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roosterforme · 8 months ago

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Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat."

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend."

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board.

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck.

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there.

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered.

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too! A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking."

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense.

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall.

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host.

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more?

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back?

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID."

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard.

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties.

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again.

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him.

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here.

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone.

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb.

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this.

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him.

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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@nessjo

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umadosedepascal · 5 months ago

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DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

————————————————

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lovelynim · 2 months ago

Text

Kremnoan words

Honkai: Star Rail - Mydei x Phainon

A/N: Just before I started pulling for Mydei's LC and banner, I said: "if I lose my 50/50, I'm writing lee!mydei, if I win, it's lee!phainon".

This blonde bastard took me 100+ pulls to get him, so now he is paying for it

Also, kudos to @/otomiyaa and @/dokidoki-muffin for helping me come up with the plot behind this fic!

Summary: There isn't a kremnoan word for 'fear', 'retreat' or 'romance', but is there one for 'tickling'? Well...

Word count: 2179 words

[Also on Ao3]

“So, what was all that noise from your room yesterday?” Mydei asked bluntly and directly, making Dan Heng choke on his drink and Caelus freeze on the spot. They couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, lacking sleep or just wearing his naturally intimidating facade, but it would be better to not push their luck. Again. “I could hear it from across the bath house.”

“W-what?” Caelus gasped sheepishly, trying to sneak a glance at Dan Heng in the hopes of catching a hint or two of what he should say next. “I don’t- no, I mean, c-can you be more specific?”

Mydei frowned, making Caelus flinch with just a look. “The rustling and stomping noises. What were those? Were you two fighting among yourselves in the departure hour?”

Oh.

Dan Heng sighed, wiping the drink off the corner of his lips while Caelus let out a nervous chuckle. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, after all, just a small nuisance. “Oh, that, hahah… ahm, we were just fooling around, I guess?”

Mydei didn’t seem convinced as he arched an eyebrow and looked over Caelus’ figure to check the other man’s reaction. “Fooling? What kind of foolery makes so much noise?” He scoffed, but couldn’t deny the pinch of curiosity inside of his chest that made him want to pry into Okhema’s guests' privacy a little more.

“J-just playing!” Caelus chirped, hoping to suffice and ease Mydei’s curiosity this time, “I tickled Dan Heng and he tried to run, so I chased him and we kin-”

He couldn’t really be bothered by the story, it wasn’t like he actually cared about any of it. While he was just planning to let it go at that point, one word in particular captured Mydei’s attention again. “What’s that?” Mydei interrupted, his facade relaxing and turning into a genuinely curious one. “T-ticouded? Tic-tick- what?”

This wasn’t the first time that Mydei came across a word he didn’t know. The kremnoan and okheman languages weren’t so similar, Caelus and Dan Heng also had a whole glossary of their own that neither he nor the other heirs could understand some times. That word, however, had a sense of familiarity in it - as if he had heard it before somewhere, but he was still unable to picture or figure it out.

“Hm? ‘Tickled’? You don’t know what that is?” Caelus cocked his head to the side, leaving the previous topic to dust and quickly shifting to the new one. Mydei nodded at his question.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s, uhh…” Caelus looked over to Dan Heng again, as if checking his morality compass before deciding the tone of his answer. Dan Heng would probably give it a short, but honest answer, and would most likely suggest that Caelus did the same. Still, that was Caelus being asked, not Dan Heng. “Tickling like… fighting, but with no weapons. Like, with your just fists, you know?”

Dan Heng slapped his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief. Mydei, however, raised his eyebrows with realization dawning on him. “Ah, I see,” he hummed pleased, “so it’s some kind of battle?”

Caelus smiled, mostly from the excitement of having successfully tricked Mydei. “Yes, you can put it like that, but you don’t ‘tickle’ someone to hurt them. Like, I tickle Dan Heng all the time and he is still in one piece!”

“Caelus!” Dan Heng gasped, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks when he was dragged back into the topic.

“What, I’m not lying, right? It’s not like I’m hurting you when I tickle you.”

“Fight, but with no intent to harm?” Mydei repeated to himself while the couple went on with their bickering. As he tried to wrap his mind around this new concept, some other episodes from his stay in Okhema started to make sense.

There was, indeed, no kremnoan word for a thing like this. Fighting was taken very seriously in Castrum Kremnos, from their elders and rulers to their students and offsprings, a ‘play-fight’ would never be considered a thing. Mydei nodded to himself, guessing this was just another senseless costume, but content to be able to understand it.

…………

Two days later, that conversation wasn’t anything more than a single memory lingering in the back of Mydei’s head. Right now, as a matter of fact, he had just a single thought in there: best Phainon in each and every way possible.

It was hard to tell what sparked the flames of competition between the two of them this time - it could be related to fighting off the titankin, escorting some scholars or just buying groceries faster than the other -, but it was clear that they were stuck at their usual dilemma: a tie.

“I expected more from you, deliverer,” Mydei boasted, keeping his chin up high as he strolled through the bath house, making his way to the heroes’ bath. “You barely put up the challenge this time.”

Phainon giggled, shaking his head. “If I tried any harder, I wouldn’t be able to see you think you stood a chance,” he picked up his pace, trying to get at least one step ahead Mydei while pressing his shoulder against Mydei’s.

“You’re worse as a liar than as a loser, deliverer,” Mydei gritted his teeth, pushing back with a little more strength, almost enough to throw Phainon into the waters of the nearby bath. “You say that when you’re clearly worn out, admit it.”

“Hahah, you didn’t get to see me worn out yet, Mydei ~” Phainon smiled, letting Mydei take the lead and following him soon after, “should we decide the victor through another match? That is, if you’re still able to have another one.”

“Fool, it’s me you’re talking about,” Mydei chuckled, locking his eyes with Phainon’s as they stood on the platform to head up to the heirs’ private bath. “Name it and I will best you under your own terms.”

Phainon couldn’t help but grin, standing just before Mydei. He took his hand to his own chin, pretending to contemplate on something. “Hmm, shouldn’t you pick it this time?”, he suggested, the platform reaching the upper floors with a gentle thud. “I’m feeling nice today, I’ll even let you pick if you promise to not make a fuss over it when you lose.”

“HKS…” Mydei hissed, dropping a plate of his armor as he prepared to get into the water.

Aglaea already scolded them once for using the baths in their matches, so it shouldn’t be a good idea to do anything related to the water and its properties again. Mydei also knew he shouldn’t be drawing his weapon against Phainon there, so a clash of might would not be recommended as well.

Ignoring the noise from Phainon’s rambling, probably trying to tease him for taking too long to think, an idea suddenly came up to Mydei’s head - one that wouldn’t require weapons or a different terrain. In fact, they could probably get to it right now and then if he remembered the details correctly.

“Deliverer,” Mydei called, his back resting against the bath’s edge while he wore a confident, commanding smirk on his lips. “I challenge you to a tickle, then, right here and now.”

“...A w-what?” Phainon scoffed, faking a cough as he tried to hide his reaction and compose himself. What was up with that pronunciation, anyway? “You mean, like, a… a tickle fight or..?”

“Don’t play an even bigger fool, deliverer,” he hissed, frowning while the response was far from what he expected, “you know what I mean, a tickle.” Mydei pouted slightly, biting the inner side of his cheeks.

“R-right, it’s just- aha, I didn’t expect you to suggest it… do you even know what it is or..?”

“HKS!” Mydei interrupted, covering any uncertainty with his overwhelming presence, “do you take me for a moron? Why wouldn’t I know what a tickle is?” He boasted, making Phainon quickly bring his hands out of the water to wave them in front of his chest.

“S-sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Phainon spoke in a rush, trying to calm the raging beast before him. Once Mydei had settled back into his corner of the bath, Phainon moved closer, noticing how wary the kremnoan was. “Let’s… take turns, then,” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t be of any good to try to correct whatever concept of tickling Mydei had up in his head right now.

“Turns?” Mydei repeated, arching his eyebrows. ‘You can take turns during a tickle?’, he wanted to ask, but of course he wouldn’t voice such a thing. Phainon simply nodded.

“Yes, yes… just so we can settle it without making too much of a scene,” Phainon hummed playfully, already sitting by Mydei’s side, “we keep going until the other taps out, then whoever lasts the longest wins. Good?”

“Hm,” Mydei nodded, confused. With the current idea of ‘tickle’ he had in mind, there was no way Phainon could win something like that, but if the deliverer was so eager to step into his own grave… Still, there was a problem: Mydei wasn’t really sure of how one should perform it.

What if he messed up? Maybe there were right ways to “tickle” against someone. He had never heard of such a thing in his hometown, so what if he messed it up now, with Phainon of all people? Well, Mydei smirked, there was an easy way out of this problem. “You can go first,” he said confidently.

“Oh? Feeling confident now?” Phainon smiled, cocking his head forward to have a better look at Mydei’s face, “aren’t you scared I’ll win again?”

“There is no word for ‘scared’ in the kremnoan language, HKS, and you didn’t win before - just like you won’t no- agh!” Mydei gasped, finding himself pinned as Phainon was suddenly straddling his lap.

He leaned his head back, trying to increase the distance between their faces as Phainon’s hands rested over his chest, fiddling with the soaked cloth of his robes. “You know,” Phainon giggled, looking down to Mydei’s body, “now that I think about it, I’m not sure if this is fair… I don’t even know if you’re ticklish.”

“T-ticklish?”

“Mhm, you know what it is, right? Since you know what a ‘tickle’ is,” Phainon smirked, his palms rubbing down Mydei’s chest, his hands descending towards his toned stomach. His fingers began to wiggle, to flutter, gently tracing the hard muscles and then prodding at his sides. “So, do you have a word for ‘tickle’ in the kremnoan language?”

“H-HKS,” Mydei hissed, gritting his teeth and pressing his jaw shut while that weird sensation took over his body. This was not what he expected! What part of this was a barehanded fight?! That disgraceful outlander! “W-what- ahah- ngh, what ahare you-”

“I’m tickling you,” Phainon mused, clearly excited and glad that such an opportunity fell right into his hands. His fingers were becoming bolder, tickling Mydei’s ribs and then dragged his short nails over the wet skin, “but if it’s too much for you, I can stop.”

“B-bahaha- baseless slandeher!” Mydei felt his cheeks getting warmer while he gripped at the edges of the bath as hard as he could to keep his hands where they were - trying to stop whatever perversion this was would surely mean to admit defeat. “S-suhuch a futile t-trihihial is fitthihing for a hyena like y-yohou!”

“But you are the one to choose it, no?” Phainon giggled, making Mydei’s cheek turn a bit redder while he tickled his ribs, his touches a bit more rough as he tried to draw the stronger reactions out of him. “I don’t mind, you seem to be having fun, heh.”

“S-shuhuhut it, HKS!” Mydei threw his head back, hearing just a faint chuckle coming from Phainon before his own laughter filled the room. Titans, what was happening?!

He couldn’t understand why he felt like laughing, why his body was begging him to cover itself. The feeling was so much different than the pain he built his body to endure, but so much more overwhelming at the same time.

Mydei arched his back off the edge of the bath, trying to avoid Phainon’s fingers drilling between his ribs and, sometimes, into his armpits. His laughter was just as loud as a lion’s roar - fitting, if you asked Phainon, who seemed to be having a blast out of this whole situation.

“Oho, you’re doing really well, Mydei! I think it’s been a minute already, should I keep going?”

“D-dohohon’t undeheherestimate me, HKS!” Mydei hissed, flashing Phainon with a fanged smile, his jaw pressed shut as he challenged the deliverer with a single look. “T-thihis is nohohothing!”

“Great,” Phainon nodded, pushing his hands under Mydei’s arms and tickling both at once, finally earning the reaction he was looking for. Phainon couldn’t help but laugh along the desperate, loud cackles from Mydei, seeing how his hands nearly pierced through the marbled walls of the baths. “Let’s see how much it takes to crack this immortal body of yours ~”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail tickling #hsr #hsr tickling #mydei #mydeimos #phainon #phaidei #myphai #mydei x phainon #lee!mydei #ticklish!mydei #ler!phainon #tickle fic #if i lose anaxa because of the pulls you took from me mydeimos #you'll suffer again #mark my words

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thought--bubble · 10 months ago

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When he Breaks

Modern Aemond X (ex GF) reader

Word Count: 3,098

Note* This was written for @targaryen-dynasty's 3K celebration! (Congratulations my love you deserve it all!)

Modern Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Dividers and banners by @arcielee

Warnings:Toxic relationship dynamics, alcohol use, swearing, smut (fingering female receiving)

Four months should have been enough time. Should have been enough time to completely move on from the two-year whirlwind that was your relationship with the ever-elusive Aemond Targaryen.

Your relationship with Aemond Targaryen was difficult to put it mildly. You had tried. Really tried to make it work, but like with most things, there comes a time when things have simply run their course.

Aemond could be sweet, yet mostly, he was cold, closed off, and angry.

Aemond does not simply feel angry. He embodies anger. With each step he takes, he carries it around with him, like a festering wound he refuses to treat lest he forget the injustices he has suffered.

The smallest things could set him off, a harmless joke from his brother or his nephew simply breathing the same air.

the issue between him and his nephew, Luke, was simple enough to understand. You always thought it so tragic how an unfortunate childhood accident could tear a family apart at the seams. The accident had left Aemond blind in one eye, and as far as Aemond saw it, no one had ever paid for it. No one ever suffered for it, no one but Aemond that is.

His hate and anger ruled his life. It seeped into every facet of his being. Even being his girlfriend was not a shield from his rage.

This anger would come to a head when he ruined his father's birthday celebration, potentially the last one his sick ailing father would have. When he stood up and gave a toast insulting his nephews and calling his sister a whore, albeit using a roundabout way to say it. The ensuing physical altercation between Aemond and his other nephew, Jace, had been the final straw for you. No more would you live with this angry man. This powder keg that is just waiting to explode, this dragon grinding his jaw and salivating at any chance to tear apart those he saw as his enemies.

So, when you showed up for Helaena's birthday, a house party, Aegon is throwing. You were concerned about seeing Aemond for the first time since your split. You were over him. At least that's what you told yourself, and you believed it.

Until you walked in to see him, sitting on the sofa, cigarette in hand, smile on his face, and an arm around Floris' shoulders.

Floris Baratheon, a sweet little thing. Not a cruel bone in her body. The absolute visceral response you had to the scene was unexpected, yet you made sure to control your facial expression. You could not let him see you vulnerable or weak.

Yes, you were done with Aemond. You no longer wanted Aemond, but you did not approve of him to move on. To have someone else.

As you watch him sitting with Floris from across the crowded room of Aegon's flat, you feel your anger bubbling up. Four months, and he was already flirting about with a simpleton like Floris Baratheon? Had you meant so little to him?

You jump slightly as Helaena sneaks up next to you as you lean against the breakfast bar, drink in hand.

Helaena has always had this uncanny ability to seemingly pop up out of nowhere, with words of wisdom or nonsense. It truly was luck of the draw.

"There is no need to fight for what you don't want, just because someone else may want it." She muses thoughtfully.

"I'm not fighting for anything," you snap back. "She wants to deal with all of that. She's welcome to him."

"Hmmm," the light hum of Helaena's voice, usually a soothing sound, grates on your nerves.

"The two of you are more alike than either of you realize."

Your head instantly whips to the side, your eyes narrowed. "We are nothing alike," you hiss through gritted teeth.

Helaena simply hums in response before grabbing herself a wine cooler off the counter. "I hope you find some way to enjoy the evening."

"Hey," you call out behind her as she starts to walk away.

She turns and looks at you, with nothing but softness in her lavender eyes.

"Happy Birthday" You give her a weak smile.

"It will be entertaining, at least," she says dreamily before gliding off to welcome more of her friends who had just arrived.

With Helaena's final words lingering in your head, you knock back the drink in your hand and place the empty cup back on the counter.

Revenge is Aemond's favorite pastime. An obsession you have berated him for time and time again, yet here you stand, watching his faux gentleness that he seems intent on displaying for the fawn of a girl that sits beside him and all you can feel is the hunger inside you, willing you to take a bite out of him, sating that need for revenge of your own.

Aemond looks over at you briefly before his eye flickers back to Floris, carrying on their quiet conversation, which, from what you could gather, looked more like Floris speaking incessantly and Aemond, with his false patience, listening intently, or at least pretending to.

"What are ya drinking ya tart!" Aegon slurs as he leans over the counter, mixing himself another drink.

"Had a whiskey, looking for something else, though." You let your words trail off as your eyes search the countertop.

When you finally find the bowl of cherries, you turn to Aegon and bat your lashes. "Make me a tart cherry? You were always the best at making them. " You offer him a sweet smile as you lean over the counter. The short black dress you have on hardly concealing your rear.

"Ahh! A tart for a tart!" Aegon chuckles as he starts to make the drink, spilling liqueur all about the countertop.

You roll your eyes, careful not to let Aegon see. He's an idiot, but tonight, you will make him a useful idiot because leading Aegon is as simple as being kind for a fleeting moment.

"I may just be a tart tonight," you chuckle suggestively, taking the drink from Aegon's hand, slowly sipping at the contents. You can question a lot of things about Aegon. Pretty much everything about Aegon. But not his ability to make a strong drink.

"Let's sit. Catch up. We haven't spoken in quite some time. " You take Aegon by the hand and drag him to the sofa situated directly across from Aemond and Floris before Aegon has any chance to object.

"Right! OK then!" Aegon plops down on the sofa, his drink sloshing over the sides of his cup.

You slowly lower yourself down beside him, careful to make sure your dress rides up your thigh just enough so that the thickest part of your thigh is exposed to both Aegon and Aemond's lecherous glares.

"So Aegon," you place your hand on his thigh, gently running your hand up and down in a soothing motion. "How have you been?"

Aegon doesn't even respond before you feel the burn of Aemond's steely eye burrowing into the side of your face.

Aegon looks down at your hand on his thigh briefly before a lazy smile spreads across his face. "Good, grand actually," he answers as he scoots closer to you.

This is going to be easier than you thought. You could always count on Aegon and his never-quenched thirst for physical affection.

When Aegon lowers his voice to a seductive growl as he explains what he has been up to since the last time you spoke, you tune him out.

Your main concern was your body movements, now that you know Aemond's eye is on you. He is a complex man yet, still just a man.

You cross one leg over the other, your short dress riding up just a tad bit higher. You work hard to conceal the grin that fights to spread across your face as you can hear Aemond across from you uncomfortably shifting in his seat.

"Hmmm," you feign interest as Aegon goes on about passing all of his classes at uni this semester. Something he is most proud of given the unlikelihood of such a feat.

You pluck one of the cherries floating around your drink and slide it slowly past your lips and suck on it. You have yet to spare Aemond a single glance but are fully aware that his eye hasn't left you since you sat down.

"You ummm really like that cherry?" Aegon asks with a mixture of amusement and lust.

"I do," you answer, your voice soft and slow.

"Are you gonna ummm... eat it? Or just uhhh suck on it?" Aegon shifts even closer with this question, leaving almost no space between you.

"It's so sweet.... and a bit tart.... I want to enjoy it fully before I toss it away" You pull the cherry part way from your mouth, circling the small fruit with your tongue before biting through it with your front teeth, the juices dripping down your lip to your chin.

"Fuuuuck," Aegon whispers, his eyes trained on the trail of cherry juice as it reaches your chin.

"Whoops" You collect the juice around your mouth with your fingertip before popping it in your mouth and sucking the juice off.

You can hear Floris babbling about something and find joy in the fact that Aemond has seemed to have stopped responding to her.

Aegon brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing at the flesh there.

"Wanna go outside? Smoke a fag? Just... you and me?"

You go to respond but are cut off by Aemond, who is suddenly choking on his drink loudly.

You finally look over at him, his purple eye a ring of fire. There's all that rage, all that anger, what had driven you away seemed so pretty now.

"Are you alright?" You ask with a tone that's smooth like butter.

Aegon laughs loudly. "Seems my brother has chosen a drink that is too strong for him. This is something he does often. Here Aemond, give me your drink. " Aegon holds his hand out to Aemond. "I will drink it; I am typically able to handle the things thar are too tough for you." Aegon's eyes flit to you on his last word, and you smile at him.

"Is that so? That's a good thing to know." You stand up slowly, placing your nearly empty cup down on the coffee table. "I'm going to run to the rest room and then I'll meet you outside for that fag."

"Smashing" Aegon rises from his seat as you turn your back and walk off toward the restroom, each step calculated to make sure you sway your hips just the way you know Aemond likes it.

When you're done in the bathroom, you open the door to make your way outside, but instead of the empty hallway you expected, Aemond is leaning in the doorway. His shoulder pressed against the wood frame, his blonde bangs covering his bad eye.

"Having a laugh, are ya?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"A laugh?" You feign complete ignorance. "Sure, I've had a laugh or two. It's been a lovely evening. " You flash him a sweet smile and then move to the side, attempting to walk around him.

"A lovely evening?" He places his hand on your chest, pushing you backward into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"A lovely evening of flirting with my whore of a brother?" His voice is calm, not at all in sync with the tension of his shoulders as he towers over you.

"Well, that is an unkind thing to say. I was merely catching up with a friend." You push his arm from your chest, a movement with which he does not fight. "Who is currently waiting on me outside, so if you don't mind ..."

You again move to walk around him.

"I do, in fact, mind. Do you think this is a game? To tease me all night while using my idiot brother as a pawn?" He snarls, bringing his hands to your waist, his digits clenching around you.

"I have not teased you," you smirk at him. "If you would like me to tease you. ..." You stand on your tippy toes, bringing your lips to the shell of his ear. "I can certainly do that."

You watch with fascination as his skin prickles and his grip around your waist tightens. "Do not"

You smile knowing you have him now, that cold stoic man that is Aemond Targaryen is putty in your hands, and it hardly took any work at all.

You bring your lips to the softness of his neck, just close enough so that your warm breath skates across his skin. "Do not? Oh, Aemond, you sound so serious when you say it like that."

His breath hitches as you chuckle, your hands sliding under his shirt, your fingertips dancing across his toned stomach.

"You're playing a dangerous game, love," he hisses, his grip on your sides growing tighter, creating a pleasant ache.

"My favorite type of game." You run the tip of your nose up the side of his neck while your hands find purchase on the buttons of his expensive button-down shirt.

"Did I make you angry, my darling?" You ask, a teasing lilt to your tone as you slowly pop out button after button.

A sound comes from his chest, a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle, a sound that is completely Aemond. "And why should I be angry? Hmm?"

As you pop out the final button on his shirt, his hand slides into the base of your hair, gripping tight and pulling your head back. "A whore will do as a whore will do, there is nothing to be gained by being angry about it."

"A whore? Is that how you think of me now? A few simple months is all it took for your blood to turn to bile in my presence as well?"

You don't fight his grip. In fact, you crave it. He pushes you up against the sink vanity, lifting you up by your thigh, his other hand never leaving your hair.

"You left me, you betrayed me, like they all do," he nips along your jawline while grinding his hardness up against your heat.

"I left. I did not betray" you argue between pants. The friction of Aemond's movements against your heat, building a pressure in your lower stomach, a fire that gets slightly bigger with each rut.

"Same thing," he reaches under your dress, running his fingers over the damp cloth that is the only thing keeping his fingers from your heated flesh. "You don't want me, but you melt in my hands, like a dirty little whore."

A smile crosses your face, and you close your eyes as he slips his fingers underneath the flimsy cloth of your thong. Circling your nub with quick aggressive strokes.

"So quiet now? Where is that girl I know with the big mouth, hmm?"

You moan loudly as he slips two fingers into your slick entrance.

"Ahhh, there she is," Aemond begins rutting his fingers into you at a quick and brutal pace.

You try to lower your head back down. The need to feel his lips on yours feels like a burning ache.

"Oh no. You don't get to kiss me. No." He brings his thumb to your engorged clit while his fingers continue their relentless pace.

"Whores don't kiss me. They cum on my fingers, when I say so." He growls as he nibbles down the side of your throat, his hand not slowing its pace.

The heat that has been building in your stomach becomes all consuming, your legs involuntarily stretch further apart, and your mouth hangs open wide. "Aemond, Aemond," you pant, each stroke of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to that blissful edge.

"Begging for me again, what a beautiful sound. Cum for me little slut. Cum for me now." He nips on your ear and pushes his thumb down on your clit while continuing to rub his small, rough circles.

Your eyes remain on the bathroom ceiling as the mix of pleasure, heat, and even a little pain continue to rise rapidly with each of Aemond's movements.

"That's fuck... that's it" you dig your fingernails into the skin of his back as you are hit with an overwhelming wave of pleasure, numbness temporarily traveling from your toes and up your legs as if the only feeling your body was capable of registering at this time was this feeling.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean, his one eye watching you intently as you finish riding out your high.

Without a word, he begins to button his shirt back up.

"So that's it then?" You ask frustrated at his cool and cold demeanor.

"Well, Floris is back on the sofa waiting for me and Aegon is waiting on you for that fag which...." he looks you up and down, a smug smile creeping onto his face " I assume you really do need now...."

The feeling of pleasure that had been swirling around your body is instantly replaced with a red-hot rage. "So, you return to Floris, and I return to Aegon?" You hop down from the vanity hastily fixing your clothes and patting down your hair.

You push past him, wrenching the bathroom door open to see Aegon in the hallway.

"Oh, sod off!" Aegon huffs in annoyance. "I knew you were using me to make him jealous. I just hoped he wouldn't go all Aemond on you before I actually got something out of it." He starts to stumble back down the hallway.

"Aegon, wait!" You begin to chase after him when Aemond grips your shoulder.

"Looks like your plans have fallen through."

You quickly shift out of his grasp. "Easy enough to make new plans."

"Go outside. Have your fag and I'll be there in 10 minutes" he says calmly walking past you back toward the living room.

"What?" You call out to his retreating form.

"I have to at least let Floris know I'm leaving. It's the polite thing to do after all."

"Leaving?" You ask incredulously.

Aemond sighs, turning back to look at you. "Yes, leaving. There is a heavier punishment you must suffer for your betrayal.... and I can't very well inflict that upon you in a fucking bathroom."

He turns away from you again, walking quickly. "Ten minutes, love. Give me ten minutes"

To be added to taglist click here

#modern aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell verse #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #jess fics

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reixtsu · 11 months ago

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Love And Luck Entwined - Aventurine x fem Reader

☁︎ Synopsis: You bought an aventurine stone necklace, much to your lover’s amusement. 🀥

☁︎ Genre: fluff (with some some making out in the end)

☁︎ Warnings: slight spice in the end… *ೃ༄

☁︎ Word count: 562

You should have expected that Aventurine would have noticed your aventurine stone necklace. His face was momentarily showing a rare expression of surprise, before he started teasing you, of course.

You started to wear an aventurine stone necklace everyday. Yes, part of the reason why you got the simple yet beautiful necklace is so that your lover, Aventurine, would always be with you one way or another. However, that was not the only reason.

"Aw! Has my cute darling missed me that much?" he teased, his magenta and cyan eyes raidianting a kind of alure that only made your heart flutter. Aventurine leaned closer to examine your necklace, his warm breath fanning your exposed neck as his slim, gloved finger carasted the outline of your necklace slowly. "I haven't been gone for long, have I?"

You huffed, trying your best to hide your flushed state as you fidgeted with the sides of your necklace. "Well, I didn't get this necklace because I missed you." What a lie.

Aventurine raised his eyebrows in amusement, smirking as he gave you a skeptical look. "You know princess, it's okay to admit that you miss me once in a while."

"But it really isn't why I got this necklace!" You tried to argue back, the heat in your cheeks only getting warmer. "I got this because... um... Aventurine stones symbolize luck and opportunity. Yes, that's why. I could use some luck once and a while."

Your response only made Aventurine laugh in amusement. "Oh? Don't you have me already though? I'm all of the luck you need, princess." You jumped slightly when you felt a hand slide onto your waist. When you met Aventurine's glaze, all you saw was a sly smirk.

"Well, what if you're not around!"

"My luck will still follow you," Aventurine kissed your forehead, only finding your antics cute. "How about I start wearing a rose quartz ring just for you?"

You looked at him in confusion. "Rose quartz?"

"It symbolizes unconditional love. Something that I know you have for me, princess." His gloved hand gently caressed the outline of your jaw before he leaned forwards for a kiss.

The kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration as both of your breaths seemed to be in sync. Your hands found their way to Aventurine's shoulders, curling slightly into his hair as if afraid to let go. Encouraged by the response, Aventurine deepened teh kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left in between you both.

The kiss grew more passionate. Your heart raced, matching the intensity of the kiss, as you melted in Aventurine's embrace. Time seemed to stand still, the world around fading away, leaving only the warmth and connection of love.

After a while, the both of you broke part, both breathness and eyes slightly glossy with passion.

"Okay, maybe I did buy this necklace because I missed you a little. That's our little secret though, okay?' you whispered, nuzzling your face into the flush of his neck, giving it a small nibble.

A breathy moan escaped his lips as his grip on your waist tightened. "You can't fool me, princess. Your poker face still needs work though."

You kissed his cheek. "Whatever, gambler."

He chuckled, his laugh sparking butterflies in your stomach. "I love you so much, my rose quartz.”

Author’s note: During the time of Aventurine’s banner, I spent all of my money and stellar jades on him. Now I have him E6 with his light cone, and he is perfectly build. I love this man so much it’s an obsession.

#Reixtsu #hsr x reader #Honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #aventurine fluff #hsr imagines

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pseudowho · 2 years ago

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Kento Comes Home Drunk

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

The reader manages her drunk, horny fiancé, Nanami Kento, like an absolute champ.

Link to the sequel here: Reader Comes Home Drunk

WARNINGS: 18+, soapy handjobs (F to M), mutual masturbation, cumshots, ethics of consent, Kento being a sloppy drunk

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Hope he's having a good time, you mused to yourself, nursing a late cup of tea. The clock ticked well past midnight; you were the overnight on-call for Curse-related shenanigans, so whilst you had wanted to join Satoru, Shoko, Ino, Ijichi and Kento for drinks, you had, instead, waved Kento off, and settled in for a night with your phone on loud, and late-night game shows.

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"Hate to see you leave," you'd sighed at 6pm, bobbing upwards for a kiss. He had traded his work attire for a buttoned black shirt, and simple dark jeans. Effortlessly handsome. You buried your face in his chest, breathing his cologne, and gave him a playful shove on the chest, like trying to push a truck.

He stepped backwards, with a lopsided smile and his hand reached out to pinch your chin affectionately.

"But love to watch me go?" You winked at him. You were wearing his favourite outfit; your oldest pyjamas. He found something so sexy about you being comfy. You preened at him, cradling your first tea of the night.

"You know it." He chuckled, but became serious immediately after.

"Call me if you're called out overnight. I want to be around if anything...happens." You nodded, hand on heart.

"Good luck beating off other women with sticks. Hope you've practiced your comedy rejections."

Kento hummed sagely, "Bold of you to assume I'm a man? My doctor said I shouldn't until the smallpox has cleared up? Undskyld, jeg taler ikke Japansk?"

You laughed, gave him one final kiss, and waved him out of the door.

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Firmly lost in late-night TV and stifling a yawn, you noted the time; nearly 2am. As you smilingly hoped Kento was having fun, there was a firm tap at the door. You rose to answer it, and you paused to hear shuffles, bumps, hushed voices and fumbled keys. Rolling your eyes, you opened the door to a waft of whisky fumes dressed as your fiancé.

"Fiancé delivery service! Sorry for the late call ma'am, I tried to throw him over the gate but he was too heavy." Satoru heaved Shoko higher onto his back, and she groaned, face first in his shoulder. Ino and Ijichi swayed behind him, quietly huddled over Ino's phone and arguing over what food to order.

You smirked up at Kento, who was possibly more gorgeous while dishevelled, shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled, and stumbling into the hallway to kick his shoes off. He walked the confident walk of a drunk man back towards the door, possessively looping an arm around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. Glaring at Satoru, he gripped the doorframe.

"I didn't need you to get me home, Gojo. I'm not drunk." Kento shuffled his whole face into your neck, gripping your pyjamas hard. You thanked Satoru, and sent him off to deliver the other drunkards home. Kento slammed the door hard, and backed you up against the wall while you laughed, slapping at his chest as he mumbled incoherent greetings against the side of your face.

"Behave yourself, buddy, you're hammered. Let's get you to bed." He groaned cheerfully, taking this as an invitation. His eyes met yours, unusually playful, and with a wink started to slowly unbutton his shirt. You rolled up a nearby newspaper and swatted his hands. Mouth watering at the sight of his abs, you sternly told yourself off.

"It is unethical to have sex with drunk people when you're sober. I don't know what you think you're getting tonight, but you should adjust your expectations." Bodily manhandling him, you turned him around while he grumbled at you, urging him towards the bathroom. He sat against the counter, bum accidentally setting off the tap in the sink, while you set the shower running. He stumbled and cursed behind you, trousers now wet and clinging to his muscled thighs. You heard him stripping while you waited for the water to heat up.

He thinks he's being sneaky, you thought to yourself as Kento pressed himself into your back, erection now full and visible against his underwear, and his hands slipped boldly under your pyjamas. While one hand reached up to cup your breast, the other snuck down to graze against the top of your mound. Involuntary shivers of pleasure ran down your spine, his wet mouth on your neck smelling of hot whisky and smoke.

"I have full capacity," Kento purred against your neck, tongue trailing up to your ear now, "and I'm so delighted my girl is still home, and I'd love nothing more than to make her the final taste on my tongue tonight." He stopped, musingly, his gaze at you still drunk and fluttering.

"Unless you don't want to," he pondered, taking his hands from your body. You pouted up at him, crossed arms and faux-angry, and nodded towards the shower.

"You smell like a bar. Behave yourself." Kento chuckled at you, cracking his neck and sighing, absent-mindedly palming his erection through his underwear. His cock sprang up as he finished undressing, pink-tipped and perfect, and you couldn't resist looking him up and down. He stepped into the shower, hot water cascading down his broad shoulders. Leaning one hand against the glass, he eyed you ruefully again.

"I'll manage myself then, shall I?" Still leaning on the glass, his eyes drifted shut as his other hand trailed down his body to grip his wet cock. "Please don't feel obliged to stay." You tried to appear unaffected, and moved to turn, but paused as you heard the slow wet strokes of him pumping himself under the running water. The drink lowered his guard, and he let out a long, slow moan of relief as he pleasured himself, now totally oblivious to your presence.

You felt heat pool between your legs, your arms covered in goosebumps and your nipples pebbling under the cool pyjama fabric. You considered your options.

Still stroking himself, and gradually increasing the pace, Kento was imagining you riding him on the sofa, like you had done only days before, his hands on your eager hips as you told him how deep you could feel him. He groaned to himself, desperate to feel that intense intimacy and pleasure again, enhanced by the alcohol running through his system.

Thoughts interrupted by a tap on the shower glass, he opened his eyes to you, leaning against the bathtub, one hand moving slow circles over your clit and another rolling your nipple between your fingers. Lower lip between your teeth, you blushed as you watched Kento pleasure himself.

Kento moaned unashamedly, swiping his thumb over his tip, cock twitching furiously in his hand.

"I'll return the favour, I promise," he begged you, eyes fully focused on where your hand moved steadily beneath your pyjamas, feeling his pulse quicken as you flushed and moaned, legs weakening against the tub, "I know what you're like when you come home drunk, you're a nightmare, saying no to you is a chore."

Lip still between your teeth you smiled at him, and, now feeling especially naughty, you moved to straddle the lip of the bathtub. Kento's jaw dropped as you began to ride it, sighing his name as if he wasn't there, now slipping your pyjama top down to release your aching breasts.

"Shit...please get in here before I lose my mind," and he stopped stroking himself, hand gripping the base of his cock as pre-cum trickled out, merging with the running water. His head was still spinning with the alcohol, but his senses were sharpened by your performance, so he watched you hungrily, determined that he'd cum inside you if he had any say in the matter.

You continued to hump the side of the bath, shuddering, eyes glinting with mischief.

"How can I trust that you know what you're asking?" You replied breathlessly, "It is unethical. I'd be taking advantage. I'd hate for you to regret me in the morning."

Kento grinned at you. "But watching me is fine? It seems worse somehow. Regret you," he scoffed. Humour aside, Kento shifted uncomfortably, grunting as his cock continued to throb in his hand. "Get in here," he wheedled, "and stop fucking the bathtub in front of me, and use me instead."

You acquiesced, resolve cracking. Stripping quickly, you slipped into the shower, pressing against him and immediately gripping his pulsing shaft. He stuttered and whined, hands pressed back against the glass, panting as you squeezed him.

"Alright, you win," you breathed against him, licking the flat of your tongue across his nipple, tasting the sweat and nightclub on his skin, "but I will absolutely remember this when I'm the one who's drunk and begging."

You spun Kento around again, and reached around his hips to grasp his cock just as he would as he pleasured himself. He continued to pant, whining and begging you for relief. You rubbed his tip with the flat of your palm, teasing, before starting to stroke from the head to the base of his cock in well-practiced motions.

Kento moaned and murmured sweet praise. His hands pressed against the glass, fingers flexing and unfolding as you fondled his bum lovingly, nipping his shoulder blades and sweeping your wet hand up and down his cock, gently twisting and squeezing at the head until he was gasping. You kept a steady pace, Kento occasionally thrusting forwards into your hand, calling you his good girl, his sweetest thing, being so good to him.

Head swimming with the alcohol, Kento gladly accepted the handjob, overwhelmed by the pleasure and steam of the shower. As he was about to turn to insist on bending you over against the shower wall, your second hand crept round to his throat and squeezed just hard enough for his moan to catch in his chest. Balls tightening and abdomen twitching, Kento gasped as you whispered into his ear; "be a good boy and cum in my hand".

Kento broke, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through him, strengthened by the drink, as thick spurts of cum shot into your hand and against the shower glass. He moaned your name, hips thrusting sloppily, one hand reaching round to squeeze your waist. Your pace slowed, squeezing gently as you pumped every last drop out of him.

Kento slumped against the glass, a dopey satisfied smile on his face, and hummed happily as he felt a soapy sponge start to clean his back. By the time you had gently scraped your nails through his hair, rinsing him of the last suds, he was barely awake in the steamy bathroom.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get you to bed." Kento frowned at you, looking faintly guilty.

"But I haven't done anything for you." You stroked his cheeks, full of affection.

"Trust me, that did plenty for me. I'll be storing that in my head for a long time."

Kento blushed, but allowed you to lead him to bed and dry his hair. He was face down in bed and asleep within seconds, his body relaxed, his tense muscles loose and softened.

You hesitated before checking the time; if you hadn't been called out by now, you probably wouldn't be, you convinced yourself. Pulling on one of Kento's shirts, you sat your phone by the bed and slipped under the sheets, tucking close to his warmth with one knee lifted over the small of his back.

"Still think I took advantage of you," you mumbled to Kento, before falling asleep to his warmth and deep, soft breaths, safe and happy in the dark.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

This best boy deserves a soapy handjob

And the sequel, Reader Comes Home Drunk, link here.

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kitkat13001 · 7 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚎!

>> bowling with the mha boys! (incl. izuku, katsuki, eijirou, and denki)

i just got back from bowling w my friends (literally best time ever btw) and i had some thoughts. enjoy! — banner by me w a pic from pinterest, divider by @/anitalenia

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝚒𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊 !

he’s naturally quite a good bowler! he doesn’t know his own strength though, so it might take him a few tries to get into his groove. but once he’s going, he’s going, although he might hit the occasional gutter ball bc he literally just chucked it :/ he also has a tendency to over-analyze the game (what else is new?) and your “strategy” (you don’t have one). overall, he’s much more interested in you! he just really likes spending time with you, it doesn’t matter to him what you’re doing. he’ll be cheering you on whether you’re getting all strikes or if you’ve barely managed to hit one pin in a sea of gutter balls <3

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚐𝚘𝚞 !

i hate to hop on the train that he’s naturally good at everything (which i highly doubt) but unfortunately i do think he’d excel at bowling bc there’s not that much to it tbh. like he’s got the form down (does not give a shit about looking stupid either btw, pointed toe and all) and with his natural strength….yeahhh unless you’re pro, you’re not out-bowling him. sorry pook! he talks a big game throughout and he’ll rub your face in it, but if it genuinely upsets you he’ll grumble a soft little apology with a kiss on your cheek <33 and take you to get dessert “for beating your ass so bad.” i hate him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝚎𝚒𝚓𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 !

he’s very enthusiastic!!! but he’s…..not that great of a bowler. he has no technique he just,,,,chucks the damn ball. not even rolls it, just straight up throws it. BUT he’s just there for a good time and to hang out with you <33 it’s a very chill, low stakes game with him. he is however, very invested in the food. he will spoil you rotten with all them delicious greasy bowling alley foods. triple cheese pizza, hot wings, pretzels, soda, slushies, every unholy thing on the damn menu is currently on your lane’s table. the REAL competition with this man is not bowling — but who is going to eat the most wings by the end of the night (spoiler alert: regardless of how many you eat he will eat AT LEAST double)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚔𝚒 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒 !

he’s actually a pretty decent bowler!! although most of it is luck, tbh. he’s either getting strike after strike or endless gutter balls. he’s also the type of guy to be like “this one’s for you bae!” and the ball goes IMMEDIATELY to the gutter. after that he puts up the kiddie rails. i love him. tbh he’s mostly gonna spend the whole time in the arcade trying to win you a plush. and playing games with you bc you’re his pookie-bear <333 he cries when he gets killed in the jurassic park shooting game and you vow to avenge his honor by shooting up the t-rex (he WILL make out with you inside the little video game booth for that)

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patrophthia · 2 years ago

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attention is what i want! | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: pining, one sided crushes, angst !!, complicated feelings, theo is a dick tbh, humor (my attempt at it), reader embarrasses herself (multiple time), girls girls pansy, reader are friends with the golden trio but isn’t a gryffindor, cursing, drinking, a bit suggestive in the end hehe

wc: 4.3k (idk how it got this long, i planned to write sth with like 2k at most but it kept going)

note: i wrote this while listening to attention by new jeans for two hours straight (yay pining!) i have very mixed feelings for this fic but here it is anyways!

summary: it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

To say you had a crush on Theodore Nott would be an understatement. You never actually confessed to the Slytherin but it's as clear as days that you were into him.

And when he was as good looking as he was, could anyone really blame you?

Not really, not when most of Hogwarts found your attempt at shooting your shot with him the most amusing thing ever.

"Good morning, Nott." Your hand shot upwards the second the Slytherin enters the classroom. His eyes settling on you whilst his friends bickers behind him. "I saved you a seat."

There's snickering from behind you, hushed whispers as your classmate gossips about your pathetic attempt at getting with Theodore once more.

His eyes scans the room, finally settling on one of the two empty seats behind the class and B-lining towards it. Zabini, having lost to Malfoy at grabbing the seat next to Theodore smiles at you kindly. Maybe even apologetically as he sits next to you.

"Better luck next time?" He offers, trying to lighten your mood and you smile back, nodding. "You'll get him eventually."

And though your voice is low, barely audible and muffled; Zabini still manages to hear you huff out a: "doubt it."

"Do you think he'd pay attention to me if I dyed my hair green?" You ask, playing with your hair.

Sure, your hair would end up damaged but if it meant Theodore would spare a glance your way then you'd take it.

Harry looks at you as if you'd grown an extra head, green eyes enlarged as he tries to gauge whether you were serious or not. "Excuse me?"

"I think I could pull of forest green hair."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, you can't." She doesn't really mean it though, she does agree that you'd probably pull off forest green hair but she'd rather you do it for your own personal wants rather than to gain someone else's attention. "And you won't."

You only huff at her words. "Why not?"

"Because, it's stupid. You'd look stupid doing so." Mione doesn't bother sugarcoating it, she doesn't need to when you've known her as long as you have. "If you need his attention so badly then ask him out, just drop the question and get it over with."

"I'm trying to!" You groan, passing your plate with leftovers over to Ron who accepts it gladly. "I could walk naked in front of him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash."

Ron face scrunches at the idea, finding the prospect of a naked you disgusting. "You could put up a banner," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "I'd notice someone if they put up a banner with my name on it."

And when Hermione's whacked Ron at him encouraging what she deemed was self destructive behavior, the conversation shifts to something else completely.

You're huffing and puffing when you straighten up, showing your three closest friends what you'd been working on for the last two days. "What do you think?"

Ron gasps loudly, eyes wide as he takes in the imagine in front of him. "You're crazy."

"If you'd just—" Hermione, as if it was second nature, reaches up and smack at his arm. "—learnt how to shut up, this wouldn't have happened."

It's only natural for you to frown at their reaction, brows knitted as you asked them. "Is it too much?"

Harry, and his sweet sweet soul tries his best to not hurt your feelings as he nodded. "Maybe?" He tries to soften the blow, adding on: "I think it's brilliant, it's just ... a lot."

You look over your masterpiece. Reading out the glittering paint, letter by letter and watching it as it takes shape into one of the biggest banner you've seen at Hogwarts by far.

Written in shining green paint were the words:

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

"I mean, if anything you'll definitely get his attention with that," Harry says, blinking rapidly at the banner. "It's pretty hard to miss."

"Let's hope so."

The dining hall is louder than normal, it has always been noisy; having seated thousands of teenagers who had little to none supervision during their breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But like Theodore has noted earlier, it's noisier than normal. And the drop of voices is significant when he steps through the large doors, loud gossips turns to hushed whispers; eyes roaming between him and a figure by the Gryffindor table.

It doesn't take him long to notice why, a dust of glitter falling down on him from above. He glances up, eyes squinting as he reads out the banner before him.

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

The letters are bright, glinting under the candle light as if it was taunting him, pushing at his buttons for a reaction. And though, there was no name written on the banner to indicate who'd made it; he knew that it was you.

Dark eyes narrows as he zones in on you. You dressed up nicely, watching him with a pretty smile on your waiting face.

And when all he did was roll his eyes and turn towards the Slytherin table, without sparing you another look. You all but deflated in front of everyone's eyes.

You knew it was stupid, and that it was all your fault to make your love life so public for everyone to entertain themselves with, but you can't help but feel hurt at the laughter bubbling through out the hall.

You're scrambling out of your seat, rushing out of the hall when a voice shouts out. "Serves you right, pick me!"

Oddly enough, it's Pansy who speaks up; her voice loud and clearly irritated when she shouts back, telling them to go and: "Fuck yourself."

Why the Slytherin threw a dirty glare at her friend and ran after you despite the two of you not being friends —let alone having been seen together before, was a mystery to everyone.

And since Hermione loves you too much for her own good, she’s quick to scramble out of her seat, casting a spell to set the banner up in flames as she rushed after Pansy and you.

There’s a sort of guilt that Hermione feels when she finds you hunched over with Pansy’s hand running up and down your back. The two of you weren’t friends, neither is Hermione and Pansy but when a girl’s in need of comfort, it’s only normal for them to be there for her.

“I don’t get why you’re into him, honestly,” Pansy grits out, “out of all the boys in Slytherin you just had to choose the dickhead, didn’t you?”

Hermione can hear you sniffle out a laugh as she takes a seat on your other side. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to choose the dickhead, huh?”

Pansy and Hermione are sharing a grin as you lift your head up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not like I wanted to like him, you know?” You say with a small laugh. “I guess I’m just attracted to an asshole.”

“You’re guessing this now?” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, there’s no venom in her tone, only playful annoyance. “This isn’t the first time he’s treated you like this. I’ve heard all about your … attempts, you know?”

“Really?” You’re laughing and the hurt in your tone is clearer than ever. “How embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Hermione reassured you, “if anything I think it’s endearing.”

“Me making a fool of myself for a guy is endearing to you?”

Pansy giggles at your words. “I’ve done worse, maybe just not so publicly.” Her voice is playful when she adds on, “but this should be the final nail in the coffin right? Finally getting over that asshole after this?”

“That asshole is your best friend,” you remind her and she looks to her side bashfully.

“That doesn’t excuse him for being horrible to you,” she mumbled. “And I thought Draco was bad.”

“Malfoy is bad,” Hermione chimes in. “He just didn’t humiliate you like Nott did her.”

Pansy tilts her head to the side in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop dating Slytherin guys over all.”

Hermione only smiles fondly at her words. “Maybe.”

You’re doing fine. Or as fine as one could be after a publicly humiliating confession. You’re still very you, smiling at Theodore every chance you get even though you’ve told your friends (now extended to Pansy) multiple times that you were getting over him.

The only BIG difference that anyone noticed after your rejection was that you no longer attempted to get closer to Theodore. You don’t save him seats, you don’t tell him good morning, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t weird.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up, eyes widening at the person in front of you and nodded. “I’m saving it for someone.” You pray to Merlin that he doesn’t hear the waver in your voice as you did so. “Is there something you needed?”

He doesn’t answer you, instead placing his book bag on your desk. You try to control the butterflies caged in your stomach, fluttering at the sight of his forearm flexing as he did so. “You’re saving it for me? Like always?”

You blink at him. “… no. I’m saving it for Blaise.”

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, “you’re in first name basis now?”

You move to your right when he takes his seat to your left, trying to distance yourself from him. “What do you want?”

He looks at you and your pretense of being over him crumbles all over, tumbling as he nearly knocks you off your feet just how intense his gaze is. And though you’ve always wanted his attention, for him to look at you back like he’s doing now. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach with how much you still liked him.

“Attention is what you want, right?”

What is he playing at? “Not anymore.”

“Shame.” There’s a slight smile at your answer. “I was finally ready to give it to you.”

“He said that?” Pansy repeats your words back to you, her hand moving away from your face as she dips it back into the face mask she’d mixed up. “That’s weird.”

“That’s what I thought,” you murmur, feeling Hermione kick her feet into your lap. “I’m so confused right now.”

“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?” Hermione suggests. “Even if he is I hope he knows the only hard thing he’s getting is a rock thrown at his face.”

It’s clear that she’s taken your rejection harder than you did, grumbling at the thought of him. “A text book if he’s lucky.”

Pansy finishes up your face mask and sets the bowl down. “I told him to apologise to you, not to go and bother you," she says, frowning slightly.

“You told him to apologise?” The tone of the conversation shifts, downing just the slightest bit.

Pansy avoids your eyes as she nods, “I just wanted him to say sorry for how he treated you, you didn’t deserve that. But that fucker decided to go and do something weird, I’m sorry, lovely.”

When she’s taken up the nickname lovely for you, you don’t know. But you’re too much into your head to say anything about it. “Please don’t do that. Don’t meddle with this just because you pity me. I can handle this by myself.”

“I don’t—” Pansy pauses, realising the weight of her actions “—I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave you be.”

You’re nodding when you tell her: “thank you.”

Trying to jot down notes does nothing to soothe your nerves, and it definitely doesn’t distract you from the fact that Theodore Nott is sitting so damn close to you. So close that your thighs were touching, and that with any small move you made, your shoulder brushes against his.

Moving your chair to the right is no use, not when he’d move his just so he’d be closer to you. You’re so close you could practically hear him breathe.

It’s when your quill slips off of your desk that you have to confront him about it. You nudge at his thigh with yours, forcing them to his left only for him to look at you curiously. “Can you move?”

“Why?” He asks instead, planting his thighs where they’d been.

“My quill fell, I need to get it.” You explain, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. His attention is not good for your heart, maybe it two weeks ago, but it definitely wasn’t now.

Theodore is uninterested and unmoving when he quipped back. “And you can’t get like this?”

Not if you didn’t want to plan your face on his lap and be so terribly close to his— yeah no. You sigh, leaning forward to tap at the person’s in front of you shoulder. “Would you mind getting my quill for me please? It’s bit hard for me to reach.”

The person in front nods and leans down to get it for you with a smile. And when they hands it to you, their finger brushing against yours, you distinctly feel Theodore press himself closer to you.

“You could’ve borrowed mine,” Theodore says lowly, eyeing you from above.

He’s slightly taller than you, even when you’re both sat. Trying to prove to him (and yourself) that you were over him, and that this close proximity did not matter to you; you strain your neck up to glare at him. “You could’ve moved.”

“Maybe,” he concurs. “And you could’ve just asked for me to get it for you.”

“Like you’d do that,” you murmur with a roll of your eyes. “For me of all people.”

“For you of all people,” he repeats.

You hate how you instinctively break away from his gaze, looking at your notes as you try to calm your beating heart. Two weeks is nearly not enough to time to get over a crush you’ve been harboring for the longest time, not when you liked him so much you didn’t bother to keep it a secret to anyone and he knows it.

He knows it and he’s using it as an advantage, for what exactly you don’t know. What you do know, is that you need to get away from Theodore Nott. Or kiss him. Whichever works.

You sigh, glancing at your hands and hope that your voice doesn’t tremble when you quietly ask him. “What are you playing at Theodore?” You’re exasperated and he can hear it, he can hear the exhaustion in your voice and he tries his best not to let it get to him. “I know Pansy told you to apologize but you’re not apologizing, you’re just making things worse.”

He doesn’t say anything, though you can still feel his eyes on you. “Excuse me, Professor,” he says suddenly, his shoulder knocking yours as he stood up, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, would you mind letting me slip to the infirmary?”

His hands are on you, holding firmly onto your wrist as he speaks. “It’s best if I had a friend to help me.” The professor doesn’t get a chance to respond before Theodore is pulling you away from the class.

Your words are jumbled, flailing as you try to match up his pace; you’re confused and against your better judgement, you trust that he wouldn’t hurt you —even if he’d done so many times before.

He comes to a halt by a hallway, it’s quiet still; students having yet left their classes.

He looks at you, dark eyes clouding with emotion and tries to get you to look at him. Practically begging for you to give him your attention before speaking. “How am I making things worse? It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“It is,” you say after a minute. “It’s just— this isn’t how I wanted it.

I like you, Theodore. A lot and I’ve made it so clear so many times and you always made it clear that you didn’t like me back. I finally try to get over you and you do this? What even is this? What are you trying to get at, Theo?”

He doesn’t answer you, his hand finally releasing the grip on your wrist to rest by his side.

You scoff, noting how he falls back to his pattern of not speaking to you when you’re practically pouring your heart out to him.

“Why did never ask me out?”

Your expression is puzzled, and he knows that he needs to explain himself, for him to tell you exactly what he meant but can’t bring himself to. Not when he wants to keep his pride in check.

“I did ask you out,” you tell him slowly. “In front of everyone.”

“Exactly,” his reply is breathless as if he had been pondering over this for ages, “in front of everyone. Why didn’t you tell me you like me? Why didn’t you ask me when it’s just you and I?”

“Are you serious?” You let out a ridiculing laugh. “You never wanted to step a single foot next to me and you expected me to ask you when it’s just me and you? Are you kidding me?

Did you ever wonder why I wrote ‘attention is what I want’?”

He’s speechless. And screwed. He can sense that you’re growing agitated with him, and he hates it.

“Would it have changed anything if I had asked you out between you and I?”

His silence is loud enough for you to understand his converted answer.

“Merlin, why did you bring me out here, Theodore?”

Theodore is bad at emotions. He’s bad at feelings, he’s bad at love and everything alike. He doesn’t like you and he’s pretty sure of it. Then why does it bother him so much to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.” You meet his eyes and he knows that this is the end, you’re done with him for good. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to be the one I liked, huh?”

“And that’s it?” Ron ask curiously. “You’re finally getting over him?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, waving at Pansy who waved at you from the end of the dining hall, her Slytherin friends pointedly looking between you, Pansy, and Nott. “Finally am.”

Ron doesn’t need to know that despite your mind being set on getting over Nott, your stomach still did somersault every time you see him —even in your peripheral vision.

And when you smile at him, much like you did to everyone else and he doesn’t smile back at you; you feel your heart break all over again.

It’s your own fault though, falling for a mere stranger who you’d only ever spoken to in classes —all of which having been conversations about school.

“Do I get reward?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “A reward for doing something we’ve been telling you to do for ages? You wish.”

“I’ve been wishing for something else.” The mischievous look on your face is enough to clue her in on where your mind as gone, scrunching her face as she scowls at you. “Gross.”

“Are you okay though?” Harry asks you lowly. “I know it can be hard to get over crushes.” Take him and Chang for example. “So if you need anything we’re here for you.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Or at least I’ll be.”

Harry offers you a smile, as kind as always. “That’s good then.”

It’d only be weird for you to visit the Slytherin common room often (courtesy of Pansy) and for you to not run into Theodore at least once.

You’re standing outside the common room, waiting for Pansy to come and get you when the door swings open and he stands there in front of you. He’s in his pajamas, an oversized sweater pooling at his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

Though you’re also in your pajamas, you feel slightly underdressed under his eyes. Only having worn a loose T-shirt and shorts for girls night.

You want to ask him what he’s doing here but it is his house’s common room so you withheld your question to yourself. “Pansy.”

He gives you a once over before glancing back into the common room, it’s roaring with laughters; a bunch of the Slytherin boys deciding to play card games as they indulge themselves with the alcohol they bought with their father’s money.

“Let me walk you in,” he offers, already turning back into the common room; expecting for you to follow after him.

“You don’t need to—” you don’t get to finish your words when Theodore throws you a sharp look. As if he was asking you to protest him on this. You sigh, following after him.

Theodore stays a good distance away, hiding you and your bare legs from the other Slytherins. He doesn’t really have to though, most of them minding their own business until Blaise chirps up to say hi.

“Hello,” you greeted him back, waving at him. Crabbe, now noticing your interaction lets out a low whistle at the sight of you. And Theodore moves closer to you, almost possessively. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Mhmm,” Blaise says, humming before turning his attention back to Enzo. “Goodnight, princess.”

There’s a snicker from Goyle, smirking as he says. “You’re stealing Nott’s girl now?”

You only offer him a smile, feeling Theodore come in over closer to you as he hurries you up the stairs. There’s a thump! from behind and you knew, without seeing, that Blaise threw a pillow at the bastards face.

Theodore doesn’t try to hide his amusement when you curse a hex in Crabbe and Goyle’s way, not when Mattheo’s laughter roared across the room at your spell.

“Thank you,” you tell Theodore, and you noticed that his lips are curled; why exactly, you don’t want to know. “Goodnight, Theodore.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when he calls your name, you turn to him. “Yes?”

“Goodnight,” he says, turning on his heel to leave.

You turn back up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him once, twice; before setting off to find Pansy.

It’s two weeks later when Theodore bumps into you again, this time; quite literally. His hands are on you, stilling you so you wouldn’t fall flat on your ass.

The dance floor is crowded, but it’s to be expected when one of the most popular students at Hogwarts (read: Blaise Zabini) is throwing a birthday party.

You’re —by extension through Pansy, a friend of his which means you needed to be there or he’d be pretty (very) sad about it and pester you about it for the rest of your life.

“Woah!” Your hands lay awkwardly on his chest, trying to push him away whilst trying to balance yourself still. “Watch where you’re going.”

Theodore straightens you up, hands lingering a little too long before letting you go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

And though you promised yourself to let go off Theodore months ago, you can’t help but feel your heart twist at his words. Skin burning where he’d touch you mere seconds ago.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “just be more careful.”

“Yeah.” His tone is breathless, blinking at you slowly as if he couldn’t believe you were so close to him. “You look nice.”

You better hope so, it’s not like you spend an hour getting ready to look anything but nice. And despite your better judgment, you feel butterflies setting off in your stomach once more. But that could’ve also been caused by the mixed concoction you downed five minutes ago.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You too, Theo.”

“Mhmm,” he hums nodding, his expression is hesitant. “Thank you,” he says, turning his head to the side and under the clubbing lights, you can easily spot the tinging redness at the top of his ears. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“What?” It’s not that you didn’t hear him, it’s that you didn’t want to hear him. Because you knew, damn well, that if he’d just repeated himself you would agree within a heartbeat.

He gulps, and repeat himself. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Maybe your heart is weak, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Theodore that gets you out of there with him attached to your lips.

His hand pressing into the small of your back as you leaned against the wall, a small groan slipping from his lips when you nipped on it.

Theodore pulls back, eyes wide and roaming your face as he takes your features in; memorising the slope of your nose, the plumpness in your lips, and the apples of your cheeks as if this was the last time he’d be able to do so. And presses his lips to yours once more.

He calls out your name, a free hand reaching up to cup your jaw so you’d look at him. For you to give him the attention he so desperately wanted from you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you probably hate me and I’m so sorry but give me a chance, please.”

His tone is desperate, almost begging as he did so and you wonder if he knew the impact he still had on you. He lets go of your jaw, arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he asks of you, mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck as he repeats himself. “Please, please, pretty girl.”

“Theo.” His kisses doesn’t stop, much less falter at your words. “Theo.”

“Mhmm?” He hums against your neck, pulling back to give you his full an undivided attention. “Yes?”

He’s a bit taken aback when you kiss him quickly, chasing your lips as you pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.”

“I know.” The curled smile of his returns, dark eyes glinting as he looks at you. “But for now let me give you all my attention.”

— from bee: i guess reader got what she wished for at the end lol, feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! (๑>◡<๑)

p.s this pic of mingyu is so (my) bf i love him!!

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #🧳: my writing #Spotify

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gremlin-girly · 2 months ago

Text

An Open Invitation

Whisk & Whimsy Part 2

Dividers by: @/bernardsbendystraws | Banner by me, made in canva, images from canva and Pinterest (credit to the original creators)

Tags/warnings: Mild intimidation, threats, petnames (doll, sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Pairing: Biker! Bucky x f!Cafe Owner! Reader

Chapter summary: Sick of your defiant antics, Bucky invites you to the club.

Word count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist | Navigation

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You'd learned that the two bikers positioned outside Whisk & Whimsy were Steve and Sam.

You had learned that because you continued to go and hand them lunches and made a point to make polite conversation and learn about their preferred sandwiches, coffee and pastries.

Your continued exchanges with them meant that the townsfolk of Briarridge believed you and Bucky were even; which meant that you were getting more and more customers by the day. Much to the annoyance of the bikers out front, and most likely Bucky too.

That thought made your smile brighter as you handed Steve and Sam their take out bags. It had been almost a month since Bucky had paid your small café a visit and you'd tried wracking your brain to come up with an idea that would keep him and his little gang from destroying what you'd so painstakingly created.

"You know," Steve began a day before Bucky's supposed return, munching around the croissant you'd packed him. Flaky bits of pastry nestled into the creases of his shirt that traced his muscles and you were too polite to tell him he was making a mess. "Bucky has been thinking of inviting you to the club."

You raise your eyebrows. So. Another intimidation tactic, huh? You'd wondered how long it would take for him to snap at your peaceful act of defiance. Apparently, to your surprise, Bucky was a patient man. Despite the open invitation, and knowing it's meant to try and terrify you into submission, you can't ignore the fact it's a great opportunity to both simultaneously gain favour and infuriate Bucky further.

"Really?" You ask looking between the two bikers. Sam sips at his coffee before answering you, eyeing you with a small smirk.

"You're being so kind to us, Bucky wants to return the favour." He explains, trying to catch a drop in your friendly demeanour but when it doesn't happen, he shrugs. "He wants you to come tomorrow night."

"Can't," you say with a sweet smile and both men straighten their shoulders. "Health inspector visit."

You should be afraid; both men are over six foot at least and are well-built. It's a courtesy you haven't been hurt or had your life threatened. However, they hadn't made one move towards you the entire week and eventually relaxed around you. You can only guess that they're more shocked that you would directly disobey an order from Bucky. And you were about to press your luck even further.

"I could maybe swing by on the weekend? I don't know, I'm pretty busy this week. Bucky is supposed to stop by tomorrow anyway, we can arrange it then."

Steve and Sam both balk at your suggestion, shifting in their seats with unease. However, you needed a few extra days to prepare, mentally and physically, but you also wanted to push the limits of how much you could get away with. If Bucky was as tough and scary as he seemed, you were probably putting your life on the line by poking the bear. Or wolf.

Steve growls a wary "hrm" but tugs his phone from his jeans pocket and taps away before speaking again.

"Bucky's coming to collect payment tomorrow." Steve says slowly, blues eyes scanning your face like Sam, still waiting on that drop.

"He's not. He's coming for lunch and to arrange a time for me to visit." You keep your smile still as you reply coolly. "Speaking of lunch, I haven't eaten since six a.m.. Sorry boys, gotta go."

You give them a wave goodbye and re-enter the café, wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, taking a breath. It's only for a moment. A brief suspension in time where you allow the anxiety of your situation claw at your chest before you grin and go back to serving your customers like your livlihood isn't in danger.

The following morning, Steve and Sam aren't posted in their usual spot as you unlock the doors to Whisk & Whimsy. That's off-putting.

You'd already done the prep for the day the night before, sacrificing your down time and sleep just in case Bucky forced you to the club today, even going so far as to gather what little money you had gathered in savings and hiding it in the hole in your living room and putting both a rug and the newly acquired second-hand sofa over it.

You sigh heavily into a flat white, hoping it would wake you up as the thrum of your Kitchen-Aid creamed sugar and butter together. You refused to let your anxiety be your conquerer today; there was too much to lose. Waiting on Bucky’s arrival would be excruciating, you may as well be productive while you wait.

The bell jingles and heavy footfalls of thick-soled bike boots alert you to Bucky’s arrival. You look up from your cup, switching the mixer off, and offer up a warm smile.

"Doll," Bucky drawls, smirking back at you as he approaches. "Good morning."

It's annoying how good he looks. His long hair has been pushed back, a cigarette nestled on his left ear, and in place of the red Henley it's a tight white t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. The dark outlines of his tattoos were visible under his shirt, trailing from his shoulder all the way to his wrist. He's still wearing his rings and the clack against the counter as he folds his arms onto it, and you can see a bicep the size of your head bulge.

"Morning." You reply. "Black coffee?"

Bucky grins. "Yeah. And one of those chocolate croissants Steve keeps going on about. Thanks."

The air is thick with tension as you set up the coffee and grab a fresh pain au chocolat from the pastry display. You were expecting guns blazing, figuratively and literally, not a shark's grin and polite interaction. You don't offer to heat up the pain au chocolat and you place it on a plate in front of him followed by his coffee.

"On the house." You say curtly, even though Bucky doesn't even reach for his wallet.

"Aw, doll, that's too kind." Bucky takes a bite out of the pastry and makes a face of bliss, licking away the pastry flakes. "Shit. These are good."

You want to curse yourself for getting distracted by him but shake it off. He's just another asshole. You're golden. You just need to keep buttering him up.

"Steve said you invited me to the club," you say casually, leaning into the counter. "That was... kind of you."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you as he takes a sip of coffee, clearly wary of your intentions but shrugs. "You've been good to Steve and Sam this week and I've been getting an earful of of it. I can only return the favour."

That was a relief to hear. Your hard work of being a decent human being had paid off, even it was an excuse to try and intimidate money out of you.

"Oh, well that's-"

"But imagine my surprise when you say I'm coming by so we can discuss a day and a time." He interrupts with a smirk, his eyes boring into yours to try and make you wither and apologise. "I think you mistook my invitation as my asking you out."

You try not letting the comment get to you, forcing the blush to stay back off your face. He's just being aggravating. Pushing your buttons.

He's smarter than he looks.

"You said last week you'd stop by." You say with a small shrug, stretching your arms up and away from the counter and begin to potter with your Kitchen-Aid. "Sorry, I just thought it would be best to discuss in person rather than back-and -forthing through the boys."

Bucky's blue eyes narrow but his smirk remains. He holds your gaze for a few seconds more before chuckling. "I didn't come by for you and you know damn well I didn't."

"Didn't you?" You ask innocently, enjoying having him on the backfoot instead. "So, everyone has been invited to the club?"

Bucky looks at little taken aback but as he opens his mouth, you talk over him.

"I'm free Saturday night, though." You scrape the edges of the bowl before adding two eggs. "I checked my calendar yesterday."

Bucky huffs incredulously but his smirk widens into a grin. "You're gonna be a pain in my ass, doll. I know it."

"Dont know what you mean, Bucky." You say sweetly, turning the mixer on low. The hum of the motor fills the café again. "Give me a time and the address and I'll see you then."

For some reason you thought the club would be miles out of town, not in the middle of a street. The bikes were in a lot around the back, and the music was so loud the beat could be felt on the ground outside the bar. A red neon sign flickered above the bar; The Den.

Two terrifyingly imposing men stood at the door and you felt extremely underdressed in your spring floral dress and flats. You gripped your cupcake carrier tight in your hands as you approached and smiled brightly.

The taller of the two, easily beating Steve in height, had a thick brown and grey beard and dark brown eyes. He wore a leather waistcoat with a white shirt vest underneath, which allowed his huge, tattooed arms to be on display. The other was blond, with a strong nose and a somehow meaner looking face, arms crossed firmly across his chest.

"Hi." You say brightly. "Bucky invited me."

Both men exchange a glance and their eyes narrow and you gulp nervously. The bigger one squints for a moment before breaking into a grin.

"Ah! You must be the baking lady!" His Russian accent is thick and the sudden shift in demeanour makes his imposing nature melt away into something akin to a buff, Russian Santa Claus. "I am Alexei. This is Walker."

You nod at Walker, who still doesn't seem convinced by you. Alexei waves a hand at him. "Go get Bucky." He says before leaning down to you, taking your heavy cupcake carrier from your hand. "Pretty ladies should never carry heavy things."

You thank him shyly and follow behind Walker inside the club. It's louder inside and far more... sparse than you'd expected. There's a small bar with a redhead manning it, a short-haired blonde woman with a nose piercing tapping away at her phone on a barstool, and other than Sam and Steve only a handful of faces you don't recognise.

Some are chatting together, some are playing pool and some are playing darts. It just looks like a normal bar; dim lights, music that's clearly old school rock playing from a speaker somewhere, and a questionable amount of dark stains in the worn into the carpet. You didn't need to guess what those stains were.

"Pretty nice eh?" Alexei says proudly. "Since Bucky opened this chapter, we've had quite a few new members!"

"It's lovely." You say sweetly, and Walker casts a glance backwards at you, unimpressed.

"You two wait here, I'll go get him."

Alexei leads you to the bar and sets down your carrier on top of it as Walker vanishes through a door in the back.

"Ignore Walker," he murmurs as you take a seat. "He's got bees in his briefs."

You smile, genuinely, but try to figure out the saying when the redheaded barkeep appears.

"You mean a bee in his bonnet, dad." She gives you a cunning smile, green eyes roving over your dress. "You must be the one Bucky's got a bee in his bonnet about."

"Bee in briefs sounds better." Alexei huffs quietly. "It make more sense. I would be panicked if there was a bee in my-"

"Please shut up, dad." The short haired blonde groans from the other side of the bar. She also had a Russian accent but was younger than Natasha. Sensing your confusion, Natsha explains.

"We're his adopted daughters." She says, popping the cap of a beer on the edge of the bar with her palm and placing the bottle in front of his dad. "I moved to America a few years ago, so my accent has dwindled. Drink?"

You nod in understanding but feel a blush creep up your neck when you struggle to think of an acceptable non-alcoholic drink. "Just... um... a lemonade will do, please."

Natasha raises an eyebrow and snorts, shaking her head slightly but pours your lemonade as requested. When it's placed in front of you, you take a tentative sip, scrunching your nose as carbonated bubbles tickle your nostrils. It's watered down but bordering on room temperature, just a hint of lemon and artifical sweetness that makes you happy it's not just water. Alexei comments that they'll get you on something stronger soon enough.

"Hey now, I'm working tomorrow." You say playfully, not wanting to give the impression that you're intentionally not drinking any alcohol around them. You actually want the other members to like you, bizarrely enough. If they liked you, they may try to convince Bucky to be at least a little bit more lenient on you.

"So am I," Alexei chortles, swigging his beer.

Natasha snorts, her features softening slightly, leaning her arms on the bar. "Just don't offer to try his vodka."

"Hey!" Alexei protests with a pout and opens his arms defensively. "It's good vodka. Strong."

"Paint stripper." Yelena pipes up from the corner, not looking up from here phone.

"Secret recipe." Alexei counters before jumping to his feet when the heavy footfalls of one Bucky Barnes sound from behind the door Walker disappeared behind.

You don't rise but cradle your glass in your hand and watch as Bucky emerges. He still looks as good as the other day, which is infuriating, but now over his white t-shirt is a ragged, well-loved leather jacket with the White Wolf insignia and a few other patches stitched onto it.

Your eyes wander to the other members. Everyone, including Yelena, have stopped what they're doing to look up at Bucky.

"You came." Bucky addresses you with a grin, coming up beside you to lean on the bar. He seems slightly surprised you hadn't chickened out last minute even though you'd been tempted. You didn't know what they'd do to you but you knew you'd gain more respect by showing up.

"You invited me." You say simply. "It'd be rude not to accept such a generous invitation."

You barely manage to keep the sarcasm from your voice and give Bucky a toothy smile as Natasha places a beer in front of him without prompt. His blue eyes narrow in that way where he knows you aren't being entirely genuine but can't call you out on it and he sips at the bottle.

"Yeah." He says absently, before turning to the rest of the men, and few women, that stood behind him. "Everyone! This is the owner of the new bakery in town. The one whose been handing out freebies to Sam, Steve and myself."

Everyone remains silent and unmoving. You suddenly, and ironically, feel like a rabbit that's been thrown to the wolves. They are all waiting on Bucky.

Unease creeps up your spine. Maybe you'd bitten off more than you could chew. Bucky tells the club your name and tells them to treat you as a respected guest.

"Oh," you add, taking a sip of lemonade. "And I brought cupcakes."

"Cupcakes?" Bucky's smug expression falters. He's almost aghast. You'd done the unthinkable. The unimaginable.

You had been nice.

Bucky frowns. You're being too nice. Why are you being nice?

You smack the top of the box with unhindered delight; pleased that Bucky was at a loss for words and clearly struggling to keep his composure, wracking his brain to uncover your ploy. But you were as stubborn as he was aggravating.

"I wasn't sure how many of you were here." You say honestly, opening up the box compartments. "So, I made twenty-four in total."

"I... don't know what to say." Bucky says blankly staring into the box, revealing twenty-four beautifully decorated cupcakes of vanilla and chocolate.

"Thank you would be a start." Sam sneers and bursts into laughter. Bucky glares at him but there's no malice in it, only fondness, and his lips twitch upwards.

And you don't like how it made your stomach twist.

"Thank you, doll." Bucky nods graciously at you before waving a hand. "Alright have at them boys and gals."

You move out of the way as the bikers all move towards you and your seat at the bar, unintentionally moving towards Bucky, who'd plucked up a chocolate cupcake. His blue eyes are laser focused onto you and you see that sneer creep onto his lips as he bites down into the soft and fluffy treat.

"I'll introduce you to everyone, doll." He says, licking his lips free of chocolate. Unlike the pain au chocolat, the buttercream frosting was stickier and denser, forcing Bucky to run his tongue over his rose-pink plump lips. God, you hated him. "You already know Steve and Sam. And now you've met Walker, Nat, Alexei and 'Lena."

You nod along, eyes flickering to each member mentioned. Everyone is humming at the taste, Steve being in a total state with vanilla frosting and salted caramel sauce smeared all over him. You find yourself smiling at the sight of this rag-tag bunch of ruffians before you; one big family if you ever did see one.

You miss the look Bucky gives you, completely swept up in the excited compliments and Alexei practically begging you to bring more as he attempts to sneakily eat a second cupcake, ruined by Natasha's flicking of his ear with a soft chide.

"Told you ish good," Steve says around a mouthful of cake before nodding frantically with approval. "These are so good."

Bucky folds his arms and you can hear the leather creak behind you, humming thoughtfully, but ultimately saying nothing. Once everyone has finished eating, they go back to their places or games, which is when Bucky practically brings you around each and every member for a formal introduction.

There's Piertro; a silver haired boy racer who, according to Bucky, is a speedster.

"Likes the rush of going fast." Bucky rolled his eyes playfully.

Piertro shrugged in a cute fashion, flashing Bucky and you a grin. "What can I say? The ladies love it and I love the ladies."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively at you and goes to open his mouth before Bucky silences him by holding up a tattooed hand. "Dont even think about it, pal."

That earns Bucky a surprised giggle from you and a guffaw from the other young man next to him. He introduces himself as Joaquin and shakes your hand.

"Ignore him," He says, ignoring Piertro's gasp of mock-outrage. "We're the two youngest apart from Wanda and Yelena. It can get boring hanging about here sometimes."

"Does it?" Bucky queries with a cocked brow and Joaquin grins sheepishly at him, almost batting his eyelashes innocently.

"You know what I mean, Boss." He corrects softly. "Just, you know, gotta... go fast? To enjoy life?"

He looks hopeful but Bucky shakes his head with a smile. "You've been spending too much time with Sam."

Bucky takes you around to a few more equally scary bikers with a variety of nicknames, one of the more worrying ones being Punisher, but everyone seems to be okay that you're there. Well, okay that Bucky is okay with you being here. The only members you haven't met yet are Wanda, Piertro's twin sister who worked nights at one of the diners in town, and Lemar - Walker's best friend - who was busy with his family.

Two hours fly by. At some point, Sam hands you another lemonade, and you find yourself easily chatting and laughing with the notorious gang and you almost forget the whole reason you came. Bucky takes a back seat, strangely, watching you interact with everyone and occasionally chipping in with a smart-ass comment or a tease. You can feel his eyes on you with every movement you make, every joke you quip, every story you tell. Even when he and Steve exchange whispers, you catch him looking at you.

You had to admit, he's managed to make you feel a strange sense of unease. There's something exhilarating about the entire situation; you didn't think you'd get this far without having something burned, being injured or worse. You don't know what it is about Bucky and his mind games that gets you so riled but you're enjoying the fact that you're riling him up just as much.

You learn so much about the different people in the bar, save from Bucky, Walker and Punisher - who you now know is named Frank - who keep to themselves. It's oddly wholesome and sweet, the way these bikers, feared by the town, seem to have taken to you. All because you brought them cupcakes.

So your plan had worked. In a way.

At around midnight, you decide to call it quits, much to Joaquin and Alexei's disappointment as they were trying to convince you to play a game of darts with them.

"Sorry, boys. Up early for work." You try to sound more apologetic than tired, and stifle a yawn for effect. "If Bucky invites me back, I'll owe you a game."

Theres a brief moment of silence as everyone looks to Bucky; Joaquín and Alexei looking hopeful with puppy-dog eyes. Bucky, who's now standing and rolling a cigarette, sighs.

"It was an open invitation, doll. You're welcome here." He says, placing the butt of the cigarette between his lips. So distracting. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

You smile and thank him, a bucket of triumph washing over you. You knew it wasn't over - not by a long shot - but taking the White Wolves down from the inside, maybe even striking a deal with Bucky so you could keep your hard earned money, was a new prospect that you'd managed to earn for yourself and your business. And you were damn happy about that.

You said goodbye to everyone and, intimidation tactics aside, you really enjoyed yourself tonight. You told Bucky as much as you stepped out of the bar, shuddering at the cold breeze that travelled down the street.

"Thanks for the invite." You say, looking into the parking lot opposite your car to where the bikes all sat in neat rows.

"Which one is yours?" You ask politely, looking over the array of bikes. You don't know brands, you wouldn't be able to tell a Harley from a Yamaha, but you can see that they're all in excellent condition and well cared for.

"Guess." Bucky responds, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. You want to roll your eyes but your night had been good so far, and you didn't want to spoil it now. Not when you'd made so much progress.

Your eyes trail the bikes. Plenty of variety in colour and size and make but there's one that sticks out the most; a mid-sized bike with a beautiful cherry red fuel tank and matching fuel guard with handlebars wide enough for a set of broad shoulders. You can immediately envisage Bucky on it, slouching in the low leather seat, ringed, tattooed hand on the throttle revving the engine. You can feel your skin prickle at the image and convince yourself it's because of the cool midnight air.

"That one," you point at the red bike.

Bucky laughs. "How did you know?"

"Wild guess." You half-lie with a shrug, clicking the unlock button on your car keys.

"We should go for a ride sometime." Bucky says casually, walking lazily behind you. He leans on the roof while you open the door, setting your sidebag behind your seat before getting in. Curls of smoke rise from the cigarette between his fingers, and you just know you'll be smelling tobacco all the way home.

"Hrm... maybe." You say, pretending to mull it over as you put your keys in the ignition. You pull your door shut and open the window, Bucky’s face immediately appearing beside yours.

"I think you'd look cute on the back of my ride," he says lowly, his eyes not leaving yours, daring you to look away first. "Arms wrapped around me tight, wind in your hair..."

"Neck snapping at one hundred miles and hour when I fall off." You shiver, hands gripping the steering wheel. "No thanks."

"Aw, come on doll," he persists giving you that charming sneer/smile that you couldn't tell if he was intentionally pushing your buttons or being a flirt. "It'd be fun. Tell you what, you do that, I'll let your payment for this month and next slide."

That piques your interest.

You look at him then to the road, grinding your teeth and hope Bucky mistakes it for a smile. Of course he'd say that. How could you refuse? Bastard.

"Oh... alright." You say, pretending to have some inner turmoil as your car engine stutters to life. "Just let me know when in case I need to close the café."

Bucky waves you off as you pull away from the pavement, and you watch him grow smaller in your rear view mirror. You heave a sigh and curse. You didn't want to be on his bike, or any bike for that matter. Your heart raced as did your brain imagining holding onto him as he sped along one of the long stretches of road and you bang your head against your steering wheel when you get to a red light.

You needed to figure out a way to get out of getting on Bucky’s bike. And soon.

It's 3am when you park your car two miles up the road from the bar a week later. You're ride with Bucky and the gang is supposed to be the next day, and in a last ditch attempt to give yourself an extra day to compose yourself, you'd hatched a plan. Arguably stupid but a plan nonetheless.

The night air has a slight chill but the moon is bright, illuminating the road to the parking lot where the White Wolves' bikes are kept.

You feel like a criminal. Hell, you would be a criminal after going through with this. However, points need to be made and if you're lucky it couldn't be officially linked back to you.

Dressed in all black, wishing you felt more like James Bond rather than a fool, you begin your trek to The Den, tugging a balaclava over your head when you get close to the lights of the parking lot.

All of the lights inside the building are out, on schedule. You couldn't believe you'd staked them out the last few nights. You were turning into a crazy person.

You are a crazy person.

When Bucky had shown you around, you'd made note of where all the cameras that had been placed, and realised they were dummies. Which of course they were; bar fights, ominous stains and other illegal activites that you'd heard were prevalent with biker gangs meant that they wouldnt want to incriminate themselves. You were glad you didn't have to worry about cutting any electricity but still, if you got caught and there were no cameras.... You shake your head and steel yourself; you had a job to do. A life to live. A ride to avoid.

You eye up Bucky's bike as you approach. Beautiful red petrol tank, thick tyres, low leather seat.

You smile against the wool of your balaclava; you'd buy yourself at least a few more days without having to see him. You plunge a thin nail through the first tyre, removing it slowly with your pliers. You listen closely as the tyre sighs in defeat and pathetically withers under the nail. You're triumphant. Now, you just have to get back to the car.

You - Two.

White wolves - Nil.

Chapter 2 - End

A/N: Happy Friday! And so it begins! I actually cut this chapter in half because I didn't want it getting too long. Plus I wanted to work a little on the ending

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