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unabashegirl · 2 months ago

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Different 9 — college hs

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: hello my lovely people! Here is a new chapter of different. I hope you enjoy!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

----> different masterlist <----

“What are you doing here?” She looked impeccable, straight out of the shower. She smelled deliciously good, and her hair looked so soft that he just wanted to reach over and run his fingers through it. She wore a turtleneck sweater and some striped pants.

“I wanted to take you out on a date” Y/N shrugged like it was no big deal. Even though she had done multiple things to get a hold of his schedule and location. Y/N might have even gone to the extent of bribing someone in the dean's office. She was simply happy that she could flirt her way out of things, but Harry didn’t need to know.

“Where are we going” He laughed softly, taking his backpack off and placing it on the backseat of the car.

“Up north” She stated, “But first some coffee” Y/N pulled into a Starbucks in hopes of convincing him that Starbucks was worth his time and money.

“Absolutely not. It’s shit” Y/N loved how easily he noticed what she was trying to do. “it’s overpriced”. Harry shook his head noticing how she stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on not hitting the curb in the drive-through. He found it extremely adorable.

“Just try something.” She insisted, reaching back for her wallet. “If you don’t like it. I won’t insist again” Harry raised an eyebrow at her and pursed his lips as he considered it. “For me” was the last thing she needed to add to get him to order something off the menu.

“Don’t you have class today?” Harry asked her as they waited for their drinks.

“Maybe. maybe not” In truth she did have a presentation but had spoken with her professor and had submitted everything beforehand. “That’s not something you need to worry about” she added as she lowered down her window to receive the drinks.

If there was something that Harry was thankful for, it was Y/N’s music taste. The whole ride, they listened to ABBA, Tracy Chapman, Mazzy Star, and Fleetwood Mac. It was quite comforting for him to know that he never had to pretend to like what most American college students do and that he could pay whatever he liked, and she would like it too.

“How had your day been? She asked interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled in the car.

“Like any other” he shrugged, reaching out for her hand to take. “Yours?” Harry asked as he pulled into a red light. She leaned over, gripped his chin with her tiny hands, and pulled him into a soft kiss. They are abruptly interrupted by the honking of the cars behind her.

“Fun” She laughed and pushed on the gas. “Would you like to drive?” She offered, “You have a license right?” Y/N looked over her rearview mirror as she turned the light to change lanes.

“Of course, but are you sure?” He had never driven anyone’s car aside from his father’s, and it wasn’t as nice as Y/N’s.

“Yeah,” she smiled at him quickly as she pulled to the side of the road. It was the perfect time to do it before getting on the highway. She quickly got out of the car after parking it “You just follow the GPS” she said watching him, rearranging the distance from the steering wheel and pedals. “This is so much nicer” She slipped off her sneakers and got comfortable.

“Do you not like to drive?” He asked as he got familiar with everything in the car before getting back on the road.

“Not really. I like to be the passenger.” Y/N honestly just drove for convenience and because she had to, but she would not drive. Also, her father had bought her a car and she could leave it in the garage just because. “Plus, I get to pay more attention to you and kiss you when I please.” Harry laughed as he started feeling more comfortable driving her car as time went by. “There is a party this weekend” she commented as she looked through the messages. “Would you like to come with me?” She asked between songs.

Y/N could tell how tense he instantly got. Harry hated social rendezvous. He hated how they made him feel and how people always stared at him like he was out of place.

“We could always stay in and watch some movies and stuff.”

“No. I’ll go with you.” He sharply said, “I know you want to go and see your friends.” Harry knew that before him, Y/N attended parties and spent lots of time with her closest friends. He couldn’t except for her to dump her friends just because of him. “Where are we going?” He laughed, seeing that they still had 30 minutes to go.

“I am not telling you” Y/N decided to drop the subject even though she could see how uncomfortable he was. She would just ask him again on the day of the party.

“I feel like you’ve kidnapped me.”

“If I wanted to. I would have already done so.” Harry laughed, “I just hope you like it.” She was nervous. It had been a long time since she had gone out of her way to plan a date for someone. Hell! It had been a long time since she had cared for someone so deeply.

The couple allowed silence to settle in as they admired the colorful sky and how the sunset on the horizon. Harry noticed how there were only ten minutes left until they arrived at their destination. He sat up straighter, eager to arrive and reveal the surprise.

“I am nervous” She revealed, which only made Harry smile. “What if you hate it? And don’t like it?” Harry watched her fiddle her fingers from the corner of his eye. He reached out and held her hands understanding how overwhelming it could make someone feel.

“I’m going to love it because you planned for it and because it means you want to spend time with me” He explained, just as he pulled into a large field with lots of other cars. It took him a few minutes, to realize that it was a drive-in movie since the screen hadn’t been blown up yet. “I swear I’ve only seen this in American movies” he laughed, overly excited.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked as they waited to be greeted and guided to their spot.

“I love it. very creative” He leaned over and pecked her lips. “Thank you”.

Harry parked the car in a small spot between two others that had arrived before them. Y/N was the first out of the car to open the trunk.

‘I’ve packed a few snacks and drinks and some blankets” He watched her say from the rearview mirror as he turned off the engine. “I mean this isn’t a trunk, but I think everything might work” she added, unloading the car.

“Let me help you” Y/N unpacked a few bedsheets and covered the trunk with them, followed by a comforter to make sitting less uncomfortable. Then she processed to carefully place pillows for their heads and backs. “Look at the screen!” It was finally dark enough for the screen to be blown up and for the projector to be turned on.

“It’s massive” He pointed out as he watched her struggle to get on the trunk. “Need a hand?” He chuckled.

“No” She sharply said, rolling her eyes at him, trying to hide her smile from him. Y/N threw her leg over and rolled the rest of her body into the trunk. Her father had insisted on high tires for the winter, and she had agreed instead of being realistic about the daily struggles that her height brought her.

Harry on the other hand, barely had to lift himself off the floor.

“Are you comfortable? Would you like another pillow?” She asked him, stretching a blanket over their bodies.

“Very”

“Alright, so this is the menu for tonight” She had prepared tacos for the occasion, aside from making popcorn and bringing chips with salsa and sweets.

“How did you manage to plan all of this?” Harry asked in awe after she had unwrapped all the food and drinks.

“I’ve got my ways” She shrugged, “I am just glad that everything went according to plan”.

“You are something is Y/N,” he said to her as he watched her prepare him a plate. They finished eating before the movie started. “What movie is it?” He asked as he pulled her in between his legs.

“I assume you’ve watched it before. If not, then you should get your nationality revoked” she said just as Harry Potter’s notorious soundtrack started playing.

“Great choice, darlin” He whispered, kissing her cheek, and pulling the blanket tighter around them. Y/N beamed with happiness and tried her best to concentrate on the big screen before her.

Chapter 10

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stepintothelimelight · 4 months ago

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▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅

American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

tagged: yourusername, mercedesamgf1

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yourusername just shared a story!

this story is no longer available

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to.

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit.

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour.

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race.

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say.

Lewis sent me this.

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile.

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated.

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it.

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible.

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is.

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home?

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too.

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth.

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again.

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips.

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

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chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

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The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her.

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again.

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪

tagged: yourusername

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user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race?

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

tagged: mercedesamgf1

liked by max33verstappen, charles_leclerc and 738291 others

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max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person!

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch.

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

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True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily.

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug.

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe.

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race.

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes.

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating.

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table.

“Why?”

You huff.

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window.

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little.

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters.

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

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kaciidubs · 11 months ago

Note

i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)

Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻

kaci my favourite writer 🥰

(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)

This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~ ❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣ ❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~

While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.

"Mm, jesus, fuck-"

"Mingi, be quiet."

You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.

You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.

Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."

Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.

A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.

"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."

You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.

Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."

His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.

Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.

The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.

Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.

With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.

Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.

The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.

Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"

"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.

"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.

Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Wait- You knew?!"

"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."

Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.

"Are you happy?"

You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."

Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."

Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #i don't quite know how to tag this since it's not fully skz #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez smut #song mingi fluff #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member

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cal-flakes · 1 year ago

Note

dealer!rafe catches reader touching herself

╰┈➤ rafe catches reader touching herself

warnings: dom/sub implications, intimidation, masturbation (f).

summary: rafe comes home from a stressful day to find y/n breaking his rules.

rafe exhaled deeply as leant against the now/closed front door, grateful to be gone finally. it was a long day with back to back meetings and shipment schedules. sighing, he quickly removed the pistol from his waistband, fortunately unused for the day, and placed it in it’s regular place, inside the locked draw in the hallway dressing table.

removing his suit jacket, he flexed his forearms as he stretched his arms out to run a hand over his buzzed head. his eyes flitted around the house in confusion, slightly unnerved by the unusual silence. rafe was used to coming home to his sweet girl either dancing around their shared home, or causing some sort of fuss about rearranging furniture. “baby?” he called, yet still met with nothing.

starting towards the kitchen, his head quickly turned as a quiet whimper drew his attention, swiftly turning to tread up the stairs.

“y/n, princess?” he called again, still nothing.

his brows furrowed as he noticed the bedroom door was closed, causing him to slow his footsteps, instead creeping towards the doorway. his eyes narrowed as muffled moans could be heard through the door, he leaned closer, pressing his ear up to the wood. “fuck..” she cried, desperation apparent in her voice.

his jaw ticked as he hurriedly reached for the handle, swinging the door open in a flash. her eyes widened in fear as his frame appeared in the doorway, his muscles bulging as he folded his arm over his chest. “shit! rafe..i- i didn’t think you’d be home so soon?” she muttered, a sweet smile plastered on her face as she snapped her legs shut.

“didn’t you?” he queried. unconvinced, he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around her ankles as he lingered at the end of the bed. “what were you doing baby?” he asked, intimidating her as the underlying sinister tone rang through her. “i- um, i was just-” she stumbled over her words as she looked around the room frantically.

cutting her off, he swiftly pulled down the bed by her ankles, earning a quiet shriek. “you were just breaking my rules while i wasn’t home huh? didn’t think you’d get caught?” he teased, placing the words in her mouth.

her mouth fell agape as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. rafe tutted as his ring-clad fingers trailed up her legs, lingering dangerously close to her throbbing core. “rafe i’m- i’m sorry..” y/n breathed, quick to give over once she’d weighed her options, coming to the conclusion that it was no use to try and lie her way out of this one.

“show me” he demanded, his teeth grinding as a low growl pushed it’s way out of his throat. “show you?” she whimpered as she blinked up at him through her lashes.

“open these legs, and show me what you were doing” he ordered, pushing her knees apart.

nodding quickly, she trailed a shy hand down to her wet folds and began rubbing gentle circles on her clit, causing her hips to buck. he stepped back, allowing himself to see the whole scene in front of him, staring her down as she threw her head back, moaning his name softly.

he fought the urge to take control,as his suit trousers emphasised the strain in his boxers. “look at me” he snapped, quickly gaining her full attention, in turn causing her to pull away from her heat. “i didn’t say stop, i said look at me” he snarled, his head tilting tauntingly.

“you broke the rules baby, you know what happens when you break the rules..” he spoke, a sly smile inching across his lips as she bowed her head, pulling her bottom lips between her teeth.

he closed the space between them, perching on the end of the bed next to her as she watched his movements with wide eyes. “over my knee pretty girl, c’mon..” he sighed, his tone indicating this wasn’t the first time he’d done those. “no, rafe…i’m really sorry, i was just so lonely, and i thought you were going to be gone for ages..” she plead, pouting as she shuffled to kneel beside him.

“i know sweetheart, i know..” he cooed, cupping her face with his large hands, drawing her into a false sense of security as she leant into his touch. however, his eyes suddenly darkened as he pulled away a hand, landing a soft smack onto her already flushed cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut at the impact. “but you broke the rules princess, and i can’t have that..” he grinned, mocking her for a moment.

y/n’s chin fell once again, fixing her eyes onto her hands in shame. this only frustrates him more as he swiftly tangled his hand in her hair, tugging her head back up. she gasped at the pain while an embarrassing pool began to form on to blankets beneath her. in attempt to cover it up, she shuffled around, yet only drew his attention to the wet patch quicker.

“oh, you’re enjoying this? well let’s see what you think when i’m done with you..” he spat, using his grip on her hair to pull her over his knee. “remember to count them, m’kay pretty girl?” he cooed once more, rubbing soft circles into the exposed skin of her behind.

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mrworldwideshoulders · 1 year ago

Text

all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There��s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?”

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #reader x myg #mrworldwideshoulders #i hate tags lol

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humansofnewyork · 2 years ago

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“I used to be the one that people came to for everything. Recently my sister Ayla turned sixteen, and I helped her get a job at the sneaker store I used to work at. So there’s still some stuff I can do. But not a lot. I was at the bodega earlier today, trying to reach for shit. A complete stranger had to help me. I know it’s a great thing to help someone who’s disabled, or elderly. I used to do it all the time. But I’d always feel bad for that person. And that’s what I don’t want. I don’t want people feeling bad for me. Maybe it’s a man thing, or a pride thing. But I just rearranged my whole apartment by myself, in a fucking wheelchair. Not to bother people. Not to have anyone feel bad for me. Sometimes I’ll break down, but I do it by myself. Mainly at night. And even then, I’ll give myself probably five, ten minutes to feel bad, but that’s it. I’ll start to think about my family. Like, I care about myself. But I care about my family so much more. And I know they wouldn’t want me in this place, so that’s what really pulls me through. I’ll try to think of happy memories. I used to think of shit that happened before the wheelchair, but then it’d be like: ‘Damn. I might not be able to do that again.’ So you know what I do now? I think about happy stuff that’s happened since I’ve been in the wheel chair. Recently my sister had her sweet sixteen party; I was actually scheduled to start radiation, but I made the doctor reschedule. Because I didn’t want to miss the party. I didn’t want everyone being like: ‘Where’s Craig? Where’s Craig?’ I didn’t want Ayla explaining my situation, thinking about my situation. So I made sure to go to that party. All my boys came through; they all knew my sister since she was young. The whole vibe was good. Nothing felt forced. I didn’t get treated no different. On the last song of the night, they dragged me out on the dance floor. And I popped up a wheelie. The DJ was yelling: ‘Don’t drop him! Don’t drop him!’ I was a bottle of Hennessy in, so I almost busted my ass. My friends were laughing at me, talking shit. Just like they always do. And that’s exactly what I wanted. Like, I’m in this situation. But I’m still me. I’m still Craig.”

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i-magines · 2 years ago

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Wildest Dreams: Chapter 2

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, drinking and mention of drugs, eventual smut but no actual smut so far, a bit slow burn but not really.

word count: 1,803

You woke up next morning feeling tired and still a little bit overwhelmed. Pedro really was a gentleman and minded his own business, so did you. You’re not sure at what time he had woken up, but you could hear the shower running. You quickly changed into working clothes and went to have breakfast, trying to avoid any weird interactions with him. Again.

The hotel was very busy and the whole crew was meeting in the conference room. You got together with the directing team and briefly discussed your tasks for the day. You couldn’t help but watch Pedro closely as he joined the room, saying a happy good morning to everyone. He shaked hands with a few people and grabbed a cup of coffee. The producer asked everybody to be silent.

“Morning, everyone”, she started. “As I’m sure you’re all aware of already, we had a problem with the accommodation situation. Last night I tried to make some calls, but I do have to formally apologize to everybody, because I won’t be able to solve this.”

Everybody in the room just stared at her.

“There’s a conference happening in the city and the hotel fucked us over with overbooking and they got here first”, she explained, clearly a little mad. “If you have your schedule, you can check we’re only staying here for a couple more nights, so I would appreciate it if we could just make a team effort for now.”

She got a piece of paper and a pen. “If anybody wants to be rearranged with a different roommate, let me know.”

Pedro crossed eyes with you and offered a smile. You looked away, feeling shy. There was something about him that just made you feel like a scared little girl that needed to protect herself. You didn’t really see him much during the rest of the day. The schedule showed he was supposed to spend the whole day rehearsing and you were busy with other directing matters. You were very worried about doing a good job and it was starting to get to you. The director wasn’t a bad person, but you could see he didn’t have any time to lose. So you had to hold back your tears when he was a bit harsh after you got confused with the order of the scenes shooting. Once they let you know you were off duty, you walked straight to your room, feeling like shit.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you let out a deep breath. “Fuck me, man.”

“Won’t you pay me dinner first?” you heard a husky voice. It was Pedro, laying on the bed and browsing through his phone.

“Ha-ha”, you fake laughed. You stared at each other for a moment, before both of you let out a big, honest laugh. “As if, old man.”

He sat down, looking at you.

“What a first day, uh?”

“Don’t get me started” you replied as you threw your body on the chair. “Did you ask for a new room?”

“Trying’ to get rid of me, sweetheart?” He was being playful. You shaked your shoulders. “No, I didn’t. I’ll just go with it, if it’s okay with you.”

“Sure, you’re the star. Whatever goes by you, goes by me”, you gave him a soft smile.

He seemed like such a down to Earth and nice guy, at the same time, he also knew all damn well how charming he was.

“Not trying to be a creep old man—”

“Oh God, what a way to start a sentence”, you both laughed.

“I’m going out to grab some drinks with some friends,” he said. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join us. Professionally speaking”.

You stopped to think. That is literally the main reason you accepted this job, to improve your networking in the industry. It’s all about that and the sooner you get your name going out there, the better gigs you would land in the future.

“You do know I’m literally nobody, right?” You stated, making him frown.

“I do know there are a lot of famous douche people out there, thinking they are crème de la crème”, he said. “Well, that’s not me. I have no fucking clue who you are, sweetheart, and I trully don’t give a shit about it. You seem like a cool, good girl. And if we are really doing this, you’ll have to drop it”.

“I’m sorry— I just had a tough start today”, you said, full of sincerity. “I always feel like I’m walking on a wire in this industry, it makes me anxious.”

“I totally get it”, he stared deep into your eyes. “I won’t lie, it’s tough. But I’m being 100% honest here, there’s people that are actually just really nice folks to have around and you seem like one of those”.

They sure knew how to have a good time in Berlin. You sneaked out of the hotel with Pedro and got a cab to what seemed like a pub on the ground floor and a nightclub underground. You joined a couple of friends of him, got some drinks and just talked for a couple of hours. His friends were super sweet with you and it was just great to hang out with people who already went through starting a career and all of that. They were all older than you and sometimes you would feel a bit out of place, but Pedro was making sure to keep you in the conversation at all times.

“I’m having a really great time”, you told Pedro once his friend went dancing. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you came”, he replied close to your ear, as he was resting one of his arms on your shoulders. “You good?”

“Pretty good, sir”, you gave him a smile. You were feeling a little tipsy from the alcohol, and you could see he was too. “Do you want to dance?”

“Sure, I’m going to get us some more drinks and I’ll meet you there”, he squeezed your arm briefly before moving away.

You went downstairs by yourself and the loud electronic music was everything you were able to hear. You tried to look for Pedro’s friends, but they weren’t anywhere to be found. As you were waiting for Pedro, a blond guy approached you, trying to get you to dance with him. He was about your own age, not bad looking at all, but you weren’t in the mood. At least not with him, you thought to yourself. He pulled his body closer to yours, holding your waist.

“Thanks. I’m waiting for my friend”, you let him know, trying to get away from his grip.

“C’mon baby”, he was way too close for your taste.

“I don’t want you to touch me” you pushed him away.

Before anyone could say or do anything else, Pedro appeared out of nowhere. He handed you your drink and took a sip of his own glass.

“Would you mind if I tell you to fuck off boy?” You have never seen that look of anger in Pedro’s eyes before.

“I didn’t know your daddy was here princess”, the blond guy looked at both of you. “It’s just a matter of taste, I guess.”

You opened your mouth to probably call him all names, but Pedro held your hand and pulled you to the middle of the dance floor. He held your body close to his.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone”, he whispers close to your ear. “What an asshole.”

“I really appreciate you standing up for me”, you whispered back, your lips touching his ear, causing him to get chills. You suddenly felt thirsty and drank your entire drink in one huge sip. “I couldn’t find your friends.”

“They left, I got their text when I was at the bar”, he looks deeply into your eyes. “Do you wanna head out too?”

“Sure.”

He held your hand as he guided you out of there. The air was a bit chilly, but the street was busy and full of people. He let go of you to light a cigar.

“Do you smoke?” He asked you.

“Smoke what?”

“Got it. Oh, you bad girl”, he laughs playfully. “You should’ve said something, I have some good stuff back in the hotel.”

You didn’t have time to reply as a group of girls recognized and approached him. You stood there for what felt like forever, while he was being the sweetest human being with his fans. Every couple of minutes, he would look at you, making sure you’re still waiting for him. You heard them inviting him to an after party, to what he politely said no.

“Would you mind getting us an Uber, sweetheart?” Pedro had to speak a little louder for you to hear him and you felt like everyone around him just stared at you. You just nodded. “Oh, guys, this is my colleague, Y/N. We’re working on a new project together.”

Colleague. You didn’t know why, but it felt weird for you to hear him referring to you like this. Is this strictly professional? For a second, back inside the club, you thought— well, never mind. You got an Uber and he said his goodbyes to his group of fans. You both sat in complete silence on the backseat of the car.

“What was fun, right?” He gave you a warm smile, placing his arm on your shoulder. “I can’t lie, I kinda love the recognition of the fans.”

You moved your head, affirmatively.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He sounded worried.

“Yes, just tired”, you said half-true.

Why the fuck were you upset he called you his college? That’s literally what you are. Sure you had flirted with him sometimes, but he did say this was a professional invite. You didn’t want to be that person who can’t just be treated with kindness without expecting anything else. Pedro was charming, good-looking and apparently an amazing friend and human being. Who also happens to be almost double your age and hot as hell. You could only blame the alcohol in your body for making you think such things.

You got back to the hotel room, the dizziness at its full peak for both of you.

“I don’t think I’m capable of taking a shower in these conditions”, you said as you jumped in bed. Pedro laughed behind you, doing the same.

“You could use one, though”, he teased you. You gave his arm a light slap. “I’m keeping you real, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you, Pedro.”

“I’m too drunk to fuck anything to be honest”, you both laughed and the room went quiet for a couple of minutes.

“Guess it’s better this way”, you whispered, aware that he could hear it as well.

CHAPTER 3 AVALIABLE NOW

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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im so in love with ddlg azriel, i was wondering if i could please request one where reader is fed up with work (me fr) and it stresses her out. she just wants to stay at home and bake and do cute stuff and live life (me fr) and she tells azriel this, she tells him she doesn’t even care ab money she wants a break from her horrible boss. he says he’ll take care of her, he already does, her own money is her own, even though azriel provides literally everything in her life. So they decide she’ll quit and do what pleases her instead. Maybe volunteer at the library in the house of wind with the priestesses. She looks so much more happy and azriels heart swells with love. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ pls

Done With Work

Azriel x reader

A/n: me too anon 😫 like what do you mean I have to work for the rest of my life?! I’m sick of it now 😭

I see this as the story for first few points in this headcanon

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink, not proof read sorry lol

Your whole body felt heavy as you dragged yourself up the stairs to Azriel’s office. Without knocking you push the door open, giving your mate a tired look. “Y/n, what’s wrong my love?” You drop your bag and wordlessly walk over to him, plopping yourself on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

Breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar calmed you. Azriel brought his hand to rub up and down your spine. “I’m so sick of working Az.” You mumble. He adjusts you so your head rests on his chest and he can hear you clearly.

“Did something happen today?” You shrug lazily. “It’s just so draining. And I’ve worked all my life, I just want to do something for myself. I feel like I have no free time. And I’m just done.” Azriel hugged you tighter. “I want to quit Az. I need a break from terrible people. I have money so you don’t-“

Azriel cups your face cutting you off. He moves you so you’re looking up at him. “You are going to quit because I hate seeing you like this. You’re my mate and I want to keep you happy and comfortable. And don’t you dare bring up money. What you have is yours, let me take care of everything.”

Tears escaped your eyes as you smiled up at Azriel. “Thank you, my love.”

The next day you went in to work to quit. Your bosses look of shock brought you so much joy. You practically skipped out of the building and all the way home to Azriel. He swears he’d never seen you this happy about something so small.

From that day on Azriel told you to do whatever your heart desired. So you took your time getting into your new routine. First thing was to catch up on your sleep. Your sleep schedule was atrocious so you spent the first two weeks sleeping in.

Then you finally got around to decorating and rearranging the house the way you wanted. Azriel’s heart soared when he came home after a quick mission. The house felt warmer with you in the center of it.

You took your time exploring Velaris. Visiting a new part of the city everyday. Of course you spent most of your time in the Rainbow and had taken a liking to staying at Feyre’s studio some days.

You spent more time with Feyre and Elain. You helped Gwyn in the library and even started going to training in the morning. And when Nesta had time you two would read together. You started going out with Mor and Feyre a few nights a week too. Azriel felt like he was watching you, his beautiful and wonderful mate, come back to life again.

What you loved most about your new life style was the care and attention you got from Azriel. Not that you didn’t get it before. But now you have time to really enjoy it.

Everything he did for you put you back together. From spa days to simple lazy mornings in bed he made sure that you were happy and cared for. After the conversation about your relationship you were both insanely happy.

Azriel loved taking care of you, and with this new dynamic and nicknames it all just felt right. He felt like you could truly be open with him.

Your happiness really hit him on a day where you slept in and he made breakfast. Az wanted to bring you breakfast in bed but you got up before it was ready. His shadows altered him to your presence. Turning, he saw you rub your eyes with a smile. You looked so cute in just his t-shirt and panties.

“Good morning princess.” “Morning daddy.” You pad over to him, standing on your tiptoes you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Breakfast smells delicious. Did you make coffee?” “I did.” You let out a small happy sound and filled up two mugs bringing them over to the kitchen table.

You sit waiting for Az to bring your plates over. When Azriel finally sits you’re adding an obscene amount of sugar to your coffee. Azriel takes the spoon from your hand, “That’s enough princess or your teeth will rot.” You let out a huff and pick the syrup up to drown your pancakes in them.

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” You let out a small giggle at Azriel’s fake stern face. Quicker than you can comprehend Azriel tickles your sides and you let out a scream of laughter. “Daddy stop, I can’t, aahhh!” Azriel pulls you onto his lap leaving small kisses all over your face as you continue to giggle.

Once you calmed down you snuggled into Azriel, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “I love you so much daddy.” Az hugged you back equally as tight, “I love you too so much princess.” You lean back smiling up at him. You peck his nose quickly and cup his face in your hands. “Thank you. For everything. I’m just, I’m so happy.”

Azriel felt tears from behind his eyes. He could feel your happiness radiating down the bond. That made him feel like the luckiest male in the world. The two of you loved each other and he has the best mate. “You never have to thank me princess. I told you, it’s my job.”

He turns you to face the table and lets you get comfortable as he pulls your plate over. “What do you want first.” “Hhmm…bacon!” Azriel took a strip of bacon from your plate holding it up to your mouth. Taking a bite you let out a satisfied hum. He kissed the back of your head as he began to cut up your pancakes.

If there was a moment you could live in with Azriel forever, it would be this one. You both had nothing to do today. He was feeding you. And he was holding you close, making you feel more loved than you had in your entire life.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year ago

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Something There (Chapter 1)

Ahh I'm excited to start this story! I hope you enjoy!

8.0k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, brief references to breasts, enemies-to-lovers totally not taken right out of Pride and Prejudice, mentions of alcohol, me not knowing a thing about the Women's Super League and not letting it ruin my fun, Roy not being super excited about women's sports (but it's only because he's grumpy), Reader has a nickname

Series Masterlist

“What the fuck is a whippet?”

Rebecca stared at Roy as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s a dog very similar to a greyhound, but smaller,” she explained simply. “And it’s the official mascot of W.F.C. Richmond.”

Roy, Beard, and Nate sat across from Rebecca, who was flanked by a very excited Keeley. Nate’s expression was wide-eyed and intrigued, while Beard looked pleased and almost proud as he listened to Rebecca’s news. Roy, on the other hand, sat there with his brow furrowed and arms crossed.

Not that the manager’s body and facial language deterred Rebecca; on the contrary, she was far too used to his sulky disposition. However, considering this was a project near and dear to both her and Keeley’s hearts, she had very little patience for his lack of enthusiasm today.

“Where’ll they be playing then?” Roy asked, doing his best to show the support that he knew Rebecca was craving from him. He respected her far too much- both as a boss and a, dare he say, friend- to let her think he didn’t care, not after she and Keeley had done a whole song and dance to present the news to the gaffers: a women’s team. A women’s team for Richmond.

Keeley and Rebecca exchanged looks. Keeley’s expression was one that involved raised eyebrows, as if to say You tell him. Rebecca’s, with her mouth in a straight line, communicated something more along the lines of Shit, do I really have to tell him?

With a deep breath, Rebecca turned back to Roy. “Here, of course,” she answered, her voice steady and nonchalant, seeming to presume her response was obvious to everyone in the room.

Roy furrowed his brow, the corners of his mouth dipping downwards. “But we play here,” he said dumbly. His mind raced. Holy shit, is Rebecca selling us? Is it because we didn’t come in fucking first last year? It was my first fucking season managing, no one could have expected-

“We’ll be sharing the facilities,” Rebecca answered, interrupting the thoughts racing through Roy’s head faster than he used to run on the pitch. Her voice reminded Roy of the voices of Phoebe’s teachers: patient, calm, explanatory. It made Roy feel small.

Coach Beard leaned forward. “I can help Higgins set up a schedule of who gets to use things at certain times, so we don’t have to worry about being on top of each other,” he offered helpfully. Roy knew his assistant coach was trying to distract Rebecca from Roy’s less-than-excited response to this news.

Nate quickly got on board. “Have you hired a manager then?” he asked with a smile.

Rebecca’s shoulders relaxed. At least two of the Richmond coaches were reacting the way she’d hoped. “I have. Another American, actually,” she chuckled, winking at Beard. “Feels like we need at least two of you running around Nelson Road.”

Roy decided to do his best to follow the other men’s examples. “What’s his name? Maybe Beard knows him,” he joked.

“You can read all about her here,” Keeley quipped, handing Roy a folder branded with that familiar red and blue rearranged around an outline of what Roy initially thought was a greyhound. Internally, he quickly corrected himself; it was a whippet. “This is a little report on W.F.C. Richmond just to give you boys some more info,” Keeley continued, passing identical folders to Nate and Beard. “A bit about the manager, her assistant coach, some of the players, things like that. Just so you all don’t look like proper fools in front of her when she pops in tomorrow. Reading it would be a grand idea.” Keeley gave Roy a scolding glare; they both knew that Roy was not one to read reports, even as manager, a fact that drove everyone insane.

With a huff, Roy nodded. “I’ll read it, I’ll read it.”

Everyone knew that was a fucking lie.

I looked around my new apartment- flat, Keeley Jones kept calling it in that accent I had to stop myself from grinning at- and smiled. It was definitely bigger than my old place, and I wouldn’t have to share it with any roommates. Sure, it was in a whole new country where I didn’t know anyone, but that was fine. This was fine.

Alright, so I’d sort of miss being on the same continent as my friends and family. But this was such an incredible opportunity that I simply couldn’t pass up. Rebecca Welton was wealthy, and the salary she’d offered me was more akin to what the coaches of men’s teams made back in the U.S., not what we made in the women’s league. The chance to build a program from the ground up was a thrilling challenge I was dying to sink my teeth into. England’s passionate soccer culture- football, I reminded myself- was something I’d found lacking back home, even amongst my own family and friends. And, more than anything else, I jumped at the opportunity to leave and not look back. I was ready for something new, and different, and far away from the places I’d called home for the past few years.

The vibration from my phone tore my attention away from the redecorating I’d spent the afternoon doing, enjoying my last day of normalcy. I grinned when I saw the name on my phone.

“Coach Lucas,” I greeted. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” the familiar voice on the other end answered. “You settled in alright?”

Lucas Austen was the one piece of home I’d brought with me. We’d been pals since my days playing college soccer, when he was our brilliant assistant coach. While he was the first to admit he wasn’t much of an athlete, the man was a great coach, who’d found himself promoted to head coach of our college team a few years ago and even had the men begging him to switch to their side but declined in favor of leading my alma mater to multiple national titles. When Rebecca Welton had asked me about potential coaching staff during one of our million Zoom sessions, Lucas was the first name out of my mouth. She didn’t hesitate to sign him after hearing my gushing reference. And, incredible friend that he was, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

I could picture his smiling face as I plopped onto the couch. “All good. Yourself?”

“Peachy keen,” he assured me. “Want to do something tonight? Not too tired to go out?”

“Let’s see.” I leaned back and hugged the fluffy pillow I was positive Keeley Jones had selected herself. “Sit inside all night and fret over starting a new job in a new country or go out and actually enjoy that new country? Tough choice.”

His laugh eased some of the anxiety in my chest. “Pick you up at six.” He paused. “Six London time,” he added jokingly.

We hung up, and I gave a little stretch, thinking about how insane we were for doing this- something we’d heard a lot in the last few weeks. If nothing else, Lucas and I were going to have a grand old adventure.

Roy sighed and gripped his beer tighter. He’d really let Jamie talk him into going out with him. Even worse, he’d let Jamie talk him into going to a club. Roy hated clubs; but to be fair, Roy hated most things, including Jamie. But the young player had promised his coach they’d have a good time and, more importantly, that there would be alcohol, all paid for by Jamie.

And sometimes, free alcohol was all Roy needed to hear.

So, there he was, leaning against the bar, pretending it was because he looked cool and intimidating and not because his fucking knee was bothering him. Again. He wondered how much longer he’d have to stand here before he could leave without Jamie turning into a whining twat.

“Excuse me.” A woman squeezed by Roy and gave a little wave to get the bartender’s attention. She let out a frustrated little huff when she was ignored. “Dammit.”

Annoyed at how close she was to him, Roy cocked his head. “Oi!” The bartender quickly turned in their direction. “She’d like some fucking service!”

In a flash, the bartender was getting the woman’s order and set to work making it. While she waited, she glanced up at Roy.

“Thanks for that,” she called over the music. “I’ll have to learn how to use my voice like that. Might come in handy at work.” There was a joking lilt to her voice.

If Roy had been paying attention, he would have been caught off guard by her distinct way of speaking, and if he’d been in a good mood he’d have even asked where she was from. Instead, he gave a little grunt and a nod, turning his gaze back to the dance floor, where Jamie had disappeared with some gorgeous girl.

Drink now in hand, the woman nodded to Roy. “Thanks again.”

Roy ignored her as she walked away. He glanced at his watch. 9:30. About his bedtime, and Jamie’s too if the prick knew what was good for him. He was in training, after all.

As if he knew his coach was looking for him, Jamie appeared, adjusting the stupid pink headband he’d worn because it matched his fucking shoelaces.

“Oi, don’t you think the bar can hold itself up, Coach?” Jamie asked good-naturedly, nudging Roy. Roy only grunted in response, so Jamie continued. “Get yourself out there. Dance. Live a little.”

Stuffing his free hand into his pocket, Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, me, dancing. Sounds fucking right,” he huffed. “Just let me sit here and drink my beer, yeah?” He spotted Jamie’s dance partner, who was clearly waiting for the young footballer to return to her. “Go on, poor girl’s waiting.”

A smile crossed Jamie’s face. “Cute, eh?” He nudged Roy again. “Go on, let’s find you someone. What about that girl I saw you talking to right now? She was fit. Ask her to dance.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “No fucking thank you. I don’t need some young thing in a tight outfit trying to grind on me just so she can go tell her friends that she danced with Roy fucking-”

“Who said I wanted to dance with you?”

Unnoticed by Roy, the woman had returned to the bar, her face and voice both sour now.

Jamie put on his best smile, clearly trying to diffuse the thick awkwardness that even he could feel. “Hi there!”

The woman paused, quirking an eyebrow at Jamie. “Hey yourself.” Her eyes flickered to Roy for a moment before returning to Jamie. “Your buddy always this friendly?”

Jamie nodded towards Roy. “He’s just awkward around pretty women,” he tried. “He really does want to dance with you.”

“No, I fucking don’t,” Roy blurted out before thinking, thankful, for once, for the stupidly dark lighting in this club for hiding his slight blush.

The woman’s eyes lingered on Roy’s face for a moment, something turning behind her eyes, before wheeling back to Jamie. “As charming as your friend is, I’ve got someone waiting for me. Maybe teach him some manners, hmm?”

In the back of his head, Roy noted that she was pretty. Really fucking pretty. Her eyes sparkled with a teasing gleam, even with her annoyed tone, and her red lips formed a perfect smirk that a younger Roy would have tried to kiss after buying her a drink.

But he was too embarrassed and annoyed to think about that right now.

Roy sighed, damning himself for how fucking rude he could be sometimes. “Listen, I just don’t want to fucking dance-”

She shook her head and waved him off. “Hey, it’s not like I was dying to dance with someone trying to dress like Johnny Cash,” she quipped, gesturing towards Roy’s totally black ensemble. “I was just grabbing some water. Not every girl walking around a club is dying for some guy to hit on her.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Even if he’s-” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Never mind.” She nodded to Jamie. “Have a good night.” She glanced back at Roy. With a small hum of amusement, she grabbed a water bottle off the bar and was off.

Roy watched as she approached a guy, probably about his own age, and whispered something in his ear as she handed him the water bottle. The guy, his eyes widening for the briefest moment, looked over at Roy and Jamie, then back to the woman. They both broke into fits of laughter as they went off, probably to find somewhere far away from Roy and Jamie. Mostly Roy.

Jamie clapped his hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Looks like she’s got a fella. Tough break, Coach,” he said with a sympathetic click of his tongue.

Roy glared at Jamie. “Fucking asshole,” he mumbled, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright, here we go, it’s just the most important day of your life so far,” I murmured to myself as I stared at my reflection.

Lucas and I were due at Nelson Road, our new home, within the hour. We’d finally meet Rebecca Welton face-to-face after hours of Zoom meetings, get a tour of the ‘Dog Track’, see our new offices that we’d be sharing with the men’s side, and get to meet the men’s team, the Greyhounds.

Considering that this was the first impression I’d make on everyone, I opted to dress up a bit. Some nice black slacks, a dark blouse my mom had bought for me as her own misguided way to wish me luck before playoffs one year, and a pair of heels. As I put on some bright red lipstick and pondered whether I looked badass or clownish, I heard a knock at my door.

Lucas raised an eyebrow at me as soon as I opened the door. “Shit. I should’ve known you’d be dressing up.” He wore a pair of Dickies and a button-down shirt; not sloppy, but definitely a step down from my style choice.

“You’re fine,” I assured him with a huff. “I’m probably overdressed if we’re being honest.” I took off the blazer I’d been debating all morning. “There, a little more casual?”

He shrugged, an amused grin on his face. “I mean, you look great. You’re the head coach, not me, you should look professional on our first day. They’ll all see you in sweatshirts and shorts soon enough.” He gave a small nod. “Nice color by the way.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “It’s not too much?”

“Nah, it’s just enough.” He gave a little nod towards the door. “Shall we?”

Not wanting to deal with walking directions on our first day, we opted to take a car to Nelson Road. The ride was much quicker than I expected, and I felt my stomach knot up as I grabbed my messenger bag while Lucas paid the driver.

I’d seen photos of the stadium, having made countless Google searches as the big move got closer. But now, being there in person, everything suddenly felt so real. This was it; my new home, where I’d get to help make history- hopefully a history we’d all be proud of.

A man in glasses waved to us from the entrance as soon as our car took off. “Good morning!” he called excitedly.

The moment I realized who it was, I couldn’t help but smile. “Leslie Higgins,” I laughed. As we approached, I resisted the urge to hug him. We’d seen Higgins in almost as many meetings as Rebecca Welton, and I loved him. He was kind, silly, and went above and beyond to make sure Lucas and I would be comfortable during the transition we were about to face. I knew already that he’d provide a father’s touch as we settled in.

Lucas high-fived Higgins as we approached. “Leslie, what’s shaking?”

Higgins chuckled as he shook my hand. “We are so excited that you’re here,” he gushed. “Honestly, we’ve been twittering like little birdies all morning. Tweet, tweet!” He nodded towards the entrance. “Let’s head on up to Rebecca’s office first, hmm? She’s so thrilled to finally meet you.”

We made our way inside, with Higgins cheerfully asking us about our flight, our new living arrangements, how we were adjusting to the time change so far. It felt like chatting with an old friend, and I was so engaged that I barely even noticed we’d arrived at Rebecca’s office. The door was wide open, so Higgins gestured for us to go on in.

Dear Lord, she’s freaking tall,I thought to myself as I finally stood in Rebecca Welton’s presence. She was exactly who I’d met on all those Zoom calls: gorgeous, poised, dignified, confident, and, more than anything, warm. Before I could extend my hand to her, she’d already wrapped me in a hug.

“Welcome to Richmond!” she gushed before letting go. She cleared her throat and straightened her skirt, furrowing her brow. “That wasn’t weird, was it?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Just a smidge. But it already feels like we’ve known each other forever, so it’s fine.”

It was true. We’d spent so many hours talking on video calls, and on the phone, and even more emailing and eventually texting back and forth, plus I’d done some light online stalking, so that Rebecca felt like a dear friend at this point. Each time we spoke, I felt more and more excited to come to work for her and help her build something special.

“My turn!”

I was smothered by a blonde vision in pink and squeezed like a teddy bear. “Hi, Keeley,” I sputtered out, returning her embrace.

Keeley Jones had been the first person I’d spoken to about any of this. She’d called me, seemingly out of the blue, and gotten straight to the chase, telling me all about how impressed Richmond was with my career as both player and coach and oh would I be interested in leaving the United States, moving to England, and helping build their brand-new women’s team? Her bubbly charisma and enthusiasm had stopped me from laughing into the phone and hanging up, chalking it up to some joke. Instead, I let her reel me in until I was walking into work and handing in my resignation, saying tearful farewells to the incredible athletes I had come to love like sisters, those goodbyes even harder than the ones I said to my family and friends. But the tiny blonde with the fast way of talking had charmed and emboldened me to do this terrifying, thrilling thing.

Lucas quickly shook hands with the two women, escaping the displays of affection that they’d shown me. I glanced at the chairs behind the women, assuming we’d sit and chat for a bit before anything else.

But Rebecca had other ideas.

“Does anyone need a water before heading downstairs?” she offered, gesturing towards her fully stocked bar. “Or tea? I know it’s not your country’s favorite, but…” She trailed off, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll take water,” Lucas said, filling the silence.

“Uh, I’m good,” I murmured, shaking my head. The only thing I could focus on was getting started.

Rebecca quickly handed Lucas a bottle of water and gestured to the door. “This way.”

She led us out of her office and downstairs, excitedly chattering about the men’s team, about the amazing coach who helped build the club into what it had become (a fellow American, she was excited to tell us), how much she adored the current coaching staff, and how she knew they’d be very helpful to Lucas and myself.

“Now, I know it’ll be a bit of a squeeze, having two clubs in the same facilities,” she went on as our little group continued its stroll. “But I know we’ll all just do our best, hmm?”

Lucas spoke up, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Oh yeah. If it’s anything us Americans are known for, it’s sharing and selflessness.”

Everyone gave a light chuckle as we entered the locker room.

Two men stood in the middle of the room, decked out in A.F.C. Richmond gear. Rebecca quickly introduced Lucas and I to them.

“And this is Coach Beard,” she said, pointing to the one wearing a baseball cap. “And Coach Nate Shelley,” she continued, gesturing to the other man. “Coach Beard is from America as well,” she added with a tiny smile.

It took a moment for everyone to shake hands and offer awkward hellos and nice to meet yous.

Rebecca looked around, frowning. “Where’s-”

“Fuck, fuck, sorry, I was-”

A bearded man in dark clothing jogged in, looking absolutely ragged. His gaze darted around the room at everyone as we all stared back. When his eyes landed on me, they widened.

“Oh fuck.”

It was her. It was fucking her.

Roy felt like crawling into a hole and dying. He felt like turning around and running out of the room and not stopping until he reached Scotland, or he collapsed, whichever happened first. He felt like his knees were about to give out, and not because he’d just sprinted through the building, which he knew was a stupid idea. More than anything, he felt like a fucking idiot.

Standing in front of him with one eyebrow arched in amusement was the girl he’d talked to at the club. The one he’d been admittedly rude to. She looked so put together in her outfit and heels and red lipstick, while Roy was in his Richmond shirt and slightly sweating from dashing in from the pitch after he’d finally seen Keeley’s text to come to the changing room. He felt like an even bigger arse than he did the night before.

Rebecca cleared her throat, cool look on her face. “And this is our manager for the men’s side, Roy Kent.” She gestured to the woman and man- who Roy now recognized as the one she’d been giggling with at the club- and told Roy their names.

The woman stepped forward with a small smirk on her lips. “Roy Kent. Nice to officially meet you.” She extended her hand towards him.

Furrowing his brow, Roy reached out and shook her hand. “Right. So, you’re the-”

“First-ever manager of W.F.C. Richmond, yes,” she finished for him. She gave his hand a small squeeze before letting go. “I’m glad to report that I survived the pain of being rejected,” she half-whispered.

Rebecca’s eyes darted between the two as the man- Lucas, apparently- held back laughter. “I’m sorry, have you two already met?” Confusion filled Rebecca’s question.

“Hmm?” The new coach turned to Rebecca. “Kind of. We bumped into each other last night while out on the town. I received a very warm welcome.” She raised a mocking eyebrow at Roy before looking back at Rebecca, all friendly smiles. “Should we continue?”

The group- Rebecca, Higgins, Keeley, and the Americans- exited the changing rooms through the offices, with Rebecca explaining how they’d be sharing: the Greyhounds in the larger office, the Whippets in the smaller one, since there were only the two of them. As their voices faded and left the offices, Beard gazed at Roy’s pale face carefully.

“Alright there, Coach?”

Roy grunted. “Was a bit of an ass when we bumped into each other at a club last night,” he admitted. “Didn’t fucking know it was her.”

Beard’s brows furrowed. “So, you didn’t read Keeley’s report.” Not a question; a statement. He gestured for Roy to follow him into their office, now holding three desks, and handed him the W.F.C. Richmond folder Keeley had given them, Nate trailing in after them.

Roy flipped through a couple of pages before finding the manager profile Keeley had probably worked hard on writing. Sure enough, there she was: the woman from the club smiling up at him, her name in big letters at the top of the page. The profile contained information on her college career, her time as a professional player, her success as a manager in the American women’s league, even her Olympic and World Cup appearances. Definitely not just some “young thing” trying to get five minutes of fame by flirting with him. Roy felt like a right prick skimming her remarkable career.

“She’s really impressive,” Nate chirped, as if it needed to be said. “We could probably learn a lot from her, hmm?”

Tossing the folder back on Beard’s desk, Roy gave another grunt, refusing to admit his embarrassment. “We’re fine,” he responded in a short tone. “Let’s get back out there, alright? I left Isaac and Jamie in charge, so they’re probably having a fucking break-dancing contest at this point.”

Lucas and I sat at my dining room table eating the dinner he’d brought over. It had been a busy day; touring Nelson Road, meeting the staff, making sure contracts were signed and players were ready to start training at the end of the week. The next day, we’d be going in for a press conference to introduce ourselves to the public. To prepare, I was drinking the largest glass of wine I could pour.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Lucas raised his eyebrows at me.

I put down my glass. “Talk about what?”

Lucas rested his face on his hands, gazing at me like a gossiping teenager. “Roy Kent.”

“What about Roy Kent?” I took another gulp of wine. “It’s not like we’re going to be coaching together. Does it really matter if I like him?”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Lucas hummed, earning a glare from me. “Hey, I’d be pissed too if he was rude to me.” He took a bite. “Can’t believe he didn’t know who you were.”

I shrugged and went back to my food. “Clearly the man didn’t read his report. I mean, he had to get one about us, right? We got one about them.”

I’d spent about half my flight to England reading and rereading the packet Keeley had sent us about A.F.C. Richmond. It was great: a short history of the team, a bit about each member of the coaching staff, brief player profiles. A perfect way to get to know our new neighbors before moving into Nelson Road. Not that I hadn’t done a little research on my own as soon as Rebecca sent me an official offer to lead the Whippets; indeed, I’d done a particularly deep dive into Roy Kent’s Wikipedia page and watched more than a few clips of him on YouTube, fascinated by his career and transition into coaching. Heck, I’d even pondered if maybe we could become friends eventually.

But he’d put a nail in that coffin at the club.

Whatever. Like it even mattered, I told myself. All I had to do was exist in the same space as the man, no more, no less. And I could handle that.

Right?

I’d get to find out the next morning. Again dressed professionally and deciding to continue rocking that red lipstick, I carried a small box of things into Nelson Road. Since the press conference wasn’t until late in the morning, I had decided that I could take advantage of what would probably be my last bit of free time to set up some things in my office, while my assistant coach opted to relax and take his time getting ready.

As I entered the locker room, several players were already in there, in various states of undress. All of them nodded or waved in friendly greetings, having been introduced to Lucas and me yesterday. They had been extraordinarily enthusiastic, especially considering they now had to share their stadium. I waved back, noting the big smile on one Jamie Tartt’s face- the one who’d been with Roy Kent at the club, the dreamy star player I’d read all about. I grinned at the men, relieved that at least they were friendly.

On the other hand, when I entered the coaches’ office, all talking ceased immediately.

From his seat, with his feet atop his desk, Roy Kent glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his mouth in a perfectly straight line beneath his beard. He’d been saying something to the other two but had halted as soon as I entered. I raised my eyebrow at him in response, feeling like those muscles in my face would be getting a good workout in the coming weeks.

“Morning,” I hummed, mostly to Beard and Nate. Nate waved cheerfully while Beard gave a friendly salute. Only Roy continued to ignore me.

Before I could step through into my new office, Nate’s voice called out, “Got your press conference today, right?”

I turned over my shoulder and looked at him, a little surprised by his friendly tone and the genuine interest on his face. “Yeah, not til later this morning though. Figured I’d set up some things in the office, make myself at home.”

Beard leaned back in his seat. “If you need help with anything, just ask. We’ll be in the weight room this morning.”

“Thanks,” I said with a nod. Okay, so not all the Greyhound coaches sucked. That was good to know.

I strolled into my new office, wrinkling my nose when I realized my desk had a direct view of Roy Kent’s desk, where he continued to avoid looking at me. Ignoring my observation, I set down my box and started pulling things out, arranging them the way I’d had them in my old office: soccer ball-shaped pencil holder a friend had bought me back in high school, framed photo of my family, my first ever AYSO trophy.

My heart skipped a beat when I pulled out a frame. It held my prized possession: the Sports Illustrated cover featuring Brandi Chastain, on her knees, black sports bra exposed, celebrating her penalty kick that won the 1999 World Cup, signed by the woman herself. It had hung in my bedroom, my college dorm, and eventually my office. It had served for many years as motivation, as something I aspired to. Now, it was my daily reminder of why I loved coaching- to help others achieve their big dreams.

I looked back in the box. Crap. I’d tossed in a couple nails but had forgotten to grab a hammer.

“Hey, Coach Beard?” Clutching the framed magazine, I poked my head into the Greyhounds’ office. The only one in there was Roy, who was thumbing through a notebook and mumbling to himself.

His eyes flickered up at me. He gave a small grunt of acknowledgement and went back to his notebook.

I sighed, not surprised by his lackluster greeting. “Do you guys have a hammer? I’m trying to put something up.”

Still not even glancing at me, Roy walked around to one of the other desks, yanking open a drawer, and pulling out a hammer, slamming it on top of the desk. “There,” he muttered.

“Thanks.” I stepped over and grabbed the hammer. Deciding to play his game of not looking at each other, I let my eyes flitter over to the wall behind his desk. I choked a little trying to hide my laughter. “What the fuck is that?”

Roy’s eyes followed mine to the… anatomical drawing behind his desk, a black strip of tape over it. “My niece drew it,” he answered matter-of-factly. “She’s eight.”

My eyebrows flew up. “Your eight-year-old niece drew the best tits I’ve ever seen in my life?”

A snort flew out of Roy’s nose, the friendliest noise I’d heard from him. “And just how many tits have you seen?”

Unable to help myself, I smirked. “I was a professional soccer player,” I reminded him. “I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms with other women.”

“Is that why you’re hanging that thing in your office?” He gestured to the magazine in my hands.

I raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. “That’s Brandi Chastain,” I answered plainly. “She’s an Olympic gold medalist.”

“Right.” His steely gaze finally met mine, sending a jolt to my system that I did my best to ignore. “American, I assume?”

“Obviously,” I answered, feeling that defensiveness I had as a kid, arguing against the boys on the playground about whether I could play sports with them at recess. “Only the best women’s soccer team in the world.”

He snorted again. “Can’t be that great if you can’t call it the right fucking name.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure if my tone was friendly or defensive. “Oh, I’m sorry, where’s your Olympic gold medal? Because mine’s in my living room, but I could bring it in if you’d ever like to see one in person.”

Something in his face changed, effectively ending the almost-nice interaction we were having. “Leave the hammer when you’re done,” he mumbled, turning and trudging out of the room, not looking me in the eye.

“Alrighty then,” I mumbled to myself, twirling the hammer in my hand. With a shrug, I turned back to my office, wondering if Roy Kent was capable of having a civil conversation.

Roy lumbered into the weight room, where Beard and Nate were supervising various workouts. His body felt heavy, and his chest felt tight. The Dog Track suddenly felt too crowded, too filled with her and her ego. That was it: her cockiness. Roy found it off-putting. That’s what had him feeling so twisted. The feeling in his stomach had absolutely nothing to do with that red lipstick she wore or the fact that she smelled far better than any other coach he’d ever met. Like fucking vanilla.

Both coaches nodded to Roy as he approached.

He grunted in place of a greeting. “Sorry, someone needed a fucking hammer. And then couldn’t shut up about her fucking Olympic gold medal.” Roy ignored the fact that, if he had one, he’d never stop talking about it. Hell, he still managed to bring up his time playing for England in casual conversation whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Beard continued to observe the workouts, only half interested in Roy’s complaining. “What’d she need a hammer for?”

“To put up some poster or some shit.” He folded his arms, scowling. “Didn’t know we were allowed to nail things into the fucking walls. Thought we were supposed to use that putty shit. Not leave holes in the walls.”

Now he had Beard’s attention. “Roy, you’ve punched holes into the walls.” To punctuate his point, Beard nodded towards the patch of recently fixed wall that still needed to be painted over.

Trying to keep things light, Nate piped up. “What was the poster?”

Fucking really? “Dunno,” Roy grumbled. “Some lady footballer.”

Beard raised an eyebrow. “Mia Hamm? Megan Rapinoe?”

“Fuck if I know,” Roy muttered, secretly racking his brain for the name she’d mentioned. “Didn’t really care enough to fucking listen.”

Pulling his cap over his eyes, despite being inside, Beard let out a little hum. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Oi! Turn up the volume, bruv!” Isaac called from his treadmill. “Wanna hear this.”

The guys paused their workouts to turn their gazes to the television, where the W.F.C. Richmond press conference played on the screen.

Roy narrowed his eyes as he observed the way she was dressed, in her blazer and red lipstick. She looked professional. More professional than he ever looked at press conferences. He found himself wondering if that’s how she dressed for matches, and whether that meant he should dress better on the pitch too. And fuck, she looked confident in front of all those cameras. He had yet to figure out how to look that comfortable.

A reporter’s voice filled the room. “You just made a big move, leaving the NWSL to come start a brand-new team. Why’d you do it?”

She looked thoughtful. Almost pretty with the way her eyes lit up before she spoke. “Well, let’s be really honest. The United States has the greatest women’s soccer team in the world-” The reporters hollered playfully at her. “Hey, sorry, it’s true!” She chuckled. “So, we’ve got the best team in the world, World Cup and Olympic champions how many times over, incredible athletes. But no one cares. Over here, though, soccer is a freaking religion. It’s everything. I’m excited to be in a place where people love the sport as much as the players on the field do. Who love it as much as I do.”

There was a murmuring of approval among the guys in the weight room.

Except for one person. Roy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking soccer,” he muttered. “It’s football, fucking Yank.” He glanced at Beard, who shot him pointed look, reminding Roy of his own nationality. “Sorry,” he mumbled, properly shamed.

“What do you think you’ll bring to the new club? Why are you worth importing from the States?”

Roy snorted. Great, an opportunity for her to brag about herself.

Sure enough, a cocky expression crossed her face. “Is it cheeky or just plain arrogant if I say my gold medal and World Cup title?” There was good-natured tittering both from the journalists on television and among the Richmond players in the weight room. “No, actually I think in this case my coaching record really speaks for itself more than my time playing. I’ve been fortunate to lead my team back home to some great successes, and I’m looking forward to doing the same with Richmond.” She looked reflective for a moment. “And I’m young. I started as one of the youngest coaches in the U.S., in both men and women’s soccer. So, I can only keep growing as a coach. I’m only going to get better, get smarter. And this guy here?” She gestured to Lucas, who sat beside her, pride shining in his eyes as he watched her. “Incredible coach. Coach Lucas Austen has been the best kept secret in college soccer for years. I’ve played for this man myself, so I speak from experience when I say he’ll bring out the best in each and every player, as well as everyone lucky enough to watch his magic, most especially myself.”

Nate gave out a low whistle. “She’s fabulous to listen to. So at ease.”

Not willing to acknowledge Nate’s praise, Roy turned to Beard. “Are she and he… are they…?” He nodded towards the television, where the two Americans exchanged smiles as Lucas now sang the young manager’s praises, telling some charming story from his time coaching her.

Beard scoffed. “I doubt it, she’s not exactly his type.”

It took Roy a moment. “Oh. And is he… her type?” Roy couldn’t figure out why he was asking. He didn’t really care. Right?

“She’s dated men, if that’s what you’re asking,” Beard said, looking at Roy with skepticism. “There are straight and bisexual women in sports, you know.”

“I know.” Roy hated the way Beard was looking at him.

But apparently, Beard wasn’t done educating Roy. “And men and women can be just friends. Look at Ted and Rebecca. You and Keeley. Leo and Kate.”

“Leonardo DiCaprio is absolutely in love with Kate Winslet,” Colin shouted across the room, where he was leaning against a wall with Sam, eyes still glued to the television.

Roy scowled. “Back to your fucking workouts before I have Will shove all your boots up your arses!”

Poor Will, who happened to be strolling by the open door on his way to the boot room, picked up his pace, unsure if he preferred doing as Roy demanded or telling the manager “No”. Both sounded horrifying.

With the workouts resumed, Roy turned back to the screen, scowl deepening when his eyes lingered a moment too long on her smiling red lips.

“Are you bringing that nickname of yours over to this side of the pond?”

Her smile widened. “Only to make your jobs easier. ‘Coach Bucky gets lucky’ is a great headline.” She winked, a sight that caused Roy’s breath to stop for a moment. “Although I’d hate to think what else you all could find to rhyme with Buck.”

“What kind of fucking nickname is that?” Roy mumbled to himself, eyebrows furrowed.

As if reading Roy Kent’s mind, a reporter called out, “Where’d the name come from anyway?”

Wistfulness crossed her face as she paused for a moment. “My grandfather,” she answered quietly. She spoke slowly, hesitating for the first time. “When I started playing, he kept calling me ‘Plucky Bucky’, because of my positive attitude. Said he liked the way I never gave up when things got hard.” She let out a soft breath. “Silly. But my teammates and coaches picked up on it so….” She shrugged. “Coach Buck remains. It’s a nice reminder of the man who made me fall in love with the sport.”

Something tugged in Roy’s stomach at the word “grandfather”. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid nickname after all.

“I think we’ve got time for one more question.” Keeley’s bright voice brought Roy’s attention back to the television.

A reporter piped up. “What’s your goal this year? Brand new team, are you just looking to get comfortable, get your bearings?”

The manager grinned, that cocky look in her eye again. “We’re not here for comfortable. We’re here for greatness.” She cleared her throat, smirking at Lucas before facing the cameras again. “We’re looking to be the first Richmond team to win the whole damn thing.”

Keeley, Lucas, and I exchanged high-fives as we walked out of the press room. Doing press conferences wasn’t unusual to me at all, but doing one in a new country was a bit overwhelming. But Keeley had prepared me well, and the journalists weren’t as intimidating as I’d expected. Of course, we’d see how they were once the season was underway and the Whippets were actually playing.

“You were great, babes!” Keeley assured me as we made our way to the coaching offices. “Seriously, if you do that in every press conference, you’ll make my job so easy.” She attempted an American accent as she continued, “We’re not here for comfortable, we’re here for greatness.” She shook her head. “Perfect soundbite!”

Lucas nodded. “Especially that part about being the first Richmond team to win the whole thing? Excellent. Not sure if the guys’ll like it, but I loved it.”

I cleared my throat as we passed the weight room. “We’ll see,” was all I could manage. I hadn’t thought of whether those words would offend the men’s side.

“Oi! Coach!” Jamie Tartt poked his head out of the weight room. “Great job in your press conference!”

“Thanks,” I replied, unable to stop myself from returning his bright smile, which assured me that I’d at least avoided insulting him. “Glad you guys caught some of it.”

Another man joined him, his hair tied in a bun at the base of his neck. Dani, if I remembered correctly. “May we call you Coach Buck too?” His eyes shone with excitement.

His boyish earnestness made me laugh. “Um, yeah, if you guys want to.”

“Sick!” Jamie interjected, sticking his tongue out. “Roy never lets us give him nicknames. Although I like to call him-”

“Oi!” I ignored the way Roy Kent’s gruff voice made my heart skip a beat. “What the fuck are you two doing?” He marched over, his scowl only growing when he saw me. He turned to his players. “Is our fucking training interrupting you two ogling over the shiny new toy?”

My own brow furrowed as I stepped closer to him, our quickly reddening faces inches away from each other. “Shiny new toy?” I sputtered, feeling his breath against my face and not caring that he could feel mine or if he could hear my heart slamming against my chest. “Wait a fucking-”

“Stop distracting my players,” he continued, his eyes dark. At this proximity, I could see the laugh lines on his face, evidence that he actually knew how to smile. “Worry about your own fucking team.”

Before I could say another word, Keeley hooked her arm through mine and gave a tug. “Alright, coaches, lovely chat but we should get going,” she hummed, clearly trying to diffuse whatever the fuck was happening between me and Roy Kent. “Greyhounds, we will see you later, yeah?”

With a deep grunt, Roy turned back to the weight room. “Whistle!” he bellowed. “Everyone on the pitch! Jamie’s leading you in fucking burpees!”

The sound of groaning filled the halls as Keeley yanked me away, Lucas on my heels looking amused. Keeley didn’t stop pulling until we were back in my office; the walk had done nothing to calm me down as Keeley leaned against my desk. Lucas sat in his chair, watching me with raised eyebrows. My pounding heart felt as if I’d just sprinted from one goal to another.

“Well, that was fun,” Lucas finally said in a light tone after watching me pace silently back and forth for a minute.

“Yeah, what was that?” Keeley squeaked. “I know Roy can be a bit rough. But that was…. interesting.”

Lucas smirked now. “I think someone’s still mad Roy Kent didn’t recognize her at the club. And didn’t want to dance with her.”

That broke my silence. “As if,” I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest indignantly. “I wouldn’t dance with Roy Kent if he was the last man on earth, with his fucking black clothes and fucking growling and-”

“Wait, wait, what’s this about a club?” Curiosity covered Keeley’s face.

Before I could answer, Lucas spoke up. “Alright, so we went out the night before we started here, just to relax a bit. And this one went to grab a drink and ran into none other than Roy Kent himself.” He chuckled. “And Kent had no idea who she was, he thought she was just some girl who wanted to dance.”

I cleared my throat. “To be fair, it took me a moment to realize who he was too. Stupid dark lighting and all.”

Lucas continued. “Then she overheard him tell Jamie Tartt, that, oh what was it?” He looked at me expectantly.

He’d finally gotten me to crack a smile. “I don’t need some young thing in a tight outfit trying to grind on me just so she can go tell her friends,” I growled, doing my best impression of the man I now officially couldn’t stand.

Even Keeley snickered. “Shit, that’s pretty good!”

“And he just kept digging himself into this hole,” Lucas went on. “Until finally, she compares him to Johnny Cash, says she’s not interested, almost tells him she knows who he is but decides not to give him the satisfaction, and struts off.” He wrapped an arm around me. “Then of course she surprises the hell out of him the next morning. Leaves him with his jaw on the floor while she’s cool and collected. It was stunning, truly.” He gave me a squeeze. “Plucky Bucky indeed.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, fun story, but no, I’m not bitter about not being recognized. I didn’t even get recognized back home when I was on a World Cup winning team, it’s hard to expect people here to give a shit who I am.”

“They will,” Keeley piped up. “You start winning, they’ll care. You’re gorgeous and charming and a world champion. And an American to boot, that’s always amusing. All you need now is a winning record on this side of the pond. Rebecca and I think you’re going to put W.F.C. Richmond on the map, and hopefully raise interest in women’s soccer in general while you’re at it.”

“No pressure,” Lucas added with a chuckle.

I sighed. This move was hard enough; leaving behind my home, my country, my family, my team. Leaving behind things I’d spent years building. And now, I was in a brand-new country, building something from scratch with wonderful strangers and the one person who knew me better than anyone else. Add to all of it the burden of being a woman in sports and the desire to have people take it seriously, and I was already feeling the pressure.

And Roy fucking Kent wasn’t helping with any of it.

#Roy Kent Something There #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso fanfiction

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labyrinthofsphinx · 7 months ago

Text

Behold, terrible people and the muffin they stole!

A scene from my drabble below. Wanted to do something special so a bit of art to go with. As always, let me know your thoughts, guys!

Statistical Outliers

“So, I’m your man, huh?”

“You know, it’s a fucking shame you just got that new head of yours because if you say that one more fucking time, I will bash it in again.”

The day hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but he won’t complain about the ending, at least. After calming both Valentino and Velvette down, enough that a manhunt for the imagined Alastor shadow wasn’t going to sound off anytime soon, he had to compensate them for…well, their time, he’d suppose. He didn’t expect that kind of reaction, the reactionary viciousness. Which also meant compensation had to be just as well.

Vel was easy to fix. He just gave her his credit card. Go nuts with it.

Val was harder to please, but less painful to his wallet. He still took him out, rented out the whole nightclub for just him and his groupies. They drank like fish and spent a terribly long time in the club’s backrooms. Val, still reeling from the damage Vox did to him just the night before, was absolutely ravaged by days end.

Not that the day ended when they got back, mind you. Hence the teasing.

“No need to be so hostile, Val. I’m just saying-”

“Yeah? Well, now you need to shut up.”

He was on the lounge, trying to pretend like he wasn’t showing off his legs again. As if they weren’t already covered top to bottom in marks, bites, and scratches. He stretched out, arms gliding along his hips, toying with the belt of yet another bathrobe that Vox will need to replace. The man was insatiable, he’ll give him that.

“Hmm.” He brought his head forward, right next to Val’s antenna. They were sensitive, much more than you’d expect. The slight vibrations of a voice sent them twitching. The static from a TV had them spiraling. Vox teased a breath by them. “Sure, Val. Whatever you want, today.”

He didn’t really want him to shut up. It was one of his favorite things about Vox, he’s pretty sure. Valentino was a man of ego, and he loved nothing more than having it stroked in every possible, conceivable way. He’s never said as much, but he’s pretty sure that’s why he always petitions him in the monitor room. There’s just something appealing to the man about having eyes watch them from everywhere, of hearing praise from everywhere. Especially if it was Vox’s.

He shivered when Vox ever so gently ran his fingers through with his antenna. Had he not been spent from before, Vox’s is pretty sure Val would’ve leapt up and dragged Vox to the floor with him.

“What I want would involve enough screaming to wake the damn ring.” He huffed.

“Oh, you want to scream now?” Vox teased. “I can help with that.”

“Vox, you talk too much.” He said, as if he wasn’t vibrating from the idea.

“That’s what they tell me.” He joked, pulling away enough to make Valentino miss his presence by his side.

It was always like this, this tugging and pulling. Some days, Val would want nothing more than Vox. Other days, well, Vox loses his face. One could never quite tell where the dice were going to land, but he’d be a liar to say that there wasn’t something he loved about it, in a sick sense of the word. Sure, he never wanted to get his head rearranged, but Val being in a violent mood could be fun, has been fun in the past.

It was just a whole lot less fun when he ended up with the target on his head. Honestly, he can’t even remember when that started to happen, only that he just had to account for it in the schedule and budget.

But at least it was still Vox. His anger and desire was still centered on Vox.

Until Angel Dust happened.

Cut it out, Vox. Don’t think of him right now. That line of thinking never goes anywhere good. Besides, he was still on camera! Can’t be frowning in the middle of the scene, now can we?

His hands quickly wrapped around Val’s sides. Before he had time to react, he’d already pulled him up in his arms. Val’s legs hitched at Vox’s waist, and his arms tugged across his shoulders and face.

That was another thing Val loved, being manhandled. Being eleven feet tall apparently gives people the wrong impression, but Vox knew better. Val was a moth, a fuzzy casing of exoskeleton covering nothing but softness underneath. He seemed strong because he was big, and because some of that frame gave him power to work with. But it was nothing compared to the complex dance of flesh, bone, and machinery. He’s not as tall, obviously, but there was a reason Val always chose to aim for his face or the delicate parts still left on his skin. If he bit too far, or aimed just a little wrong, Val could accidentally end up damn near breaking his own hand.

Machines didn’t have the same rules for bodies that living things do. Both were complicated and everything inside served a function for higher operations, but machines were made to carry out everything at a hundred percent of their ability. They do what they’re programed to, nothing more and nothing less. Organic machinery was built for the opposite, the gradients and the fine tuning. One was determination made from metal and iron, and the other was calculation on the scale of nerves and cells. And Vox was a mismatched mess stuck between the two.

That meant that when he did decide to pull, there was little Val could do but ride out the wave. Not that this wasn’t already what he had in mind, given his poison nearly dripping onto Vox’s face.

“Oh, I should’ve just gone to that shitty hotel and brought you back Alastor’s head.” Val purred. “I can’t imagine what you’d do then.”

While in theory that was incredibly hot, Vox wasn’t going to be giving him any ideas. Especially since this is Val, and he might think his stupid theory is a good idea later.

“Don’t tell me your thinking of leaving now?” Vox’s voice added a bit of television fading, just as he brought a finger to tease the length of Val’s spine.

“Oh, not on your life.”

“Good.”

One last steamy session on the longue later and a cleanup in the bath that also might’ve gotten a little steamy, and Vox had them both tucked into his bed. He never smoked Val’s cigarettes, even after they were done. Sure, it might not have the same effect on him as it does others, screen head and all that, but something in the chemicals brings his thoughts around to the worst. Maybe Val smoked too much before making out, because Vox’s head was dragging him around even without the visible smoke.

Alastor wasn’t just a Vox problem. Val probably knew that better than Vel, but she’s been around long enough to know. If the king falls, the game is over, isn’t it? Is that the only reason they came charging in today? Maybe. And why would he expect something else? He shouldn’t.

Every machine had a use, a function. Vox keeps the train moving. Vox keeps the Vees at the top. Vox keeps all of Hell focused on them, loving them.

But to his fellow Vees? Vox solves problems. That’s his function.

He admits there’s attachment there but, well, let’s just say he’s never under the assumption that the attachment wasn’t built from necessity. Like a certain radio freak mentioned once, keep only the necessities, everything else is a potential liability.

But then there’s days like today. When something bad almost happened, or he thought it would, and he was a little surprised they showed up. I mean, obviously they would. As he said, he was required for things to work. The body didn’t function without a brain.

That didn’t stop his replay on Val’s and Vel’s words, ‘my man’ and ‘my boys’ respectively. He liked the sound of that.

Then, of course, there was the kid. He literally clawed his way up most of the levels of Vee tower to make sure he was alive. Not to mention that this is literally like the second time he’s promised to maim the kid and he still insists that they’re friends. If it wasn’t for the fact that he tested what the kid said about his suggestions not working before Vel took him to the spa, Vox would be questioning if he accidentally hypnotized the kid into liking him. Because none of that is normal. Then again, who the hell is normal down here?

The more he thinks on it, what was the kid’s plan? What if Alastor had been in the room? What if they were fighting? What if Vox was losing? Not that he would, because he wouldn’t be, but hypothetically. What would he do then?

He wasn’t good in a fight, that much was clear. He didn’t have powers, and certainly nothing that would stand up eldritch shadow demons…

Wait, did he just assume the kid would be on his side? Why did his calcs jump to that?

Feedback on his systems told him exactly why, playing back footage from the past several days. Simply, because Vox was his friend, and it was obvious now that there was little he wouldn’t do for his friends.

Oh, fucking damn it. The kid latched on like tumor to the brain.

He liked that kid, selfishly and stupidly attached to him.

He was trying hard not to smile, but it’s difficult to force a face without muscles to do much of anything, especially when his program literally pours his thoughts into expression. And it was hard to be in a bad mood right now.

‘My man’. ‘My boys’. ‘My friend’.

“Voxxy, your screen is pink.”

“Shut up, Val.”

“Oh, it’s practically maroon now.”

“Shut the fuck up, Val!”

Like adding gasoline to flame, the bedroom door was flung open. Distracted as he’d been, he failed to notice that Vel had come back from the spa and already jumped into pajamas. She kicked open the door, and waltzed in like she owned the place. In her arms, the kid dangled like a stuffed animal fresh out the dryer.

“I’m assuming since you guys are talking in full sentences that you’re done now?” Vel said. For once, her phone was tucked away, probably in a pocket in her lounge shorts.

“‘Till the morning, I suppose. It’s the best way to start mornings.” Val answered for them, a finger teasing the side of Vox’s head.

The kid’s expression was blank, like he was staring into a void. He was clean at least.

“What happened to you?” Vox asked.

“We went to the spa.” Mimicking Val, Velvette answered for the two of them. “I got everything done, including a two hour massage. The masseur was some centipede guy, thousand arms and all. You really need steal that guy, Vee. My back feels great.”

He kept looking at the kid, waiting for his answer. When he finally decided that he could answer with the other two around, he spoke like he was experiencing a flashback to a war.

“I now know what it’s like to be play-doh.”

Despite himself, Vox tossed his head back, rolling.

“Anyways,” Vel readjusted the kid in her arms and started walking over to the bed. “you two are dressed, yeah? Because this is an invasion.”

Well, Val was as dressed as Val ever is, kept decent just barely by the length of Vox’s robes. He really needed to start ordering them five sizes too tall at this point. As for himself, he had the decency to swap into regular pajamas…just in case he and kid couldn’t sleep and wanted to give Asteroids another go.

Not that Velvette waited for an answer. The bed was big, obviously. It had to be to hold Val. Save for when he unfolds his wings, the bed could hold an ungodly amount of people. Honestly, it was just cheaper to buy two of the same size bed when he was ordering Val’s. That’s the only reason it was so stupidly big. Vox didn’t share the bed often enough to warrant it, unlike Val.

Velvette climbed over him, landing just beneath his right arm and tucking herself against his chest. In doing so, she pulled off the blanket. Probably a smart decision because of how hot Vox was to sleep against. He was unofficially Velvette’s favorite that-time-of-the-month pillow. Val, to his left, just wrapped his arms around Vox’s legs and his left arm, as per always.

The kid was crushed in the space between Vel’s body and his own. With all that fur, he could imagine it was going to get very hot, very quickly there. Using the one arm that hadn’t been abducted yet, he punched the pillow beside his head. Then, he snuck down, plucked the kid up, and put him on it.

He was rewarded by an honest smile. In hell, that was a pretty rare gift.

Then, the little body wrapped around that arm, a big fluffy tail curling down and tickling his sides. Holy shit, he was small. The kid was curled almost entirely into the palm of his hand.

Before he even knew it, he was surrounded. Trapped, you might even say, by a tangled mess of bodies all fighting for a bit of his body heat.

Oh, there were worse ways to end the evening. Barring something amazing happening, like Alastor keeling over dead or Lucifer handing over his crown, this might just be as good as it gets.

You know, fuck that heaven bullshit. This was heaven.

“’Night, Vee.” Velvette mumbled, half asleep.

“Night, guys.”

He didn’t get to sleep right away. He stayed awake long enough to hear the little noises, an offkey song of sleep. Val squeaked in his sleep, randomly. His wings would flutter together sometimes, but the fuzz on the scales kept it from sounding much more than the sound of skin touching skin. Vel talks in her sleep, sort of. She mumbles more than anything. It was never enough to make a sentence out of, in fact it sounded a bit like baby babble. Occasionally, her phone would ping, but he was so used to the sound now that it was basically a backtrack to his day.

The kid was the newest sound. He knew now that foxes could, apparently, squeak. But, as Vox was sitting there and gingerly gliding his fingers through freshly cleaned fur, he heard a different sound.

They purr? Why do they purr?

Unconsciously, the kid snuggled his face into Vox’s hand, the ridiculously soft coat almost swallowing up his digits.

Oh, this was all too cute. This was all too fucking much for today. Cuteness aggression hit him like a truck again, and it was a struggle against every instinct in his body not to move, for fear of ruining it all by waking one of them up.

Then, he caught on something.

The collar that Velvette had put on the kid on day one was snug tight against his throat. Drowned out by his fur, Vox had almost forgotten about it. It felt so odd, out of place. The cold metal stuck flat to his skin, with only the little charm hanging a little more comfortably away.

He tugged a little, just enough to see it better.

The bright blue ‘V’ looked almost neon in the dark, surrounded by that deep red heart. It really did look like a dog collar like this, didn’t it?

Dehumanizing something was easy here. No one even looked human anymore. Very few acted human even when they were alive.

A few days ago, he didn’t give it a second thought. He couldn’t have cared less. Now though?

Carefully, he undid the little magnetic hook in the back. Unlike a normal collar, this one was designed to never come off, not unless one of the three of them did it. The key was a simple, a contrary magnetic pull that would activate the lock, but too strong or too weak of a pull would just break it and cause it to get stuck. Vel probably had the actual key in her room, but it didn’t take much of Vox’s power to undo a little magnetic flux.

He twirled it around the kid’s wrist instead, like a bracelet, not unlike the ones Velvette always wears anyways. As the clasp closed, his little paw wrapped around his palm, bringing it back up to his face and cradling it like a pillow.

“Night, Drift.” Vox said, before letting the night and its new symphony drag him off someplace nice.

That might’ve been the best sleep of his life.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11

#hazbin hotel #art #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel art #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel the vees #the vees #staticmoth #voxval #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fic #drabble #They are terrible people #But they are very fun to write and draw

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years ago

Text

To Call You Mine

Chapter 10.5

Authors note: Thank you all for humoring my April fools joke, for being such good sports this real chapter is full of fluff with a sprinkle of smut. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: smut(grinding, groping, lactation kink, vaginal penetration), a/b/o content(knotting)

Word count: 4757 Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist TCYM Masterlist

It's been about a month since the New Year's gathering with your friends, and every move Natasha has made since then has been utterly adorable. First she made sure to schedule all the appropriate appointments with the correct doctors, even though she’s only had to go to one so far. And then she began to look up all the items she wanted for the pups nursery, and lastly she's been nesting. Which is currently what you find her doing. She shifts around in her nest, fluffing pillows the way she wants them and rearranging some blankets.

“Alpha?” she calls out, turning to look at you where you stand

“Yes my Omega?”

“Can you please come cuddle? I need my nest to smell like you to get comfortable.”

A soft smile spreads across your features, “Of course Natty”

You gently join her in the nest, sitting down beside her. A purr rumbles in her chest as she snuggles into you, practically crawling into your lap and your strong arms wrap around her. She nearly melts in your hold as you begin to scent her and the nest, a sense of peace and love washing over her. Unbeknownst to her, her purr becomes louder and you chuckle at her cuteness.

“Is my Omega happy?”

She nods, “Very happy. This is what I’ve always wanted.”

“Me too” you admit, kissing her cheek, “I’m so excited to have this life with you, Dima and our pup”

“Don’t forget Liho” she teases, and the cat meows from her spot on the nearby windowsill

You both laugh, “Oh yes, and Liho. I could never forget our kitty”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence for several minutes, just content to be soaking in each other's presence and scents. But after a while your Omega shifts in you arms, letting one of her hands rest against her small bump

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” she asks, looking up at you with curious eyes

You ponder it for a moment, “I think a girl would be nice, but I’m not picky Natty. As long as they’re safe and healthy I’ll be happy. What about you?”

“I want a daughter” she confesses with a smile, “I love Dima so very much, but growing up I always dreamed about having a little girl.”

You move your hands to cup her small bump and she leans even further into your touch, “Then I hope it's a girl, because I want my Omega to get everything she wants. She deserves it.”

It doesn’t take long for your mate to fall asleep in your embrace, and you make no attempts to move from her nest. Instead you simply pull the blankets up snuggly around you both and make sure Dimas baby monitor is nearby. Though it's rare for the pup not to sleep through the night, you’d rather be safe than sorry.

When Natasha awakes the next morning she's greeted by the sight of you asleep beside her and she's absolutely thrilled that her nest and blankets smell like you. She knows the whole house is yours and therefore hers, but there's just something in an Omegas instincts that make them cling to their nests when with pup, and to have hers smelling like her mate, her safe space personified, it really soothes her.

She takes a moment to look over your peaceful features and she begins to purr, happy that her Alpha is so content beside her. Unfortunately she can't watch you slumber long as the cooing on the other end of the monitor informs her that her pup is awake and she knows it's best to feed and tend to him before he actually cries out for her.

She slips away from you as stealthily as possible and makes her way upstairs. She makes quick work of changing Dimas diaper before settling into the rocking chair with him. She lifts up her shirt and in no time he begins to suckle.

"You know my sweet boy, you're going to have to learn to share." She tells him, running her fingers through his messy hair, "You're going to have a sibling in a few months. Someone for you to play with"

His bright eyes look up to her and she wonders if he understands what all that means, or if it's something he'll have to see to take in. She remembers she took the news of Yelena's pending arrival quite well, but she was also older than Dima currently is when that news came. She really hopes he'll be just as close with the new pup as she is with her sister, sibling bonds in a pack are something special.

Just then her phone goes off and thinking it could be you letting her know you were awake and making breakfast she eagerly picks it up. But instead of her Alphas name she finds her best friend's name across the screen.

Wanda: Good morning Nat. I was wondering, do you have plans for today?

Nat: Nope, I'm free. What's up?

Wanda: Care to go shopping with me? You've had a pup already and I would really like your advice on things to get for mine. I'm much more nervous about all of this than I expected to be.

Nat: Aww, of course I'll come Wans! And there's no need to be nervous, you're going to be a great mom, I know it.

Wanda: ❤️ thank you dorogoy(sweetheart). Pick you up in an hour?

Nat: sounds perfect. See you soon

She slips her phone back in her pocket before she stands and makes her way downstairs, her pup still attached to her breast. She quietly re-enters the bedroom and sits beside you in the nest, letting the hand that's not supporting Dima caress your face.

"Y/n, baby" she calls out, smiling as your brows twitch, "Alpha, time to get up"

You yawn before opening your eyes and though you're still groggy a smile spreads across your lips as you see your Omega and pup in front of you.

"Mornin' Natty"

"Good morning baby, sleep well?" She asks, her hand still caressing your cheek

You nod, "Very well. Did you?"

"Mhm, I certainly did"

"Good" you declare, moving your one hand to hold hers while your other grabs Dimas, "Mornin' sweetheart"

Despite enjoying his breakfast he still manages to coo at you and squeezes your fingers affectionately and Natashas mind wanders to images of you and the unborn pup interacting in such ways as well, making her heart swell.

"Wanda wants me to help her while she shops for her pup, she's picking me up in an hour if that's ok."

"Of course it's ok." You tell her, squeezing her hand, "Just be careful. It's dangerous enough for Omegas out there, let alone pregnant ones."

"We will be, because there's no way Vis is letting her go alone. She may be driving but she's not alone"

You nod, "Ok good. I'll keep Dima here so you can be out as long as you need to be with them."

"You sure you won't mind?" She asks, still not entirely used to having such a caring and considerate mate

"I'll be fine. Tony says I probably won’t be needed until April, so all I have to do is check over my guys schedule, make sure they show and handle a small bit of paperwork. I can easily keep an eye on him with the monitor until I'm done and then me, him and Liho can have some fun."

She smiles and leans in for a quick kiss, "Thank you Alpha. I appreciate you so much, my love"

"Aww Natty, it's really no problem."

"I know, I'm just so thankful I have you" she replies just as Dima finally detaches from her, "Would you mind taking him so I can get ready?"

"Of course not" you reply, sitting up and taking the pup from her, "Come on buddy, let's go get you the rest of your breakfast"

By the time you're finished feeding him his oatmeal and fruit your Omega has finished getting ready and she joins the two of you in the kitchen with a kiss to each of your cheeks.

"Here detka(baby), I know you don't have a lot of time before Wanda shows up, but you need to eat. For both of you."

Her heart warms as you hand her a freshly made omelet, with all of her favorite ingredients and she happily grabs the plate from you.

"Thank you baby” she says, giving you another kiss on the cheek before sitting down at the table next to Dima in his highchair, “Were you a good boy for your Mama?”

He coos at her with a smile and you chuckle, “He was. Ate every bit of his food”

“Good” she says with a smile, pinching his cheek lightly as she scoops the last forkful of breakfast into her mouth, “Please continue to be good malen'kiy (little one)”

“Don’t worry, he will be. Now go on, I think Wanda just pulled up”

She quickly hops up and gives you a kiss, “I love you Alpha, see you later”

“Love you too Omega, be careful and have fun!” you reply, ignoring the strange sense of deja vu

A few minutes after your Omega departs you scoop Dima up and your arms and take him upstairs. You gently set him down in the large playpen in the middle of his room and place a few more of his toys inside with him before kissing the top of his head

“I’ll be downstairs in my office for a little while, but I’ll have your monitor with me” you tell him, as if he understood a word, “Have fun little guy”

Not wanting to leave him alone for the entire time Natasha is away, you head straight for your office in order to get to work. You sit down at your desk and smirk at the picture of your Omega that she had gifted you before your focus goes to your computer. You log on and take a look at the schedule for your men, making sure each is on there for their requested hours while also making sure Tony never goes without bodyguards. Satisfied with the schedule you send it off in an email to all your men as well as Tony himself, and no surprise, Tony promptly replies with an email.

Tony: Thanks Y/n, hope all is well with you and your Omega. Don’t forget I have that upcoming gala that I’ll need you for in about a month.

Y/n: We’re doing very good, thank you. We’re actually expecting another pup! I’m incredibly excited and nervous. Hope you and Pepper are well too. Right, fundraising for the new research projects, right?

Tony: Congrats kid!! Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner!? You’ll need time off!!

Y/n: Tony, I don’t need time off, I only come in when absolutely necessary to begin with, it’ll be fine. I’ll only need someone to cover for me if something comes up around the time the pup is due.

Tony: Alright, alright. Fine. Do you know how many you're having? Or what they’ll be?

Y/n: Not yet, we still have a little waiting to do until then. Probably another month before we’ll know.

Tony: Well keep me informed and if you need to stay home for the Gala, it's not a problem at all!

Y/n: Thank you Tony. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some paperwork to catch up on

Tony: No problem kid! Talk soon!

You close your laptop and pull a small stack of paperwork out of one of your file drawers and set it infront of yourself as you grab a pen. It’s nothing exciting. Just signatures here or there and a few forms of approval for new and better gear. About halfway through you pull out your monitor and look at your pup through the camera, and you smile as you see him contently playing with a few of his stuffies.

“Mama will be done here soon honey” you tell him through the device's microphone, assuring him that he's not alone in the vast house. You listen to him babble for a little bit before setting the monitor back down and getting back to work.

Finally you finish everything and you clean up your workspace a bit before heading upstairs. You quietly walk into Dimas room, wanting to see what he was up to without disturbing him. He's now laying on his stomach, his back feet kicking adorably as he chews on one of his first teething rings. He quickly notices your presence though and drops the toy to give you grabby hands.

“Hi little man” You chuckle as you pick the young pup up, “What do you say we head downstairs, get some lunch and then watch some tv while we wait for your Mama to come home, hm?”

You carry him back downstairs and settle him down in his bouncer by the tv and you turn on his current favorite cartoon, Bluey, before going back into the kitchen. You scramble up an egg for you and Dima to split, adding some lentils and turkey bites on the side for him before quickly putting together a turkey sandwich for yourself.

When you return to the living room with your food you find Liho waiting for you on the sofa, her wide eyes scanning your plate for a potential treat. You toss a small piece of turkey to her before returning your focus to Dima. You feed him his lunch between his coos and giggles as he watches his show, only eating your own once he's finished. And of course this means sharing the occasional bite with your Omegas pesky kitten.

After you gather all the dishes and take them out back out to the kitchen to sit in the sink until you go to wash everything after dinner, you grab a bag of cheese puffs for yourself to snack on during the cartoon before returning to Dima and Liho. As you sit down your phone pings, and knowing it's most likely your mate, you promptly pull it out of your pocket.

Natty: Hi moya lyubov'(my love), sorry for not checking in sooner but I didn’t want to risk disturbing you while you worked. Everything ok at home?

Y/n: No worries detka(baby), I figured you were busy showing Wan and Vis everything pup related anyway. All good here, I finished up work a bit ago and the three of us just had lunch. He's behaving perfectly. Will you be eating lunch with them or should I prepare you something?

Natty: Good, was worried how he would behave, I've never been away from him for so long before. Thank you baby, but no need, we’ve just sat down to have lunch ourselves. I should be home not long after, Wanda just has one last store to take us to, if that's alright.

Y/n: Of course Natty. Now go eat something delicious and enjoy the rest of your time with them. I'll see you soon my Omega, love you ❤️

Natty: Love you too my Alpha, see you soon ❤️

After another episode of Bluey ends you notice the pup beginning to lose interest, so you remove him from the bouncer and place him on the floor. You join him, pulling over a few of his toys for you both to play with and you switch the show over to some Winnie the Pooh, his other favorite currently. A few minutes pass when suddenly Liho gets up from her spot on the sofa and darts for the front door.

You then hear a car door shut before keys jingle and you smile at the fact that somehow Liho knew Nat was home before there was even any indication. The door opens and the kitten begins meowing, acting as if she had been left home alone all day without a sliver of attention. You can hear your Omega fretting over her before she enters the room.

“Hi baby” she calls out, a smile on her face as she sets down a few bags nearby, “I got a few things while helping Wanda find some things, I just couldn’t help it. I’m so excited to meet our pup”

You smile fondly at her, “I don’t blame you one bit, I also can’t wait”

She makes her way over to the two of you and sits down beside you, giving you a kiss in greeting before turning her attention to Dima, “Hi malen'kiy(little one)”

He smiles brightly and babbles, doing his best to waddle over to her without falling. She opens her arms to him and hugs him tightly, before peppering his face with kisses. He giggles at the action, warming both your hearts and making you both smile. After a bit more attention he lets out a yawn and Natasha knows what that means.

“Looks like someone is sleepy” she tells you, situating the pup in her arms, “I’m gonna go lay him down for his nap before dinner, when I come back down can we go cuddle in my nest?”

“Of course we can, baby. I’ll meet you in there, ok?” She nods excitedly, before heading upstairs.

The small pup wiggles as she places him on his changing table and she chuckles at him while grabbing his feet playfully. He squeals with delight while he softly kicks his feet in a fake attempt to keep her away from him.

“I’m gonna get you!” she teases, wiggling her fingers dramatically before tickling his small belly

He erupts in a fit of giggles and so does she as she continues tickling him, all of which you can hear and see through the monitor that sits on the windowsill next to your Omegas nest.

You smile to yourself as you prepare yourself for cuddles. Now you would think it doesn’t take much for that, but when you're an Alpha that tends to overheat easily paired with a pregnant Omega that practically needs to be buried in blankets to feel completely comfortable, preparations are needed.

You quickly strip down to just your boxers and throw on an old tank top you usually wear when working out before climbing into your mates nest. You fluff up a few of her pillows and scent her stuffies for her to make sure she's comfortable, and just as you finish scenting her favorite blanket she makes her way into the bedroom.

Your scent is strong now, and the sight of you in your boxers has her mind wandering to some less than savory thoughts as she makes her way over to you. Without hesitation she straddles your lap and wraps her arms around you as she nuzzles against your neck. At first you think nothing of it, she often likes to cuddle in this position. But when her lips start kissing your scent gland and her hips start to grind against you, you realize she had a different motive this time.

“Does my Omega need something?” you tease, letting your hands moving to grab her ass to help her move against you

“You ” she whimpers, feeling your cock beginning to harden beneath her, “Please baby”

“I got you Natty, just tell me what you need”

“Your cock” she purrs, “Need you inside me”

Suddenly Natasha finds herself laying in her nest with you hovering above her, your arms on either side of her as your hips press against hers. She watches the way your muscles flex and lets out a moan as your bulge rubs against her core, silently cursing the clothes that are in the way.

“Y/n, please” she whines, wiggling her hips as her hands tug at your tank top

You can’t help but smile at her needy state, but you relent to her wishes and move away long enough to remove the offending items from yourself before moving onto her. Her shirt is the first thing to go, her bra following right after and you can’t resist the urge to let your tongue lick at the few drops of milk that escape her breasts. She lets out another whimper and one hand wraps itself around you to hold you there while the other presses against your abs as if to distance herself from you and you chuckle at her predicament. You make a decision for her, pulling away and removing the rest of her clothes so you can give her exactly what she wants.

“You're soaked Natty” you breath out, letting the tip of your cock rest against her opening

“Mhm” she whimpers, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her in anticipation

Finally you push your hips forward, slipping inside her easily as you both let out a moan of pleasure. You start thrusting immediately and she lets out a soft purr when you begin to cover her chest in kisses, your hand trailing across her small bump

“I love you” she says, running a gentle hand down your back

You look up at her with a grin, “I love you too Natty”

She guides your face back up to hers and captures your lips in a passionate kiss and moans when your tongue slips inside her mouth. Her arms wrap around your torso and her fingertips dig into your shoulders hard enough that you expect a few bruises to be left behind. You break the kiss in order to catch your breath and she takes the opportunity to once again nuzzle against your neck

“Ooh god!” she exclaims as your cock rubs against a sensitive spot inside her, causing her walls to clench tightly around you

“Fuck!” you moan and Natasha practically melts at the gruffness of your voice

The speed of your thrusts picks up as you chase your release, you knot quickly beginning to form and you can tell she's just as close as you are by the way she flutters around you.

“Knot me, please” she begs, “Fill me up baby”

With one final thrust your knot slips inside her, locking you together, and your warm seed pours into her eager pussy, throwing her into her own powerful orgasm. Her head falls back as she lets out a mixture of beautiful noises and her arms tremble slightly as she comes down from her high

“You alright?”

Her eyes slowly open to look at you and she gives you a satisfied smile, “Mhm”

“Good” you reply, cupping her face in your hands. Your thumbs caress the apples of her cheeks, causing her to purr at the affection

You pull your hands away and wrap them around her before rolling over, letting her rest atop you while your knot holds you two together. She keeps her arms tightly around you,her head resting against the center of your chest as your fingers card through her hair as your other rests on her hip.

By the time your knot deflates she's practically asleep in your embrace so you decide for an easier clean up instead of a full bath this time. You slide yourself out of her, causing her to whimper as she's still sensitive but you distract her with soft forehead kisses

“I’ll be right back Natty” you whisper as you shuffle her to her side and slip out of the nest.

You quickly move about the bathroom, cleaning yourself off with a soapy washcloth before moving to prepare one for your mate. Her groggy eyes meet yours as you emerge and she smiles as you kneel beside her. Without needing to be asked she spreads her legs apart, allowing you to gently clean her. Once you're done you cover her with one of her many blankets, only leaving to toss the washcloth in the dirty laundry. And when you return you find her struggling against sleep, no doubt because she's waiting for you.

“Take a nap Natty” you tell her, slipping under the blanket beside her, “I’ll wake you up before we have to get Dima up.”

“Mkay” she replies, snuggling against you, “Love you”

“Love you too” you reply, wrapping a protective arm around her

A few hours later you gently cup her face, “Baby, time to get up. We gotta wake Dima and have Dinner”

She groans and her face scrunches up adorably as she stretches but her green eyes finally open to look at you, “Hi”

You chuckle, “Hi Natty. Since I’m already dressed I’m gonna go get him, while you put your pajamas on think about what you’d like and I can either make or order it”

She nods and watches you fondly as you leave the room, finally pulling herself out of the nest and into her most snuggly pair of pajamas once she hears you and Dima making your way out of his room via the monitor. She watches you diligently place him in his bouncer as you turn on cartoons for him before turning to pet the curious Liho where she sits in the armchair

“Hi baby, thanks for getting him” she says before hugging you

You wrap your arms around her, “Of course. Figure out what you want for dinner?”

She hums in thought, “How about pizza?”

“From the shop that makes the brownies?”

She nods excitedly, “Yes please!”

You smile and pull out your phone, quickly hoping on the Doordash app to place your order of pizza and brownies, “It’ll be here in about ten minutes”

“Thank you baby, better go get Dimas food ready”

By the time she's finished making his rice with small portions of veggies and meat on the side you're opening the door to collect your order. You carry it in and set it on the table, returning to the living room to grab your pup while she plates his food. You get him in his highchair at the table while your mate brings over his food as well as plates for the two of you. You sit down across from her, closest to Dima so that she can eat unhindered as you help him with his meal.

After a few bites of her pizza Nat is reminded of something Wanda had mentioned earlier that she wanted to bring up with you, “Alpha?”

“Hmm?” you reply only looking to her once your pup swallows his spoonful of rice

“Wanda said next month she and Vis are going to go find out how many pups she's carrying and their genders, and i was wondering if we could do that too. They should be just big enough by then” she asks, her nervousness evident

You know this nervousness has nothing to do with you, it stems from Brucs behavior. Nat now struggles to ask Alphas any questions, as she wants to avoid upsetting them. But she's much better than she had been, especially with you. But this subject deals with something emotional so it's natural that her anxieties would flare up. You take a second to set Dimas spoon down before turning to face her and you bring your hand up to hold hers

“I would love that, my Omega” you answer honestly, giving her hand a squeeze

She gives you a wide grin, but that quickly turns to a look of surprise as rice flies into the side of your face. You give her the same expression of shock before turning to your pup and he lets out a high pitched giggle as a few grains fall to the table. Natasha begins to laugh with him, despite her attempts not to and you can't help but laugh along with them

“And this is why you're still not allowed cutlery mister” you tell him, reaching for his spoon

“I don’t know, I think he did pretty well with that shot” your Omega wheezes through her laughter

You shake your head, “Oh there truly is no deny he's related to you or Lena thats for sure”

“Oh!” she exclaims, “She has to see what her nephews accomplished, look here!”

Begrudgingly you do so, letting her snap a photo and send it off to her sister and probably Wanda too. Sure enough your phone dings twice and you take a glance at the notifications

Lena: He's got my aim. I am so proud. ❤️

Wanda: Lookin good hot stuff, loving the new accessories

You look over at your still giggling mate, “I’ll remember this when he nails you with applesauce”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @naslt @lattayhottay16 @yelenabelov-ed @thatonebrazilian @marvelwomen-simp @wannabe-fic-reader @tashakink @whitewidowsbite @smromanoff

#natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #omega!nat #omega!natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #a/b/o #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o fic #a/b/o april

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angelofthenight · 11 months ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.12

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, YN has a fear that Sam will assault her, YN talks about her emotionally abusive dad, YN was awful to her mom, Toxic exes, Toxic bf, Fear of stockholm syndrome, Self blame, Memory of dad leaving

Word Count: 4.4k

Table of Contents

( POOKIES SO SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE TWO YRS BUT THINGS WILL SOON PICK UP IN THE BOOK IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OR TWO )

You stirred awake in the warm cocoon of the blankets, rubbing your face into the pillow. The fresh November coldness hovered against the walls which did nothing but make you lazier while wrapped in cotton. But the heavy weight of the realization of waking up was enough motivation to push yourself up. You wanted to stay awake longer last night to keep listening to Sam and Alan’s conversation but you couldn’t fight off sleep for very much longer. You tried to pinpoint what was the last few things you heard before drifting off but your memories of real life and your memories of your dreams were blending together, making it unclear.

You lifted yourself up enough so that your back was pressed against the wall, rubbing your eyes to rid your fuzzy vision as you tried to focus on Alan who sat cross legged on a mattress in the far left corner. You focused on the chain still trapping his ankle but his seemed to be even shorter than yours, not close to being long enough to open the sliding door.

You shifted your attention to the center table that held a plate of the dinner you didn’t touch last night that Sam said was going to be your lunch. Have you really been asleep till lunchtime? It wouldn’t surprise you though. Your sleeping schedule has been very sloppy and inconsistent lately. The colder the weather got, the more you layered on blankets. And the comfier you were the heavier and deeper you slept. You hated that. You wanted to know exactly when Sam would momentarily leave his room during the night, still vigilant over the reminding thought that he has watched you sleep before.

But you would feel safer if Alan stayed in the same room as you, just in case Sam tried anything and Alan would be there to verbally protect you. …Unless he was just like Sam’s mom and believed everything would be easier if they just let Sam do whatever he wanted with you; believing everyone would be safe if you just surrendered yourself over to his love.

But you knew that was not true. At first, you felt selfish for refusing to give yourself to him, knowingly endangering lives. But you knew that kind of thinking Sam has. Being guilted into a relationship does not fix the man.

You’ve never been in that kind of relationship, but one your friends from highschool has. A boy in her class had a huge crush on her and made it everyone’s problem. He would follow her around the school despite her protests and would mouth off anyone who tried to defend her. He was a short, little nightmare. That same boys’ friends privately begged talked to your friend and told her he would stop being crazy and be normal if she just dated him. She was guilted into dating him. And he did not change. He acted the same exact way except this time he got way worse and even tried to gain control over her whole life, both social and personal and trying to rearrange exactly who she could hang out with.

Thank god your friend reached her breaking point and cursed him out in a humiliating way in the hallways in front of everyone. The boy was so mortified and humiliated that he avoided her the rest of highschool. You wished you could do that. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to Sam, what insults and names you’d call him. But that wouldn’t embarrass him, it would infuriate him.

Your mind returned to you from the memory as your eyes refocused on an eyes-closed Alan still cross legged on the mattress. “What are you doing?” You spoke up softly, a slight scratch to your tired voice.

Alan took an inhale, not yet opening his eyes. “Meditating.”

You scooted upwards to create a more comfortable sitting position on the bed. “Why?” You asked neutrally and a look of downcast. Alan spoke slowly and softly. “My wife would always tell me that it helped clear the mind and reset your state of stress levels.”

You watched him for a bit, observing his form and breathing pattern. You wondered if it helped. You were never one for meditation or yoga or any self care in general. However, you couldn’t remember a time when your stress levels were down. You always had a different weight on your shoulders throughout all the stages in your life, and ever since you’d been kidnapped you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be calm.

“Does it work?” You questioned quietly, almost shy in a sense. Alan opened his eyes, his posture slumping and he stared at the carpet with mental exhaustion practically writing his features. “I don’t know. I can never do it right. This was always more of my wife’s thing than mine.”

You sadly stared at the man’s obvious downgrade in overall attitude at the mention of his partner. I guess that made two of you with a lover left alone at home. “I bet your wife is missing you terribly.”

“It’s the opposite. She’s passed.” He stated hesitantly, causing your expression to stiffen and your fingers found themselves trying to knot together. “…Oh. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

You chomped down on your bottom lip with agonizing awkwardness. Your eyes scanned the room for anything to occupy yourself with and you walked to the table in annoyed defeat to eat the leftover food from last night. You hovered your fingertips over the food only to sigh at its low temperature. Your empty stomach growled at you prompting your hand to force the cold food down your own throat.

“Sam’s at work right?” You asked after the first miserable bite. Alan answered simply. “Yes.” He raised his head to face you and spoke carefully with the scratch till present in his voice. “He told me all about the man at your work that you talked with and how he looked at you in an inappropriate way. And how that same man is friends with his supervisor and talked about you in another-”

You cut him off after noting he clearly didn’t want to use more specific words in order to spare your comfort. “I know. He told me that story. Crazy thing is I barely remember that guy. I meet, like, a hundred faces and names a day and I’m used to some of them being creeps. It’s just the female experience.” You noticed the discomfort you spread to Alan and directed the conversation back towards Sam. “What else did he say about that? Does he still want to kill him?”

Alan deeply sighed, vaguely nodding as he still stared at the carpet. “…Yes. He didn’t sound so calm when he talked about it. He’s still very angry. I tried to make him focus on the positive side that he’s been holding back this long. But I don’t think he sees that as a notable accomplishment.” After you ate a few more bites he added, “When he comes back, I’m going to try and convince him to unchain me.”

You scoffed at his naivety, already knowing exactly all the plans conducting in his brain because you thought of them first. They’ve never worked and the others take too much time. “Don’t bother. He’d probably say something douchey like… ‘The chain's on your leg, not on your mouth’.”

Alan looked at you in deep thought as you continued eating with a slight cringe. It was weird to him, he knew a lot about you (minus the lies Sam admitted to making about yours and his relationship) yet he didn’t actually know you. Sam kidnapped him and brought him here for you.

In hindsight, he didn’t truly know anything about you. At least from your own mouth. And despite the main reason that Sam just wanted him to basically convince you to fall for Sam, Alan hated that he believed that there was something actually going on with you. Something you didn’t think you needed help with, something you didn’t consider wrong, something you kept buried within you. Something you really did need help with, not for Sam’s sake but for your own sake.

“(Y/n).” You looked up to catch his focused gaze. “For us to work together against him, I need to know the truth from you.” He paused for a beat. “How bad was your relationship with your father? Was he physical like Sam’s?”

You physically tensed up from the mention of your dad, your jaw tightening that Alan even brought him up in the first place. Your eyes hastily thrashed down to your food as you began to play with it a bit with a physically irked expression. “My dad was an asshole who didn’t care about me. That’s all there is to it and that’s all you need to know.” You spat. You didn’t want to come across as that foul, especially towards your fellow prisoner who’s obviously not doing great mentally, but you just got very worked up with the subject.

“You have to give me more to work with, (Y/n). Have you ever done therapy?” Alan asked before you shook your head, still keeping your eyes glued below you. “No, not unless rehab counts.” “Well, in effective and healthy therapy the patient-” You instantly cut him off with a harsh bite, your eyes finally looking up to throw a glare his way. “I’m not your patient though. Even though Sam brought you here for me, don’t ever turn our conversations into sessions. I already have one man on my back trying to fix what’s not broken, and I don’t need another.”

Alan cleared his throat and straightened his back. “I understand. Don’t look at me like your therapist then. Look at me as someone you can vent to without having to worry about any manipulation or consequences. Whatever is spoken between us will never be known to Sam. Unless of your consent.” He stated clearly and calmly.

You sighed and your eyebrows began to curve upwards. You let the fork slip out of your fingers before leaning back into your chair. “At five years old my dad basically declared me the biggest failure of a human being. He was a man impossible to satisfy and treated me more like an annoying dog in his house rather than a daughter.” Your lips puckered to prevent them from quivering. “He hated me. And still to this day, I have no idea why.”

Alan’s frown sincerely deepened. “What about your mother?”

“I was an asshole to her. Before and after my dad left. Before, I was trying to get my dad to like me by joining him in berating her and mocking her. I would even verbally take his side on arguments that didn’t even involve me. And after, I just needed someone to blame for my dad leaving.” You felt your eyes begin to scarcely burn, your mind going back to all the times you yelled at that poor woman. “She deserved a better daughter than me. I think when I moved out it was the next best thing that happened to her next to my dad leaving.”

“You shouldn’t think like that.” Alan comforted you but you refused it. “Well you weren’t there to see how I treated her.”

“And what’s your dating history like?” Alan continued, wanting to know the full layout of the people who played significant roles in your life. Especially the ones that could’ve led Sam to believe in your unhealthy relationship with men who resemble your father. You crossed your arms to let your elbows rest on top of your knees, a shrug pulling your shoulders. “Just a lot of bad guys. They all specialized in their own form of assholery. And I was always the one being broken up with. Never the other way around.” Your eyes frowned with your lips.

Alan slowly nodded. “I see… And what’s your current boyfriend like?”

Your frown twitched but eventually went upturned. “He’s a good, sweet person. More of a man than all my exes combined. He helps make me a better person.” Even a colorblind newborn could see the red flag waving through those words. Alan shifted in his seat, wanting to put all the pieces together but almost scared to. Because then that would make Sam right. “How so?”

“He lets me know when I’ve done something wrong and how I can correct my behavior.” You narrowed your eyes on the older man. “Alan, no matter what Sam tells you, my boyfriend is a good person.” He ignored your last statement, much too focused on what your explanation could mean. “(Y/n)... how often does your boyfriend criticize you?”

“When it’s due.”

“But how often?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I make a lot of mistakes and questionable decisions, alright? Thank god I had him with me to stop me from embarrassing myself.” You defended brashly.

“But what exactly-” Alan’s nearly fearful tone was snapped off by the skyrocket pace of your heart as you quickly shushed him, your eyes blown open by a foreboding sound of a truck. “He’s back.” You squeaked before practically throwing yourself off the chair and back into the bed, not wanting to be in a space that was welcoming a conversation.

However, you didn’t plop your head onto the pillow immediately as a certain train of thoughts began chugging around your mind. Your bottom lip felt heavy and cold as you spoke up. “Alan?” Said man looked up at you with concern and curiosity. “Yes?”

You straightened up your form to say what you wanted to get off your chest in front of a trained professional for that exact sort of thing. “As much as I hate what he’s doing to me, it’s really hard for me to accept Sam’s a murderer.” You said, quietly yet shakingly, with your eyes locked on the sheets. “I can’t even picture him doing… that. I’m still clinging to that soft spot I have for that sweet and bashful Sam that became a regular customer then a friend to me.”

You finally lifted your blurry, glossy gaze to set onto Alan. “This isn’t the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome, right?” You asked with a fear weighing down your voice. Alan frowned deeply at your question and expression. “It doesn’t appear that way to me. You’re just suffering a very cruel and traumatic betrayal. And I’m sorry you have to go through all this.”

Your lips began to quiver as you slowly looked toward the ground, the weight of everything gradually closing in on you. Little voices that sounded like your own crawled around your head, whispers that overlapped with each other that this was all your fault. Everything that has happened was because of your decisions. You were the one to blame. “No. I’m sorry.” You said with a hushed tone. “It’s my fault you’re even here in the first place.”

You couldn’t tell if Alan was speaking or not, you couldn’t hear over the haunting and self-blaming thoughts that chewed away at your brain like nasty little woodworms. They were so intense and painful, triggering hefty tears to swarm your eyes and slip over your bottom lashes, that you didn’t even hear or register Sam walking in through the sliding screen door and holding up two bags.

“Hope you guys like Pierogies.” Sam announced with a smile of self-approval. However it was very short lived when his attention instantly locked onto you, seeing your quivering sobbing lips and tears before his very own eyes. His heart broke and dropped down to the pit of his stomach. He practically threw himself across the room, dropping the dinner on the table once he passed it, to fall to his knees by your side.

“Woah, woah, why are you crying?” He asked as gently as he could as his hands hovered over your arm and shoulder, not knowing if you would either be okay with him touching you or would bite his head off. His heartbroken worry, though, was quickly replaced with an overprotective anger. He whipped his head over his shoulder to send Alan a nasty glaring snarl. “What the fuck did you say to her!?” He barked out loudly over your tearful whimpers.

“Sam.” Your meek voice perked up the said man’s ears, that anger vanishing like a spec of sand by the power of that voice of yours. The voice of the thing that mattered most to him in the entire world. He looked back up to you to meet your weeping eyes. “You have to let Alan go.” You told him in between your sniffles and shaky breaths from your sobs. “It was a mistake bringing him here. You should’ve kept this between us.”

Sam’s brows curved upward as he finally placed his hands softly on your knees. He appeared so submissive and lovesick by the way he looked up at you on his knees. “I’m sorry but you know I can’t do that. He knows too much now, too much stuff leads back to this location.” He said as he rubbed small circles on your knees. “And you need help. He’s gonna help me help you.”

You sniffled one more time before your quaking lips shifted into a harsh frown, eyebrows sharpening into a V shape as well with your gaze growing fiery with hate. “Don’t you get it?! I don’t want your help! And please back up!” You wailed as you thrashed your legs away from his unwanted massage.

Sam extended his arms in an attempt to reach you with the intent of making you calm down despite your clear objecting distaste, but Alan’s voice wrung out quickly before anything could have happened. “Sam, when she’s like this you have to know boundaries and give her space.”

The brunet stalker took a second to ponder before sighing, “You’re right.”, rising to his feet and turning his back to you to walk back to the bagged food. “You know last time she threw a big crying fit, she used it as a ploy to escape.” He told Alan with a bitter scoff while he pulled out one of the white boxes from the bag.

He walked back up to you, keeping a certain distance, and lightly tossed the box with food in it to the space next to you. “Here. You can eat in your bed. Away from me.” He said with a bitter smile aimed at your back. “We’re having a session after dinner though.” He added over his shoulder at you as he sat down to eat with Alan.

You released a few more breathy whimpers before rubbing your palms across your cheeks, trying to pull yourself together so that you could eat. You kept your back turned to the men as you ate the dinner in the corner of your bed like you were in time out. You listened to their conversation when Alan began with, “(Y/n) told me you live with your mother”.

Sam shot your back an irked look, not appreciating that you felt it was your place to spill that secret. “Is this the house you grew up in?” Alan continued. Sam snatched his food so that he could lean back in his chair, releasing a gruff sigh. “Yup.”

Alan prompted Sam to tell him more about his comforting relationship with his mother and his abusive, power imbalanced one with his father. Sam even briefly told a quick version of when his father left him. This triggered your own overview.

You remember your dad leaving in vivid detail, as if you just experienced it merely a few hours ago. And sometimes you still felt those emotions as vividly as you felt them in that moment. And sometimes you felt as if you were still in that moment, as if you never left it in the first place, as if you were stuck in a never ending time loop with the outcome being the same each and every time.

You remember how the sky looked with light gray clouds passing by and allowing the blue sky to peek through. You remember what you were wearing, from your hairstyle down to your socks. You remember what your dad was wearing and the exact shades of color his packed bags were and how many there were. You remember how he moved every muscle of his stoic yet aggravated expression.

You remember every single word from both of your mouths. You remember your words of questioning why he was leaving and your words of begging him to stay. You remember his apathetic words of briefly explaining to you how he met a superior woman and he was divorcing your “troublesome” mom. You remember asking him about the custody of you and you remember his dry response about how a custody battle was never an issue and that your mom had full ownership of you.

But the strongest thing you remember, the thing that affected the rest of your life and mentality, was how your sixteen year old self ran to your daddy and threw your arms around his torso as burning tears streamed down rapidly from your pink, stinging eyes. You choked on your sobs and hyperventilated around your mewls. Your dad didn’t hug you back. Instead he patted you on your head.

Then he moved his hand to your shoulder and softly pushed you away. You sniffled through your runny, pink nose as your dad placed his knuckle underneath your chin where your tears kept slipping off and lifted your chin so that you could make eye contact with him. It was hard though, your eyes were burning as if someone was cutting onions or squirted lemon juice in them, making you keep squeezing them shut to rid of that pain, and globs of hot tears blurred your vision. But despite not seeing him clearly, you heard him as clear as day.

“Best of luck, you’ll need it.”

Those words always lived in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest that was long overstaying their welcome. You were so bipolar with those last words of his. Sometimes, when you’re reflecting about how much your dad sucked, you loathed those words. What a dick thing to say to the child you were abandoning. But the other times when you felt yourself subconsciously miss him, you defended all his wrongdoings with that last spoken sentence toward you. He could’ve said something nasty to you, could’ve yelled at you, could’ve belittled you or said exactly what you did wrong that made him snap and leave. But he didn’t. He found the last remaining compassion in his heart for you to wish you the best of luck.

You just wished you weren’t crying so hard in that exact little moment so that you could’ve seen what expression he was wearing. It would’ve answered so much and revealed his intentions. Was he giving you a stern, cold look? Did his eyes soften with those last words? If you knew, it would have answered the question that tormented you for years: Did he even care about leaving you forever?

But now you’d never know. And you would never, ever, go to him to ask him.

Your far off mind returned to you when Alan cleared his throat and began saying something that caught your attention. “You know, your mother is an impressive woman, and she would clearly do anything to help you feel better, help you live the life that you want to live, and I think that she can help us now. We are all part of family systems. You, me, everyone. Changes to those systems can have a profound effect on us, even at your age. And I was thinking that it might be beneficial if we were to do some family therapy work with you and your mother.”

Sam started with a subtle shake of his head then the shakes grew more obvious in feeling. “She's been through enough. She doesn't need to be dragged into what we're doing here.” He spoke stiffly and gave him a look that told Alan it was a terrible idea.

“I think that's kind of you, and I can see why you'd want to protect her. But I don't think you need to worry about her feeling dragged into this. I think she might find it helpful, too.” Alan said as Sam kneaded the skin between his thumb and index finger, his leg beginning to bounce in an anxious manner as his eyes threatened to water with that same nervousness as in his leg. “Sam. You don't have to take this next step alone. There is someone who wants to be there with you. She doesn't want you struggling with this by yourself.”

Alan saw he wasn’t convincing his patient with his stare not expressing any kind of agreement or openness to the idea. So he decided to hit his Achilles heel despite really not wanting it to come to that, and knowing that you would get the wrong idea on where his allegiances resided. “And I really believe this could be beneficial for (Y/n) as well. I think she would be more open to therapy if you use yourself as an example for how helpful it truly is.”

Sam’s eyes vaguely lit up, glancing at you for a mere second. Bingo. Alan knew he had him now.

Sam’s mouth moved around as he struggled to find words, his glossy eyes continuously returning to you. Alan could practically see the thoughts through his forehead like closing credits. Sam glanced at your back one last time before looking back to his therapist. “We’ll make this quick.” He said quickly before pushing off his chair and moving to and up the stairs with a jittery twitch to his movements.

One beat then another had passed before your harsh glare peeked over your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You questioned with distrust and attitude evident in your quiet voice. Alan held his hand up to try and signal you not to worry. “Just trust me. I think I can get through to him using his mother.”

You shifted on your butt a little to look at him more clearly, you gaze sharp. “I told you we couldn’t trust her. She’s basically on his side.”

“Exactly.”

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