the crowd with his beautiful lips and talented tongue.

No one knew.

-

You were riding him hard and fast, torn condom wrappers and used condoms littering his bed, back-to-back orgasms, his head pressed into his pillows, your hand around his neck, the other leaving long lines down his chest, scratching him so hard that it dotted red, blooming lines of pain.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, f-fuck…”

Jungkook was hoarsely whispering, clutching his sheets, black hair soaked with sweat, raising his chest to your nails, whimpering, punish me, punish me, punish me, and you muttered plainly with a sharp edge, you talk too much, your grip tightening again, pressing onto the sides of his neck, cutting off the blood flow, and Jungkook moaned gratefully, eyelids fluttering, the slap of your hips to his louder and louder, filling up his whole bedroom, rattling his bedframe, fucking him so hard he was slowly sliding up to his headboard.

Your name fell from his lips in pure ecstasy, back arching to shove his whole length fully into you, thick and hard and twitching with need, your slick walls clamping down on him, fitting to him with a hiss. He began to match you, breathless, lightheaded, world hazy, moaning from deep in his chest, I love you, and your reply was only tightening your grip, your hand and your pussy, harder, harder, harder.

“Aren’t you such a good guy?” you scoffed sarcastically, letting up for only a second to let him reply, blood rocketing back into his brain, flooding him with oxygen, and Jungkook sucked in a lungful of air, reeling.

“N-No…” he panted. “You’re the good girl… you’re always s-so… so good to me…”

His eyes locked with yours hazy with lust and love. You almost looked away out of instinct.

“You a-always remember… what I like…” he managed to choke out.

-

You left him when you were done using him.

You pretended he didn’t say those words to you. There was no point in acknowledging the nonsense that he said in the middle of being choked and barely functioning. You tapped your pencil against your textbook.

You caught yourself thinking about him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your eyes flickered to the clock. Late at night on a Friday. He was probably at a bar. You watched the second hand of your plain silver clock tick, tick away. You never asked to watch him and his band perform even though Jungkook always made it a point to text you the address and the time.

It was obvious Jungkook didn’t want you to be his secret.

He wasn’t really your secret either. You just saw no benefit to letting anyone know there was a connection between you and Jeon Jungkook. After all, you were just using him.

You stopped tapping your pencil.

Stared at the second hand.

Tick.

Heard the voices of the rumors poisoning you, saying the things they said.

She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else because she’s a nerd.

The only reason she has good grades is because she fucked that one professor.

I heard she dated him.

I mean, there’s a reason he left in the middle of the semester, right?

He had a wife!

Snap.

Your eyes flickered down.

The tip of your pencil lead rolled across the page, leaving tiny pinpricks of granite.

There was never any evidence because nothing happened. Nothing happened between you and said psychology professor. He left in the middle of the semester because his wife had a miscarriage and he wanted to be with her. It had nothing to do with you. You had long discussions with him about life and existentialism, hanging out during his office hours.

Sometimes, you felt bad.

Had you kept him from his wife? Would it have not happened if he just skipped his office hours and didn’t spend them talking to you? These were irrational, foolish thoughts. They made you guilty even when there was nothing to be guilty about.

He was a nice guy, mid-thirties. Everyone liked this professor.

They blamed you because they didn’t know.

Only you knew, because he told you with tears in his eyes and thanked you for being his student.

You didn’t tell anyone, because he did not owe you an explanation and you were not going to divulge someone’s personal business that they had shared with you in confidence. You watched your reputation crumble and fall apart, watched friends ostracize you, because you didn’t tell them anything and they didn’t believe you. You watched yourself turn bitter and hateful.

Just tell the truth.

There was no truth to be told.

You put your pencil down.

Closed your eyes.

Remembered Jungkook’s face.

-

Your hands were in his hair, pulling hard. His hot breath was in your face, arms shaking as he held himself up, fucking you into his mattress with whines in his chest, begging you, begging you, begging you.

“P-Please… let me cum, please…”

You liked to watch the sweat clinging to his high cheekbones and neck, jaw glistening with tension, feeling his strong body between your legs, his twitching hardness sliding into you repeatedly in rough, hard smacks, squeezing him every time he was fully sheathed inside you, vibrations coursing through you every time he came down.

“Not until I’m done,” you growled and he whimpered, pleading look in those brown doe eyes, black pupils expanded, unable to cum because a vibrating cock ring was restricting his orgasm, keeping him hard but unable to climax, sending thundering pleasure through him and into you. He watched helplessly as you gripped his hair, hissing sharply as another wave of pleasure overtook you, closing your eyes to savor it, savor his swollen cock twitching inside you as he felt the intense massage of your pussy walls closing around him, throbbing around the head and driving him insane, moaning pathetically because he couldn’t follow suit no matter how desperate he was.

Jungkook didn’t ask if you were done.

He just kept going because you told him he couldn’t cum until you were done.

And you didn’t say you were done.

You stared into those brown orbs, hazy with lust and full of conviction to be good for you.

Desperate to be the best and the only one, not knowing there was no one else because no one else wanted you like the way Jeon Jungkook wanted you.

“Pull out.”

“B-But…”

“You heard me,” you exhaled, throbs of pleasure still trembling through you. Your hands slid down, cupping his chin, nails digging into his sweaty cheeks. “Obey.”

With a pained whine, Jungkook obeyed, pulling out of you, his cock covered in your juices, wearing a condom and the black cock ring. You reached over with one hand to press the button on the remote to turn in off.

“Take it all off. Let me see your cock.”

He reached down and slowly pulled the cock ring off, taking the condom with it, whimpering at the sensitivity, his tone hitting a lovely pitched groan as the silicone squeezed the base of the head. His whole body was shaking as it fell from his hands, the veins on his length standing out, head purple-red and angry, white pre-cum slowly beading at the tip, and his face, looking down at you, waiting for your next move.

Cock waiting to be used.

You tapped your chest.

“Cum on my tits.”

“B-But–”

You cut him off.

“You’re going to cum on my tits and then you’re going to lick it off while I watch.”

-

He listened.

Jungkook straddled your waist with his thighs, muscular and defined, right hand wrapping around his cock, sweat making the tattoos on his forearm and shoulder glow in the low light, smelling like sex and musk, his core tightening as he touched his overstimulated length, using the lube of the condom and his own pre-cum to add to the pleasure as he began to stroke himself, moaning as you lifted your hands and cupped your breasts, pushing them together, his eyes on the curve of your cleavage and points of your hard nipples sticking out, and then your face, an indifferent look with a cocked eyebrow, taunting him, unimpressed by his timid grip on his cock, so he squeezed harder, tighter, embarrassing cries falling from his mouth, living for the smirk that slowly began to form on your lips.

It empowered him somehow, that smirk, the little inkling of satisfaction that Jungkook wanted, needed, craved, knowing he was doing well, being good, furiously pumping his aching cock over your pressed-together tits and he couldn’t last, couldn’t help it, too overstimulated and too turned on, too in love with this to prevent himself from tipping over with a hot gasp, spilling streams of sticky white lines over your breasts, spreading them everywhere, making a huge mess because he wanted a huge mess to clean up, shoving the head into your cleavage and shuddering at the sensation of warmth to his scorching heat, able to feel the pulse of the engorged tip dripping out what was left, shivers up and down his spine, the words falling from his mouth that he never stopped saying even though you never acknowledged them.

“I... l-love you…”

He stayed like that for nearly a full minute, but you didn’t tell him to get off.

His eyes were closed, savoring the feeling.

Slowly, Jungkook gingerly removed himself, lowering his body over yours, tongue sliding out, touching your skin covered in his cum, his taste, mine, no one else’s, him on you, lapping it up, salty and bitter and yet he loved it, loved that you told him to do it, loved that you let him paint your skin with his orgasm and now his saliva. He didn’t care that you never said anything to his I love you, didn’t care that you seemed to pretend he never said it, because he would continue saying it when he was with you, hopeless as it was.

It was the small things that kept him going, sucking his own cum off your nipple and wrapping his lips around it, hearing your soft sigh of pleasure, feeling the tap on his thigh that instructed him to scoot up, the small thing of your hand closing in on his spent cock, sending sparks of pain but also pleasure, moaning into your skin as you massaged his balls with your fingers, knowing that he could take more pressure and roughness because he had just came, the small thing of your thumb rubbing the sensitive slit, his face pressing into your breasts, smearing his cheek with his cum and saliva, sliding across your slick skin because of the intensity of the high it gave him, the pleasure and the pain, his right arm coming up to wrap around you, tattoos cradling your torso.

“I love you…” he whispered to your racing heart under his ear, lost in the rhythm of your heartbeat and the firmness of your touch. Jungkook did not care if you hated him saying it.

He would continue saying it as long as he was with you.

-

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…?”

“Hmm.”

He placed his hand over the bottom of his phone and smiled at the cute girl that was talking to him at the bar.

“Sorry. I have to take this call. It’s important to me.”

He didn’t hear her response, because he backed away, bowing lightly, pressing his phone back to his ear.

“Ah, never mind, Jungkook.”

“No, no. What is it? Tell me.”

“You’re at a noisy place. It’s Saturday night.”

Jungkook pushed through the people, mumbling his apologies and straining to hear your voice over the thundering bass. “I finished. Well, we finished. We’re only drinking. I can leave at any time. I’ll just text the guys to bring my equipment back for me. Where are you?”

“Forget it.”

He opened the door of the club as the dial tone rang in his ear.

Looked up.

Your hand dropped to your side. You were still in your white dress shirt and navy skirt, dressed exactly like you were when at school minus the blazer. Jungkook’s eyes widened. He was in a torn-up long-sleeve shirt with the right sleeve removed, showing off his tattoos. His black hair was wild and half-wet, and he was wearing tight leather pants.

You clicked your tongue.

“I said forget it,” you repeated hollowly.

You sighed and turned around, skirt swishing in your wake.

“Wait, I’ll come with you–”

“Go back to where you belong, Jungkook.”

His hand closed around your forearm, holding tight.

“I belong with you.”

You stopped walking, silent.

“What is it? Tell me.”

You scowled. “It’s dumb.”

“So am I, remember?” he chuckled, his hand slipping down, squeezing yours. “I’m not very good at school.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Cars and people brushed past, but Jungkook was focused onto on your stillness, watching your eyes seemed to be thinking about many things. You hadn’t pulled your hand out of his yet. By now, Jungkook knew that if you didn’t want something, you wouldn’t be shy about telling him right away.

You started walking again. Jungkook was still holding your hand.

“It was just a moment of weakness,” you mumbled under your breath.

“A guy…?”

You didn’t answer.

Jungkook squeezed your hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured tightly. “I understand.”

He did not. He wanted to cry.

Your eyes shot to him, pinning him in place. “You don’t understand, Jeon Jungkook. You understand nothing.” You pulled your hand out of his and Jungkook let go, trying to hold his pain, trying not to breathe because he was preparing himself for the inevitable, the moment you were going to break his heart and, if it was right here and right now, then so be it, because he had said how he felt repeatedly and there was nothing more he could do than that.

He loved you so, so bad.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, that it was madness, but he did anyway.

But you surprised him.

Your sharp gaze softened.

“You know what they say about me. You have to know,” you exhaled, shaking your head. “You must know the rumors.”

Good girl gone bad.

Jungkook frowned. “About you and the professor?”

He watched your jaw clench.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

Your eyes shifted, not quite looking at him.

“Whether something did or didn’t happen, what does that have to do with me?”

And now you looked at him, guarded, not letting him know your thoughts.

“You…” He swallowed, trying to press the lump down in his throat. “You’re just using me, right? It doesn’t… doesn’t really matter, because in the end I don’t matter to you anyway… right?”

He did not want to cry and yet he did, because he knew he loved you. It was the small things, the way you never let up on him even in class, the way you picked days that were never the weekend and never before exams, the way you would brush your fingertips on his knuckles before leaving when you thought he was asleep, the way on the last time, the last time you were together, that you pressed your lips to his forehead when you thought he was asleep, running your fingers through his hair.

Jungkook was standing outside this bar and there were people he knew walking past, seeing you and him, but he kept his eyes on you, because the only one that mattered was you.

The one he belonged to was you.

He had decided that when he climbed onto the table that day.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a heavy breath. “If people say things about you, then they say things about you. Whether it’s the truth or not doesn’t change the fact I love you. It doesn’t make me love you less,” Jungkook said, speaking at his usual volume, because there was no reason to whisper the truth. “Even if it’s pointless and crazy, I want to be with you until the day you don’t want to be with me.”

His smiled and blinked back tears.

“Even if that day is today, I will never regret it.”

In this cruel summer, you could have ruined his reputation. You could have told everyone the kind of person he really was and you didn’t. You could have spread embarrassing stories of the things you made him do and you didn’t.

Even if he didn’t matter to you, Jungkook was confident that you weren’t a malicious person.

You rubbed your forehead. “The rumors will come to you.”

Jungkook laughed. “So what? I heard a rumor that I removed two ribs so I could suck my own dick. I admit, I considered doing it after hearing that.”

You scowled, but Jungkook only smiled in return. He could see the tension falling from your face with his comment. You clicked your tongue and tilted your head, as if to say, can’t be helped.

“There’s no other guy,” you muttered. “There’s just you and you’re dumb.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly, confused.

“You say it over and over and make me think about it all the time.” You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not a good girl. People pushed me away and I stayed there instead of trying to repair the burned bridges. I don’t even think I want to repair them. Who knows what will happen next? I don’t think it would be a good idea to put you through that shit.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, looking at him apologetically.

“You’re not the bad boy everyone says you are. You’re a good guy. You should find a good girl.”

Is that what you think? Jungkook chuckled, taking out his hand and rubbing his nose thoughtfully.

“I don’t want a good girl.”

He stepped toward you, lowering his hand and his head so that he was eye level with you.

“I love a bad bitch who can push me around and makes me their toy.”

He tilted his head, small curve on those beautiful lips, tiny mole underneath appearing with every smile.

“Which can only be you, you know.”

Jungkook didn’t try to kiss you. He only wanted to look into your eyes so you knew his conviction.

“I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you say it.”

He nodded. “And I’m going to keep saying it until the day you leave me.”

Silence.

Ah.

Your eyebrow lowered and you gave him an indifferent look.

“Hm. I wonder when that will be, Jungkook.”

You leaned in, but before you kissed him, he heard the whisper against his lips, felt the shape of yours as they brushed against his, words he prepared himself to never hear from you, words that he thought you would never say, and that was fine with him, because you showed it, and that was enough.

He thought.

“I love you.”

And then your lips on his and his tears fell onto your cheeks because Jungkook wanted to cry all this time and he could not stop now, knowing that he was so, so in love with you and you finally, finally said it back to him.

--

masterpost

[volleychumps]

Hi hi! Can I get a tendou, oikawa, kageyama and atsumu after a fight where they make up? Fluffy ending please! ❤️

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE- TURN IT UP

Aftermath of a Fight w/ Their S/O- (Tendou, Oikawa, Kageyama, Atsumu) 

Warning(s): slight angst in some of these, implied nsfw (by Atsumu ofc lmfao), but no direct nsfw themes 

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

Tendou 

“...sunshine, open the door.” 

“Don’t sunshine me.” 

The snap of your voice had the redhead flinching, fist that had been risen to softly knock on the wooden door sinking along with the weight in his chest. Tendou taps his forehead against the door, hearing your soft whimpers on the other side. 

“Y/N, please-” He starts, wincing when the door is suddenly flung open, red eyes widening when you bump your shoulder with his in passing. Desperately, he reaches his hand out abruptly to snatch your wrist before you can stomp irritably to the front door. 

“Satori let go.” Heat brimmed your eyes as you refused to meet Tendou’s pleading ones, 

“Hell no. You’re going right back into that bedroom, tuck yourself into the sheets, and let me make you as many mugs of tea as you want.” 

His attempted joke had cracks in his voice, and you find yourself wavering before finally meeting his eyes, lip quivering. You wanted this to be over, and the way Tendou’s lips had stretched into a strained smile in a sad attempt to not let you see how much he really just needed you made you begin to raise the white flag. 

“I don’t want tea.” You mumble finally, Tendou’s head lifting all of a sudden as his eyes brighten. A yelp tumbles from your lips as Tendou’s long arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off the ground as he hugged you tightly to his chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck with his slender fingers entangled in your hair.

“I’m sorry for snappin’ at you, sunshine.” 

“All this because I knocked over your manga shelf?” A choked laugh escapes your lips as Tendou pulls back, mock-offense in his eyes while keeping both hands on the sides of your face. 

“They were alphabatized!” 

“Whatever.” You sniff, tears now dry on your cheeks as your thumbs wipe at the corner of Tendou’s eyes, looking up at him doe-eyed. 

“...Can we get into bed together?��� 

Tendou’s grin was wide as he lifted your hand to his lips, scarlet eyes filled with now feigned sadness as he kisses your knuckle.

“But then who would bring us tea?” 

“I don’t want tea, Satori!” 

Oikawa

“They don’t mean anything to me, Y/N.”

“Hm? I didn’t say anything.” You bite back, jerking away from Oikawa’s motions to help you drape your jacket off your body as you do it yourself. The brunette sighs, slipping his frames off his face to wipe at them with the end of his shirt, not looking up.

“You don’t have to. I know when you get like this, and you didn’t have to make a scene.” 

“A scene?!” You blink in disbelief as Oikawa puts his frames back on, shaking his head slightly as if getting annoyed all over again. 

“What do you want me to do? Physically push them away?” 

“How about, I have a girlfriend so hands off?” 

“I guess there just isn’t any winning with you, is there, Y/N?” 

You chuckle humorlessly, turning on your heel to face him head-on with a lump in your throat. “Well then why keep up the flirting act right in front of me? Unless it’s not an act, then-” 

“How could you even say that?” 

Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat, watching your eyes well up with unshed tears of insecurity as you huff, throwing your jacket on the couch while turning around. 

“Because maybe they’ll be good enough for me to lose you.” Your voice came out in a whisper, but they didn’t fall on deaf ears as the tears now streamed freely down your cheeks. Gently, Oikawa’s arms pull you into his embrace as chocolate-orbs now riddled with guilt peer down at you, not flinching when you push lightly on his chest. 

His hold on you tightens, mumbling into your hair. 

“They’re not you, princess.” 

Oikawa couldn’t help smile slightly at the way you relaxed at the nickname, seeing he was no longer calling you by your given one, as he placed a gentle kiss atop your head, not minding the dampness on his shoulder. 

“No one’s like you, so don’t think for a goddamn minute that there’s someone better, because I can guarantee you-” 

You whimper a little when he lifts you by the chin, kissing one of your teary eyes now rid of any anger as his own stare sweetly at you through black frames.

“There isn’t.” 

Kageyama

“Um, is it “National Ignore Your Significant Other Day” or are you pissed at me about something?”

“Hm. Funny joke for someone who pretends like it’s that holiday every single day.”

You don’t miss a beat, not looking up from the manga you were reading as you lay on your back upon your bed. Kageyama huffs at the fact that you don’t even spare him a glance before he takes a cautious seat on the edge of your bed. 

“What are you talking about?” Kageyama just wanted cuddles. After a grueling practice yesterday and not seeing you wait up for him today, all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. 

“Nothing.” You say easily, and Kageyama frowns when he sees the slight tremble in your hold as you flip through the pages. Your eyes stay on the inked paper as Kageyama concentrates really hard, slipping off his jacket before blue-eyed widen in realization as he stops taking his jacket off mid-way. 

“Shit....shit wait, yesterday wasn’t our ten months, was it?” 

“And they say romance is dead.” You quip, letting the manga fall to your side as your eyes lock onto your ceiling with a heat threatening to spill over. “It’s not like you stood me up or anything, so don’t worry.” 

“Oh, well that’s good-” 

“Tobio, baby that was sarcasm.” You can’t help the venemous edge to your voice before you huff, Kageyama blinking in bewilderment as you turn on your side, facing away from him. You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“I-I’m sorry...Y/N, I really forgot-” 

“Because it wasn’t important to you, right?” You laugh a little, no humor behind the sound as you trace patterns onto your bedsheets. “Not as important as volleyball?” 

“Don’t say that.” His words were harder now, and you gasp a little when Kageyama sits you up, forcing you to face him while glaring slightly at you, a blush on his cheeks. 

“You...I thought today was the date. That’s why I stayed extra hours yesterday...so I can give all of today to you, and I fucked up, but...” 

Kageyama clicks his tongue, shuffling around in his jacket pocket before emerging with a chain, a single charm holding two letters on it- kt. 

“I’m sorry I’m a dumbass sometimes. Just...can I put this on you? And then can we just sleep and then wake up so we can go to some ridulous fancy-ass dinner?” 

The moisture in your eyes was no longer of sadness as you lurched forward, kissing him sweetly on the lips as Kageyama sighs in relief at your touch, pressing the small of your back against him to close the distance even further- 

it was all he had wanted, after all. 

Atsumu

“You’re not mad at me right now, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, I’m not? Thank you for the sudden revelation!” You gasp in shock, Atsumu hot on your heels as you furiously walked down the halls of one of the Black Jackals tournaments. 

“Okay, you might be a little mad-” 

“I’m pissed, Atsumu! That was your image, and people already think I’m messing it up-” You spin on your heel, sighing when Atsumu has to physically stop himself from crashing into you. He visibly wilts, and you swear you can see puppy dog ears atop his head as his shoulders sink. 

“What happened to Tsum Tsum?” 

“That’s all you heard?!” 

“Why would I give a fuck about what the people think?” Atsumu blinks innocently. “All I care about is you...is that so wrong?” 

You bite your lip, knowing he was being cute on purpose before rolling your eyes, trying not to give in. 

“You don’t threaten the people in the audience, Atsumu!” 

“Uh, yes I do if they’re eyein up my girl, sweetheart.” Atsumu’s brow raises as if he can’t believe this is even a discussion. “That ass is mine.” 

“Atsumu!” You scold, cheeks flooding with heat as the passerbys look at the two of you strangely, prompting Atsumu to huff while crossing his arms.

“Don’t call me that!” 

You groan, knowing there was no winning with your man-child of a boyfriend before Atsumu’s lips begin to lift, knowing he had successfully dispelled of your annoyance. 

“Just...you make me so tired, you know that?” 

“Aw, darlin’“ You can’t help the smile on your lips when he kisses your forehead sweetly, trailing down to your nose while hitting you with that shit-eating smirk. 

“It’s what I do best.” 

“Is everything about the bedroom with you?” 

“Well, it is when you’re standing here in front of me looking like you want me to-” 

“Public, Tsum Tsum! We’re in public.” 

“Didn’t care then, don’t care now. Lighten up, sweetheart.” 

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

General Works: @takemetovalhalla  @savemesteeb  @kasandrafaye  @dreebbles @yams046  @aprettyfruit  @therestless101 @deadontheinsidebut    @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu  @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast   @wisepandaslimeland  @lmkjimin   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @orangegiraffe7  @let-me-have-my-own-name @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @kac-chowsballs

[separatist-apologist]

Could you do one where Lucien finds out about what happened on solstice but he and Elian isn’t speaking to him yet? I’m curious to see your take!

Look. I absolutely CANNOT help myself. If I had written that scene (and I am free, SJM), it would have gone down a little like this.

--

--

She doesn’t want him.

Azriel’s words rang through Lucien’s head, over and over on a constant loop, one he didn’t think he’d ever get out. He hadn’t wantedto overhear that whole conversation and, in doing so, was reminded why he never came to this fucking city to start with. He scrubbed a hand down his face, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slipped from his room. Feyre would be disappointed he left without saying goodbye but no one else would miss him. He could always make his excuses in a letter when he was far from Velaris.

I’d defeat him easily.

Lucien flinched beneath the weight of such casual violence. Azriel would love Autumn Court, if that was his first thought when it came to a blood duel. Lucien had no intention of calling one, not for Elain. He barely knew her and yet Lucien didn’t think she’d find the whole, bloody mess endearing.

He certainly had no intention of dying over a female that seemed to loathe his existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing Azriel’s voice to remove itself.

He doesn’t deserve her.

What would Lucien know about that, he thought miserably, his feet touching the first-floor landing. It wasn’t like he’d asked for her. If he’d it his way, the cauldron would given Elain to Azriel and the spymaster could spend eternity bound to a female that wanted nothing to do with their kind. He might have found it funny, the notion that Azriel thought she’d fall into his arms when Elain had made it abundantly clear she hated the mating bond.

Maybe he’d have a shot, then. Lucien stepped past the drawing room they’d exchanged gifts in when he caught a flash of that honey-colored hair all the Archeron’s shared. Feyre was up. Well fuck. He’d never be forgiven if he snuck right past her. He sighed and turned.

“Knock, knock,” he said before looking in. “Feyre, I thought I’d…” His words died in his throat when Elain looked back, her hands wrapped around her throat. “Never mind.” He wasn’t touching the red eyes and blotchy skin of the softly crying Elain with a ten-foot pole. He turned on his heel when something physically stopped him.

The fucking mating bond snarled in his chest, a physical beast that demanded he care for his mate. Fuck me, he thought furiously, keeping himself exactly where he was. He turned again, wary of the female that had caused so much drama. He wondered if she knew. Elain’s hands were still wrapped around her neck as a set of fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He asked, every inch of him rebelling at the thought of comforting her through the rejection of another male.

Elain’s whole body seemed to tremble while Lucien warred with the bond, demanding it let him leave.

She doesn’t want him.

Lucien sighed and offered her a mocking bow while even the mating bond conceded. He turned for the third time, reshouldering his bag, and stepped out of the drawing room. Ten steps and he’d be at the door.

“Wait!” She called. Lucien’s whole body went taut as he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky.

Have I displeased you? He silently asked the mother, walking back to the drawing room. He knew she could tell he did not want to be there, that he’d been trying to make his escape judging by the expression on her face. Was she planning to torture him a little, on her way out?

“Can you help me?” She asked, removing her hands from her throat. A red rosebud hung from her pale throat on a silver chain, and it was clear she’d been trying to remove it when he walked in on her.

Lucien dropped his bag to the floor and walked to her, her scent a punch to the gut. Honey and jasmine and something warm, like a breeze over a sunlit sky. All of that was mingled with fear and the better part of him wanted to tell her no and demand she tell him why she was so scared. He didn’t. What good was upsetting an already crying female?

She swept thick, honey-colored curls over one shoulder and it was Lucien’s turn to tremble, his stomach bottoming out. Had he ever touched her? He couldn’t remember a time. He reached for the tiny clasp, his fingers brushing over the nape of her neck. He swallowed hard as the chain was freed, sliding away into her waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured as Lucien immediately put distance between them. His entire body was too aware of her and though he was angry, he didn’t know that he could stop himself from touching her again if he remained close. He wanted to guard her, to put his body in front of hers and snap and snarl until every male in Prythian was aware that she was his mate.

He reached for his bag. “Are you leaving?” She asked again and it occurred to Lucien she had asked him two questions and he had said nothing in response. He flexed his jaw, his back turned to her, and slid the strap of the bag back over his shoulder.

“I am,” he replied carefully. Elain wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and Lucien thought she was still so heartbreakingly beautiful, despite her hurt. Elain nodded, looking down at her feet and he wondered if he ought to just say goodbye.

“Will you be back?” She asked, her words nearly a whisper.

“Would you like me to return?” He asked, emphasizing her part heavily. Their eyes met again and Elain hesitated.

No.

He turned then, his anger cascading over him, intending to leave her in the drawing room. She didn’t owe him anything but neither did he. At least he was trying. If she didn’t want him around, he didn’t need to come any more than was necessary and he certainly didn’t need to see her.

“Lucien!” Elain breathed from behind him. He stopped again, cursing himself and the tether that bound them. “Lucien I didn’t…I uh…”

“I get it,” he said, his words clipped, turning to face her again. He shoved down his instincts demanding he treat her with care. Maybe someone should tell her to get fucked, even once instead of the constant handholding she was subjected to. “I’m the wrong male. That’s fine, Elain. I don’t want to be in your way.”

His hand reached for the doorknob when she surged forward, her brown eyes still sparkling with tears. “What does that mean?” She demanded.

He laughed dryly. “I guess you didn’t hear the little reprimand the High Lord gave Azriel regarding you?”

Her face paled.

“Don’t let me get in the way of true love,” he commented sarcastically. “I wish you and the bat nothing but the best.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not in love with him,” she half-whispers.

“You understand that’s worse, right?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She looked him up and down.

“I don’t belong to you,” she began but Lucien rolled his eyes.

“When did I ever say you did?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”

“Would you even be here if it weren’t for this?” Elain asked in return, one finger gesturing between their bodies.

“Would Feyre?” He snapped back. Elain hesitated and Lucien could see she hadn’t considered that. Something sparked in her gaze and Lucien waited to see if she was going to soften.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Great,” Lucien replied, yanking on the door handle. “I don’t owe you shit, either.”

He stepped into the cold, strangely pleased when she followed him out.

“What does that mean?” She asked, the door snapping behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around her body and, cursing himself, Lucien began unbuttoning his jacket.

“Why do you think I ought to stand here trying when you don’t believe you owe me anything?” He demanded even as he handed her the emerald-colored jacket. She snatched it out of his hands and threw it to the ground like a petulant child.

“You wanted this—”

“The hell I did!” He interrupted. “Do you imagine I am having a good time, watching you desperately try to avoid me? Because let me assure you, this is not my idea of fun.”

“Then why do you keep coming around?!”

“Because you haven’t rejected the bond!” He replied, letting some of his desperation leech into his words. “And until you do, I’ll keep coming to Solstice and waiting, my entire life hinging on a choice you seem duty bound to ignore. Have you ever considered, for even a moment of your now immortal life, that you do owe me something?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” she whispered in response, all rebellion. Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, causing her to jump. Of all the things he might have imagined, her repeating his own words back to him was not one of them. He shook his head, meaning to turn and winnow away but Elain was watching him and he thought her lips curved upwards just enough to seem as though she were suppressing a smile.

Lucien offered her the same mocking bow he’d once given her sister, bending deeply at the waist, arms thrown out, so she knew it was not courtly in the slightest.

“Enjoy your night, Elain.”

“Lucien!” She snapped, very clearly exasperated. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, which he barely felt. He took a step between them, hooking the lip of his jacket on his boot and tossing it into the air where he caught it and draped it over his arm.

“What?”

Her eyes glanced back at his jacket, arms tightening around her body and for the second time that night, Lucien handed her the jacket. She didn’t budge and he sighed.

“Take the damn jacket, Elain.” “You’re rude,” she accused, snatching it out of his grip. And though Lucien was irritated with her, some of his anger washed away at the sight of her buttoning herself into his jacket.

“Yeah? Well you’re spoiled.”

Real mature.

She paused and then she smiled, as if he’d told her she was beautiful. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m all out of sonnets.”

She laughed that time. “You’re so mean.”

Lucien hesitated. Did she like it? He took a step towards her and Elain, to her credit, held her ground. All traces of tears were gone, replaced by the open rebellion staring him in the face.

“You like it,” he accused. Elain didn’t deny it. Instead she took the tiniest step towards him, so close Lucien could touch her face. He reached between them, taking a fat curl between his fingers, knuckles brushing over her cheek.

“I’m not a doll,” she murmured, eyes wide as she held her ground. “I can handle it.”

Of that, Lucien didn’t doubt. He knew she felt his agreement, shimmering down their shared connection.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to stick around.” “Good thing you know better,” she shot back, all teasing. Lucien, unable to resist testing his luck, dropped his hand and made to turn.

She grabbed his hand and his blood sang at the contact, the instinct to grab her and take her away from this place nearly overwhelming.

“Stay,” she breathed. “Get some sleep…you look terrible.”

He smiled, looking down at her hand clasping his own. “At least we share that commonality.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes sparkling. “How very cruel of you. Will I see you in the morning?”

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smirking. All his confidence died the moment she brought his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“If you’re lucky, you mean,” she replied, letting go. Elain turned, flouncing back into the house without so much as a glance backwards while Lucien stood beneath the fae lights flickering on Feyre’s porch, hand burning. He tried to figure out what had happened and how they’d gone from crying and yelling to…insults and a kiss.

Still, he did as she asked and came back into the house and walked back to his room…where Feyre waited, a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night?” She asked him, making it plain she’d heard at least part of what went down between him and Elain.

“Shut up,” he replied.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Loss

Summary: Your husband had to learn a lesson. That he would have to sacrifice your marriage by losing a bet to August Walker seemed something he just accepted. That he would lose you to August in that process wasn’t something he expected. 

Pairing: August Walker x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: gonna tag this as dub con to be safe, also: soft August (yeah just as surprising to me as it is to you) smut (Oral; female receiving, protected sex), mentions of a miscarriage, infedelity 

A/N: It’s been a hot minute. I’ve had this idea a while ago, but only now had the motivation to finish it. Hope you enjoy this wiiiiiild August journey

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Looking at your husband you tried to make sense of the words that had just come out of his mouth. You had been thinking about divorcing him before. He just wasn’t the man you had fallen in love with all these years ago. You didn’t care for luxury. You wanted the man back that you fell in love with. The man who stayed up with you at night, watching the stars, reading to you until you fell asleep.

The man was long gone.

He changed once you had moved to the states. His suits got more and more expensive and the time he spends with you got less and less. His answer for everything seemed to be to throw money at it. You had a big collection of jewelry, shoes, art, you name it. But all you wanted was him. At least you used to until you found out just exactly how he made his money.

Selling weapons on the black market.

“You lost a bet. And you bet me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not your whore, I’m your wife.” you shook your head.

“Look I need you to do this one thing for me and then I’ll give you everything you want, honey.” He said exhausted, not looking you in the eye. You sucked your bottom lip in, your body shaking with rage.

“You want me to fuck a man I’ve never met before? And you’re okay with it? Just like that?” You fought back the tears threatening to escape. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll make it up to you. Everything you want.” He said quietly. He would get you anything you wanted? Fine.

“Everything I want?” you asked to be sure.

“Everything.” he nodded, finally looking at you. Almost 15 years ago you had looked into his green eyes for the first time. You always thought these would be the eyes of the man you would grow old with. But now all you felt was a disappointment.

“Fine. One night with me for this Mr. Walker for everything I want from you.”

This was really happening. It was a week later, you were sitting in your bedroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your husband had instructed you to wear the sexiest lingerie you owned. Shaking your head you heard a knock at the door.

“You ready?” your husband asked. You looked at him in the mirror. Even now he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Don’t you feel the tiniest bit of guilt at whoring out your wife to some shady men you made business with?” you asked.

“I’m sorry…” he said quietly. Closing your eyes you got up from your seat, pulling the long silk robe you were wearing closer around your body. You wouldn’t be sleeping with the man. Not in a million years. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t gonna make your husband feel bad about it.

Stopping next to him you patted his chest.

“Maybe he knows how to make me cum,” you whispered against his ear before you walked out into the living room.

You always loved this house. It reminded you of your parent’s home. It was warm and you had spent so much time decorating it. Now, sitting on the sofa as your beloved husband welcomed the man he had practically sold you to, all you felt was cold. This hasn’t been a home for a long time.

Nursing the glass of champagne you ignored your surroundings, your mind trying to figure out when the last time was your husband had actually talked to you. When did it all go downhill? Even in the beginning when he started working with these shady people he had always made sure you were happy. You wanted to have a baby. That you were pregnant at some point but lost the child before the third month was something the two of you had never talked about after it happened. Only you and your therapist knew how much you mourned the loss of your unborn child.

“Mr. Walker, this is my wife,” you heard your husband say. Well... Showtime you joked to yourself, emptying the glass of champagne before you turned your head to look at the man who had entered the room.

“I know,” the man said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You knew him. He had been over a few times. You had never spoken to him, but sometimes it was like you could feel his eyes on you. He was tall, dark curls framing his face, but it was his eyes, that captured you. The light blue a contrast to the darkness that seemed to surround him. You didn’t get why he was wearing a mustache but somehow it seemed right.

“Mr. Walker,” you nodded and he held out his hand that you took, helping you up before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. He released your hand, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as you swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat.

“Pleasure,” he winked and you breathed in deep. His eyes didn’t leave your face and you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone when your husband coughed behind you.

“Scotch, Mr. Walker?” he asked. August shook his head.

“No. I’m not here to drink.”

“Did you forget your whored me out already?” you asked, looking at your husband before you walked past both of the men towards your bedroom.

“Honey…” he warned. You shrugged.

“Come on, Mr. Walker. I think we wasted enough time already.” You said over your shoulder, not waiting as you made your way down the hallway.

You left the door open, your confidence shrinking the further you went into the bedroom. Sucking your bottom lip in you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance if August Walker would want to have sex with you. A shiver ran over your body and you jumped as the door clicked close behind you.

Slowly you turned around, looking at the man that leaned at the door. You were about to open your mouth to ask him how on earth he would think about even suggesting something like this when he sighed.

“I’m not here to fuck you. I’m merely here so that your husband learns his lesson.” He pushed himself from the door walking to the sofa that was in front of the big window overlooking the ocean. You watched him, as he sat down, taking out his phone, and began to read.

Unsure on how to proceed you sat down on your bed with a loud sigh. He merely looked up at you, a small smile on his lips before he focused back on his phone. That gave you time to look at him.

You had noticed him before when he came by, always wearing the most expensive suits. He always seemed calm, spoke quietly which made him somehow more dangerous.

“Is this something you do often?” you asked, hugging your knees, making sure you were covered by the robe you were wearing. He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“Teaching people lessons?” You added sarcastically.

“Only if they think they can make a fool out of me. Usually, my lesson involves a more… physical approach, but I didn’t want you to suffer through his recovery.” He set his phone down on the sofa next to him.

“Maybe you should pick something he loves more than me to teach a lesson then. Like his scotch.” You rolled your eyes.

“He loves you.” Mr. Walker said. You chuckled.

“Yeah. Clearly he does. Mr. Walker would you let any other man lay a hand on the woman you love?” you asked. He looked at you and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t name. Longing? Desperation?

“I would kill the man who even dared to suggest such thing.” He said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You ignored the shiver that ran down your back. “And please call me August.”

“Well then, August,” you had to smile a little. “How does this work? How long am I to be at your pretend mercy?”

“I do like to take my time when I’m with a beautiful woman. So make yourself comfortable.” He winked and you rolled your eyes.

“Pretty full of yourself, huh?”

“I never had any complaints,” he shrugged.

“Ever thought people had been too scared to actually complain?” You tried to hide your smile, as August chuckled, shaking his head before he got up and slowly took off his suit jacket.

“I’d like to think the women I fuck are too satisfied to complain.” He folded the jacket, letting it hang over the sofa.

“Well if that’s the case I envy these women…” you whispered. He still stood there, in all his wide-shouldered glory, looking at you. Slowly you sat yourself up, crossing your legs as you lean with your hands back on the bed, supporting your upper body.

“You have a loving husband, I’m sure there’s….”

“What is it that you do August? Why did my husband get involved with you? Why… Why is everything more important to him than I am?” You shook your head. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.” You let yourself fall back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

Minutes went by before he spoke again.

“Do you still love him?” August asked. You turned your head, seeing him still standing next to the sofa.

“I am in love with the man he once was. But the man out there? The man who asked his wife to sleep with a man because he lost a bet in some gambling? How could I love him?”

“He does love you.”

“He certainly has a funny way of showing it.” You grumbled.

“What do you miss most? About him?” August asked. You turned to your side, not caring if your robe wasn’t covering you anymore. Somehow you felt safer with August, only knowing him for an hour or so, than with the man you were married to.

“The way he used to look at me. How we could spend all night talking. How we used to not leave the bed all weekend. I miss feeling safe in his arms when we used to dance with him humming a song in the moonlight…” you closed your eyes.

“That’s a lot you miss,” August said quietly. You heard him come closer and you opened your eyes as he knelt in front of you.

“I’ve been lonely for a long time. He may love me, but I don’t think he is still in love with me. And I’m not with him.” You felt his hand on top of yours then.

“Come on.” He pulled you up from the bed and you let him.

“What?” You asked confused.

“Dance with me.”

Slowly you let him guide you to the middle of your bedroom, his hand holding yours until he stopped. Shuddering you breathed out before you looked up at him. His thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand and like you had done it a million times before your other hand curled in the back of his neck. He was so close. He closed his eyes at your touch, breathing in deep, before his other hand came to rest on your back, slowly pushing you against him, before he began to lead you into a slow dance.

His eyes opened just when you decided to rest your head on his shoulder. Your fingers played with the hair in his neck and you may have imagined it, but you felt him shiver. You breathed him in, feeling a little dizzy feeling someone so close again. He kissed the top of your head.

“I wanted you since the first time I saw you almost a year ago,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know I was there when you were outside in the garden. I think you were cutting some flowers, wearing a blue summer dress. I watched you instead of listening to your husband who was trying to sell me god knows what.” You closed your eyes, letting him talk.

“He doesn’t deserve you. Fuck I don’t think I deserve you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and when he lost everything he had with him at the poker table I did the first thing that popped into my mind.”

You breathed in deep. Slowly his hand on your back had wandered lower, stopping just above the curve of your ass. You shivered.

“He told me I can get everything I want when I do this, you, for him.” You said quietly. “So to get what I want you to have to take what you want.” You looked up at him, seeing the storm in his eyes.

“How is the man that supposed to love me learn his lesson if he doesn’t suffer?”

“Don’t…” he growled.

“He thinks you’re fucking me, August,” you got on your tiptoes, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t you think he should hear how you fuck me too?” He released a breath, his hand finally running down, grabbing your ass as he pulled you even closer.

“I won’t be leaving his house without you afterward,” he said, making sure to look into your eyes.

“That’s good, cause I don’t want to stay here with him afterward.”

He closed his eyes, his hand releasing yours after he gently lay it down on his shoulder. He reached for your face, tilting your chin up before opening his eyes.

“How long?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“How long hasn’t he touched you?” August leaned down, kissing your forehead, your temple, your eyes.

“At least a year…” you breathed out, melting against him.

“Fuck…” he cursed before his lips crashed down on yours. His hand caressed your face, pulling you closer as you held on to him. You parted your lips, moaning when his tongue slipped into your mouth. He tasted dark and dangerous and you didn’t want to live without tasting him ever again.

He tugged on the belt holding your robe together, pushing it off your shoulder as your fingers slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned against your lips before his mouth wandered down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders when you finished unbuttoning it your hands pulled his head down to kiss his lips.

“I want you on the bed. Legs spread,” he whispered, his voice deep and you whimpered as you turned away from him, walking over to the bed to lay down. You watched him, as he opened his pants, pushing them down, getting his shoes off in the process. One of your hands ran down your body, slipping in between your legs. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this wet. Rubbing slow circles over your still clothed clit you bit your lip as you watched him come over.

“Show me how wet this pussy is for me,” he demanded hoarsely. You bit your lip as he knelt on the bed in front of you. Pushing your panties to the side you heard him groan.

“Fucking soaked. Touch yourself,” he grabbed your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg as you teased yourself, wanting nothing more than his mouth on you. You cried out, when he playfully bit the inside of your thigh, both of his hands parting your legs wider.

“Make him hear you,” he smirked before his tongue licked through your slit. You threw your head back, your hands grabbing the bedsheet beneath you. He nibbled and sucked, his tongue driving your sheer insane.

“There… Right there…” you grabbed his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth. You felt one of his hands ran up your body as he looked up at you, his lips sucking on your clit. He pushed two of his fingers into your mouth, you sucked hard and almost biting him. He chuckled against you, his fingers leaving your mouth only to bring them down to your pussy as he released your clit.

“You gonna cum for me?” His fingers lazily circled your clit before he slowly pushed them into you. You parted your lips, breathing loudly, trying to maintain eye contact until he angled his fingers.

“Fuck August,” you cried out, surprised by the wave of pleasure that shot through your body.

“There it is…” he grinned. You moaned when he focused on that spot inside of you.

“I need…” you began only to moan loudly when his tongue was back on your clit. Your eyes flew open, your hands grabbing his thick hair.

“I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, moaning loudly when your orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking, your thighs caging August in between your legs. He moaned against you, devouring you like you were his last meal, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm until it became too much and you whimpered, pushing him gently away.

“Fuck me…” you whimpered, trying to normalize your breathing.

“That’s the plan,” he teased, grinning down at you.

“Fuck you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, that too.”

You shook your head with a smile. He kissed up your body, stopping at your bra.

“Let’s get you naked so I can fuck you.” You sat up, letting him take off your bra. He pushed you down into the mattress, kissing the valley of your boobs as his other hand slowly pushed your panties down.

“I want you inside of me,” you pulled at his hair, earning a moan from him. “And I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Careful what you ask for, princess.”

“I want to feel you every time I sit down in the next days. I won’t break…”

“At least not today,” he winked before he pushed his boxers down. You bit your lip as he stroked his cock. It was bigger than any you had before.

“Condom?” you asked. He nodded, jumping off the bed to get to his pants.

“So you weren’t planning on this happening, huh?” You raised your eyebrow as he walked over, pulling the condom over his cock.

“Wishful thinking.” He slapped your thigh, hard and you whimpered.

“You liked that huh?” He slapped you again. You moaned, turning on the bed to get on your hands and knees.

“Don’t be gentle,” you reminded him, wiggling your ass as you looked at him over your shoulder. His eyes seemed to darken as his hands landed on your hips, pulling you towards him as if you weighed nothing.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he said before he entered you in one hard thrust.

“FUCK!” you cried out loudly.

“Still sure you don’t want me to be gentle?” He asked close to your ear as he bends down, his teeth pulling at your earlobe.

“Do your worst,” you clenched your inner muscles making him curse. He slapped your ass, hard.

“You’re such a bad girl, princess. What am I gonna do with you?” He kissed down your back before he pulled out and entered you again. You didn’t get time to answer when he began to fuck you. Deep and hard, just how you liked it. His fingers would leave bruises on your hips from the way he held you and you would wear these marks with pride.

“Such a tight fucking pussy. I knew you’d be the death of me…” he groaned. You let yourself fall on your elbows, the change of angle making you see stars.

“Shit I want to cum inside of this pussy. Mark you from the inside so every fucking man on this planet knows your mine…” He slapped your ass and you whimpered his name. It never felt like that. Sex never felt that good…

“I’m yours. All yours…” you moaned, your head pressed into the mattress to lower your moans. You felt him pull at your hair.

“No. Let me hear you. Let him hear what he lost when he put his job in front of the woman he loves.” One of his arms pulled your upper body up against his chest, his hand holding one of your boob

s as he fucked into you.

“August…” you cried out.

“That’s it. Cum for me.” He thrust faster, holding you close and pulled at your nipple. Your orgasm took you by surprise, like a tidal wave spreading over your whole body and August fucked you through it following you only moments later, biting into your shoulder, marking you as his.

You stayed there, in his arms, his cock still deep inside of you, the only noise in the room your heavy breathing. He kissed your shoulder softly, his lips wandering up to your neck until you turned your head and he kissed you.

“You really wanna get out of here?” He asked.

“If you’ll have me?”

August was standing next to the two suitcases you had packed that contained only some clothes you would need. You made sure to wear a strapless top so your husband could see the marks August had left on you. Your wedding band and engagement ring lay on your side of the bed.

“Ready?” August asked quietly. He was standing at the door. You nodded, taking one last look before you opened the door. Your husband was sitting across the door at the wall, staring up at you as you stepped out.

“Everything I want?” You said. He nodded with a small relieved smile until August stepped out of the door and you made sure your husband saw that you weren’t wearing your wedding band when you took August’s hand.

You looked down at him, seeing his face fall. Once upon a time you had loved this man. But this was before he had willingly sold you. Before he had neglected you. Before he had ignored you.

“Everything I want,” you squeezed August’s hand as you looked at your husband, seeing him nod slowly. You took one suitcase and August the other, bigger one. You saw your husband’s eyes wander up your body, stopping at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“Everything you want,” your husband said with a sad expression.

“Consider your debt paid,” August said, before he squeezed your hand. You looked at him then, his eyes on you and you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t know that this would be the beginning of something you had been searching for all your life. A life with a man at your side who would always put you first. And who would let the whole world burn before any other man would have the chance to even think about touching what was his.

[deanstead]

Hidden Feelings

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by @winqhster​: Hii!! I would like to request a Jay imagine where the reader works in the Intelligence Unit and is younger than him. She develops a crush on Jay, but overtime she tries to distance herself from him. She takes a week off from work and doesn't tell anyone. Jay begins to worry, so he goes to her apartment. At her apartment, they end up arguing and she says that he sees her as a child. Can it end with a happy ending with them getting together!!

Warnings: swearing, a little angst, fluff

A/N: This took a little more time than I expected but I enjoyed writing this so I hope you like what I did with it! If you have any thoughts, feedback or even just want to say hi, please (always) feel free to reply or send me an ask, always love hearing from all of you. Also, thank you so much for all the love so far, hope you’ve been enjoying my writing! Jay requests remain open, feel free to send in an ask!

---

You looked up from your desk, your gaze falling onto your partner sitting across from you. Jay had a small frown on his face, like he usually did when he was deep in thought, as he twirled a pen in his right hand.

As if he felt you looking at him, his eyes flicked upwards and he cocked his eyebrows upwards. “Everything ok?”

Slightly embarrassed, you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yeah… just thinking…”

Jay glanced at his watch. “It’s late, we should call it a day.” He leaned over to turn off his computer before looking back up at you. “Molly’s?”

You hesitated. Normally, you would have jumped at the idea - chilling with a beer after a long day was something you couldn’t resist but recently you could feel a magnetic pull towards Jay that you couldn’t explain, which really scared you.

“I think I’ll head home tonight.” You told him.

Jay turned back towards you. “Everything okay?”

You nodded back and smiled. “Just tired.”

A small concerned frown crossed Jay’s face making you look up at him again but it was gone just as quickly, making you think you might have imagined it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You called, pulling your jacket around you as you headed out of the district.

---

It was getting harder and harder to do this. It had started off as a warm feeling, you felt like you had earned a big brother in your partner who was always looking out for you, making sure you were okay, both at work and off. Then somehow along the way it had transitioned into a stupid crush, probably from a physical attraction – but who wouldn’t be attracted to Jay Halstead?

And now, you were head over fucking heels in love with him and you had no idea how it had come to this.

It scared you, this sudden intense feeling you had towards him, so much you didn’t know how to be around him anymore. You felt Jay’s eyes on you and you looked up.

“Hey, we’re hitting Molly’s after work. You in?”

You could feel Jay studying you as you struggled to keep your expression in check. “You guys go ahead.” You responded, pushing your chair backwards and heading for the pantry.

Jay frowned but didn’t follow you.

It had been about two weeks since you had started to put some distance between yourself and Jay. You could tell he was confused, at the very least, and it was only a matter of time before he decided to corner you so you really needed some time and space to deal with this, once and for all.

By the time the end of the day came, you were sure this was what you had to do. Glad that everyone else had left, you got up and knocked on Voight’s office door. “Sarge, can I have a word?”

Voight looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, studying your expression before nodding and motioning for you to close the door.

“What’s up?”

You took a deep breath. “I have some unused furlough days. I need a week, if that’s okay?”

Voight didn’t say anything but continued to look at you. “Everything okay?” His eyes flicked up momentarily to look at Jay’s empty desk.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just have some... personal matters I have to take care of.” You paused, trying in vain to read his expression. “If it’s okay with you… I…”

Voight nodded, without waiting for you to finish. “Take the time, do what you have to do.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Sarge.”

----

Jay had turned it over and over a million times in his head over the past two weeks. He was sure you were hiding something from him, he just wasn’t sure what.

You had been different lately – the way you talked or walked, hell you barely even made eye contact with him this last week.

Jay jogged up the stairs to Intelligence, noting with mild concern that you hadn’t come in yet. He glanced at his watch. He was running late so he had expected you to already be seated at your desk, sipping your coffee. Instead, your table was neat, your chair tucked in. You weren’t here yet and that in itself was strange.

He sat at his desk, looking up every time he heard footsteps until Voight stepped out of his office.

“We’re operating a member down, Y/L/N is on furlough, I need everyone’s head on straight.” Voight barked. “Let’s go.”

Jay frowned and jogged towards Voight. “Sarge. Furlough?”

Voight didn’t respond immediately. “You’re riding with me today.”

Jay nodded, getting into the car. “Did she say why?”

Voight looked at Jay, his eyes seeming to pierce right through him. “Personal stuff.”

---

You were on day three of your furlough when your doorbell rang.

You frowned, confused as to who would be here. You weren’t expecting anyone, or anything.

You pulled the door open and froze. “Jay?”

Jay had that look on his face. The one that told you he had probably been brewing all the way here.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he stormed in.

“What’s going on?” He repeated as you scrunched up your eyebrows. “What’s going on is that you disappeared for three days without bothering to tell me anything. That’s what’s going on.” He huffed.

“Hold on, Jay.” You tried to talk but he didn’t let you.

“What’s going on is that I can’t believe you are so irresponsible that you won’t even tell your partner when you’re going to be back.” Jay continued with his tirade but your dismay at him being angry at you switched to a sudden flare in your gut.

“Irresponsible?” You asked, looking directly at him. “I told Voight I needed a week.”

Jay spun back around to look at you. “And you didn’t think you should tell me? You had your damn phone off for three days.”

“And it didn’t occur to you that I needed time? I needed space?” You shot back, getting more furious by the second.

“Time? Space? It takes you five seconds to send me a damn text Y/N! How am I supposed to look out for you if you don’t tell me anything?”

You shook your head. “That’s the problem, Jay. You always treat me like a damn child! I can take care of myself.”

Jay paused for a second, a hurt look briefly crossing his face, so quickly that you almost missed it. “What are you saying? You don’t want me to look out for you?”

You shook your head. “I’m saying, don’t treat me like a damn child. I’m not. I’m not a little girl, and I sure as hell ain’t your little sister.” You snapped.

“I never said you were!”

“Then stop being so nice to me!” You screamed.

Jay lowered his voice now. “So, you want me to ignore you? Be mean to you? Is that it? I don’t get it!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what, Y/N? What is it? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and then you just disappear? Are you going to leave the unit next?” Jay asked and this time, you heard it, a tone of desperation in his voice.

“I’m not leaving, Jay.” You stressed, bringing your voice down a few notches. “Like I said, I just need some time.”

“Some time for what?” Jay pressed.

“It’s nothing.” You mumbled. “Just drop it.”

“Damn it, Y/N. You ask me not to treat you like a child, but you’re sure as hell behaving like one.” Jay’s voice rose again.

You glared at him. “To get over you, okay? Happy? I just needed some time and space to squash down all my damn feelings for you so I can go back to being your partner or your younger sister or whatever the hell you need me to be so drop it!” You yelled.

Jay’s eyes widened and your heart sank. There, you did it. You let your emotions get the better of you and you let it slip like you always do when you’re mad and now everything was going to be awkward and maybe you would have to transfer out of the unit or change your partner…

“Y/N.” His voice was soft when he spoke this time.

You turned away from Jay. You didn’t want to see that look on his face. The look he had on to reject you or try to let you down easy.

Jay grabbed your wrist and turned you back towards him. “Who the hell said it was okay for you to get over me?”

Without waiting for an answer, Jay pushed his lips onto yours, one of his hands resting on your lower back, pulling you towards him, while his other hand found the back of your neck, gently moving upwards to thread through your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

You had imagined this so many times, you had wanted this for so long, yet now that it was happening, it was so much more than you had ever dreamed of. The room felt like it was spinning around the both of you as Jay covered your lips with his and you could even taste the remnants of whisky on his lips.

Gently, he pulled away, looking down into your eyes. “I so did not go on furlough for this.” You muttered.

Jay chuckled. “I was just worried about you.”

“Next time just tell me.” You answered, looping your arms around his waist.

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

You let out a smile as Jay rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you ever disappear like that, ever again.” He whispered. 

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining, 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44  @acciosiriusblack  @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten​ 

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Guardian Angel ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: College AU, enemies to lovers, bully to lover, Tsundere bully to lover

A.N: Thank you so much for the creative freedom hunny and I hope that this is okay for you

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE BETWEEN READER AND ANOTHER CHARACTER IN THE FIC

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Running late as always you pushed the door open to your Criminology class where everyone turned to stare at you, nothing new about that. They always stared. But you didn't bother to question why they were staring this time, it was normally because you were late or that they just simply wanted to make you uncomfortable. It was obvious that no one seemed to like you, not even the tutor that taught the class. The door opened again behind you and before you even had a chance to move a voice rang out loudly causing more people to look up,

"Move, dweeb." You shuffled to the side letting him go by and you felt your stomach churn as you saw him. Dressed in his usual leather jacket, biking gloves and black jeans he sauntered across the floor towards his desk. His long black hair was thrown into a bun as he mumbled asking people to move as he got to his row. Girls staring the entire time as he dragged the chair out and sat down, making as much noise as possible because he loved the attention he got. 

"Jeon Jungkook. Reason for being late?" Your tutor questioned as you slowly made your way over to your desk, mentally thanking Jungkook's power to take attention away from everyone else so that you could get away with being late. 

"Bike broke down on the way. Stopped to fix it." He murmured as he began taking out his book from his bag, waiting for the class to continue on. As if that was a valid excuse the tutor nodded turning her attention to you as she remembered that you were late. Her hands rested on her hips as she tapped her foot staring at you, her long blond hair was left down and she wore a black pencil skirt with a white dress shirt, the top buttons open so that she could show off her fake tits. 

"Miss Y/l/n." A coldness ran through your body as you realised you weren't out of the woods yet and you were about to get punished for being late. If it wasn't bad enough you were already late because you'd slept through all of your alarms you knew you were going to end up late for work that night because being late with Miss Nolty always meant detention.

"Give me an excuse, which is it this time? Your dog turned off your alarm, your roommate locked you out? You couldn't find the room..." You ignored the tutor as you kept your head down, the entire class of around 30 students all joining in with her but Jungkook watched as he could sense you were growing uncomfortable. Blood boiling as he watched everyone laughing along, coming up with more excuses he sighed to himself, slamming his hand onto the table gaining the attention of the girl sitting beside him who was trying to study.

"She was with me." Heads shot over in Jungkook's direction as he stared at the tutor who looked heartbroken at the mere thought of you being alone with Jungkook. It was no secret that the college tutor had her way when it came to male students, sleeping with anyone she found attractive. Miss Nolty folded her hands over her chest covering herself up for the first time ever,

"With you?" The tutor questioned as she turned all of her attention back onto him, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change as everyone seemed shocked to learn Jungkook had been with you. The girls in your glass began glaring at you while the guys all seemed to smirk with one another, staring over at you with hunger in their eyes.

"Well...I'll see you both in detention tonight. Tardiness is not tolerated in my classroom." She snapped at Jungkook, ranting on about how this would never work in a workplace but you drowned her out, doing independent studying from the book that was in front of you. 

Why did Jungkook have to do that? He hated you more than anyone else in the course did so why did he feel the need to suddenly stand up for you in front of the tutor and everyone in the classroom. He'd probably just made your life ten times worse than it already way in the course. 

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"So...Are you fucking him?" A voice whispered from the left side of you, glancing over you saw one of the jocks staring at you and chewing on some gum. He was wearing a large hoodie with the college logo on the front, his hair was receding at the front and it looked as though he'd probably be bald before he turned 30.

"What? Who?" You frowned forgetting for a moment what Jungkook had said as you looked at the jock, you didn't even know his name and you were pretty sure he didn't know yours either.  

"Guk. Are you fucking him?" You laughed at him turning your head away as you shook it violently, there was nothing on this planet that would make you even want to be nice to Jungkook never mind sleep with him. 

You'd lived beside him for years and he'd always been a dick to you, throughout high school and college. You were pretty sure he'd only joined the Criminology course just so that he could torture for a few more years, everything was some sort of sick and twisted game to him.

"So...You're not? You're single?" A bell went off inside of you as you could sense where this conversation was going to go, he was going to ask you out and it was going to be some kind of prank so you ignored him trying to keep your eyes on the page. 

"I just...I need someone to study with and I don't want to ask anyone else." He continued to whisper watching you the entire time, normally you were great at blocking everyone out but today you couldn't. 

"I'll never bother you again...It's just for the test?" Biting down on your lip you suddenly turned to look at him, tears threatening to well up in your eyes but you didn't let them. 

"Why? So you can show up with all of your friends and laugh at me? Or are you just going to not come and laugh about it the next day?" Something broke inside of you as you snapped at him, ignoring the strange looks you were gaining from those around you. 

"Or did Jungkook put you up to it?" You shook your head laughing at the thought of it but the guy shook his head, 

"No. I'm in serious need of help...Please, I know you work at Jo's. I can meet you there?" The desperation in his voice was hard to fake so you nodded at him, agreeing that you'd meet him there. 

"I have a shift. I finish at 6 tonight." You mumbled before going back to reading from the book as the guy slid a piece of paper in front of you. 

Seongwa 07387178916 in case I'm late x

Sliding it into your book you tried to ignore the kiss on the end and focus on your reading instead of the panic that was bubbling up inside of you about that night.

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"The apron looks cute," Seongwa said as you sat down across from him in one of the booths, you looked down at your uniform and gave him a fake smile. The uniform was too revealing for your liking, a short dress combo with a pink frilly apron to tie it all together with. 

"It's gross and misogynistic." You grumbled taking out your book from your bag and flipping it open to the chapter the test was going to be on. All about serial killers and their upbringing, it was a debate based on if serial killers could be caught in their youth, which signs could help determine them. 

"I was just struggling with some of the terms, I know that frequently they're bed wetters from bad homes but what else?" He questioned watching you as your eyes skimmed over the book in front of you. 

As you were about to answer him the door opened in the store and Jungkook walked in, you saw him walking over to the table and order a drink. The same drink he got every time he came into the small diner you worked it, not that he ever came in when you were working. Only when you'd finished a shift, you'd catch him as you were leaving. 

"There are many different factors, bedwetting and bad home lives are the main ones but not everyone with those turns out to be a murderer." You mumbled as you ran your highlighter over a section of the book he could use, 

"It has all of the factors that most of the killers share." You pushed the book in front of him and he began reading, or at least you thought he was reading. 

"Look what we have," A voice called out making you look up from your phone, standing at your table was one of the girls in your class. Like Miss Nolty she had a large crush on Jungkook so you knew what was going to happen and you prepared yourself for the endless bombard of insults that were about to get thrown at you.

"The little slut going through the whole class," She smirked looking at you, Yeji, she was popular and pretty and bitchy. Everything that added up to a high school cliche. 

"Why are you sitting with my boyfriend?" She questioned as she sat down on Seongwa's lap, you looked down at the paper not wanting to make eye contact with her in case she suddenly turned you into stone. 

"He asked for help-"

"Babe. I was sitting here and she came up to me, like you said she's a stalker creep." Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as Seongwa spoke about you like that, 

"H-He asked for help studying, I was helping-" A stinging sensation raced across your face as you hissed out, holding your hand up to your cheek shocked that Yeji had slapped you like that or even slapped anyone like that. 

"That looked like it stung, here...Let me cool it down for you." Her voice was filled with fake pitty as she picked up a milkshake from the table beside yours and began slowly pouring it down onto your head and uniform. Everyone in the diner stood by and watched doing nothing as she smirked at you, 

"You have a little something," She threw a napkin at you and began giggling as Seongwa laughed loudly, snapping photos for everyone to see. You never should have agreed t helping him, you knew from the start that something was wrong with him suddenly asking you to help.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook's voice asked as he stood beside the table but no one turned to look at him, you just kept your head down as the milkshake seeped into your apron not daring to move in case he was in on it too. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you dumbass, what do you think you're doing?" Jungkook sounded beyond angry as he stared down at the guy beside you, Seongwa turned to look at Jungkook and scoffed, 

"What does it look like? We're having fun." He laughed loudly as Yeji got off his lap, running her fingers up and down Jungkook's clothed chest. 

"Come on, it's funny Guky. We're playing your favourite game. Torture the loser," She laughed loudly but he took her wrist in his hand, moving it off him before moving her away from him completely as he turned to look at Seongwa who was still laughing. 

"It's not fucking funny," He growled making you look up in surprise, your heart beating rapidly against your chest as he stood up for you for the second time that day. 

"You gotta admit it is, look-" Seongwa's hand was pulled away from you as he went to point and he was dragged from his seat by an angry Jungkook.

"Get away from her," It was a warning this time as he shoved Seongwa in the direction of the exit, 

"Whoa, man! What's your fucking problem?!" He yelled out watching as Jungkook picked up his book and threw it down by his feet, ignoring everyone who was turning to stare at what was happening in the diner. 

"Do I need to explain my reasoning? Get the fuck away from her," Jungkook's eyes seemed to darken as he stared at Seongwa who started laughing even harder,

"Ooooo, do you like her? Do you want to kiss her?" Within seconds Seongwa was pushed against the wall while Jungkook held onto the lapels of his jacket, forcing him against the wall as he spoke in a harsh tone.

"She's mine to tease, she belongs to me." He spat as he looked at a terrified Seongwa, his eyes widened with fear as he nodded dramatically. 

"I'm the only one allowed to tease her...Do I make myself fucking clear?" Once Seongwa nodded Jungkook dropped him, watching the boy scramble to pick up his things before leaving the diner with Yeji trailing behind him.

"Fucking idiot, it's a good thing I came when I found out he'd asked for help. What kind of dumbass are you? Why do something like this?" He gestured towards all of the notes that were now ruined and covered in the milkshake that had splattered onto you. 

"I'm always picking you up when bad shit happens," He groaned as he watched you trying to wipe off as much of the milkshake as humanly possible still not speaking a word to him. There was no way for you to tell if this was still part of what Seongwa had planned or if he was being genuine. 

"Do you have any spare clothes?" He sighed as he realised you were going to have to go home to your dorms covered in the milkshake, you shook your head. 

"No." Simple answeres was going to get you through the meeting with him, he began rooting through the bag he had with him.

"What's their deal? Why do they hate you so much?" You stared at Jungkook not knowing if you should laugh or cry at his questions. 

"Why do you care?" Jungkook held up a hoodie from inside of his bag, a black one with some shorts he owned. 

"I don't. Nobody else is allowed to treat you like that, only I'm allowed," He shoved the clothes into your hand being careful not to hit the milkshake parts of you. 

"Why?" You questioned again.

"Because you need clothes to travel home in. I'm not letting you get onto my bike in that," He gestured to the messed up outfit and you shook your head, 

"I'm already home. I stay here...But I meant why do you get to be the only one that bullies me?" It felt strange to be having a conversation with him after all of these years, 

"Because I know when to stop. What do you mean you stay here? You have a dorm..." You stared at him wondering what kind of simple-minded answer that was. It was stupid but as you came to think of it all those years Jungkook had bullied you not once did he go too far and make you cry like everyone else had but it didn't justify anything.

"Why are you staying here?" He asked as he waited for you to answer, you'd just gotten changed into the clothes he'd given to you and came out of the bathroom.

"My roommates locked me out, I've been staying on the sofa in the basement," You admitted as you realised he wasn't going to drop it until he got all of the answers out of you, 

"Is that why you've been so late lately?" You nodded at him putting your clothes into a laundry basket with the rest of your dirty clothes, you needed to find a laundromat somewhere.

"Why do you let people treat you like that?"

"Why do you treat me like that? Why do you hate me?!" You countered back at him snapping at little raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to answer the question this time.

"You're always doing something fucking dumb, always getting into trouble you're a magnet for it!" He yelled out as he grabbed the keys for his bike and your hand, pulling you towards the exit of the diner.

"What are you doing?" You questioned as he kept pulling you out of the door and towards his bike. Sitting there was a large black motorbike that looked expensive, 

"You're not staying on a sofa when I have a perfectly good spare room." He grumbled as he opened the seat to get the helmet out of it, 

"Put it on before you hurt yourself." He handed you a black helmet but you made no attempt to put it on. 

"Here," He placed it onto your head, strapping it on tightly enough so that it wouldn't come off, 

"I don't need your clumsy ass hurting yourself," He mumbled as he sat you on the bike, sitting in front of you and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Hold on tight." That was the last thing he mumbled before he began driving off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll make some tea," Jungkook's dorm was nothing how you had expected it to be, you thought it would be dark but it was bright. White walls with white furniture and photos everywhere of his family, you knew his mother so you recognised her face in the photographs. You stayed silent as he bought you a cup of tea to the coffee table in his living room, you had no idea what to say to him or why you had even gone along with him in the first place. 

"All I could think about was hitting him, no one should treat you like that! It bothers me so much when everyone does it in class," Staring at him in shock you wondered why it bothered him so much when all of these years he'd been doing the same thing. 

"Why?" He stared at you as he frowned, did you really not see everything he had been doing to protect you?

"You're mine. No one gets to treat you like that...Ever." It confused you even more as you stared back at him, 

"You do the same thing. You've bullied me for years." You shook your head at him and he sighed, 

"There's a difference...I know when you stop when you've had enough...I do it because I know your boundaries." Only more confusion set in as he admitted it to you, it didn't make up for anything he had said or done over the years. 

"I've always looked out for you though...Like when it snowed and I drove you home. Or when you had that cold and I brought you medicine...I always made sure you had notes in class." It was true but he still did it while calling you mean names or being rude about it. 

"Is anyone else bothering you? I have to know who and what they're doing so I can stop them." That was when it hit you, he was being protective in a mean way. He was acting like all of those rude Tsundere anime boys you saw in manga and shows. 

"You're being...Protective?" You questioned as you stared at him, he locked eyes with you not saying anything,

"You're worried about me?" You asked again as you waited for him to say something else but he got up in a rush, almost hitting the coffee table and spilling the tea. 

"It's your fault I get like this! It's your fault I get so worried and protective over you!" He yelled out as he began pacing around the floor, your eyes on him the whole time as you waited for him to say something else. 

"Those big eyes, that smile that always makes me smile even when you're driving me nuts and being so god damn annoying!" He stopped still and stared at you, 

"What are you talking about?" Everything felt as though it was getting too much to handle but you had to know why he did this, why he had done all of this over the years and why he was still so protective over you now. 

"I had to keep annoying you and bullying you otherwise I was going to start thinking about how much I loved you...How much I wanted you." Blinking you stared at him now knowing what to say in response to him. 

"Loved?" Was the only thing that seemed to be coming out of your mouth staring back at him, 

"It's your fault." You laughed softly as he passed the blame onto you as if it was something you had to do with, it was his feelings, not yours. 

"Which is why you're going to stay here so I can look after you. Make you get to work and class okay...Make sure you're okay-" He stopped speaking when you smashed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you finally kissed him after all these years. The long awaiting build up making your stomach flip and sparks fly as you finally kissed one another. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could finally hold you close to his body. 

"I love you dumbass," He mumbled against your lips as you nodded at him, 

"I love you too, cunt." You bit down on his lip before kissing him once again, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you leant into him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting beside him in class the next day was nerve-wracking, he had his arm around your shoulder glaring at anyone that was staring at the two of you for more than he approved of. Not everything was perfect between the two of you and it was going to take some time to get used to him being kind of nice to you all of a sudden but there was no denying your feelings for one another. Besides, he was like your guardian angel.

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Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ 

[physicalturian]

[18+] The thrill of the chase - Nanami Kento X Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader; No physical description. Everyone is 18+] [No spoilers from the anime nor the manga]

Words : 8951

Archive of our own

Inspired by this art on Twitter and this one on TikTok

Tags : Fluff / Smut / Roleplay / Hair-Pulling / Soft degradation / Prey/Predator / Chase / Powerplay / Power dynamics / Punching / Impact play / Marking / Unprotected Sex / Spit kink / Choking / Play fighting / Cockwarming / Overstimulation / Begging / Submission / Blood kink / Edgeplay

Summary: Nanami comes home all bloody after taking care of some curses. You confess finding it hot to see him in such state and things take a twisted turn...

-“If you’re so feisty, show me some of that energy little mouse. I don’t think you realize you’re trapped yet,”

Taking a bath was supposed to be relaxing. And most of the time it was but knowing that Nanami was late and still not home made it harder to unwind.

While I was submerged by burning water, music playing in the background, I kept my arms out of the bath to avoid withering like a prune. My eyes were closed as I tried to think of anything but the possibility of my partner being wounded, I trusted him, he knew what he was doing… But I also regretted his change of career. He was a lot safer in the confine of corporate bureaus. But who was I to say anything? He seemed a lot happier being a sorcerer than doing stock market.

I drummed my fingers nervously on the side of the bath, humming to drown my thoughts, taking in the nice fragrance of the bath bomb I had threw in the water. I could still hear the fizzy sound it made as it dissolved, amidst the popping sounds of the bubbles on the surface of the water. Taking a handful of bubbles, I huffed to myself, “I’ll clock out before 6pm, he says” I grumbled, letting them fall back in the water “I don’t do overtime, he says” I said, imitating his gruffy tone. He could at least text if he were on his way home, I thought as I leaned back, eyes closed.

“There was a small set back, I am here now.” I was startled by the voice by the door, I quickly leaned against the tub to cover myself and sighed when I saw it was Nanami. “You scared me-“ I stopped mid-sentence and looked at him in a mix of shock seeing how bloody he was but also slightly pleased by the sight. I did not want to tell him that seeing him all bloody like that had an effect on me, and it was not justworry. I hid a smile behind my palm.

I gulped when I saw him unwrap his tie from around his fist, it was covered in blood like his suit. He had a habit of doing that when he fought, I never really knew why since he would still end up with bruised knuckles. While his face was speckless, his hair wasn’t, and his suit was ruined. I was about to get up and check on him when he stepped closer and told me to stay in the bath. “I need to make sure you’re okay, Kento,” Huffing, he gave me a half-smile and let his jacket fall to the ground as he gazed down at me.

No matter how long I had known him, I would never get enough of the sight of him in his white dress shirt with his harness. It had a charm I couldn’t quite describe, perhaps it was the way it defined his muscles even more or the contrast of the black on the white. It looked exquisite on him. Sitting on the edge of the bath, he grabbed his weapon from the harness behind his back and put in on the ground before looking at me. “I’m ok,” he reassured me as he placed one of his hand on my thigh.

It was a huge contrast of temperature with his freezing hand and my burning skin, but the worse was the intense look he was giving me as his hand slid further in. Deeper in the water, higher on my thigh. I brought my knees together to stop his hand from going any further and whispered his name in a warning tone. His reply was to tighten his grip, he had rolled up his sleeves and looked even better than moments ago. “Tell me to stop,” He breathed. I don’t want to, I thought. Instead, I played it off.

“You keep ruining your suits, we should buy black ones, it’ll be easier to remove the stain,”

I heard him hum as he moved his hands to his harness, letting go of me. I was disappointed but did not say anything, we could take a bath, relax and just enjoy one another’s company. “Perhaps should I change my entire outfit?” “No, no, the shirt and the harness stay,” I reacted too quickly, only realizing after that he had a small smirk on his face, that he was baiting me.

“Is that so?”

Chuckling, I sunk deeper in the water, “I mean, the harness holds the weird bat you got, right? So…” I trailed off. Nanami replied, deep in thought, “A polo shirt would be very comfortable-“ “Ken! Polos are ugly, you’re already on thin ice with the blue shirt and leopard printed tie,” I heard his laugh, then the muffled sound of something hitting the rug on the floor. I glanced his way and saw he was very slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his harness was on the ground. The slowness was not to make me yearn for him, no, he was in pain.

I quickly got out of the bathtub almost tripping as I did so, I ignored the cold hitting my skin and moved his hands from the buttons, “I can do it, dear,” He whispered. “Just because you cando it, doesn’t mean I can’t help you.” I replied, moving his hands once again when he tried to do it himself, instead I settled them on my hips and heard a low satisfied groan from his throat. I took a deep breath to stay composed, but I couldn’t help but feel something lighting up in me.

When I had finished unbuttoning his shirt, I shrugged it off his shoulders and took in the sight. It was once again with mixed feelings that I enjoyed it. He was gorgeously sculpted, but also covered in bruises. “You grow reckless when you do overtime, you shouldn’t rush things Ken…” I mumbled, checking if there was anything more than bruises. “The bruises will be gone in a few days,” He brought me closer against him as he said so, I wrapped my hands around his neck and saw the red that tainted my hand when I caressed the back of his head.

Pushing him away, I huffed and was about and went to grab my bathrobe, “You should get cleaned, take a bath and relax,“ “Then get back in the bath, I’ll join you,” He told me while unbuckling his belt. I paused in my steps and turned around to look at him with an inquisitive look, “Ken, I don’t think it’d be practical if we are going to do that…” When he finished undressing he stared at me with a certain hunger in his eyes. My eyes traveled from his eyes to his lips before looking at his blood-covered hair and knuckles.

Nanami held my hands in his, effectively bringing my attention back to him. A smirk was painted on his lips. “That being? A bath, with my lover, hm?” I rolled my eyes and nodded, slightly disappointed but lead us to the bath. Before I could step inside, Nanami said he’d get in first, that I should sit between his legs. “It should be the other way around, I’m not missing the chance of washing your hair, okay?” He chuckled lowly in response and told me to ‘get in then’. When I did, he stood in front of the bath a moment. I believe he was taking in the sight, and the longer he stood there, the more self-conscious I was becoming.

I made a beckoning motion with my arm and told him to join me. “Careful it’s hot,” I said hurriedly, with his hands on either side of the bath, he lowered himself into the water, I heard him hiss a bit. It could have been because of the burning water, or maybe the pain, whichever it was he did not complain. He gave me a sight I enjoyed greatly, but I held back from squeezing his ass and let him make himself comfortable. With his back now against my chest, I asked him to lean forward, which he did without a word. Like that, I let my hand roam on his back a moment. I noticed the marks around his back, it traveled to his front, I could see it on the side of his chest.

I let my fingers travel the redness, thinking of how it could have happened then it struck me, “Ken, your harness is too tight around your chest,” I whispered, as I wrapped my arms around his torso and kissed different spots on his back. I heard him sigh in content, the tension in his body visibly going away as he relaxed his form and let his hands fall in the water to hold onto my thighs. “It’s the point, that way it doesn’t move. The marks never stay long,” He stated. He had started rubbing my legs slowly. At first it was his hands wrapped around my legs, then he only trailed a few fingers along my skin.

I jerked my leg away to stop him, laughing when I told him to not do that. There was some playfulness in my voice, he knew I was not mad. “I’m not missing the chance of having you fully naked, so, unless you tell me to stop…” With a bit of a struggle, he turned around in the bath. He was still between my legs, but this time he brought me closer to him by pulling my ankles and wrapping them behind his back. My breath hitched when I felt him against me, more than just the skin. Keep it cool, there is no way I’m fucking in a bathtub, I thought.

Ignoring the closeness, I leaned back to grab the shampoo and bumped it against Nanami’s chest. “If you still have some energy to be like that, then wash your hair first,” I huffed. There was a funny feeling in my stomach when he smiled at me and bent over enough for me to see the top of his head, “Do it,”

“It would have been more practical if you hadn’t turned around,” I grumbled as I poured water over his hair before spurting some shampoo in my hand and started lathering his hair, “Don’t complain if the shampoo gets in your eyes- nor if your neck hurts because it’s entirely your fault,” I huffed, earning a low chuckle from the blond man. I rolled my eyes and suddenly gripped his hair tight when I felt his hands wander on my lower stomach before adventuring higher and brushing his thumbs over my nipples. “Ken! Don’t start,”

“Oh angel, you started this long before I did,” He said smugly. I couldn’t see his face, but I quickly rinsed off the shampoo and combed his hair back with my hands before lifting his face. “That’s entirely false, you did,” I said, falsely offended. Reaching behind me once more, I grabbed the washcloth and dipped it in the water, only to have big hands take it from mine and lead them to his higher thighs. My breath hitched once more as I looked up at him with a warning look, but I did not say anything.

A smirk was displayed on his lips as he guided my hand to his cock, then let go when I wrapped my hand around it but did not move. “I never realized until now,” he started, tucking a strand of hair that stuck to my skin behind my ear. “That seeing me in such a pitiful state turned you on,”

My eyes widened and I heard him chuckle breathlessly as he told me to go easy with the grip on his cock, I let go not having realized I had tightened my hand. “I never said that; Did I?” And here I thought I had been subtle, but it wasn’t that at all. He had feigned ignorance since he had saw me look at him too intensely. “I’d say the needy look in your eyes, and excuses to touch me, speak for themselves. Wouldn’t you agree?” I did not reply.

Instead, I shrugged and grabbed the washcloth once more, then poured some body wash on it before handing it to my partner. He pushed it back towards me, and leaned back in the bath, arms resting on either side of the bath, “I’m too sore to do it myself, would you mind?” He was good at keeping his emotions in check, he wasn’t smiling smugly, or anything as such. No, he kept his face neutral, but I knew he was being a little shit in his own way.

I smirked, “Of course,” he smiled back gently, but we both knew it wasn’t a real smile, no. He would be looking at each of my movements, ready to have me at any moment. He ran his hand through his hair and rested it back on the rim of the bath.

Scooting closer, I moved to sit on his lap, making him stretch his legs in the length with the space I had freed. “Tell me if it hurts,” I said before gripping his chin roughly, making him look at me as I cleaned his face. I felt him clench his jaw and had to hold back a smile. I avoided his gaze the entire time, focusing on cleaning before throwing him a side glance followed by a mischievous smile. “Careful,” He just said, not moving, simply letting his gaze follow me. I quirked a brow in reply, humming in a questioning manner before continuing cleaning up.

I started by his shoulders and sliding to his neck where I let my fingers wrap around his throat a bit longer than it was necessary. I felt his hand caress my back before settling on my lower back, “I said, careful,” Nanami said as he let his head fall back on the back of the tub, his eyelids almost closed as he looked at me from that angle. “Am I hurting you?” I asked innocently. I moved to clean his chest, knowing full well the moment I’d dip my hand inside the water, I’d have an advantage.

“You’re awfully daring tonight, does the sight of me drenched in blood turn you on that much, my love?”

“If anything, it annoyed me to see your suit ruined, Ken,” I huffed. When I went to wash him lower, Nanami took hold of my wrist and stopped me. I looked up at him confused and was met with a look at told me he was clearly not having it. Dropping the washcloth on his chest I sighed, “Alright, maybe, yes. Can you blame me?” I admitted. It made him chuckle as he brought me closer to him, his hands on my ass as he pressed me right against him. “Tell me more about it,” He whispered as he kissed my neck gently, leaving a trail down my collarbone before going up again.

I let out a breathless laugh at the feeling of his breath brushing over my skin along the lightness of his kisses. Both my hands were now resting on his shoulders as I leaned the side of my head against his, “I never get to see you fight,” I started, my fingers sliding over his collarbone to caress the base of his neck. “It’s for the better. If you did, that’d mean you’d be in danger,” He explained.

I sucked in my teeth, “That’s not what I meant, you’re right but I meant like…” I could feel my cheeks heat up as time went by, no matter how I worded it in my head, it was bound to sound strange the moment it’d leave my mouth.

“You’re strong, it’s hot, you’re good at being a sorcerer… And I know you enjoy the fighting, so I can’t help but think of the faces you’re making when you’re enjoying a good fight. A fight that’d leave you breathless, sore, aching all over,” I looked down at him and cradled his face in my hands as I tried to roll my hips only to be kept on the spot by Nanami’s hands. “The adrenaline pumping in your veins, your heart beating faster and faster as it tries to keep up with your ecstatic state. The rush of seeing them taken down, of knowing you were stronger than them,”

I ghosted my lips barely above his and held back a smile when he parted his lips, “Maybe you didn’t break a sweat, maybe you did, but in the end, it left you drenched in blood that isn’t yours, you’re the one left standing. You’re good at this and you could keep going until exhaustion takes over, I know it” I kissed him tenderly, smirking when I felt him trying to deepen the kiss, but I pulled back and grinned wider. “But you never do, you never let it take over, because you have to come home to me,”

“I’m starting to think there’s an underlying meaning to this speech,” Nanami hummed as he started rubbing my back gently, pouring more water over my freezing skin. A smile grew on my face as I let a hand wander down his torso very slowly, letting my fingers brush over his happy trail. “I’m just saying… that maybe you still have some energy left for some fun,” I grabbed his cock underwater and suddenly found myself with my ass on the bottom of the bath as Nanami got up and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Get out,” he said while handing out his hand for me to grab.

As he helped me out of the bath, he handed me a towel. I knew there was a huge grin on my face when I wrapped the towel around my form and pulled Nanami closer by his towel. He slapped my hand away, I could only chuckle in response. “Bed, now,” he stated. It sent electricity coursing through my body. I stood in front of him a bit longer, trying to gauge the mindset he was in. I wanted him on edge, I wanted him to go all in, “Don’t you worry, I got the message,” he started, sauntering closer. He lifted my chin roughly, just as I did earlier.

“You’re enjoying this a lot, when I’ve barely done anything,” He let his hand fall to his side and tugged off my towel, leaving me stark naked in front of him. “Stay like this, get on the bed, kneeling,”

The smile on my lips was portraying the same emotion as my laugh, nervous. “I don’t think you got the message,” I whispered, earning a loud sigh from my partner. “Looks like I need to get you there myself,” I did not have time to complain that I was lifted off the ground before being thrown onto the bed.

By the time I sat up, Nanami had his back turned on me and was in front of the wardrobe, already halfway dressed. “Ken, I’m confused,” I was about to get out of bed when I heard him tell me to stay there.

As he was buttoning up his shirt, he looked at me with a smile. “Tell me, my dove,” I perked up at the sweet name and moved to the center of the bed, kneeling. “Does it turn you on because you know I had to go full force?” He asked as he moved to the drawers and pulled out a leather harness that he shrugged on, buckling it on the front before looking at me with the same small smile.

“Or maybe is that whole speech more of a way to hide that your dirty little secret…” He finished by slipping on a pair of black leather gloves. He had not put on his tie, but he was now fully dressed, while I was completely nude. “Is that you want to feel the thrill of being chased…” He walked around the bed slowly, leaning over slightly to grab the paddle that was resting next to it, against the wall. He was now on my right, I did not want to look too needy, but I was starting to feel excited, yet I didn’t move when he went to grip my jaw and made me look at him.

“…Of being preyed on.”

I hated myself for the sound that escaped my throat, it made Nanami’s smile widen. “Is that it? You want to be dominated in the most carnal way, to be rendered defenseless,” I did not reply.

“Tell me your safe word, now” And I did, making him smile proudly. “So, you can speak,” he breathed in fake surprise, a few seconds after, Nanami was pulling my legs towards him and had me on my back as he kept my legs spread by settling himself between them. “I almost thought I had already scared you from so little, it would have been disappointing since you’re not yet as vulnerable as I’d like you to be,”

With both of his hands on my knees, he spread my legs wider and looked between my legs with hunger before letting his eyes trail back to my eyes. “And not nearly as afraid, from the look on your eyes you’re still too confident. I’ll wipe that smile off your face,” My breath hitched, I regretted the excited smile on my lips when it made Nanami frown as he gripped my knees tighter before dragging me off the bed.

His hold on the paddle handle changed as he rested it on his shoulder. He looked down at me with a half-smile. “I like this better; the floor is less comfortable than the bed, isn’t it?” I nodded and leaned back when the blond leaned forward, dropping his arm holding the paddle so that the tip hit the ground. It startled me. “Good, I don’t want you comfortable, fear comes when you’re out of your comfort zone,” He looked me up and down, a few strands of wet hair falling over his face.

I could feel my heart beat faster, it only increased when he suddenly crouched in front of me, the paddle now being used as a place to rest his chin as he looked at me intently. “I think you need an incentive, so here,” He held out his hand for me to grab and helped me up my feet. I looked at him confused. I was slowly growing uneasy from his actions; they did not make one drop of sense.

Once I got to my feet, he pulled me towards him and wrapped a hand around my throat when he got closer to me before whispering right next to my ear, his teeth grazing my lobe. “You have two minutes to hide, if I find you…” His fingers dig into the side of my throat, elating a muffled sound from me. With the strength of his arm, he got me to my tiptoes by lifting me even a little bit, his hand still around my throat. I held onto his arm to try to stay balanced and get him to let me go, which he did, almost making me fall to the ground. But I caught myself.

Nanami sat down on the end of the bed, setting the paddle on his lap. He leaned back on his hands; I couldn’t help but ogle how good he looked like that. He made sure to wear exactly all the things I told him I liked once, and the paddle on his thighs was the best accessory I could hope for. “Don’t let me find you, little dove,” He emphasized his word by running his fingers over the handle. “Don’t get me mad either,” I heard him well, I understood what he meant, and it sent thrills running down my spine.

When he looked up, Nanami quirked a brow. He then looked at the watch on his wrist then back at me, “You have one minute and a half left, I suggest you get going little dove, unless…” His gloved hand tightened around the handle once more. Leather against leather made a sound all the more appealing to my ear, I went to take the towel left on the floor but thought against it when Nanami tutted me, “You stay like this, go,” He shooed me.

I scurried off.

I felt self-conscious, running around the apartment naked, trying to find a hiding place but I also felt overwhelmed. This was Nanami’s choice of furniture, his choice of decoration, and all of this was one thing: minimalist. Nothing was made to hide in or behind. Part of me wanted him to find me, just to see what he’d do, to see his powerful look as he looked down at me before dragging me from my hiding spot. But then, I wanted to see him get frustrated as he’d try to find me.

I needed to see him lose his composure, get frustrated. I had to think fast, to know what I really wanted out of him. The thud of my feet on the cold floor was all I could hear at first, though it did not drown the louder sound no one could hear, my heartbeat.

I quickly grabbed the blanket from the couch and opened the closet door. That’s when I heard a voice call from the bedroom when I entered the living-room and peeked under the sofa. “Thirty seconds left,” Fuck fuck fuck, I thought in panic as I crawled inside the closet. I made sure to close it silently behind me, before sitting in the deep corner and throwing the blanket over my form. Now this was not the type of hide-and-seek I did as a child, it was… better.

Now hidden, I let the remaining seconds pass, and soon enough I could hear the sound of Nanami’s steps around the apartment. “You better be hidden little dove, I do love a good chase,” He was walking slowly, scaringly so. Quiet enough that I really had to pay close attention if I wanted to hear anything. Along his footsteps was the repetitive sound of something hitting the palm of his hand. It wasn’t the paddle, if it had been, the sound would have been blunter. But it sounded more like a sharp, cutting sound.

I was buzzing with excitement, my blood pumping more and more with how eager I was. We had done a few rougher sessions before, but I wanted to see how it’d turn this one around, and I was more than willing to let his creativity run free. His steps seemed further away, so did his voice when he spoke loud enough so that I could hear him no matter where I was in the apartment. “I’ll applaud the effort you put in your hiding spot, and while I do love the chase,” I heard him groan as he slammed something shut, startling me in the process.

“I do grow tired of hide-and-seek pretty easily,” he continued like this for a few more minutes, his tone growing more and more impatient, more unnerved as he spoke. His steps were heavier on the ground, faster too, he was pacing, he was doing comes and go around the place and suddenly, it all stopped when he stepped inside the living room.

No more talking. No more taunting. Nothing.

It was eerie. For a moment I thought he was done, then I heard what I believe was the TV. Is he for real? I thought in astonishment. I peeked out from under the blanket that covered my form and silently crawled to the door, placing my ear against it. He had indeed turn it on. I sighed in disappointment and opened the door slowly to surprise him and gasped loudly when I was met with a smug smile. Nanami was crouching in front of the closet. I looked him over, noticing the paddle was resting in the holster where his weapon would usually be, and instead in his hand was a riding crop.

He was holding it in his delicate fingers, as his forearms rested crossed on his knees, “What better way to bait the mouse than to make it believe the threat is gone?” My stomach dropped, I could either back away inside the closet or try for a run. The latter seemed like a better option, one that avoided me ending up cornered. Smirking, I threw him the blanket and push him and went for it.

I don’t know what I was thinking. That wouldn’t stop him. I hadn’t even made him fall back, he simple sighed angrily. I had barely stepped out of the closet that I found myself gripping the back of the couch when Nanami grabbed my shin and made me lose my balance. “A stupid move,” he grunted. I tried to get back up, but he stood up and forced me to let go of the couch, effectively making me fall to the ground.

A groan escaped my lips when I met the floor with force. When I tried to sit up, I was pushed down once more by Nanami’s shoe. It wasn’t too strong, as long as I complied.

And I did.

“Tell me, what’s your color little dove?” He asked in a low tone. The tip of the riding crop was being grazed along my form as I tried to get him to move his foot away, my hands wrapped tight around his ankle. “Green- let me get up-“ “I’m not ‘letting you’ do anything,” He spat as he pressed a bit more on my torso before removing his foot and crouching next to me, a hand resting still on my chest to keep me down. “Fight for it.” He said it in a way that made it as the most obvious solution.

I stuttered, raising a brow in confusion. He smiled. It wasn’t heartwarming, it was reassuring, it was mocking. It made my blood boil. When I was about to reply, he gripped my jaws strongly making me clench my teeth in annoyance. “Maybe I should be clearer, after all you are a bit… slow tonight,” I frowned. “When I say don’t take the towel, it does not mean take the blanket,” he stated as his eyes wandered from my lips to my throat.

If I listened to him any longer, I’d start feeling bad for not obeying him, which was not correct in this situation. So, I clawed at his hand that was now tightening around my throat, “Let- go- of- me!” I gasped through heavy breaths; he wasn’t budging. “Do you need a hint?” He asked with a condescending smile, I did not reply. “Hit me.” My eyes widened, I let go of his hand and instead held his wrist. Not knowing if he was joking. After gauging a bit longer, I came to the conclusion that he was dead serious.

I was starting to feel dizzy, from lack of oxygen… and from arousal. It was strange, but I couldn’t ignore how great it felt, “Ken-“ “Fucking do it, fight for it- or beg, I’d be pleased by both outcomes,” he paused and moved to straddle my lap, his knees supporting most of his weight.

With hesitance, I raised my hand and pushed his face away. He only laughed in response, he did let go of my throat, both of his hands sliding to the nape of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair as he lifted my head a bit from the ground to make me look at him, “A rougher incentive seems necessary, you’re still too comfortable,” He leaned in and ghosted his lips over mine, whispering to not forget my safe word as he pressed a short kiss on my lips before leaning back.

He took hold of the riding crop once more, not yet taking the paddled out and let it trail over my nipples very slowly. I arched my back for more, my eyes closed then yelped at the burning sensation on my skin when he struck me. I gave him a scowl, he grinned lazily. “If you’re so feisty, show me some of that energy little mouse. I don’t think you realize you’re trapped yet,” I did not have time to reply, he struck me again. I yelped in pain/pleasure.

“It feels like you’ve surrendered already my dove, was it that easy to get you to submit?” When he did not get a reply and rose his arm to strike me once more, I pulled him by the front of his shirt and tried to roll him over, only to be laughed at when held my wrists in one hand and pushed me back, hands over my head. “You’re not trying, you’re humoring me, it’s pitiful,” He said with a scoff.

The thought of hitting him was becoming stronger and stronger, I wanted to see what he’d do in response. But I couldn’t do this anymore, he had me pinned. He either read my mind or had something in his, but for some reason he let go and started unbuttoning his shirt.

I took this opportunity to use my knee to hit his back, before punching his jaw with all my force. A shaky breath escaped his lips, not one of fear, but of excitement.

That attempt had not changed anything of the situation I was in, if anything it only angered him more. With his face still half turned to the side, I could see the growing smile on his lips. He slowly turned around; His lower lip slightly redder than before. “You’re getting the hang of it, but you’re still bad at it. Here, try again,” He faced the other way, giving me his other cheek.

“Ken I’m sorry-“ He interrupted me by guiding my hand into a fist to his cheek, “Right here,” he hissed. “Make it worth it, it’s your last opportunity to get the upper hand, then it’s my turn,” I wasn’t going to do it until he took out the paddle and struck my thighs with force, smirking, “Next is your stomach, stop me,” Two thoughts clashed inside my head, the first was, let him do it, the second was, no way. I acted on instinct and punched his jaw with force before gripping the back of his hair and pulling it.

He winced, I took the chance to slide from under him and escape quickly. I barely missed the hand that reached out for my ankle, an exhilarated sigh left my lips. I made a run for it, but instead of cornering myself to the bedroom, I stopped on the other side of the couch. I would mirror Nanami’s opposite steps, making him more and more frustrated. I noticed the wiped blood on the back of his glove along the one that seemed to be tainting his teeth when he smiled in the most threatening and primal way.

Seeing him away from me, seeing how I was in a safe position, seeing that I was not losing just yet… it all pushed me to taunt him, “You can’t reach me, it’s funny isn’t-“ I stopped mid-sentence and felt my heart dropped when Nanami simply jumped over the couch and sauntered over me, his eyes darkened with arousal. He seemed more than thrilled by this whole thing, I knew it the moment he opened his mouth, I kept mine shut tight. “Hilarious. But I don’t see you laughing much, little dove…” He said slowly.

His hand rose oh so gently to cradle my face in his, “Submit,” his whispered. I shook my head. His hand slid to the back of my head once more, except this time he took a handful of my hair and started walking away, pulling me by my hair. It wasn’t too painful, as long as I kept up with his pace, which I did. He threw me on the couch and struck my back hard with the paddle. “The hard way it is,”

My partner crouched next to me, I did not move from laying on my stomach, before he could speak, I spat on him and grinned. He closed his eyes a moment, wiping the saliva off while getting up once more. “I was going to give you one last chance, but it seems your spirit isn’t broken yet. Sheer force seems to be the solution, don’t you think little dove?” He brushed my hair gently, then struck my back hard. I let out a moan and buried my face in the pillow to try to muffle it before speaking up.

“I have a high- pain tolerance sir- fuck,” I swore under my breath. I heard him laugh genuinely, breaking character for a second at my mistake. I was so used to our power dynamics that it rolled off in times of… pleasure. “Let’s see how high, remember,” I thought he was going to remind me of my safe word, instead he said, “The words are: I submit,”

I huffed. “Am I hearing them from you?” I asked playfully.

It earned me another strong hit, this time with the riding crop.

I felt Nanami’s gloved hand brush over my sore back, taking in the damage. The feeling of the leather on my skin felt so good against the burn I was feeling. “You’re getting off on this too much, let’s make it more fun,” He whispered as his hand slid between my legs, “Pain won’t get you begging, but pleasure will,” His fingers slid between my lower lips to finally meet my clit as he started stimulating it tentatively at first.

It wasn’t the right spot at first, so I turned around and grinned proudly, “I think you’re better off hitting me if you’re not going to hit the spot-“ I swore under my breath when he put just the right amount of pressure, making me feel a shiver all over my body. Nanami laughed mockingly but did not stop, he skillfully played with my clit. He lifted my ass up to get a better angle but gripped my hair forcefully to keep my head in the pillow and not lift myself up on my arms. “This spot, right?” He breathed, satisfaction dripping from his voice.

I only whined in response. When I tried to move my ass back to get more friction, Nanami placed a knee on the couch and stopped me from moving with his hip. He kept me in place, his fist gripping my hair even tighter. “You’re a fucking handful, should I let you cum to appease that silly little greed of yours?” He grunted against my ear, I could feel my eyes roll back as I was getting closer and closer. “Yes, please, yes, yes,”

He pulled his hand back, and slapped my ass hard, probably leaving a mark. He let go of my hair and let his hands trail back to my waist where they stayed as he bent over my back and spoke, “I thought we agreed I wouldn’t let you do anything,” I breathed shakily as I turned my head to look at him the best I could. “Frustration suits your face well, little mouse,” He said softly, his eyes darting to my lips. I caught a glimpse of the real him there, until he got closer to my face and licked from my neck to my cheek, “Let’s see how long it’ll take you to beg for release,”

When he said that, his fingers went back to my clit, nothing else. I did not get any friction; he did not even deign giving me any sort of pleasure from his cock. Through moans and gasps, I looked over my shoulder to catch of glimpse of him as he pressed once more onto my back while his other hand was between my legs. “At least fucking remove the gloves, Ken-“ My voice went a higher pitch when I talked, forcing me to hide my face in the pillows to muffle my moans.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” I heard Nanami’s gruffy tone as the speed of his fingers increased on my clit. “But it looked like you thought you had any say in what I was doing,” His breath was getting heavier just as I felt my legs shake the closer I got. Nanami saw it and slid his fingers away. I groaned out his name in frustration before moving my hand between my legs, only to have it slapped away. “My, my, already taking matters in your own hands?”

I was startled when I felt the cold texture of the riding crop brushing from my shoulders to my back, to slowly slide between my legs. I gasp when he pressed it just slightly at my entrance before slithering to my clit and striking it, earning a high-pitched moan from me. “I wonder how much you can take before it’s too painful to even touch it, shall we see?” Hearing him so cocky ticked me off, and while I could feel the pulsing of my clit, desperate for more, desperate to get off, I felt a spike of fighting spirit before all.

When Nanami went to touch me once again, I tried to kick him, all while moving my arm to push his from my back. He did lose his balance but caught himself by gripping both of my legs as he pulled them so that my pelvis was finally touching the couch. I had barely time to realize what happened that my legs were in a deadlock between his as he straddled the back of my thighs. One of his hand wrapped around my throat, bringing my head back enough that my throat was perfectly exposed. He rose on his knees, still behind me, and lowered his face to mine in that same angle.

I was seeing him upside down, but I could also smell the blood I had drawn when I hit him. It was intoxicating, in the strangest way. My back hurt from being arched like that, mixed with the pressure on my neck… it felt delightful. “What a pretty sight, twisted like a useless fucking ragdoll,” I gasped at his name calling, not ready to admit it sent a jolt of pleasure through my body. Brushing a finger over my chin, Nanami kissed me roughly, smiling along the kiss as his tongue delved into my mouth but it was as passionate as it was quick. “Beg me to fuck you,” he growled against my lips. I only whimpered in response, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut.

He did not like it.

Nanami pressed against my ass, rolling his covered hips against me. He then brought a gloved hand to my lips and said, “Take it off,” talking about the glove. I opened my mouth and gently nipped the tip as he pulled his hand back. The glove was snatched out of my mouth and thrown on the low table before his fingers returned to my mouth and forced my mouth open. “I haven’t been playing fair, have I?” He asked rhetorically. I knew there was something behind this question. And yet, I shook my head, making him grin wide. “It’s only fair I return what you gave me,” I quirked a brow at his word then the pressure on my throat was gone.

His hands were unbuckling his belt, “You stay like this, I have you right where I want you,” When I heard him groan upon freeing his cock from his pants, his remaining gloved hand returned to my throat and tilted my head backwards once more, “You’ve been a fucking pain,” He grunted as his free fingers brushed against my hole, I bite my lip to hold back the smile I felt upon winning. “How are you feeling right now, little mouse?”

With a strained voice, raspy even, I said, “Green, and proud to see you succumb first,” I said with a wicked smile. Nanami mirrored it, but it did not hold the same pride. No, it was disturbing, it did not match his following actions when he stopped touching me. “Is that what you think is happening? Let me tell you one thing,” he paused, and I heard him groan as I felt his movements behind me, he was stroking his cock a few times. I suddenly felt it press against my entrance and let out throaty moans when he slowly slid it in.

“I love tests. Testing how long you can hold before begging to come,” He started as he sheathed himself inside, he wrapped his arm around my waist and started playing with my clit, elating loud moans from me, “It feels good, doesn’t it?” I nodded; My eyes closed as I focused on the pleasure. Another gasp left my lips when I felt him fully in. When I was about to move to get the friction, the hand around my throat tightened. “I’ll be testing how fucking desperate you are for my cock, you’re not allowed to move unless you submit, understood?”

I threw him a deadly glare and smirked mischievously, “Try me,” then I gripped a handful of his hair and pulled him back. Nanami hissed, with the arm that was around my waist he brought mine down and tilted my head back once more, his face hovering over mine. “I pulled your hair, you pull mine, it’s fair,” He stated, his voice dripping with ire, his eyes then darkened, “You spit…” He started, opening my mouth with a gloved finger, I heard the sound before realizing it. He closed my mouth afterwards and covered it with the palm of his hand. “I spit, now fucking swallow,”

I tried to get his hand off my mouth, but he kept it there until he was sure I had swallowed, that’s when he added, “I can feel you walls clenching around my cock, it looks like you’re enjoying being treated like filth,” He leaned back, and pushed my head into the pillow, his form unmoving inside me. I wanted more than just that, I wanted to feel his hands gripping my waist tight as he’d fuck me from behind. I leaned back, to try to get something from it, only to be struck down.

The snap of the riding crop meeting my skin echoed in the silent room and was soon joined by my painful moan. “Two words, say them. Or do you not understand what’s going on here?” Without moving, his hand met my clit once more while the free one held my hips in place, he resumed his earlier work and my moans were now full whines, my poor clit felt like it was burning from the overstimulation it was getting. Nanami continued, until he felt my walls clench around his cock, that’s when he stopped and laughed breathlessly. “That’s three times, I can go on, but can you?”

I tried to reply, but my response was muffled by the pillow. Perhaps it was for the best, but Nanami wasn’t having it. He gripped a handful of my hair once more and pulled my head up, “Stop mumbling, articulate,” He ordered. I looked away, pressing my lips tight. “Alright, let’s see how well you fence after the fourth time, shall we?” He never let go of my hair and used his free hand to touch my clit once again, I couldn’t muffle my panting this time. My mouth wide open, loud moans, I couldn’t bear another deception.

“Please,” I uttered.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” He said with a bit too much pride in his voice, “Need I remind you the words?” He asked as he pressed his lips delicately against my temple and gritted through his teeth, “Go ahead little mouse, say it,” I wasn’t saying it. I felt his lips turn into a smile, his fingers hadn’t left my nub, and it had gotten unbearable, each of his graze against it felt like it burnt so when he bucked his hips into me one time: it was enough to make me succumb.

“I submit- Ken, please, no more, I can’t-“ I panted, tears of frustration streaming down my face. A satisfied growled escaped Nanami’s lips, “Atta girl, let’s get you fucked properly,” He let go of my hair, effectively making me fall back on the pillow. His hands brushed over my back a few times, as if he was assessing before going forth with what he had planned. He paused, then settled his hands on my hips and started ramming inside me animalistically.

Each of his thrusts were met with a whimper, that very angle made him reach the right spot easily, but it wasn’t enough yet. I felt like he was holding back, “Ken- my back-“ Confused, Nanami slowed down his movements and leaned in, keeping himself in role, “Speak up little mouse, I can’t hear you over how fucking loud you’re whining,”

I swore in pleasure under my breath among the tears, he knew what he was doing, and I could feel my face heat up more than it already was. I quickly got hold of myself and sobbed, “Mark me, let it out,“ Nanami had now stopped everything and seemed to be gauging how I was doing, a flicker of the real him showed on his face before he returned to his role once more. “Look at you, crying for more. Desperate to be ruined, to be dominated,” He delicately tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, it did not do much with how messy my hair was, but it was soft, nonetheless.

“I’ll oblige,” With a kiss pressed on the back of my head, Nanami then did exactly what he promised. His thrusts were more carnal, his hands, now both gloveless, were painting my back with claw marks as he used my back as his canvas. I was not aware of much of what I was doing, but it felt so fucking good. I was moaning and crying at the same time and seeing how Nanami seemed to get even more turned on from the sight, I was led to believe he enjoyed it as well.

He kept that pace up, but soon enough we both reached our peak. Through heavy pants, I begged Nanami to cum inside me, which he happily complied to. The mix of pain and pleasure made everything stronger, I felt my eyes roll back and my legs shake, as best as they could from being held down, then nothing. Pure bliss.

I kept my eyes closed a while longer, letting Nanami pull out and do as he pleased. He probably got changed and went to get what he thought was necessary to take care of me.

Then I believe I fell asleep a few moments after that, I don’t know how long but when I woke up, I was wrapped in a comfortable bathrobe. A blanket was draped over my form, and something was resting on my stomach. Looking down, I saw Nanami’s hand lazily draped over it.

I then looked up and saw my head was resting on a pillow on his lap. He was sitting on the couch, watching the TV. When I met his gaze, he smiled in the most charming way, “You’re awake, it seemed it tired you more than I thought it would. We’ll be more careful next time,” He said softly as he kept his eyes on mine.

We stared at one another a while. Not saying anything, not needing to, or maybe wanting to. But it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable.

Nanami broke the silence first, “Did it meet your expectations? I find myself believing you’ve been thinking about this for a while, maybe a fantasy?” He asked, his hand absentmindedly brushing over my stomach.

I smiled tiredly, “Oh it did, it’s hard to get into it at first… And I wouldn’t be against being thrown around more. Safely… ish, of course…” I paused, not believing I was feeling embarrassed after what we had done. “But you were definitely great, thank you for engaging in this… I guess it could be defined as a fantasy,” It felt too serious to thank him like this, but I did not know how other way to do it.

“I did not think it would have been necessary to say it, but clearly you seem to be thinking I only did it for you,” He looked at me with a loving smile, “Which I partially did, but I do enjoy seeing you struggling under me. And I definitely enjoyed this, more than you think,” I quirked my brows in surprise at his word, the small smile on my lips betraying the shock and showing the excitement that returned. “However, I must apologize for the soreness you’ll be feeling, I treated everything, but you’ll definitely be sore for a few days… Maybe a week, you tell me,”

I moved on the couch to see in how much pain I was and hissed when my whole body screamed for me to stop. “Yeah, okay, I feel you. A week, more like a month. I say next time we try something tamer, what’s your fantasy?” I asked tiredly, snuggling closer to him as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

Nanami chuckled softly and caressed my cheek gently, “Let’s talk about that tomorrow, we might need to buy new things,” He said half-jokingly.

“Is it a uniform?” I asked as I fell asleep.

“It might be, I am a simple man after all…”

I think I laughed, but I was too tired to remember. Maybe I’ll let him ruin a few more suits if it led to this…

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

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taglist: @honestly-shite