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cherienymphe · 8 months ago

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His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

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The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 (PART 2)

♡ ��ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being the forgotten one your whole life, you thought that they wouldn't forget you.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x reader

♡ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ : part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual clamor of students, but at the Marauders’ table, an unusual silence hung over them like a storm cloud. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat in a tense huddle, their eyes flicking nervously toward the entrance every few seconds, waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

“We’ve really messed up this time,” James muttered, raking a hand through his messy hair. His usual confident smirk was nowhere to be found.

“Yeah, no shit,” Peter added quietly, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he avoided eye contact with the others.

Remus sat slouched over, dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and sickly. The last full moon had been brutal, and he was still nursing fresh wounds that ran deep, not just on his skin but in his heart. He felt the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him like a vice. He should’ve been there. They all should’ve been there. And now? Now, you probably hated them. He didn’t blame you.

“It’s my fault,” Remus whispered, his voice hoarse. “I should’ve—”

“Moony, no,” James interrupted firmly, though his voice was softer than usual. “It wasn’t your fault. We should’ve told her. We all agreed on that date, but we thought you’d be fine by then. No one expected the moon to be that bad.”

Peter nodded in agreement, but his expression remained grim. “But we couldn’t tell her, could we? Not about… y’know.”

Remus flinched at the unspoken word. His furry problem. His secret. The one they all kept from you. It wasn’t because they didn’t trust you—it was because they were scared. Scared of how you’d react. Scared you’d leave. Scared you’d see Remus as a monster.

“I just… I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Remus whispered, his hand unconsciously tracing the new scar on his cheek, the fresh reminder of what he became once a month. He looked down at the table, ashamed. “She doesn’t know. She wouldn't understand.”

Sirius, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, tried to lighten the mood. “She’ll come around,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’ll understand once we explain, right? I mean, it’s us. She knows we wouldn’t—”

But even Sirius couldn’t finish the sentence. His bravado faltered. The truth was, they had stood you up. They had left you waiting for hours, no explanation, no word. Even for them, this was unforgivable. And deep down, Sirius knew it. He knew they had hurt you, badly.

“We fucked up,” he admitted quietly, the words heavy with the weight of his own guilt.

The others didn’t argue. They knew it too.

The sound of the Great Hall doors opening made all four boys tense. You walked in with Lily and Mary, the two girls chatting lightly beside you. But you… you looked different. Your usual bright smile was gone, your eyes tired and distant. You carried yourself like someone trying desperately to hold it together, and the sight of you like that felt like a punch to the gut for all of them.

James sat up straighter, his eyes glued to you, willing you to look at them. Please sit with us, he thought, as if he could somehow send the message telepathically. But you didn’t. You didn’t even glance in their direction. You walked straight past their table, your shoulders stiff, as if you were physically forcing yourself not to look.

Remus’s heart dropped into his stomach as he watched you sit down between Lily and Mary. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, though. You looked so… hurt. And knowing that he was the reason for it made him feel like the monster he tried so hard to hide from you.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Peter whispered, his voice laced with panic. “What if they—what if she never talks to us again?”

James didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was too busy staring at you, silently begging for you to look over. He needed to see your eyes, needed to know if there was still a chance to fix this. But you didn’t.

And then, for the first time, Sirius’s forced optimism broke completely. “We really fucked up, didn’t we?” His voice was low, defeated, and filled with the kind of despair that none of them had ever heard from him before.

Remus closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the guilt that was clawing at his throat. He wanted to run over to you, to pull you aside and explain everything, to beg for forgiveness. But what would he even say? How could he explain all the times they had lied, all the times they had kept him away from you after full moons, how they had kept you in the dark? He couldn’t. Not yet.

And so, they sat there in silence, helpless, watching the person they loved more than anything in the world drift further and further away.

You tried to ignore their stares, you really did. But you could feel their eyes on you, especially Remus’s. There was a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything Lily or Mary were saying. Your heart was aching, twisting painfully in your chest, but you refused to give in to it. Not again. Not after last night.

But despite your best efforts, your eyes betrayed you. For just a moment, you glanced over at their table, and your heart clenched when you saw them.

Remus looked terrible. Pale, sick, with fresh scars on his face that you hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. You felt a pang of guilt twist in your chest, the urge to rush over and hug him overwhelming for a split second. You loved him. You loved all of them.

But then the anger came rushing back, drowning out the guilt. If Remus had been sick, if something had happened, they could have told you. They should have told you. Instead, they had left you alone, waiting, wondering if you even mattered to them at all.

You noticed the fresh scar across Remus’s cheek, and your mind wandered back to the countless times you had questioned him about his scars before. He had always brushed it off, closed himself off from you. And the boys? They gave the most ridiculous, unbelievable excuses every single time. You weren’t stupid. You knew something was going on, something they weren’t telling you, and it hurt. It hurt so much more than you wanted to admit.

How could you be their girlfriend, but still feel so shut out? Why didn’t they trust you enough to tell you the truth? That thought hit you harder than anything. Maybe you weren’t as important to them as they were to you. Maybe you were just… an afterthought.

You clenched your jaw, determined not to let the tears fall this time. You weren’t going to let them see you cry again. You wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

But the truth was, no matter how angry or hurt you were, you still loved them. And that hurt most of all.

#james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james fleamont potter #remus lupin hurt/comfort #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #poly!marauders angst #poly!marauders x reader #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew angst #sirius black angst #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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zepskies · 6 months ago

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A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful�� eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#A Line and a Half #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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cheesiedomino · 9 months ago

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RentABoyfriend.com ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: you’re tired of being single so you to take an unusual route in helping with that— but what happens when you start catching real romantic feelings for your rental boyfriend?

genre: seo changbin x fem!reader | fake relationship/dating au wc: 5.1k tags/warnings: fluff, v minor angst, mild cursing, (kinda) nerdy changbin, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol usage, just overall very cute story dw <33

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“I have a date tomorrow guys.”

Everyone’s head instantly lifts up from their phones at this sudden announcement, collectively drawing their attention at you. You weren’t expecting all of them to gasp and swap such looks of genuine confusion. It’s starting to make you think maybe this situation was a lot more serious than you’ve bargained it out to be.

You couldn’t fathom it either honestly, the realization of you going out with someone probably won’t settle in until you’re physically on the date. Based on their initial responses though, you might regret everything you’re about to say, but it’s far too late to retract any of your statements now.

“No way.. with who??” Danielle is the first out of everyone to ask.

Taehyung chimes in as well, “Yeah, who’s the lucky person? They’ve gotta be something seriously special to be talking to you.”

Well, you suppose you could put it that way.

You already have a preconceived notion of what they’re going to think of this “idea”. Mentally preparing yourself to receive a flood of questions and critique from your close friends.

“Actually… I rented him. For the week.”

Now they’re all looking at you like you’ve officially lost it. The room got scarily quiet, no one wanted to be the first to speak. You should’ve anticipated on their reactions being like this, it isn’t everyday someone just openly admits to buying a partner online. Nowadays there’s a lucrative market for just about anything, when you stumbled upon an ad for this service called ‘RentABoyfriend.com’ you didn’t think much of it. You laughed the concept off at first, thinking how lonely people must be to buy someone else’s time.

But the ads kept popping up, they wouldn’t stop showing in almost every YouTube video you were watching— even one of your favorite YouTubers promoted them before! So one day you finally decided to check this website out, you wanted to see what the hype’s all about so you signed up just for shits and giggles. You weren’t expecting to actually be somewhat interested in trying this thing out, but after going through a couple different profiles and reading hundreds of positive reviews you were practically sold.

“You rented out a boyfriend..? Seriously ___? I mean, I’m not judging but you’re a gorgeous girl you can easily get a boyfriend without paying for someone’s companionship, I don’t see why you need to rent one.” Mark bluntly expressed his opinion, he was probably the most outspoken out of all of you guys.

Taehyung and Danielle both agreed in unison, it’s practically 3 against 1 at this point. You knew you should’ve waited to tell them but you weren’t anticipating on them being this judgmental about it. You were hoping for a little more support, as they’re all way more experienced than you in the dating scene and could lend some helpful advice about your first date, ever.

See, the thing is you’ve never tried dating before so you wouldn’t know the first thing about it or what to expect from your future partner. You’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone held hands or kissed someone of the opposite sex. Being in your twenties it’s kind of embarrassing to say you’ve never done those things, but you thought what better way to try it out than renting a full-on experience that can give you just that? Well minus the kissing part, but you can make it work.

You were skeptical of doing this whole ‘rent-a-boyfriend’ thing at first because you didn’t think there’d be anyone you’d find suitable enough. A big part of the reason that you’re still single is because you’re extremely picky, you want to date a guy who’s so perfect that he must’ve came straight out of an indie romance film. Your friends would tease you for having such unrealistic standards when it came to dating but you were the all-or-nothing type, you’ll be single with fifty cats before you settle for less. Renting a boyfriend is definitely an unconventional idea of easing into dating but you thought it might be worth a try anyway.

What’s the worse that could happen?

( 1 day earlier )

Hovering your cursor over the bold red text of the website, you read over the main rules before going on to select the person you want for your date.

‘The rules are simple:

You are allowed to see only ONE person at a time, if you want to switch boyfriends you’ll have to pay a $50 fee.

MUST be over 18 to rent a boyfriend, we have implemented an age verification system before the date as we do not tolerate anyone under this age to use our services.

NO kissing, or sexual intimacy allowed. If this is found out later on by our agency we will terminate your contract and ban you from using our services in the future.

Remember to have fun !! ^_^ Our services are great for people who are new to dating or have never been in a relationship. We provide the ~ultimate~ boyfriend experience to all our clients. Customer satisfaction is 100% guaranteed ! (NO REFUNDS)’

Well jeez… they seemed a bit strict but you can deal with those rules and restrictions for the most part.

After hours of skimming through hundreds of profiles, you have a hard time choosing which you like most. Did you want an artsy, shy kind of guy? The tattooed, bad boy aesthetic type? You really couldn’t pick one until you stumble upon a particular profile that catches your eye almost immediately.

SEO CHANGBIN | 168 CM | PART-TIME LIFEGUARD | 24 | *POPULAR ↝

5 Facts About Me: I’ve traveled to over 50+ different countries and counting (ask me which my favorites are), I can speak 4 languages (working on my fifth), love to sing and used to have a rap trio with my buddies from college, I can & will easily lift you up ;) also have a secret talent for cooking, there’s nothing I can’t do!

Why Choose Me? First of all, why not choose me? I’m the best candidate for whatever kind of date you need, something casual, social gatherings, weddings, you name it! I’m very social and can make most people laugh (unless they’re the literal Grinch reincarnated), I’m able to get along well with anyone and just love to have a good time. I hope we can get to know each other and make great memories in the future :)

Going through his pictures you couldn’t believe someone was capable of being this humanely attractive. Don’t even get started on those impeccable muscles either… He really had to sport them in every other one of his photos, wearing the tightest shirts to show the outline of his insanely sculpted frame. You might have just been mesmerized from his godlike visuals alone. They even had a Valentine’s Day deluxe package that comes with seven dates in total for half the price, which they specified was for a limited time only.

$600 later you’ve got a full week of dates lined up with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in all your years of living. You should’ve definitely went shopping before considering all this because now you actually have a reason to get dolled up for someone.

You were so nervous about going on this date you almost cancelled last minute out of fear. Typing out several different elaborate paragraphs to Changbin on why you couldn’t make it. You didn’t have his real phone number, it was all through an app facilitated by the rental company that was included in the package. Even though you were feeling overwhelmed and practically shaking with anxiety about meeting up with a guy, you still forced yourself to go anyway. You didn’t just dish out all that money just to not show up and waste his time on top of all that.

Your rental boyfriend texted you the location to meet at, it was near a train station so you both could see each other out in a public open space. The outfit you wore was fairly simple, a black mini skirt with warm tights underneath and a cropped turtleneck sweater. You accessorized the look with some dainty jewelry, a thin scarf, and knee high boots to pull everything together. It wasn’t something you usually wore but you had certain clothes you saved for a special occasion like this.

Upon your arrival, you notice him standing near a vending machine and waves over at you with the biggest smile plastered on his face. You awkwardly wave back, giving a soft smile as you slowly walk up to him. He looks even better in person, you don’t even feel adequate enough to be in such a gorgeous man’s presence. No wonder he’s so popular on the site, he’s practically unreal.

“Hi, you must be ___. It’s so nice to finally meet you, might I add you look really beautiful today, I think you’re making my heart race just by looking at you. Happy Valentine’s Day!” Changbin introduces himself, buttering you up with some sweet compliments before handing you the most insane bouquet of roses you’ve ever seen.

You take the flowers and almost stumble backwards from how heavy they were, “Wow, thank you!” Changbin prevents you from falling, quickly coming up behind you to get your balance back.

“Careful honey, can’t have you injured on our first date!” He voices with concern, “I hope you love the idea I came up with, I’ve only been to this place once before but I’m sure it’s still as fun as I remember it, let’s go!” Eagerly grabbing your hand to begin the journey, he turns around again to examine your body language.

“You seem a little tense babe? Do you need a massage?” He asks in a concerned tone again, this is all really beginning to freak you out. You know this is what you signed up for but this was all starting to feel a bit too personal, all the nicknames and sweet talk he’s giving is just something you aren’t used to.

“Uh, no! It’s o-okay.” You shook your head, denying anything suspicious going on. Truth be told you were barely able to contain your composure right now.

Changbin keeps on insisting, “The massage is included in the package so you don’t have to worry about getting charged extra.”

“N-no it’s okay, really. I’m just nervous that’s all, sorry I just don’t meet up with guys…” you shyly admit, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

He nods in understanding, “No need to be nervous with me sweetheart. I’m here to make you feel as comfortable as possible.” The smile he flashes at you instantly makes you warm on the inside, he seems like a genuine, caring person. You think things might go well for you after all.

The rest of the night was full of only good vibes and laughter by the end of it all. Changbin took you to an adult arcade that had old video games like Pac-Man, Super Mario, and Space Invaders, the other side was a bar where people could sit, drink, and socialize. He bought all your drinks that night, let you use up most of his tokens and overall had the most fun you could’ve ever had with someone. He was so easygoing but also knew when to act super caring and would be all lovey dovey with you. He was gentle, nurturing, and could have conversations about anything. You loved that he’d randomly drop some interesting fact you never knew about, or talked about a certain niche topic that he’d go on multiple rants over. It didn’t feel like you were renting someone out to date you, it felt natural— like you’ve known him for longer than a couple hours. Changbin walked you home and held your hand the entire time, along with the flowers he provided a teddy bear and a heart shaped box of chocolates. If that didn’t scream boyfriend goals then you don’t know what does.

The next day you wake up to Changbin blowing your phone up this morning. You had over 26 messages from him, which was pretty excessive in your humble opinion. The first thing he said was good morning then he goes on to express how fun yesterday was and he can’t wait to do it again. He even sent a couple mirror selfies of him at the gym, ‘conceited much?’ You thought. But then again, if you were Seo Changbin you’d probably be full of yourself too.

For today’s date you wore a pretty red sundress that made your skin glow in the sunlight. It’ll definitely get him to compliment you even more— which you secretly love when he does. Changbin calls you before he heads out to the date, letting you know how excited he is to see you again. You couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot on the train as you made your way to the destination, thinking about what he’s planned for you two next. This time you’ll be meeting up at a park but you still have no clue what you’re doing.

Changbin texts you where exactly he is in the park, it was pretty huge so it took you a while to get to him. As you get closer you see him sitting on a large blanket by the lake, on top of it were a bunch of different foods and snacks scattered all around that came out of a huge picnic basket. You were speed walking at this point trying to get to him. His arms opened out for a hug and you lean right into him, what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stand up and lift you in his arms to swing around you like a doll.

“Put me down I’m scared of heights!” You squeal out in fear of being too high up in the air. Maybe you really should’ve taken the bio on his profile more seriously when he mentioned certain things.

Finally putting you down after minutes go by of you protesting, Changbin sits you back onto the blanket. He brought an assortment of breads, cheese, fruits, lemonade that he made himself and a couple seltzers. You’ve never seen anyone put such time and effort into a date before, even being here with him is like living in a daydream. He was definitely succeeding in making you feel comfortable, which is something you never thought was possible with men. He actually took his time getting to know you and didn’t sound arrogant whenever he talked about himself, Changbin was so different than other guys who’ve tried hitting on you in the past. He was actually respectful, intelligent, and could easily carry a conversation without long, awkward pauses.

He was literally everything you’re looking for in a guy. But you’ll be seeing him for this week only then it’s bye bye forever. That revelation makes you a little upset, but you try pushing those thoughts in the back of your mind. It’s irrelevant and unnecessary to think about. Yet you can’t help but wonder about certain things though, wanting to know more about his job and what it’s like on a daily basis for him.

“Can I ask you something? I need you to answer it honestly.” You say out of nowhere, hoping that didn’t come out as weird as you thought.

Changbin nods, “of course, shoot.”

“How many clients do you usually get?”

This question definitely catches him off guard, he’s never really been asked this before and he’s debating on if he should as it might be a breach of privacy.

“I don’t think I can answer that, sorry.” He responds in the nicest way possible, but deep down he wants to know why you’d want to know how many other people he sees a day.

You were going to push him a bit more to try and get an answer but you decide to let it go and just enjoy the rest of the picnic. You didn’t want to bring the mood down with your odd questions and/or end up making him feel so uncomfortable that he won’t want to see you anymore. It was definitely something you shouldn’t have asked but you were curious to know anyway. Overall besides that small incident, you had another wonderful time with Changbin and couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come any faster.

Changbin had a foolproof way of getting you to blush like a giddy high school teen whenever he texted you. He’d always refer to you as ‘pretty girl’ or ‘princess’ which gave you insane amount of butterflies. You loved how clingy he could get and would double text when you don’t reply fast enough, always needing constant attention from you which you never minded giving.

He texted you at around three in the afternoon, proposing his next plan for today’s date.

‘Let’s go out for drinks tonight, it’s all on me ;)’

You liked his message, replying that you’ll be there and put a series of hearts at the end. Speaking of hearts, yours is fluttering at high altitudes from the way you can’t stop thinking about your “boyfriend” Changbin. This has been better than anything you could’ve expected, you never want this week to come to an end. It’s only been three days but you’ve begun to grow feelings for him, they weren’t too strong just yet but they were most definitely there. You couldn’t let that halt you from having a good time tonight, you’ll have to accept it soon enough he’s not your actual boyfriend. He’s doing this because you paid him to, if it wasn’t for your money he wouldn’t be here right now.

‘This relationship is purely transactional’ you unfortunately keep reminding yourself of the reality you’re in. Psyching yourself out of this sudden somber mood that’s consuming you, distracting your pessimism by raiding your closet for some cute clothes to wear tonight’s date. After what seemed like hours of tearing your entire room apart, you decide to settle on this sparkly black mini tube dress, pairing it with a leather jacket and more platform shoes because you’re obsessed with feeling tall. Once it’s 7 PM you head out to the bar you’re seeing Changbin at, he was already waiting for you inside the place. Eyes instantly lighting up when he sees you coming towards him, just like he always does he motions for a hug, pulling you in tightly like he hasn’t seen you in years.

His hugs felt so cozy, like sitting in front of the fireplace on a crisp, snowy winter’s evening. You never wanted to escape the warmth of his arms, it was one of those forms of physical touch that felt so overly personal to you. The thought of him hugging someone the same way he hugs you slightly enrages something in your spirit but again, it isn’t your place to get genuinely upset over him doing his job. You’re not entitled to him exclusively, but you feel like if you keep this up feelings will only continue to develop. This wasn’t something you considered when going into this and now you feel like you’ve just made a huge mistake.

“You okay babe?” Changbin notices you acting a bit strange, choosing not to pursue it after telling him you’re fine. He knows something’s wrong but doesn’t want to mess up the flow of the date, instead he orders a drink for the both of you and switches on to a lighter subject. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow at that new centre that just opened last week. I need to buy some new AirPods, I accidentally lost one of them in a taxi..”

“Sure,” you nod at his suggestion, in desperate need of some new clothes anyway. “Sorry about your AirPods, that sucks!”

He takes a sip of his bubbly drink that’s now on the table, “Eh, it’s okay this is probably the fourth time this has happened so far.” This has pretty much become a regular occurrence for him by now.

As the date progresses, things continue getting better. You’re both laughing, engaging in much deeper conversation than ever before. You definitely had more than enough alcohol in your system by now, feeling congested and claustrophobic as more people came into the bar. Changbin takes note of your discomfort and asks if you want to get some fresh air outside, you wasted absolutely no time to agree.

While you two were outside continuing your chat about some wild conspiracy he read about online, Changbin’s attention was soon drawn to a different building nearby. Gazing up in confusion at his sudden outburst of excitement, you wonder where he could be leading you next.

“Noraebang!” He shouts loud enough anyone miles away could’ve heard that, he’s now grabbing your hand to frantically drag you along with him.

You were never one to carry a tune but Changbin was actually very good at karaoke and singing in general, he had such a lovely voice. You could seriously listen to him sing all night— which you basically did since you kept begging for an encore until it hit 4 am. That’s when you both decided to finally call it a night, you wanted to pay for the Uber since he’s paid for all the drinks and every other expenses for today. You felt bad because you were the one renting him to be your boyfriend yet he’s constantly shelling out money left and right. He still insisted on paying and ultimately won the whole debacle, making you swallow your pride and get into the Uber with him. Changbin’s definitely not just someone you’re going to forget about after this week is over. You dread the day this all comes to an end, wishing there was a way to relive these moments again and again.

“I’m a little under the weather today, sorry I can’t make it Binnie.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing and unbearable throat pain. You’ve already consumed half a bag of cough drops, throat lozenges, and random cold medicine you’ve found in your cabinets.

He sounds mildly disappointed, but springs back up with a new proposal, “I can come over and bring some soup if you’d like!”

You appreciate his gesture but still refuse, you know he’s only saying all this because he has to, not because he wants to. “N-no you don’t have to, I’m sure you can go see other clients today. One less person to worry about right?”

The call went silent for a minute, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a deprecating comment.

“I don’t want to see other clients, I want to see you ___.” He sighs, unwilling to give up so easily, “I’ll be at your place soon, m’kay?” He hangs up before you could even respond or say no again.

You had no choice but to wait for Changbin to show up now. Before you got sick, the last two dates you went on were debatably the best so far. You had gone out shopping together, accidentally wearing almost the same kind of outfit. Changbin was wearing a white graphic tee with blue baggy jeans and you wore something practically identical. The two of you looked like a real, official couple and people would stare as you walked hand in hand, it really did seem like the perfect relationship on the outside.

You got even closer when he came over the following day, resulting in you two cuddling while watching movies and baking cookies. He’s expressed that he’s never been to another client’s home before but it wasn’t “technically” against any rules. The more you kept hanging out together, the harder it was coming to terms with the fact you’re actually falling for Changbin. He made every experience with you more exciting than the last, which he did exactly that night. When the cookies were done you fed a piece to him, making little airplane sounds as you do it, he eagerly takes a bite of the chewy treat and compliments both your efforts.

“These taste way better than I thought, oh my god they literally melt in your mouth. Try it!” He takes another cookie from the tray and feeds it to you this time.

There was something so overly domestic about that moment you couldn’t shake the feelings of wanting to kiss him right then and there. But you can’t. If you did such a thing you’d never be allowed to see him again, plus you don’t want to be known as that one creepy client who just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. As you were cuddling on the couch though, things may have taken a turn for the better… or worse?

Changbin would “yawn” at the movie and subtly wrap his arm around you, he’d subconsciously pull you in closer and it didn’t make it any better that you were under the same blanket. You weren’t complaining at any of this though, you were pretty much in heaven. It took everything in you not to look up and stare, gluing your eyes to the movie that was displayed on the TV. But as the night progressed you were practically snuggling up with him like he was your real boyfriend. The way he’d run his fingers gently down your back, soothing you in a way that could lull you asleep. His touch was the most relaxing thing ever, you were so calm with him and loved how he brought a side of you that’s never been shown. After this encounter you can no longer deny the way you feel— you are officially falling deeply in love your rental boyfriend, Seo Changbin.

The sound of your doorbell ringing alarms you of a new visitor, who was none other than your “boyfriend” waiting patiently outside the door for you. You feel and look like death itself, coming downstairs to answer the door still in your PJ’s and hair a disheveled mess. Every five seconds was interrupted with you coughing your lungs out, barely able to speak above a whisper. Changbin looks thrilled as ever to see you, even when you clearly don’t look your best he’s still coming up to hug you tightly. His hugs are always blocking off your airways from the way his muscles squeeze you, it’s even worse when you’re sick— practically gasping for air.

“Sorry babyy, I just missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and soon as you said you’re sick I dropped everything to go make you this soup. It’s a specialty I make whenever my friends are sick, the perfect remedy to cure my princess.” He goes into your kitchen to heat up the soup in your microwave, making you wait patiently on the couch as you’re wrapped up in multiple blankets.

Your body feels like it’s -2 degrees, you were freezing. The crazy thing is your thermostat was set to 80 degrees, it was definitely you that was the problem. He propped your feet up on the table, rested a tray in your lap and set the bowl of soup on top. Brushing a couple strands of hair out your face he looks at you intently, examining your symptoms as if he’s a doctor.

“It’ll be okay soon love, I’m here to nurse you back to health again. Can’t see my pretty baby sick like this, makes me all sad.” He pouts, giving you a soft head pat like you’re a delicate kitten.

He takes a spoonful of the hot soup, slightly blowing on it before telling you to open up so you can eat. You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you feel like he’s gone too far with all this. It’s not fair for you to continue on if it’s just become torture now. He’s practically dangling in your face that you’ll never have a partner as perfect as him in your life.

“I- I can’t do this anymore Changbin..” you say lowly, refusing to eat the soup he made.

“What do you mean? I’m just feeding you soup, it’s my duty as your boyfriend to-”

“This isn’t real… none of it is. I’m stupid for even doing this but I was lonely.. I’m sorry but I’d prefer something that isn’t temporary.” You cut him off to express your pent up frustrations, ready to be let down and rejected by him as gently as possible.

“Then let’s make it real,” he proposes without any hesitation, “honestly I stopped faking it around our third date, it was all me after that. I never said anything because well… this is my job and I’ve never fallen for a client before so this is still all very new to me..”

You’d be screaming right now if you weren’t sick, instead you’re internally freaking out at this confession, it feels like your hearts doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Seriously?” Eyes widening as you look at him, suddenly your body heat rises and you know it’s not because of the soup or the layers of blankets that’s covering you.

He nods, “I thought it was kinda obvious when we kissed yesterday..”

Oh yeah… you forgot that did happen. You thought it was another fever dream you might’ve just made up in your head. You shared your first kiss with someone you deemed so special and important to you, someone you never would’ve guessed could come into your life and shift the entirety of your world like magic. There was no one else in existence you wanted more than Changbin.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to quit your job? I don’t want to be the reason you stop making such good income.. I’ll feel so bad.” You knew deep down you didn’t feel that badly about him quitting to date you instead. It was just the thought of him leaving something he’s been doing for years behind all for some girl he’s known for simply a week.

He shrugs at your comment, “I’ll be just fine, I was planning on finding a new job soon anyway. It gets kinda old after a while, I felt like I was on autopilot most of the time. You were able to get me to open up and show my true self, I could never thank you enough for that ___.” Changbin couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss to your forehead.

After everything that’s been said and done. What you’ve come to understand is that love is learned, a development that takes time to grow and blossom into something extraordinary. Just like learning a new language or a musical instrument, we learn love from society and cultures we’re raised in, it’s a beautiful thing once we know how to cherish it. Your newfound romance with Changbin is something you’ll learn to cherish forever and ever.

[End <3].

#skz fluff #skz x reader #changbin fluff #seo changbin fluff #stray kids imagines #skz drabbles #changbin x reader #changbin skz #changbin x female reader #seo changbin x reader #stray kids fluff #changbin scenarios #changbin drabbles #changbin imagines #skz au #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines

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supernovafics · 9 months ago

Note

With your I’ll be there for you series would you be interested in writing about Steve discovering that he has feelings for reader? I think it would be sweet for him to just find even the silliest things she does cute and then him having a little melt down because he realised he’s liked her along. The series is such a great idea! 💭

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, drunk!steve, mentions of steve's dad being shitty, angst

summary: in which steve’s drunk and you don’t hesitate to cancel a date to take care of him

author's note: thanks for the request! probably from the moment i started this series/universe i knew that i wanted to have steve realize his feelings first so this request was quite literally perfect for that lol. this is slightly “while you were sleeping” by laufey inspired hence the title. the slow burn is finally starting to come to an end !! (i’m both happy and sad about that lmao) anyways enjoy<3333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

You were in the middle of debating between a black skirt and a brown plaid one that Robin convinced you to buy when you two went thrifting just a few days ago when the phone rang.

Leaving both options on your bed, you went to the kitchen to answer it, bottomless aside from the stockings you had already put on because of the cold late February weather.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” You recognized his voice for the most part, but he sounded a little different. A little far away, like he was calling from the oldest phone in the universe.

“Oh, hey.” The way he said the simple two words both confused and amused you because it sounded as if he didn’t expect you to be the person on the other end of the line.

You laughed a bit. “‘Oh, hey’? Don’t sound so disappointed. You called me.”

“I know. Sorry. I meant to call Eddie,” He said, and it was then that you heard what should’ve been obvious from the moment he said “Hello” to you— the way his words weren’t necessarily slurry, just slower than usual.

He was drunk, and you now recognized the voice that you had become so used to hearing since Steve’s sixteenth birthday when he snuck his dad’s whiskey and you both only had two shots of it before feeling it fully.

“Why would you call him? Aren’t you two together right now?” You asked, your confusion taking precedence over the amusement you felt in this moment.

Earlier that day, before you left the apartment to head to your twelve o’clock class, he told you that he was going to tag along with Robin, Vickie, and Eddie to some art show thing after his shift that night at Family Video; you would’ve gone too if you didn’t already have plans for the night.

“Also, I didn’t know that you could get drunk at an art show,” You added. “I’ll definitely make sure to go next time.”

“I didn’t go with them,” He told you, and before you could ask where he was, he answered the unspoken question. “I’m actually at a bar right now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Very long story. Dad shit. What else is new, right?” Steve answered with a breath of a laugh.

He made his words sound lighthearted and as if whatever happened didn’t really affect him, but you, of course, didn’t see it that way. Without even being with Steve right then, standing in front of him and reading his facial expressions, you still saw through what he was trying to play off as “no big deal.” You’d known him more than long enough to know that anything involving his dad was usually always serious. And whatever shitty things his dad said to him this time around drove Steve to a bar rather than back here to the apartment to frustratingly rant to you, and that only worried you.

“Which bar are you at?” You asked softly.

“The only place in town, other than The Hideout, that doesn’t card,” He said and then immediately continued. “But, wait, don’t come here, though. I don’t want you to come get me. That’s why I was trying to call Eddie. I know you have your date tonight.”

Just for a second— actually, probably the entire time you’d been talking to Steve— you’d forgotten about the date, forgotten about the reason why you’d just been debating which skirt to wear, forgotten about what you were supposed to leave for in twenty minutes. And that slightly surprised you because, for the last couple of days, you’d been really excited about it.

Meeting Jamie felt like a sort of “meet cute” moment that was straight out of a romcom, one that you probably would’ve laughed at because of how cheesy it was. You bumped into him in the hallway on the floor of your apartment. He was your neighbor’s, Miss Johnson’s, nephew, and you learned that even though he went to a college about an hour away, he was trying to visit her more often. He had been in the middle of leaving when you saw him, and you gave a friendly wave and smile at first and he started a conversation with you. You two then spent an hour talking in the hallway before you headed inside your apartment to start studying for a test and he asked for your number, which led to more long conversations over the next few days until he asked you on a date.

In a way, it startled you how giddy you found yourself feeling about him after only those few days, how easily and quickly you liked him. It was the first crush that you had in a while that didn’t feel completely hopeless.

But now all of that was the last thing on your mind. It quickly became pushed to the side because you knew that your best friend needed you.

You shook your head in this moment even though Steve couldn’t see you. “No, it’s okay, I’ll come.”

“No, don’t, don’t. I’ll just call Eddie.”

He’s probably not home right now, was what you wanted to tell Steve, but you refrained from doing so at that moment. Instead, you said, “I’ll call him for you.”

The drunken sigh in relief Steve let out was immediate. “Okay, thanks, I don’t think I have any more change for this payphone, anyway.”

“Okay, just stay put and stop drinking.”

“The bartender already cut me off.”

“Good,” You said before saying a final goodbye to him and hanging up.

You then picked the phone up again to dial a different number. You, of course, didn’t attempt to call Eddie and you instead called Jamie. He was completely understanding when you told him that you had to cancel the date because of an emergency, and he said that you two could do the dinner and movie on a different night, which you quickly agreed on.

You put on the brown plaid skirt— quickly deciding that it looked better with the white top you were wearing, anyway— before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing your coat, shoving your car keys and wallet into the pockets, and then leaving the apartment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The drive to Webster’s took less than fifteen minutes and the current emptiness of it didn’t surprise you that much. From the handful of times that you’d gone to the place with Steve, Eddie, and Robin, it became a known fact that things didn’t become “lively” until after ten, and it was currently only a little after nine.

You spotted Steve sitting on a stool at the counter, head down in his folded arms. You sat in the empty seat next to him and tapped the side of his shoulder until he sat up and looked at you.

“Glad to know you’re alive, Harrington.”

He smiled at you and you gave him a small smile back, he must have forgotten that he’d told you not to come to the bar.

“I feel barely alive, actually.”

“Still counts.”

Steve only looked at you for a moment, taking notice of what you were wearing beneath your unzipped coat.

“You look nice,” He said and then seemed to realize something and his smile dropped. “Wait, shit, your date. You shouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s fine. We’re just gonna reschedule it.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at him. “No, don’t be. It’s just a first date, anyway. Your drunk ass needing a ride home is obviously more important than that.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“Yes, you should,” You told him and then watched with furrowed brows as he went to grab the short glass that was in front of him, half full of some dark liquor. He was about to finish what was left in the glass, but you grabbed it from him before he could. “Steve.”

“I still had this from before I called you. I can’t finish it?”

“No, because if you end up throwing up in my car on the drive home, I will have to murder you.”

You looked away from him before he could say anything in response to that and waved at Barry, the usual bartender that you became on a first name basis with after your third time going to Webster’s. Since it was the farthest thing from busy right then, he immediately walked over to you two.

“Hey, Barry, can he have some water?”

He nodded and filled up a glass, sliding it over to Steve and then looking at you. “Glad to see you here. He’s looked like a sad little lost puppy for the past hour.”

Steve stopped mid-sip to scoff. “That’s very not true.”

“Sorry, but I think I have to believe the only other sober person here,” You said and only smiled at the second annoyed scoff he let out, which was hard to take seriously because of his current drunkenness.

Barry got called over by a group of people that just walked in and you silently watched Steve take a few sips from his glass. When he set it down, you lightly nudged his knee with yours. “Do you wanna talk about what happened with your dad?”

Steve simply sighed at first. “He came to Family Video today and went on this huge rant about me and what I’m doing with my life. He thinks my job is shit, and even me going to school part-time isn’t enough. He thinks I’m such a loser in comparison to his friend’s kids who are actually “doing things with their lives.””

You frowned and shook your head. “Fuck him.”

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a small laugh and held up his glass of water for a second. “He also said that he wants to set me up with this job at his friend’s insurance company, and I immediately said no to that. I’m still not entirely sure what I wanna do yet, but I know it’s not that— some stupid fucking desk job. Especially not one that’s just given to me by my dad.”

“He’s an idiot,” You told Steve. “And also his bullshit is not at all worth the hangover you’ll have in the morning.”

“You might be right about that,” He responded, eyes fixed on his now half-empty glass of water and a small amused smile on his face. “But, it felt good for a second.”

You poked his arm so that he would look at you. “You could’ve talked to me about all of that instead of coming here.”

“I didn’t wanna mess up your date by coming home and talking to you about all of this sad shit. I knew that you’d just worry about me and probably not go,” He mumbled. “And I feel like a dumbass for still messing it up.”

“It’s okay. Seriously. Honestly,” You told him and then playfully smiled as you said your next words. “And you know that I would tell you if it wasn’t okay. I’d definitely hold this over you for at least a week, and force you to clean out Harold’s cage and do my laundry that’s been building up for the past week and a half. But you’re drunk and sad, and I’m way too nice to make you do any of those things.”

He laughed at that, which made you smile wider. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” You said before you stood up from the stool you’d been sitting in. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here before it starts getting crowded. Can you walk okay?”

Steve only nodded in response, which was a nonverbal answer that you weren’t sure if you completely trusted, so you stood close to him as he also got up and pulled some cash out of his back pocket and placed it on the counter.

He then waved at Barry, and you were certain that he probably didn’t mean for it to be so animated and comical, but it very much looked that way. “Goodnight, Barry.”

The bartender laughed a bit when he looked over at you and Steve. “‘Night, guys.”

Steve started heading toward the door first and you followed just a few steps behind him. When he stumbled a bit before even making it out of the door, you grabbed his hand and moved closer to him so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders, and then one of yours circled around his waist.

Leading him to your car was a feat in itself, but once he was settled in the passenger seat and you started driving, he rolled his window down completely and had it like that during the entire ride even though it was freezing cold outside, and that was worse than dealing with his stumbling.

When you made it to the apartment building, his balance was actually a bit more coherent so you didn’t need to do more than just hold his hand during the entire walk to the elevators and then down the hallway to the apartment.

You dragged him to your room and he sighed in contentment when he sat down on the side of your bed; he always liked your mattress better than his own for some reason.

“Wait, don’t fall asleep yet,” You told him before heading over to his room and grabbing a random t-shirt and basketball shorts from one of his drawers. “Here, put this on. I know you’d be mad at me if I let you fall asleep in those jeans.”

“Thanks,” He mumbled with a yawn as you handed the clothes over to him, and then you went to the kitchen as he started changing.

You filled a mug with water and then pulled open the drawer that had the bottle of aspirin in it. Neither you nor Steve were really sure why it lived there instead of in one of your bathrooms, where it probably should’ve been, but you two also didn’t make any effort to move it.

Steve was already asleep and under the covers when you walked back into your room, and you placed the mug and aspirin on the nightstand on his side. You changed into your own pajamas for the night, which simply consisted of an old baggy t-shirt and shorts, before settling in on your side of the bed.

It was still pretty early for a Friday night, barely even ten o’clock, but you didn’t mind going to bed because you were actually a little tired. Steve was turned and facing away from you, but you still watched him and his even breathing for a bit, making sure he was okay before you quickly drifted off to sleep yourself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but he could tell that it was pretty early because he could see the just sun starting to rise.

The other things he quickly noticed were that he was in your bed and he had a pounding headache, which was a little confusing at first, but then all of what happened last night started coming back to him.

The shit with his dad, the bar, the accidental phone call to you, and then you coming to the bar and bringing him home— he remembered it all.

With a soft groan, Steve slowly sat up in bed, doing his best not to wake you, and then reached over to grab the water and aspirin you left out for him.

He took the medicine and drank most of the water and then laid back down, turning on his side to face you. Your head was against the pillow and even breaths fell from your slightly parted lips. You looked so peaceful like this, he decided, so pretty.

Steve thought about you and Jamie, and how happy you had been when you talked about him. Steve also knew how excited you’d been about the date, and even though you had told him that it was okay that you had to cancel it last night, he still felt a little bad about it all.

He knew that you would probably do anything for him, and that was completely mutual. If the roles had been reversed last night, Steve wouldn’t have thought twice about canceling a date to go pick you up from some dumb bar. And making those sorts of sacrifices for one another never felt like a question, it just always felt like the obvious thing to do.

It didn’t completely make sense at first, but somehow it was that simple and crystal clear thought that managed to shift something deep down inside of him— it harshly drew the line between best friends and something more. And Steve quickly realized exactly which side he lay on.

Which was confusing because the lines of where your friendship began and ended had always felt so unquestionable— you and him were best friends; nothing more, nothing less.

But it was different now, it changed, and it was this moment that told him that it actually had been that way for a while; probably since you two moved into the apartment.

Starting from that day in August your lives became even more intertwined with one another— which didn’t feel entirely possible because of how close you’d been for so long— but it was true. He hadn’t realized how blurry the lines had been getting since then.

Since you two started beginning your days and ending them in the same home. Since so many nights became spent in each other’s beds; nothing more happening than sleeping and late night talking, but still. Since you two got Harold only a few weeks into living in the apartment, and you both immediately fell into your unserious parental roles in the hamster’s life. Since an unspoken early morning weekend routine fell into place where Steve would make coffee and toast and you’d do the eggs and bacon. Since you two became something equivalent to a married couple that had been together for at least twenty years.

And then Steve realized that actually maybe this something more had always been there— maybe it had always been so fucking obvious.

He thought back to the end of Senior year when you two went to each other’s proms and slow danced at the end of the night because you both thought it would be funny, but those moments actually turned into something really sweet and wholesome; and you’d both think back on it during the most randomest of times.

And then he also thought about smaller things, the parts of your personality that made him feel so goddamn lucky to know you. How you always fiddled with the radio and never settled on a station for longer than a few minutes during perhaps any car ride where Steve was the one driving; something that you’d been doing since the day he got his driver's license and you two went on your first solo car ride together. How pretty much anything you did would only make him smile and playfully roll his eyes or make fun of you.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was having this sort of “epiphany moment” right here, right now, in your bed as he looked at you peacefully sleeping next to him.

It, of course, stemmed from you canceling something that he had known you’d been looking forward to for the last couple of days to instead take care of him, he could recognize that. But, what made that so different from everything else you’d done for each other over the years?

He immediately thought that maybe there was no one straight answer to that question because it wasn’t about what was different. Instead, it was about all of those other moments too. They had slowly built upon each other until it came to this one on this February morning— nine years into your friendship and six and a half months into you two living together— and Steve could finally recognize what it all had meant, and he was ready to accept the truth for what it was too.

He liked you. More than liked, actually. He loved you, he was in love with you.

But, you were also his best friend, the most important person in his life, and he didn’t want to be the reason that that ever got messed up. And that thought was what made him finally look away from you and mutter out a soft, “Fuck.”

Steve quickly got out of the bed, and he was surprised, but also completely grateful, that his quick and hasty movements didn’t manage to stir you awake.

He left your room and went to the kitchen. It was early and he probably should’ve been trying to get a few more hours of sleep, but he wasn’t tired anymore.

The realization was the only thing on his mind— in a matter of seconds, it managed to completely consume it.

Everything else that had been happening the past few months finally made complete sense; Steve saw it all in a different way. He now understood why he couldn’t picture any sort of future with Vanessa when he went out with her a few times back in December even though he really did like her, and why he couldn’t see anything with anyone he went out with. Because deep down, he knew that he could only see that with you. It made sense why his dating life had been in such a rut lately and why he didn’t particularly mind it all that much.

When you two would jokingly say that you both were completely okay with ending up “alone together forever,” he realized now that from his side of things, deep down, it had never been a joke. And he wondered if it was the same way for you.

In an ideal world, the answer would be yes. But, things only felt confusing, and if he was being a thousand percent honest with himself, he didn’t know if that answer was yes in this world.

Steve knew that you really liked Jamie, even in such a short amount of time, so that couldn’t mean that you had any sort of feelings for him. Right? Or maybe you just hadn’t had your own “epiphany moment” yet? Should he tell you about his? Should he tell you about any of what just hit him in the past ten minutes?

His brain felt as if it was going to fucking explode with all of the questions circling his mind right then, and the coffee he was making failed to distract his thoughts from everything.

He came to the quick decision that he wouldn’t tell you what he was feeling; it would just be easier that way. There wouldn’t be any way for him to potentially fuck things up between you two if he simply ignored what he was feeling. It was easy to imagine how drastically your friendship would change if he told you everything and you didn’t feel the same. Therefore, he could push it all away to make sure that nothing changed for the worse.

When the coffee was done, he poured some into a fresh mug and took a long sip. Any other time, he couldn’t really stand straight black coffee, but the bitterness tasted good for once; he decided to focus on that instead of anything else.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been leaning back against the counter and sipping from his mug before you came out of your room. It could’ve been one minute or ten; right then, time felt as if it was moving both slow and fast.

“Hey,” You said, giving him a small smile and rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. “I’m surprised you’re up already. I definitely expected you to be passed out until at least ten.”

It felt equivalent to a light switch flipping how quickly Steve felt affected by your smile and simply you in that moment. He’d probably seen you like this a million times before— just waking up and still in your now wrinkled pajamas from the night— but it felt entirely different now. And that was when he knew how fucked he was.

“Yeah, I, uh, I woke up and couldn’t, um, go back to sleep… So, yeah, just came out here. Made some, um, coffee,” He ultimately responded and then inwardly sighed at how flustered he was right then. He let out a quick laugh. “Sorry, blame the hangover for my inability to say sentences right now.”

If that was how he was going to act around you from now on, he knew that trying to keep this a secret was probably the most unrealistic idea ever.

You laughed a bit and nodded, seemingly unfazed by his awkwardness right then, and opened up the fridge. “You think you can stomach eggs and bacon?”

“Yes to the bacon, but I think I should play it safe and say no to the eggs.”

“Makes sense,” You said, closing the fridge after grabbing the bacon. You placed the pack on the counter near the stove and then looked at Steve. “You feeling better about all of that dad shit?”

It was almost comical how even though it had been the reason for everything that happened last night, the conversation he had with his dad was the farthest thing from his mind now.

“I’m good, actually.”

“Good,” You said, smiling at him and then reaching out to grab his hand and give it a light reassuring squeeze; which, unknown to you, made his heart feel as if it was going to somersault out of his chest. “Remember, the next time this happens, come to me and we both can get drunk here for free. Or we can just run away and join the circus, or whatever it was we agreed on when we were twelve.”

Steve only nodded and gave you a small smile in response because it felt as if that was all he could do at that moment. If he attempted to say anything, he felt like his words would’ve started or ended with, “I’m in love with you.”

He changed his decision then. He knew that he had to tell you everything because it wouldn’t be easy to simply bury it down and ignore it. There was no way that he’d be able to keep this from you, at least not for a long time, it was already swallowing him whole. And although he had no idea when or how he would tell you the truth, he made a quick promise to himself that he would do it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 14

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Darling, I appreciate your faith in me," Bucky said, his voice low as he stepped closer, eyes searching yours. "But…I still want to live."

You didn’t flinch. "I’m serious."

He paused, letting the weight of your words settle. "Just because I told you about Steve doesn’t mean I’m going to stab him in the back."

His gaze dropped for a moment, conflicted. Steve was more than just a mentor—he was the older brother Bucky had always wanted, someone he had looked up to for years. Shawn was never that. Steve had been there when he needed guidance, someone to show him the ropes. But now… now everything felt twisted.

"I didn’t know before this election," Bucky continued, his jaw clenched. "I’ve learned things that should’ve been obvious to me. And now, you probably see me as a coward for turning a blind eye all this time."

He swallowed hard. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay silent forever."

Your brow furrowed as the room fell into silence. Bucky reached out, his hand settling firmly on your shoulder, his touch both grounding and electrifying. "There’s a time for everything. Please, believe in me."

His voice held a plea you hadn’t heard before, and suddenly, you remembered what the priest once said: Timing. It all felt too coincidental. You could see the puzzle coming together in your mind, but the picture was far from complete.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, realization hitting you like a wave. “He picked you because he knew you wouldn’t say no to him. You’d follow his lead without question.”

Bucky’s face hardened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of frustration and guilt. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

“And our divorce?” you added, the words sharper than intended. “It was all part of the plan. To tarnish your image, while he hides his own cracks."

Bucky took a step closer, the tension between you two thick enough to cut. His voice was steady but soft. "For now, please stay quiet about what you’ve found. This could ruin both of us. Or do you want Edgar and Brock to win instead?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. "This is so fucked up. There’s only two candidates."

Bucky's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Hey… we’re not that bad."

"Don’t campaign in front of me," you said, narrowing your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The tension between you was undeniable, the heat rising in the small space as you tried to keep things civil.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, but he didn’t push any further. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was fighting some inner battle to keep his distance. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned away, letting the moment pass.

That night, sleep was impossible. Nate slept peacefully beside you, his small body curled into yours for warmth. But your mind raced, replaying every conversation, every hidden piece of the puzzle that had yet to be uncovered. You needed help, someone with answers. But who?

Then, it hit you. The perfect person. Someone who could get you the information you needed, though asking them for help would open old wounds.

He’s going to hate me for this, you thought, your chest tightening at the idea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Ian stood near the check-in counter at the airport, casually scrolling through his phone as he waited in line. Just as he was about to move forward, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Greg.

"Follow me," Greg's voice said on the other end, no further explanation given.

Ian's brow furrowed slightly, but he complied, stepping out of the line and trailing Greg down a series of quiet corridors. They finally reached a private room, and Ian’s eyes immediately found you sitting there, alone.

He glanced around the room as if expecting someone else. "I’m by myself," you assured him, noticing his brief scan of the area.

Ian folded his arms, his tone cool as he tilted his head slightly. "What honor do I get to have this meeting?"

You met his gaze, trying to keep steady, though the weight of the situation made your heart race. "I know you hate me," you said softly, not beating around the bush.

"More like at your soon-to-be husband," Ian shot back, his gaze flickering with barely concealed disdain.

You straightened in your seat, squaring your shoulders. "Whatever the Barnes family has done, I won’t defend them," you said, a quiet resolve in your voice.

Ian narrowed his eyes, reading the tension in your body. "You must be desperate to come to me."

A small, nervous laugh escaped your lips as you looked down at your hands, fingers fidgeting slightly. "I am."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, the lines of old memories creeping in. This felt too much like the past when you both used to dig into dangerous territory. "Just tell me what this is about. I’ve got a flight to catch."

You took a steadying breath, locking eyes with him. "Do you remember the article I wrote? Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability?"

He nodded, curiosity flickering behind his otherwise guarded expression.

"I think I’ve found someone involved in that conspiracy." Your voice was low, every word heavy with the truth you'd been holding back.

Ian’s face hardened, eyes searching yours. "Who?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

You hesitated for just a second. "It’s Steve."

Ian's eyes widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both disappeared. "Whoa…"

You nodded grimly. "We need to watch out for him. I’m starting to see how deep his connections run. There are scandals tied to him—things you wouldn't expect."

Ian crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious. "Is this about his sons?"

You flinched slightly, your heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t know about Nate. You prayed he didn’t. "What do you mean?" you asked, keeping your voice steady.

"My friend was writing a piece on Steve’s twin sons. They’re apparently bullies at their school, leaders of a gang. But before the article could go to print, the entire office lost power. Threats were made, just like when we published Deals in the Dark."

Your stomach tightened. It made sense now why you always felt uneasy around Steve's sons. You wanted to feel shocked, but it only confirmed what you’d been sensing all along.

Ian smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "This is getting interesting. I’ll dig deeper, see what I can find."

He turned to leave, but you stood, calling after him, "Ian."

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Be careful," you said, your voice soft, almost pleading.

Ian gave a small, crooked smile and nodded. He took a last look at you, he felt that, this might be the last time he'd see you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Back at Bucky’s apartment, Nate sat on the couch, holding his phone up for a FaceTime call. Hazel's face appeared on the screen, still in Paris, her voice warm and comforting despite the distance.

“I miss you, Mommy,” Nate said softly, his eyes wide with longing.

“I miss you too, baby,” Hazel replied with a tender smile, her expression softening as she spoke to her son.

After a moment, Hazel’s tone shifted. “Baby, can you give the phone to your uncle for a sec?”

Nate nodded, handing the phone to Bucky. “Here.”

Bucky took the phone, glancing briefly at Nate before turning his focus to Hazel. “When are you coming back?” he asked, a bit more urgency in his voice than he intended.

“Not until the election is over,” Hazel replied matter-of-factly.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Seriously?”

“It’s for the best,” Hazel added with a sigh, her gaze flickering briefly before she continued, “Please watch over him while I’m gone.”

Before Bucky could respond, the FaceTime call ended, the screen going dark. He stared at the blank phone for a moment, lost in thought.

He knew Hazel had her reasons for staying away, but it still didn’t sit right with him. Nate needed his mom, and even though he was doing his best, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling beyond his control. Watching over Nate wasn’t the issue—it was everything else that came with it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Across town, Steve Rogers stood in a dimly lit room, facing a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling. The city lights glowed faintly outside, reflecting off the glass as he stared into the distance, his hands resting in his pockets. His phone buzzed on the nearby table. He glanced at it, seeing the text message he’d ignored for hours: When are you coming back?

Unread. No reply.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned back to the window, his mind running over the countless decisions he had made in the last few months. The weight of the campaign, his connections, and now…this.

Knock, knock.

A sharp sound broke through the silence. His eyes flickered towards the door. “Come in,” he said, his voice low.

The door opened, and Natasha stepped inside, her expression as serious as always. “We’ve got another notification,” she said, her eyes locking with his as she handed him a folder.

Steve sighed, feeling the tension crawl up his spine. “What is it this time?”

“It’s about the twins,” Natasha explained, her tone clipped and efficient. “We tracked the IP address involved.” She handed him the information.

Steve took the folder, scanning the contents briefly before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I should’ve known,” he muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. As he waited for the line to connect, he leaned against the window, the cold glass pressing against his back. When the call picked up, his voice was calm but determined.

“Can we meet?”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky arrived at the golf course as soon as he received Steve’s call. The air was crisp, and the sun was barely cutting through the clouds, casting a muted light over the manicured greens. As Bucky approached, Steve was already mid-swing, the soft thwack of the golf club meeting the ball echoed in the quiet morning.

Steve didn’t turn around, eyes following the ball as it soared across the field. “Bucky, you know why I want to be President, right?” His tone was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it.

“Yes,” Bucky replied, his expression unreadable as he stood a few feet away, watching Steve with his hands in his pockets.

“We’re this close to winning,” Steve said, setting up for another swing, his movements precise, controlled. He took the shot, the ball cutting clean through the air. “One mistake could ruin us. Our rivals will use any kind of ammo to tear down our image.” His voice lowered with emphasis, a hint of menace lingering in his words.

Bucky stayed silent, but his mind was working. He knew Steve had meticulously planned every step, had considered every angle. Steve’s obsession with maintaining a perfect image wasn’t new. He had a way of knowing when someone so much as whispered behind his back.

Even the online comments rarely escaped his notice. Bucky suspected Stark Technology had something to do with that. Howard Stark, Steve’s long-time friend and the campaign’s biggest sponsor, had deep resources. It wasn’t hard to believe that some of those resources were being used to monitor any potential threats.

Just as Bucky was deep in thought, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Natasha. He opened it, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. His hand clenched around the paper as he saw the name: Ian.

Steve took another swing, his voice calm but laced with tension. “This lackey of Edgar and Brock is persistent.”

Bucky folded the paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, his jaw tightening. “I’ve made sure to shut him down.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head as he lowered his club. “But you’re still too soft.” He walked towards Bucky, each step deliberate, his gaze unflinching. Reaching him, Steve lifted the golf club he’d been holding, pointing it at Bucky with a steady hand.

“I’ve cheated death a couple of times to get here,” Steve said quietly, the weight of his words settling between them. His eyes were cold, calculating. “I’ve sacrificed so much. I won’t let anything stop me.”

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ziggyzolch · 8 months ago

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Headache (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: If you could describe yourself in three words, they would be: little shit speedster. Causing trouble was your favorite pastime, and you've never been caught. That would change, however, when an angsty witch is assigned to capture you.Warnings: Cursing

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

The stench of vomit and cigarettes fills your nose as you duck and hide in an alley next to a nightclub. Wiping sweat off of your forehead, you peek your head out of the alley and watch the police cars that were chasing you turn the wrong corner. After making sure the coast was clear, you let out a breath then fall to the ground in laughter. “Idiots.” You push out in between giggles.

Being a little shit was your specialty. From egging random houses to stealing the batons of unaware police men, there was nothing you weren’t up for. Graffitiing police cars wasn’t something you did often, but definitely what you had just done. You were adding the finishing touches, pubes, to the massive penis you just spray painted on the car when a cop finally noticed you. It was embarrassingly easy to outrun him, you can’t blame him though.

You discovered your superhuman speed the first time you got caught messing around, and your shit-headedness increased tenfold. The early years of your childhood were a mystery to you, only rarely getting short, useless flashbacks to being in a lab of some sort. You figured that's where your abilities came from, but in all honesty you didn’t really care. Whatever you didn’t remember was not your problem.

A good 3 minutes of laughing later, you catch your breath and sprint back to your dorm, ignoring the glowing red light at the corner of your eye.

❅❅❅

Walking into your dorm room, the first thing you notice is how cold it is. The door closes behind you, a red mist dissipating around it. Your eyes widen and you let out a quiet ‘What the fuck’ before the sound of your chair moving catches your attention. Your window was open. The first explanation you think of is that your roommate is playing a stupid prank. “You aren’t funny, Kate. Why are you even still up-” You pause, a figure suddenly appearing in front of you.

That is most definitely not your roommate.

They cover your mouth right when you're about to scream.

“Shh, she’s sleeping. Move.” The stranger, which you now know is a woman, turns you around and pushes you out of your dorm, her hand still covering your mouth. Your thoughts start racing. ‘What the fuck! I should’ve brought my rape whistle with me. This is definitely human trafficking. Couldn’t they kidnap me tomorrow, I have homework-’

The woman turns you around “Shut up! For fucks sake- ew!” She stares at you in shock. Did you just lick her hand? After an awkward stare off you finally speak, “Fuck you, rapist!” You turn to run when you’re stopped by a…red cloud?

You can hear her voice getting closer while she stomps towards you, “Don’t even try to run, and I’m not a rapist you little shit.”

“Let me go!”

“That’s not happening.”

“Yeah cuz you’re a RAPIST.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “Tony told me you were a handful but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Yeah well…Fuck you and Tony!”

“Oh my god.”

“Rapist!”

“Enough!” You’re about to reply with another accusation when red fills your vision.

Wanda picks you up from where you passed out and sighs in exasperation. Tony’s in for a ride.

❅❅❅

Next Part

A/N: This is the first chapter! I'll probably upload more on AO3 and Wattpad, @ziggyzolch on both :)

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic

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f1byjessie · 10 months ago

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HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part eight.

When you were ten, a boy at recess pulled on your ponytail. He yanked you around, laughed when you’d shouted for him to stop, and then only let you go when you’d begun to sob. Dalton had done your hair that morning and the little clip-in bow he’d added was askew, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t fix it. It was this, more than the actual pain of having your hair pulled, that made you inconsolable.

Logan found you crying beneath the jungle gym, surrounded by a gaggle of other girls all trying to help. He crouched down next to you, all skinny-armed and knobby-kneed, wiped your tears with the sleeve of his shirt, and asked you who’d done it.

Logan punched the boy in the face after you’d told him. He was sent to the principal’s office for his trouble, but that boy never messed with you again and it was the first time you realized that your brother would do anything for you.

He was grounded, too, and had to sit through a huge long spiel from your parents about using words instead of fists, but Dalton had given Logan a pat on the back and assured him that he’d done the right thing.

He hadn’t punched anyone for you since then, but in Switzerland Logan had been your lifeline. Whereas he was quickly befriending the other boys he was racing with, you struggled. There weren’t many girls who understood why you were always busy on the weekends, or why you couldn’t come over for sleepovers, or why you always had to turn down birthday party invitations— and subsequently, they didn’t want you around if all you did was bail anyway.

Dalton was at that point in his life when he thought he was too old to hang around his little sister, so Logan had been your best friend. He’d let you paint his nails in the hotel rooms before races, and then he’d help paint yours so you could match. He only let you practice makeup on him once, because the mascara wand poked his eye and he’d been too scared to try it after, but it was fun while it lasted. He took all your pictures for you, went with you when you wanted to try a new cafe or see a new movie, and even tried to follow along when you gossiped about boys.

You think back to that time and wish he were here with you now. Maybe he would punch Oscar, or maybe he’d just sit with you and let you paint his nails like you used to. What you really just want is your brother.

You want him to use his sleeve to wipe your tears again, and you want him to somehow make it all better like he always seems to know how to do.

You want to go home.

You feel so stupid. How could you believe he was ever interested in you? Of course he was just trying to forget it all happened, and anything else you interpreted as flirting or potential interest was probably just Oscar trying to be polite because that’s the type of person he is. He’d cut off his own hand if it meant not causing a scene. He was probably just trying to find a way to tell you that he doesn’t ever want to see you again and he can’t think of you as a friend anymore because he can somehow tell that the kiss meant more to you than it ever did to him, and he thinks it’s weird that you’re so attached to him, and he can’t stand being around you because just the idea of having to pretend to like you is appalling—

A sob bursts free and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the rest that follow.

Years of a friendship thrown away because of a stupid mistake you both made on a single night. You should’ve never listened to Sophia and Lando. You should’ve just pretended it never happened like Oscar was so keen on doing, and when he started distancing himself you should’ve taken it in stride and let it happen even though the idea of it felt like tearing your heart out. Maybe if you’d just let him go he would’ve at least come back eventually, after the awkwardness and discomfort had passed. Now he probably won’t ever want to look at you again, much less joke around and hang out the way you used to.

And God, you’ve probably ruined it for Logan now too! How could Oscar possibly look at Logan the same way either if it means having to awkwardly dance around your very existence? You’ve ruined your brother’s best friendship for him and now when you face him and explain how it’s all your fault, he’ll blame you and never want to speak with you again and then you’ll be well and truly alone.

You’re at the edge of the lawn and crumple to your knees, sinking to the ground and ignoring the fact that the grass is cold and slightly damp. It’s seeping into the fabric of your dress, but you don’t care. Something as superficial as your ruined makeup and stained clothes seems obsolete in comparison to everything else you’re feeling.

Through the blurriness of your tears, you can still see the warm glow of the lights shining outward through the windows, just beyond your reach. But the cold darkness of the Monagasque night swathes you, and your thoughts mirror the dreariness.

Oscar hates you, which mean Oscar hates Logan, which means Logan hates you, and by proxy Alex and Lily hate you, and because everyone else on the grid hates you, that means Lando hates you too. If they hate you, then their fans hate you, which will ruin your career and nobody will ever want to work with you again. You’ll lose everything you worked for and it’s all your fault—

You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on your lip to keep another devastatingly heartwrenching sob at bay.

This life was never meant to be yours— the racing life. You should’ve remained focused on your career instead of worried about some boy. You should’ve been happy with what you had, because now you’ve lost it all and you can’t fathom how you can possible get any of it back.

The door opens and the current bane of your very existence steps out, silhouetted by the lights behind him. His phone is held up to his ear, but between the shadows cast across his face and the tears in your eyes you can’t make out much else, just that one minute he’s stood on the stoep and the next he’s spotted you and is making a mad dash across the lawn.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” he says, falling to his knees beside you and immediately reaching out to place a steadying hand on your shoulder. His hand is warm against the chill of your skin, and you know you need to pull away, you know you need to distance yourself from him so he doesn’t hate you even more, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.

“You’re fucking freezing,” he mutters, low and concerned, before he’s slipping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders, attempting to rub some warmth back into your arms through the fabric.

It makes you sob even harder.

His hands freeze, hovering over you. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You scrunch up your face and shake your head. “No, Oscar, nothing is okay,” you somehow manage to get out between hiccups and stuttering breaths.

He’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you—

He pulls you against his chest and then wraps an arm around you, hugging you close. His hand cups the back of your head and presses you into the crook of his neck. You can feel his pulse point where he’s got you held, and his heart is racing. “What is it? What’s happened?”

You should push him away. He’s only doing this to comfort you because you’re a person in need and Oscar is the type of guy who would help anyone even if he can’t stand them. He’s just nice like that. But the feeling of him against you, so comforting and warm, is intoxicating and you’re not as nice as him. You want to be selfish, and you want this all to yourself from now until forever, but you know that the second this moment ends you’ll never have it again so you’re choosing to savor it.

“Y/N,” he says again, running his fingers through your hair. “You have to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I’ve messed it all up,” you say, voice muffled against his neck. “It’s all ruined and it’s all my fault.” You manage to swallow back the sobs, but another wave of tears spills over and dampens his skin.

He makes a noise, and pulls you even closer still. “What could you have ruined?”

“Everything!” You exclaim while reaching up and grabbing at his shirt. You let your fingers twist into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this moment, and all Oscar does in response is continue to hold you. He scratches at your scalp and runs his fingers through your hair, and shushes you gently when your breath stutters again.

“It’s New Year's Eve,” you start after another moment, “and my twenty-third birthday, and instead of being happy and celebrating it with my brother like I should be doing—” the thought of Logan makes you sob once again, “—I’m in Monaco trying to pretend like I’m not in love with someone who hasn’t spared me a glance the entire time I’ve been here!”

It sounds stupid when you say it like that. It is stupid, you think, but now on top of everything else you’re convinced Oscar probably thinks you’re even stupider now than he already did. At the very least you had plausible deniability before, but now you’ve confessed that you’re in love with him of all things. Love! You hadn’t even known that yourself before you’d blurted it all out in a word vomit of feelings.

He hates you, he hates you, he hates you—

Oscar tenses and his hand stills, but he doesn’t pull away. “Lando’s been sparing you plenty of glances,” he mutters, sounding dejected for reasons you can’t possibly begin to theorize on.

You take a deep breath and swallow what little is left of your pride. You’ve already ruined things beyond repair so nothing else you do can possibly make things worse. You shake your head against him and cling to his shirt even more. “It’s not Lando I’m in love with.”

“What..?”

“Lando and I aren’t together, Oscar,” you whisper against his skin.

“Well, I know that,” he clears his throat. “But I thought… he flirts with you all the time. And you flirt back.”

You groan, thankful that at least your face and the horribly pink flush that’s risen to your cheeks is hidden where you’re tucked away. “He had this whole elaborate plan where he’s been trying to make you jealous so you’ll ‘man up’ and do something about it,” you explain, feeling more and more embarrassed as each word comes out.

Oscar hums. “So, he’s not pursuing you?”

“No!” You’re honestly afraid of what you must look like right now, certain that your makeup has been smeared with your tears across your face, but you pull away from Oscar just far enough to meet his eyes, managing to give him a look that asks if he’s being genuine right now. “I mean, Christ, Oscar, he made us share a bed. He was just trying to help me because I didn’t know how else to get your attention without risking our friendship entirely, and that’s the plan he came up with and I just went along with it because what else was I supposed to do?”

He looks surprised. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink from the chill of the night. It reminds you that his jacket is still draped across your shoulders, and you go to shrug it off and give it back to him, but his hands snap to yours and keep them pinned there.

When you meet his gaze again, he looks softer. Gentle. Not at all like someone who’s supposed to hate you. For a moment you think it’s the closest you’ve gotten to before Bahrain ever happened, but then you realize this is the same way he looked in the car outside your hotel, right before he kissed you.

“You could’ve talked to me,” he whispers, lips quirking at the corner as if all of this is just a big joke and he’s getting ready to laugh at the punchline.

“Oh, yeah,” you roll your eyes, “let me bring up the one kiss we shared that you seemed real intent on pretending never happened!”

“I never brought it up because I thought I was taking advantage of you and I was ashamed!”

You stare at him, and then despite looking like a mess and freezing your ass off, you burst into laughter and collapse against his chest. He rolls with it, letting you settle against him easily and then wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer.

“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we…” you murmur against him.

“Making fools of ourselves? No. But communicating? Absolutely.”

You sit there on the lawn for a while longer, letting the chill seep into your bones, until the front door opens again and Lando comes stepping out. He looks baffled when he spots the two of you hugging on the grass, but then a shit-eating grin stretches across his face and he strides over looking proud of himself.

“Well, having fun are we?” He asks when he comes to a stop before you both.

You can’t see Oscar’s face from where you’re resting against him, but you can feel him shift and his chest rumbles against you when he answers, “Oh, yeah. It’s a real party out here.”

“Funny you should say that, ‘cause there’s actually a very real and very fun party happening inside right now and people are starting to ask where the two of you are, so—” Lando shrugs, “—rather not have to tell them you two were shagging out on the grass of all places.”

You snort and Oscar sighs. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that we’re shagging from. Obviously we still have our clothes on, Lando,” he retorts.

Lando claps his hands, smiling, “Okay, then, whatever you kids these days are calling it, my front yard is not the place for it, so get on now. Move it! Up you get!” He shoos at you both like you’re a couple of unruly dogs he’s trying to usher elsewhere.

Oscar lets go of you long enough to climb to his feet, and then he’s offering his hand to help you up as well.

You take it, and thank him with a sheepish smile before glancing down the check the damage that’s been dealt to your dress. Thankfully, there’s doesn’t seem to be much of a stain, but there is a wet patch that you know will be noticeable if you don’t change. On top of that, you’re still certain your makeup has probably been ruined, and you’re already embarrassed enough by having Oscar and now Lando see you like this. You’d be absolutely mortified if anyone else in that house managed to catch you looking so messy.

“You good?” Lando asks you specifically when he catches you staring down at the dampness of your dress.

“Yeah,” you answer when you look up and meet his eyes. “Should probably go get changed, though. And fix up my makeup.” You rub at your eyes shyly, trying to do what you can here and now as if that’ll make it any better.

“We’ll make an excuse for you,” Oscar says, reaching a hand out to brush against your shoulder before him and Lando turn and begin making their way back to the house.

You follow shortly after him, lingering in the night for a moment longer. You feel lighter, and the darkness feels more like a comforting blanket of serenity now than an oppressing shroud of loneliness. When you realize his jacket is still draped over your shoulders, you wrap it tighter around your arms to take advantage of the remaining warmth that clings to it, and then you hurry across the lawn into the house.

Stepping into the entryway, you can hear Lando’s voice in the livingroom just beyond. You scurry up the stairs, moving as quickly as you can so you can return to the party.

When you get to your room, you take a moment to think about what in the hell just happened as you change. The week alone has been such a whirlwind of highs and lows. You’d been devastated when Oscar had first arrived, then you’d had one of the best weeks of your life, and then you’d had the closest thing you’ve ever had to a meltdown out on Lando’s front yard because you were convinced you’d just ruined everything you’d ever worked for and thrown it all away because of a dumb choice. A few laughs and cuddling on the grass doesn’t seem like enough to just completely brush away all the miscommunication that happened between you and Oscar, but it seems like a good place to start for tonight and that’s all you can ask for.

There will be other days and other nights where you can sit down and talk about where it all went wrong and how to keep it from going that way again, but for now it’s New Year’s Eve, it’s your 23rd birthday, and there’s a party just downstairs filled with people that know how to celebrate like no other.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 54,134 others

yourusername my 2024 is going great so far ☕️👀

view all 2,453 comments

user OH MY GOD?? IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

logansargeant at least you’re not hungover

↳ yourusername oh trust i am VERY hungover rn 😔 hence coffee in bed

↳ logansargeant omg twinsies 😀

↳ yourusername yes bc our shared hangovers is the only reason we’re twinsies

user wish i could’ve woken up like this this morning 😭😭

user manifesting this for 2024

landonorris keep it pg13 in there kiddos

↳ user ASKAHAOUFHALD WHAT???

↳ user WE NEED DELULU DETECTIVES IN HERE PRONTO

user oscar’s liked the post but he hasn’t commented, lowkey sus 🤔

↳ user y’all are actually crazy wtf?? can a man not just like a post anymore??

user she’s still in monaco right?? so it’s gotta be one of the mclaren boys

↳ user if she doesn’t reveal who it is by bahrain 24 then i’m gonna lose my mind

↳ user catch me hyperanalyzing every moment of y/n on the paddock to see who she’s with to try and solve the mystery

user seriously how cAN ONE PERSON LOOK SO STUNNING 😫😫😫

alex_albon happy new years y/n! me and lily loved getting to celebrate with you yesterday!

↳ yourusername happy new years to you as well! had the time of my life getting to see you both! we definitely need to do it again sometime 💙

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23

━━ a/n: hehehe here we are folks! that conflict resolution is finally here! also, i think this is actually the longest part i've written so far? but i wanted to get everything sorted in a single chapter instead of having another cliffhanger or dragging things on for too long. it's also 3AM as i'm finishing this up and getting it posted, so my apologies if there are any editing mistakes that i missed! i am very sleep deprived! anyways, i hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris #social media au

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aphelionwrotes11 · 3 months ago

Text

Safe house - part 1

MDNI 18+

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: violence, reader is apart of 141 so power imbalance (sorta), a little dubcon (I think??), pining, fluff

You and your lieutenant have to spend some time together in a safe house after a mission goes south, what could possibly go wrong? … (lol)

Everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong, went wrong. It was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out. Your orders were to go undercover with your lieutenant, Simon, gather info on a possible target, and leave. Where was this mission to be conducted? A small gala only the elite would be attending.

And so, as you and Simon had gotten ready in a nearby hotel room, you got word from your informant that there may be some extra security at the gala, more than they had thought. You were both told to just keep a low profile. Everything will be fine.

Maybe you should’ve taken that last minute info as a sign to call it, or maybe it was the way your brain turned to near mush as soon as Simon had told you that you looked beautiful.

After finishing your makeup and hair, you took a quick glance at yourself in the mirror of the shabby hotel room. Not too bad. The dress hugged your body in all the right places, and despite your minimal expertise in makeup and hair practices, the YouTube video you watched had been thorough and easy to follow so you could at least pass for professional grade beauty.

When you exited the hotel room, Simon was already outside dressed sharply in a black tux. His blonde hair was dyed brown with a temporary hair dye, and just earlier you had applied a bit of concealer to the smaller scars along his jaw. (As well as you could with your shaking hands.)

“Y’ready?” He asked, glancing at your figure.

“Yes sir.” You replied.

“Don’ call me tha, tonight we’re married luv.” He said, looking unamused.

“Right.. sorry.” You had said, thankful the makeup covered your skin, otherwise he would’ve seen your cheeks flush red.

And as if what he had said wasn’t bad enough, he took another moment to glance up and down at your figure and nod. “Y’look beautiful.” He said, so simply, and yet you felt your brain melt and pour right out of your ears.

“You too.” You said without thinking, and he chuckled.

He turned away just fast enough that you wouldn’t see the twinge of pink on his cheeks.)

As soon as you pulled up to the front of a gorgeous looking manor, you knew there would be trouble. Not only was there double the security you had originally been told, but double the amount of guests. And now, with so many unaccounted and unknown people who were apart of the game, you couldn’t help the terrible unease.

Getting through the security at the front door was a hassle. For a moment you were a bit scared they had rearranged the guest list amidst the efforts of adding the newcomers and somehow, someway, noticed two guests who would be attending that they had never heard of.

But fortunately, you both made it inside.

For a bit, things went smoothly despite the issues. You were able to spot the potential target, surrounded by a group of other elites. Simon had gone a different way to find your guy, but due to the unfortunate circumstances of not having comms (thank you metal detectors!) you werent able to tell him where the target was.

So, you were in your own. And that would’ve been totally fine, really. But as soon as you were able to reach the potential target, gunfire rang out through the manor.

Guests scattered after that, you lost the target, security began attempting to herd people into rooms and through doors, and you couldn’t find Simon.

You searched through the crowd and shots continued to be fired somewhere nearby. When you couldn’t find him with the others, you knew that he was probably the one in whatever gun fight was going on in the next room over.

But you weren’t able to find out, because Simon came round a corner not even seconds later, grabbing your arm and running the two of you out of there. You had more pursuers that you could count, they followed you even after the two of you had gotten into the nearest car and sped off. It took a while, but eventually you lost them somewhere on a twisting road.

Simon contacted your captain and was told to take the both of you to a nearby safe house and wait for backup. Earliest they could arrive would be in two days.

“What the hell was that?!” You asked as Simon followed the directions to the safe house from the gps.

“Guess tha extra security was a las’ minute hire. Couple’a Russians recognized me from god knows where.” He replied casually.

Russians? Great. So now the two of you will be huddled up in a safe house for two days, hiding from Russians with a grudge.

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalal

“M’takin the shower first. Need’ta get this shit outta my hair.” He said as soon as the two of you arrived.

The house wasn’t anything special, just a one story one bed one bath. The kitchen was nearly empty, aside from two cans of soup and some frozen waffles.

Waffles and soup are a pretty odd combo. But after this night, you really didn’t care what food you had, all you knew was that you were starving.

It didn’t take long for the gourmet dinner to be finished. When the waffles popped out of the toaster you shuffle through the cabinets in an attempt to find the plates.

Of course, they are on the top shelf of the upmost cabinet. If Simon were out here, he could easily grab it but it would seem he’s taking his sweet time in the shower. You pray he doesn’t use all of the hot water.

In your foolish attempt to balance yourself on the counter and grab both plates, one slips from your grasp and shatters on the kitchen floor.

“Shit.” You whisper, jumping from the counter with a small thud.

Within seconds you hear clambering footsteps racing down the hall and Simon appears. Naked. Dripping wet. And hard.

Simon is glancing around frantically, gun in hand, he looks from your stunned form to the plate on the ground and lets his gun fall to his side with a sigh.

He looks pissed.

Brows forrowed, mouth set in a straight line, face bright red from his ears to his nose. He’s glaring right at you and so is his cock.

You struggle to look at anything other than him as you open and close your mouth.

You meet his eyes for a moment, “I-I dropped the plate. I-I’m sorry-“ you start.

N’his cock twitches.

Without another word he turns and stalks off, leaving you wide eyed and mouth gaping.

The rest of the night is conducted in absolute silence. From dinner to bed. You struggle to figure out the sleeping arrangements with the awkward silence.

So, instead you opt to just take a late night shower and allow him to choose the bed or the couch. When you exit the shower the bed is empty, so you assume he went to sleep on the couch.

Within a couple hours you awake to the creak of the mattress beside you. As you attempt to silently swivel around you are met with the back of your lieutenant, who is now nestled comfortably in a queen sized bed beside you.

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night.

Note: hey guys!!! As per usual this is unedited so plesss forgive any mistakes on grammar or spelling. I’m just So happy I finally wrote something that I like (it’s been a struggle) the part 2 for this is already in progress, yes it will be spicy. Anyways, hope you enjoyed.

Xoxo

#cod fanfic #cod #simon ghost riley #cod smut #fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #aphelionwrotes

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heartsforvin · 8 months ago

Text

SO SWEET

part two of the cutest thing !! yall been wantin this like CRAZY so here it is , i hope you all enjoy !!!

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!bimbo!reader

warnings; smut, cussing, use of pet names, praise kink, thigh riding, bit of dry humping, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), p in v, cum play ??, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary; things get heated fast between your supposedly ‘best friend’

“all comfy?” vinnie asks as he sees you walk back into the room with a smile.

you nod. “mhm, you pick the movie?” you ask as you jump into the bed next to vinnie.

as you get under the covers you notice that vinnie no longer has a tshirt on, instead only in a pair of sweatpants, tattoos on full display.

vinnie nods as he holds his arm out for you to climb into him. you do, pressing your back to his chest.

he starts the movie and it’s quiet for awhile, that is until you feel vinnie’s grip around your waist tighten and that feeling you felt when you sat on his lap earlier came back.

“vin?” you completely turn your body and face him. he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and hums, letting you know to continue.

“that feelings back.” you tell him, he chuckles as he buries his face in your neck.

he finally got his body and mind to calm down after earlier this day, but now you’re making it pretty difficult.

this was supposed to be you two relaxing for the night. he thought you got what you were feeling earlier out of your system and that was it.

“fuck,” vinnie mutters under his breath, low chuckle added as he buries his face in your chest. “you know what i told you, baby.”

he says it more for himself, to remind him that he cannot and will not do that. thrashing your legs, you whine as if you’re a child who didn’t get their way.

does he not understand how you feel? he has too. you were only met with this feeling hours ago, having no idea what it meant. meanwhile, he probably felt like this all the time.

“shh,” vinnie coos as he runs his fingers through your hair. he rubs your back gently, getting you to calm down. “can’t do that to you.”

you hate how he keeps telling you that. you know he can do that to you, he just doesn’t want to rip that away from you.

“you can, vin! please, it hurts.” you whine, needing him now more than ever.

vinnie groans. the more you ask him to do it the more his cock twitches in his pants.

before you know what you’re even doing, you sit up just enough to where you can wrap your leg around vinnie’s, your clothed pussy resting right on his thigh.

vinnie’s hands instinctively go to your waist, gripping tightly as you rock yourself against him.

he watches as you move against him, not realizing you had this in you. “sweetheart,” his voice comes out breathless, loving the view he’s got in front of him.

“vin, please.” you whimper, rocking yourself against your bestfriend faster.

his body thinks before his mind does and before either of you know it, vinnie has you so you’re on your back in a second.

his mouth is on you aggressively, kissing you, your neck, your jaw, anywhere he can be. it felt how it did hours prior, but so much better.

“shit,” he mutters, lifting himself off of you. “i��m sorry baby, fuck i should’ve asked sooner. is this okay?”

a sweet smile appears on your face and vinnie can’t help but smile and stroke your cheek. “it’s so okay, vin.” you tell him.

he’s back on your mouth before you can let out another breath. this continues for a few seconds before you whine into his mouth.

vinnie is out of it now, completely submerged in you and your taste. “needy, aren’t you sweetheart?”

the question doesn’t need answering, he knows you are. slowly, he moves his hand down, only to be met with your dampened panties.

he lets out a low groan into your mouth at the feeling at how wet you are already, and the fact you chose to sleep with only his tshirt on.

quickly, you pull apart from the boy above you, worried you made him uncomfortable.

“you okay?” you ask ever so sweetly, smile spread across your face.

vinnie returns the smile, his hand grazing your thigh, sending a million shocks of euphoria through you.

you’ve never gotten this sort of affection before, let alone had any idea what exactly you’re getting yourself into.

“so okay,” he replies breathlessly. “how are you doin’, baby?” he asked.

you giggle at the feeling of his finger sliding up and down your clothed pussy. smiling while biting your lip, you look at vinnie and he can’t help but kiss your cheek.

“i’m good, vin,” you reply with another giggle at the feeling of his finger on you. “that feels good.” you tell him.

vinnie smirks. “yeah?” you watch as he continues before pulling back your panties so he can get a peak at you uncovered.

you start to whine again, thrashing your legs against his mattress, needing him to do something.

“vinnie, please.” the pleasure you’re feeling is unbearable, it’s been fifteen minutes of vinnie merely touching you, yet you already feel this intense.

“what do you want, princess?” you can’t stand him or his tone. it’s second after second of him just teasing you.

you’ve been wanting this all night but now, now you’re too afraid to say it. too afraid for it to become reality.

vinnie sees the obvious switch in your demeanor and sits up. “sweetheart,” vinnie lifts your chin with his index finger, making you look at him. “where’d you go?”

you give him a shy smile, sitting up and pulling your legs to your chest. the panties you wore that night do little to no effort to cover you while you sat like this.

vinnie tries his hardest to be a good friend and look directly at you. after all, you both are friends first.

“never done this,” you say softly, realizing after that he knew that already. “just nervous.”

vinnie sighs with a smile, rubbing your knee comfortingly. “do you want to do this?” he asks.

you lower your head, feeling like you let him down. for what? you don’t know.

“hey, hey, look at me,” he gains your attention. “we don’t have to do this, i can finish off in the bathroom real quick then we can finish the movie.” he tells you.

the thought of him doing that while you sit and wait on his bed makes that feeling come back. “no, i wanna do this. just-just show me how, please.”

vinnie pushes you on your back, head laid beneath the pillow and hovers over you, hands on either side of you to hold himself up.

“just lay right here, sweet girl,” vinnie says before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet kiss. “gonna make you feel so, so good.”

you watch as he makes his way down your body, asking if he can take off your shirt. you nod with a huge smile, giving him a verbal answer as well.

the minute your shirt is off vinnie can’t help himself. eyes and hands immediately landing on your tits.

he squeezes them in his hands, making you moan and buck your hips at the feeling of his warm hands on you.

“that feel good, pretty girl?” he knows the answer, just loves when he squeezes the skin in his hands and watches you completely break.

he soon makes his way down to your panties, kissing right below your bellybutton.

“vinnie,” you watch as he grabs the waistband of your panties, pulling them down so your right hip is exposed.

he kisses the exposed skin, making you whine. “do something!”

vinnie gives in, looking up at you and asking with his eyes if he can remove the clothing. you tell him yes and they’re off and on the floor in a heartbeat.

moving even farther down your body, he finally gets to where you need him most.

he slides his index finger over your slit, watching as your wetness coats his finger. “so wet f’me,” he groans.

vinnie slowly pushes a finger into you, a whine leaving your lips at the tight feeling.

“shit, princess,” vinnie looks up at you and your already dazed state. “you good?” he chuckles as he sees you give him a dopey smile.

it takes you a minute to respond, vinnie’s finger going in and out of you at a reasonable pace, it’s just a feeling you’ve never experienced.

you giggle at him, watching as he looks up at you with a smile. “f-feels so good - shit.” he hits a particularly good spot that makes you cry out.

vinnie continues stretching you out for a few more minutes into he feels you’re ready for the real thing.

well, close to the real thing. “baby, hey. look at me, pretty.” vinnie says as he pulls his fingers out of you.

he can see your expression and knows you’re almost fully submerged in him. “sweetheart.” vinnie calls out again, gaining your attention.

you smile at him and he strokes your cheek, returning the gesture. “hi, my pretty girl. you ready for somethin’ else?” he asks you.

the smile remains on your face, excited for what that is. “is it your cock?” in the tone you ask it sounds less vulgar, vinnie can’t help but let out a laugh.

he’s never heard you say anything like that. you rarely cussed, let alone use a word like that.

“pretty girl’s gotta mouth on her, huh?” he chuckles as your cheeks darken a shade of red.

he’s surprised you know that word, he doesn’t remember teaching you what it meant, but then again he can’t remember most conversations right now.

“no baby, not yet,” he leans down to kiss the inside of your thigh. “this could be a close second for you though. we’ll get to that one, just be patient.”

you nod and smile at your bestfriend, doing as told. “okay, vin!”

vinnie repositions himself so he’s laying on his stomach, face directly in front of your aching cunt. before he can rethink his actions, he attaches his mouth to you.

“mmh, vin.” you moan as you feel his mouth on your clit. you bend your knees and vinnie grabs them and locks his arms around them.

he kisses and sucks your clit harshly, eliciting more whimpers and moans out of you. this was unlike anything you’ve felt before, this felt amazing.

“feel good, my love?” he asks once he pulls away from you, chin glistening with your juices.

all you can do is nod with his mouth back on you. the noise was almost pornographic, the way he sucked at your clit made you buck your hips into his face.

“fuck, baby,” vinnie moans against you. “do that again, shit.” he sucks on your bud just how he did a moment ago, making you buck your hips into him again.

“good girl,” the praise goes straight through you. vinnie looks up at you and watches as you grip the sheets and push your head into the pillow. “so good for me.”

vinnie continues his actions until he sees you start to squirm under him, whining as you do. “talk to me, baby, what is it?” he can tell you feel something extreme.

the pleasure crashes through you so fast you can’t answer him, a beat of silence passes before you say. “f-feels like m’gonna pee!”

vinnie smirks, knowing exactly how you feel. “let it out for me, sweet girl. you’re not gonna pee, trust me.”

vinnie speeds up the process just a bit and adds a finger while he sucks on your clit. the pleasure of his finger along with his mouth is enough to push you over the edge.

“that’s it, baby. yeah, that’s it, let it out for me,” his praises push you over the edge and you release all over his mouth. “fuck, look at that, good girl.”

he moves his mouth off of you, sliding his fingers against you, watching your cum slide out of you as he does.

with a goofy grin, you look up at vinnie and see he’s leaning closer to you. “open up, pretty.”

you do as told and vinnie sticks his fingers in your mouth for you to lick clean. “that’s my good girl, so proud of you.”

you smile at the boy in front of you, looking down to see the obvious strain in his pajama pants.

vinnie meets your gaze and laughs once he realizes what you’re looking at. the laugh soon turns into a moan when he feels your hand on him.

“you know you want it, vin. why stop when we’ve barely started?” he didn’t know you could talk like that, about those things.

it seems like he can’t move fast enough. you help him remove his pajama pants and boxers, cock springing free in an instant.

you gasp audibly at the sight, making vinnie chuckle a bit at your reaction. “so big.” is all you can say.

you wonder if he’s even going to fit, plus having being a virgin to everything in this situation in general.

vinnie knew that though, so he knew to be gentle with you. “you alright?” vinnie asks once he realizes you went somewhere.

you nod. “mhm, just wondering if you’ll fit is all.” you tell him, and vinnie smiles.

he kisses you softly, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’ll make it fit.”

the tone makes you want to close your legs so tight that you can’t feel the burning feeling.

“you want this, right?” he asks again, needing to make sure you’re one hundred percent okay and want this.

you roll your eyes playfully at the boy in front of you. “wouldn’t be naked in your bed if i didn’t, vin.” you giggle.

vinnie smiles and kisses your cheek. he gently pushes your head back against the pillow, back on the mattress, and he hovers over you.

“lemme know if it gets too much,” he says as he strokes your cheek. “if you say stop, we stop. you got it?”

you nod, biting your lip at the feeling of him sliding his cock against your folds. “please.” you whimper softly.

vinnie chuckles as he continues. you’re still wet from moments prior so this wasn’t necessary, but he loved how it felt to be this close to you.

he warns you that it’s gonna hurt for a bit, you protest, telling him you can take it.

vinnie groans at the words that leave your pretty lips. he still can’t believe you two are doing this, but it feels too right to stop.

he pushes himself into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. “fuck,” he whispers.

you moan at the pleasure of him finally being inside of you. it does hurt a bit, but overall the pleasure overpowers the pain.

“you ready, sweetheart?” vinnie asks you. he doesn’t care if it takes you five seconds or five minutes to be ready, he could honestly cum right now if he was being honest.

the way your pussy hugs his cock so tight, as if the two of you were made for each other, it felt so right.

you give vinnie verbal confirmation you’re ready for him to start moving. he grabs at your hips and starts slowly thrusting into you.

his pace quickens with time and soon he’s groping at your tits, stoping them from frantically moving with his thrusts.

“f-fuck, vin.” you whine out at the feeling of his hands on your chest and being inside you.

vinnie smirks when he sees your fucked out expression, knowing that after tonight, there won’t be much walking for you.

“baby, can i try somethin’?” vinnie asks as he stops his movements completely.

you give him a wide grin. “anything!” you tell him.

vinnie smiles and switches positions so one of your legs is hooked around his shoulder, giving him much better access.

he starts his movements again, and you can’t help but moan loudly at the new position and feeling.

vinnie looks down at you as he fucks into you. moaning profanities and ‘good girl’s’ as he does.

you feel so good wrapped around him, he’s surprised you two haven’t done this sooner.

“dirty, dirty girl,” he grunts, you just look at him, completely out of it. “letting your best friend fuck you like a slut. look at you, all fucked out, can’t even think straight.”

his words don’t even process in your brain. he’s right, though. the only thing you’re thinking of right now is vinnie and how good he’s making you feel.

“v-v,” you moan out, not even able to muster out his full name.

you feel pressure on your clit and cant help but buck your hips up at the stimulation. vinnie rubs harsh circles on your bundle of nerves, trying to push you to your breaking point.

“wanna watch you cum all over my cock, sweet girl. can you do that f’me?” his filthy mouth makes you feel ten times more intense.

the words coming out of him, it’s not anything you ever thought you’d hear him say in your entire friendship.

“mhm,” you moan, the pressure you feel on your clit becoming more intense. “gonna come out, vin. it’s gonna come out!”

vinnie smiles as he continues to toy at your clit, watching your face contort into pleasure as he also fucks into you at a harsh pace.

“come on, princess, cum for me,” he edges you on, kissing at your hip bone. “ be a good girl for me, hmm?”

you let out a loud whine as you cum all over his cock, panting heavily as you come down.

“fuck look at that,” vinnie says as spreads your own juices along your pussy. “so sweet.”

he stays inside of you for a minute before pulling out and stroking his cock harshly. “where you want it, sweetheart?” he asks you.

it takes you a second to process what he’s asking before you whine out, “on my tits, please vin!”

he does just that — cumming all over your pretty tits as he lets a moan leave his mouth.

you look at the substance that’s on you before lifting your hand and swiping your finger across your chest. you put your finger to your lips and stare up at vinnie.

“gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.” he tells you as he watches you suck your finger clean.

he lets you calm down for a minute before getting up and grabbing you a washcloth and his your clothes.

he cleans you up and dresses you in new panties and his shirt that you were previously wearing.

he tells you to go to the bathroom and you whine, saying you don’t have to go.

“go piss before you get an infection, baby. trust me you do not want that, m’gonna change the sheets for us, okay?” he kiss you softly before slapping your ass as you make your way to the bathroom.

once all done, you and vinnie climb back into bed. he lays with his arm holding his head up while you are cuddled into him, head against his bare chest.

vinnie’s arm is wrapped around you, rubbing your back gently to put you to sleep.

little did he know, you knocked out the second your head laid against his chest.

“goodnight, angel.” he kisses your head softly, continuing to rub your back until he too, drifts off to sleep.

you fuckers happy now ?? finally posted this shit so yall can hop off my dick (i love you im just playin)

but fr i hope you guys enjoyed !! im sorry it took so long, im just so busy w work n im so tired after that i barely feel like writing

but i loved how this turned out in the end. rewrote this 3 times because i wasnt liking it but this one i love and i hope you all do too !!!

tags: @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @cosmicanakin , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @lovingsturniolo , @louloulemons-blog , @slvthrs , @st4rswrld , @kriissy4gov , @violet0182 , @kayleiggh , @supabhad , @laylasbunbunny , @hallecarey1

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker headcanon #vinnie x y/n

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burnednotburied · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x seraphite

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝓵𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 & 𝓵𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 | kitten braden x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | it's been hard for you since she moved out, of course, and she didn't give you much warning before she stopped by to acquire some forgotten belongings. you know this time, if you let her leave again, she'll be out of your life forever-- could that really be what she wants?

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | 4.3k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | smut (18+ only - thigh riding, fingering, a touch of dom!reader), angst (break up), internalized transphobia/body image stuff, insecurity, lesbian reader, fluff and sweetness 💕

You swung open the front door, having to stop yourself from biting your lip at the sight of her— just how you remembered, except… no, even more beautiful.

She was wearing a simple silky slip dress with a massive fur, the perfect contrast as always; pearls, of course, but not the ones you’d bought her. Maybe she just wanted to show off that somebody new was buying her pearls now, and god, could you blame them?

You probably looked ridiculous, staring at her like that and not even saying anything. “I just came to get my things,” she informed you in that soft, melodious voice of hers.

Your chest deflated. “Y-yes, sure,” you nodded, stepping back to let her in. She brushed past you quickly, a sort of tightness to her walk— a little prissy, you thought. But you sort of liked that, too.

You inhaled a whiff of sweet perfume just after she walked by so briskly, something new, something fresh and a little tart: lemon and lavender. Had she put herself together like this, just to come here and flaunt how incredible she looked? How she’d somehow become more beautiful since she left— how she was doing so well, probably better than ever without you? It should’ve hurt but you didn’t even mind; she could walk all over you with those stilettos and you’d be grateful for it—

You shook your head as she made her way to the bedroom, deciding not to indulge in that train of thought… at least not until after she’d left.

“I thought you, erm, took everything already,” you mumbled as you followed her, watching her go through your drawers— she kept her chin up as she looked, only lowering her eyes in that way that made the length of her lashes all the more apparent. Was she toying with you on purpose? You really hoped she was.

“I couldn’t find my earrings,” she explained, “the little blue ones? I think I left them here— and a few pairs of knickers.”

“The blue ones,” you remembered, “I remember them— they match your eyes.”

She shot you a little look, a frown, and kept searching amongst your socks. “Don’t be like that,” she mumbled, eventually. “I’m just here for the earrings.”

“I know, sorry,” you breathed, “it’s just that— you look great.”

“Hm,” she acknowledged, quickly turning her head to send those blonde curls in a swing; it reminded you of when she twirled in her dresses, laughing and blushing when you told her she looked beautiful. You still couldn’t really believe that was all behind you now, that she was really gone…

“You look good too,” you added, doing an impression of her soft voice, and she seemed confused as she finally looked at you again. “That’s the polite thing, you know— what you say when you run into an ex.”

“I know,” she agreed, “but, well… I said I’d never lie to you. I’m still keeping that promise.”

You scoffed, not sure which part of that to start with. What promise did I break to you? You remember saying you’d never lie to me? I don’t look good?

“And—” she started again, like she’d tried to bite her tongue but couldn’t help herself. She spun on her heel and crossed her arms at you. “And you look like a mess! Stained joggers, your sock’s got a hole in it—”

You looked down at your feet, sighing when you saw your big toe exposed.

“And look at the apartment!” she continued, raising her arms to gesture around at the disorganised room. “God, you’ve got take-away boxes everywhere, you’ve got dirty clothes and dishes on the bed—”

“I am a mess,” you explained, stepping closer. “Of course I am. I’m not like you, I can’t just… I can’t just forget.”

“Forget?” she repeated, offended. “Is that what you think I’ve done?”

“How else can you come in here, looking like that,” you laughed thinly, motioning over her form as she held her coat together shyly, “asking about some bloody earrings… how can you walk through this apartment and not get your heart broken with every step?”

She glanced down, almost looking embarrassed— an emotion you were all too familiar with on her face. You stepped a little closer, dying to meet her gaze.

“I can barely stand to be here,” you breathed, “and I lived here first— I lived here for years before I even met you! And now— fuck, Kitten—” you stopped for a moment to bite your lip as you tried not to cry— “now I just come home and I keep thinking: that’s our apartment.”

She blinked quickly but said nothing. You waited for a while for her to say any of the thousands of things you wanted to hear right then: for her to admit that she still wanted you, too, that she was so lonely without you, that she came up with an excuse to come by because she wanted to make you jealous— even just that she missed living here. But she just bit her lip and avoided your gaze, and your heartbreak shifted to frustration: you quickly knelt down and yanked open the bottom drawer, forcing her to pull her leg out of the way before the wood scraped her ankle. You flipped open a shoebox and dug through until you found the blue ceramic flowers.

“Here,” you decided as you balled them up in your fist, “the earrings you wanted so damn bad.”

But before you stood up, you tossed them carelessly back into the box and picked it up, standing and facing here.

“You know what? Take the whole thing,” you offered roughly, pushing the box into her chest until she delicately held it. She took the lid off and gently began to look through what was inside. “It’s all there— the knickers, too.”

But it wasn’t just her earrings and lacy underthings in the box— it was everything. Ticket stubs from movies you’d seen together, receipts from diners and lingerie stores, dried flowers and ribbons from picnic baskets… the pictures you’d taken of her, Polaroids mostly— some a bit more salacious than the rest. “Darling…” she breathed, and your heart skipped. “You kept all this?”

“Of course,” you replied, hating the way your voice cracked; you turned your head away when she looked up at your face, defiantly wiping a tear from your cheek. “You can keep it now, I don’t… I don’t need it anymore. I just wanna forget.”

She cooed at you sweetly as she set the box aside, grabbing your face and wiping another tear away tenderly with her thumb. You found the strength to look at her again, though you tried not to get your hopes up that she’d really come back. “Oh, sweet thing,” she sighed, “we can’t forget. Neither of us can.”

“Then how am I supposed to go on?” you wondered, sniffling. “I don’t— I really don’t know if I can live like this—”

“Ah, hush,” she dismissed, “you’ll do fine— you can have any girl you want, you won’t have any trouble.”

“But I only want you,” you insisted, grabbing her wrists and holding them tightly. “I only ever wanted you, Kitten.”

Now she turned away, looking like her eyes might be getting misty. “N-now, that can’t be true,” she denied softly.

You laughed a little, mostly out of amazement rather than amusement. “Who the fuck else did you think I wanted?” you wondered. She got her hands free from yours, chewing her lip and crossing her arms, but you stepped closer again. “Kitten, who else would I possibly want?”

“Well, you know,” she stalled, “I just wondered if maybe… I mean, nobody could blame you if— you know, you’re… you’re a lesbian!”

“You’re just now noticing this?”

“No, I mean,” she choked, “I just mean maybe… maybe you would’ve wanted…”

She didn’t say it, she just held her hand up to her mouth— starting to bite her thumb nail nervously— and finally met your gaze. And you heard it in the air, you saw it in her eyes. Maybe you wanted a real girl.

You knew she was sensitive about it sometimes… for the first few months you were together she didn’t even like you to see her naked, didn’t want to be touched too much down there. Then it was okay as long as it was in the dark— or through panties. It took a lot of patience and promises to get her really naked for you, and god was it worth the wait. And now here you were, fucking bewildered that she could think you didn’t like what you saw.

“Kitten,” you breathed, stepping up and frowning when she looked away again. “Kitten, look at me. How could you think that?”

“I just—”

“Was I not obsessed with you enough? Did I not kiss you enough, touch you enough? You had me on my knees— you had me around your finger—”

“I know,” she groaned, “but doesn’t the novelty wear off after a while? You got to try something, you know, different— strange. But a fetish is just that, you know— not meant to be forever.”

“That’s why you left?”

She nodded.

“Oh, Kitten— you stupid, stupid woman.”

“Hey—!” she protested, cut off by your lips pressing onto hers. The resistance didn’t last for more than a half-second, and then she melted into you in the most beautiful way. The way you’d been imagining ever since she left… or, really, ever since you first laid eyes on her.

She hummed sweetly into the kiss, and let you pull her closer. Normally this is where you would’ve dragged her to the bed, but the bed was an aforementioned hellhole, so you had to try to think quickly while your brain short-circuited from the loveliness of the kiss.

Tugging her back by the fur coat, you guided her towards the couch with you, bringing her into your lap without ever breaking your lips away; then you could tug the coat down her arms, exposing the impossibly-thin straps of her dress. She dropped her freckled shoulders in a coquettish way, as you finally pulled back and admired the way you'd ruined her lipstick.

Running your hands down her arms, and then over her sides, you sighed at the sight of her draped in silk— the way her legs straddled your lap only made the dress ride up a little higher, and it was driving you wild already. “Tell me you weren’t just dressed like this to run errands,” you laughed breathlessly as you pet her thigh, dragging your nails a bit to tickle her through the stockings.

“No,” she admitted, watching your hand brush over her garters and reach up under the skirt— only to come back down before it got too far. She whimpered as you teased her, and you felt your chest fill with pride. “No, I dressed up like this for you…”

“Fuck,” you groaned, “all for me?”

“Yes,” she sighed, partially an answer to your question, partially a response to the way you started to kiss her neck.

“Dolled up for me, huh? Wanted me to see what I was missin’?”

She nodded, biting her lip, and you carefully ran your fingertips along the edge of her panties.

You scoffed as you lifted the dress and found those garters pinned to delicate lace. “Earrings my fuckin’ arse,” you mumbled, tickling her inner thigh as she hummed coyly. “Knew exactly what you wanted when you came here, didn’t you, naughty Kitten?”

Her smile fell into a shuddering gasp as you grabbed her between the legs, and she could only nod a little.

“Well, then come and take it,” you offered, grabbing her hips next and pulling her down onto your lap to rub on your thigh. “Go on, lemme see how bad you missed me.”

She sighed, moving carefully at first, but then really started to rock against you as you groaned proudly. “Oh, kiss me,” she pleaded after a moment, and you pulled her down to your open mouth. Finally she was letting go, relaxing in your arms, kissing you and grinding on you shamelessly. She moaned and hummed against your lips, and you ran your hands all over her body— the stocking-clad legs, the curve of her waist, up over her back and chest until you could hold her head. You cradled her face in your palms as you pulled away, enough to speak to her softly while you ran your fingers through her hair.

"Can't go leavin' me again, Kitten," you warned her with a little tug on those lovely blonde curls. "Need you too much. Hear me?"

"Yes," she promised, panting as she thrusted herself a bit faster against your thigh.

"You're mine," you reminded her, and she moaned happily. "Say it."

"Yours," she whined, gasping as you suddenly groped her chest through the silk. You smirked when you felt her nipple harden against your palm: they were always so sensitive. "Yours, all yours—"

You roughly tugged her dress down to suck on her tit, and she gasped before giggling sweetly as she held your head.

"Oh, you brute," she moaned, "you'll rip my dress—"

"You wanted me to," you challenged, letting your teeth graze the little bud until you felt her shudder in your arms. "You put this dress on— these panties and stockings— and you thought about me ripping it all off of you, didn't you?"

Her hips jerked a little in your lap, and that was answer enough for you.

"Needy little Kitten," you praised. “Now let me suck these pretty tits.”

She moaned, head falling back, as you went back and forth between them, mostly shutting your eyes tight and remembering exactly how to lick and tease her, but occasionally looking up at her face: it was just perfect like this.

She whimpered as she started to grind harder against your thigh, pretty pink lips open loosely for her moans to pass through. Just when you thought she was lost in it entirely, and you started to lean back to just look up and watch her go, she moved her own leg between yours to press against your heated centre. You sighed a little and caught her raising an eyebrow as she looked down at you, looking a little proud of herself. "Want you to feel good too, darling," she explained, nodding encouragingly.

You moved your hips and groaned as the friction made you shiver all over. You'd gotten so turned on from watching and touching her that every movement made you groan softly, and you had to take a tight hold of her ass— which made her whine sweetly— just to have something to keep you steady.

"I want us to come together like this," she whispered. "Don't you think it's romantic this way? Just moving together, too desperate to slow down, feeling each other…?"

"This is how it was the first time," you reminded her through a sigh. You remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it was months and months ago: the way she was so shy and delicate about it at first, the sweet noises she made for you as you touched her— Does little Kitten purr? you'd asked her teasingly. She does when a handsome new friend makes her come, she'd replied, or gives her some money.

You'd done both, actually, desperate to make this lovely Kitten your pet. It felt more now like she owned you, and you didn't mind it one bit. "I remember, too," she giggled, "you said it was the most fun you ever had without taking your clothes off."

“And then I asked you to stay with me,” you remembered with a laugh of your own. “I was yours from the start, Kitten, and you knew it, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just petting your hair and lifting your head so you’d look up at her. “I was yours, too, darling,” she promised, looking deep into your eyes. “Now won’t you come for me?”

“I’m close,” you breathed, “fuck, Kitten— you wanna make me come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she smiled, breathing heavily by your ear as you bucked your hips up against her faster. “Yes, I’d like to see it.”

“I wanna see you soak those panties,” you countered, panting yourself as the pressure began to build. “Show me, Kitten— show me that pretty face when you cream your little knickers—”

“Oh!” she yelped sweetly, and you could feel it— the pulsing between her legs, through the fabric of your pants. You pressed even harder against her thigh and came, too, both of you moving helplessly and instinctively— and it was pretty romantic, like she said. But it was dirty in just the right way, too.

“Good girl,” you praised, though your own voice wasn’t very commanding anymore as you were reaching your high. “Fuck, you’re so good—”

You choked and dropped your head back, your hips slowing to a stop while she smiled and relaxed above you; “Darling,” she purred, leaning down and kissing your cheek with a conservative peck. “That was lovely.”

You nodded in agreement, smiling up at her and tucking her hair behind her ear— it still looked pretty perfect despite all that it had been through.

“Now maybe let’s clean up and get some lunch,” she offered, but she whimpered when you grabbed her waist aggressively.

"No fucking way I'm done with you already," you growled, watching her eyes get a little wide.

You ran your hand up her body again, feeling the way her chest swelled and sank as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get them wet for me, love,” you ordered softly as you pressed two fingers to her lips, and she dipped down to wrap her mouth around them. You hummed in praise as she sucked them gently, batting her eyes at you— because of course she would.

She looked at you expectantly as you dragged the fingers slowly from her mouth, watching her plump lip go slack and bounce back when you pulled the digits away. “Gonna put those inside me?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

“If you ask nicely," you teased.

“Oh,” she sighed, “please— I missed them, you know. Missed how you feel inside me— any part of you, really— but those fingers, darling, you know what you can do to me with those…”

“Did you try with your own fingers?” you wondered with a smirk.

“With these nails? Heavens, no,” she denied. You reached into her panties and teased her hole with the wet fingers, circling her rim as she mewled, hoping to break her patience. “C’mon then, did I not ask nicely enough?” she wondered after a minute or so of that.

“Lay down on your back,” you whispered your command to her, “and open your legs for me. Then I can give you what you want, princess.”

She got up off your lap and sank down to the floor in front of you— you figured she would’ve stayed on the sofa, but this felt a little more submissive— laying back slowly and seductively. How could she do that, look so much like an angel and vixen all at once, while just laying on the ground?

Looking up at you with sultry half-lidded eyes, she slowly spread her legs and let you get an eyeful of the stockings and garters, the lace panties stained with come, the sweetest legs and the heaven she'd been hiding between them.

You fell to your knees in front of her, snapping the garters off and yanking her stockings down to touch her bare, smooth skin. “God, Kitten,” you breathed in awe, “you know exactly what you fucking do to me.”

“Missed this sweet little cunt, didn’t you?” she noticed with a proud smile.

“Course I did,” you panted, kissing up her thighs. “You know I fucking did.”

You reached down and pulled her panties aside, pressing your fingers to her hole again, but this time you actually slipped one in. She jolted a little when you pushed past the resistance, and you smiled.

“Always so fucking tight,” you praised softly, still kissing her bent knee gently but meeting her gaze now. She had this look in her eyes when she had something inside her, a wonderful look you never wanted to go too long without seeing.

Tight, yes, but it was a needy hole, too— and you both knew she already wanted more than just one. She moaned through a smile as you added the second, carefully stretching her open as her hands clenched fistfuls of the shag beneath her.

A shag on the shag. You would've snorted to yourself as you realised the humour in the situation if you weren't too wrapped up in how gorgeous she looked spread out on your floor like this.

You still only had the two fingers about halfway in, focusing on stretching her carefully and just barely teasing that little spot that you knew all too well— you wanted her begging, if you had anything to do with it. You had to get some sense of control back after she'd walked in here and made a complete fool out of you.

She hadn't said anything yet, though, just moaned and rocked her hips against you. Your free hand kept petting her thighs encouragingly, and you kept looking back and forth between her hole swallowing up your fingers and that gorgeous face lost in pleasure.

You pushed your fingers deeper, all the way to the knuckle, and she arched her back up from the carpet. “O-oh, more, please,” she begged.

“More fingers?” you smirked. “Two’s not enough for you?”

“No, I just mean—” she pouted, “I just want more of you…”

You leaned down and laid over her, bringing your face close to hers, as she looked at you with the slightest hint of nervousness in her eyes. “Like this?” you offered under your breath, and she nodded before hiding her face in the crook of your neck. She was rarely shy about sexual things, even when she pretended to be, but sentiment sometimes made her act like this— she didn’t like to ask you for affection, as if she still feared you’d reject her. Generally, your solution to this was to shower her in it, so she’d never have to ask… but you had to admit, you loved the way she begged for you.

She moaned into your shoulder as you held her closer with your free hand, still curling your fingers inside her and finally properly rubbing the most sensitive place inside her.

She whimpered and bucked her hips a bit when you pressed against it, and you smiled; “There, baby? Is that where you need it?”

“Yes, yes,” she mewled, clutching tighter onto you.

You brushed through her curls with your fingers, trying to coax her out. “Let me see that pretty face,” you cooed, laughing a little when she shook her head against you. “No? I don’t get to see my angel?”

She sniffled and pulled back enough to let you see her: big, wet eyes with her mascara beginning to smudge, her lip caught between her teeth.

“You’re so beautiful,” you promised softly. “But I love you for who you are, Kitten. You’re not a fetish, or a compromise. You’re just the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She whimpered and held your face, kissing you sweetly— but the kiss got faster and more desperate at the same time that your movements inside her did, and soon she was making those sweet noises that you knew meant she would come again.

“Let me see one more time, love,” you requested, “lemme see that pretty face you make when I make you come.”

“O-oh, fuck, I’m close,” she promised. “I’m close, darling— I’ll come, I’ll come for you—”

“Yeah,” you agreed encouragingly, “yeah, you’ll give my fingers a nice squeeze, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she whined, arching her back deeper. “L-lick them again, please…”

“Your tits, honey?”

“Yes, please, please—” she chanted, moaning louder when you dipped your head down and wrapped your lips around one of those cute little nipples. You suckled at it while she came, thrusting your fingers into her while she writhed and whimpered out your name; you didn’t stop moving your fingers until she seemed like she was trying to move her hips away, and you didn’t stop kissing her breast until she pulled you away from it by your hair, dragging you up to kiss her— it was sweet and lazy and slow, yet with a sense of desperation felt not in the speed of it all but in the way she tried to hold you tighter with weak and shaking hands.

You must have kissed for ages before you broke apart, and you rolled onto your back at her side; the two of you laid on the floor, sweaty and sticky, panting as you looked up at the ceiling.

After a moment, she turned her head and looked over at you, and you looked back at her as she offered you the softest smile— a real heart-melter, that one. Her smile made your knees weak from the very start. Reaching forward, she wiped some of her lipstick off of your lip, and you kissed the tip of her thumb.

"You really do look awful," she said suddenly, and you chuckled nervously.

"Your pillowtalk skills have seriously diminished since the last time we were together," you noticed.

"No, I just mean— I could tell you'd been crying," she whispered.

"Yeah," you sighed in return, moving a curl out of her face carefully. "Well, like I said, I was pretty miserable once you left."

"Then why'd you let me leave?"

"I figured you'd met someone else," you breathed. "You wanted to get out so fast— I thought maybe you found a man."

"A man?" she repeated, lifting her head slightly in shock.

"You don't have too much trouble with men," you reminded her, and she laughed.

"I only have trouble with men," she assured, and you felt her hand reach for yours, clammy fingers tangling together. "Besides— who else would I possibly want but you, darling?"

#patricia braden x reader #kitten braden x reader #kitten braden smut #cillian murphy x reader #breakfast on pluto

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