#so later on down the line she starts toeing the line of a 'good' and 'bad' person so when dasein comes along shes like ur telling me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cameronsprincess · 8 months ago

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— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only !! cocaine use, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendo, strong language.

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

prev parts: one

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3 days later…

RAFE

“So.. Let me get this straight. Your dad, and Y/N’s dad, have formed some kind of plan to merge both companies.. And you have to marry Y/N for it to be the most successful?”

I snort. Leave it to Topper to have to go over the scenario a hundred fucking times before it finally clicks in his thick skull. I ignore him, grabbing the rolled up hundred dollar bill off the glass table and place it under my right nostril. Leaning forward, i place the other end of the rolled bill at the end of the perfectly formed white line, sniffing up the substance before dropping the bill and flopping back into the soft, white couch. Fuck, I love the burn this shit leaves behind. The way it makes my body tingle, clearing my mind of any bullshit I don’t want to think about.

Topper tries ruining my high again. “Rafe. C’mon man, we have to talk about this. What’re you going to do?”

I sit up, my eyes narrowed into thin slits at him. “There’s nothing to fucking talk about, Top. My dad and her dad have already signed our lives away. I’m supposed to marry the stuck up bitch in less than a month. I don’t want to think about it, so drop it.”

Topper groans, but thankfully, he drops the subject. I don’t know what he expects me to say. I don’t want to marry her. Marriage is the last thing I pictured myself ever doing, but even if I had decided to settle down one day, start a family, it sure as Hell wouldn’t have been her I chose. Y/N Y/L/N is the bane of my existence, and my polar opposite.

Where I like to have fun, and am riddled with issues from head to toe — thanks dad — she’s boring. She doesn’t get out, and she is issue free. Her family didn’t fuck her life up like mine did — well, until now I guess — and she doesn’t even want to change her ways. She’s stuck in the mindset of being the perfect princess. My dad always praised her when we were growing up. “Be more like Y/N, Rafe.” “Why can’t you act like Y/N? She’s a good girl.” and my favorite line “I wish I had Y/N as a daughter instead of you as my fuck up son”.

I shake the thoughts to the back of my mind. The last thing I want to do right now is think of fucking Y/N Y/L/N and the fact that come this weekend, the entire island will know we’re getting married. That’ll really fuck up my chances with getting any pussy before this wedding. That’s another thing. The girls still a fucking virgin. I mean, who the fuck is still a virgin at twenty-one years old? Y/N fucking Y/L/N, that’s who.

“You have to admit though, she is hot. And she’s a virgin, how longs it been since you fucked a virgin?” Top says, amusement lacing his tone as he lightly punches at my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “She’s not fucking hot, Topper. She’s a bitch.”

Lie.

Y/N is a lot of things, but unattractive isn’t one of them. I would be lying to myself if I said she wasn’t fucking gorgeous. But I’ll never admit that out loud.

“C’mon Rafe. Lighten up. Maybe it won’t be so bad”

I bark out a laugh at that. It’s going to be fucking miserable. A loveless marriage. Handcuffs that I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

“Topper. Fucking drop it.”

He opens his mouth to speak but thankfully, Kelce comes barging through the front door. I quickly stand from the couch, making my way to my other best friend and mouthing a silent “thank you” to him for arriving when he did.

“Y’all ready?” Kelce asks, his eyes darting between Topper and I. Thankful for the intrusion and opportunity to drop this entire fucking subject, nod my head. “Let’s go”

The boys and I enter the Island Club. We come here quite often to just get drunk and forget about our shitty days. I am thankful for this tradition right about now. This whole marriage thing has had me stressed out for the last three days. I remember when Ward first came to me about it. He had told me that it was time for me to step up and do something good for the family.

“Son, a word?”

I roll my eyes, glancing at the girl laid beside me I tell her, “I’ll be right back”

My dad chuckles, his eyes glancing behind me and at the brunette that wears only my T-shirt and a pair of underwear. “Actually, you can get dressed and go. Rafe won’t be back up here until late tonight”

I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to protest, but my dad’s stern look has me quickly shutting my mouth. There’s never a point in arguing with Ward Cameron. He will win every single fucking time.

Turning to face Sofia, I give her a small smile. “Sorry, I’ll call you later”

She rolls her eyes but nods her head. She grabs her things from my floor before slipping on her white Nike tennis shoes and walking toward me. She positions all of her things in her left hand, her right palm pressed firmly against my chest as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a long kiss to my lips.

My father clearing his throat has me pushing her back softly. “I’ll call you.” I say firmly. She turns and exits my room. Leaving me all alone with my dad.

“You won’t be calling her” He states.

My narrowed eyes find his. “And why is that?”

“Because, son. You’re about to step up and do something good for this family, and I won’t have you fucking it up by sleeping around with some bartender from the club.”

I scoff. “What’re you-” I begin to ask, but he cuts me off.

“You’re going to be marrying Y/N Y/L/N.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Rafe? You good bro?”

The sound of Kelce’s voice rips me from the memory. I slowly turn my head to face him, his dark brown eyes filled with slight concern.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Yeah. I’m good. Lets get fucking drunk”

Kelce and Topper nod their heads and begin making their way toward the bar. I follow them closely behind, but freeze in my tracks when I see her. Sofia. I never did call her, and it’s been three days since she was last in my room. I know she’s going freak out on me. If she doesn’t, i’ll be surprised.

I clear my throat and roll my neck before continuing my way up to the bar with my friends. I finally reach Kelce and Topper, they’re already ordering. “Rafe, whatcha drinking bro?” Kelce asks while looking behind his shoulder at me.

I open my mouth to speak but Sofia’s narrowed eyes landing on mine the second she hears my name has me clamping my mouth shut. I give her an awkward nod, debating on just leaving. That’s not who I am though, I don’t run away like a scared little bitch, so instead I order, “Whiskey. Neat.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ll call me, huh? It’s been three days, Rafe. What the fuck?”

I hear Kelce and Topper snort out a laugh. I glare at the back of both their heads. I’m friends with fucking children. Turning my attention back to the short brunette, I sigh heavily. “Situations changed, Sofie.”

She scoffs at that. “Well, it would be nice to know that you had just planned on fucking me and never calling again. I wouldn’t have ever looked at you twice.”

Topper slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure he would have called had he not found out later that day that’s he’s marrying Y/N Y/L-”

I throw my elbow into Topper’s side, making his arm fall from my shoulder as he groans in pain. “What the fuck was that for?” He demands.

I roll my eyes, and put my focus back on Sofia. “Look, like I said. Situations changed. I won’t apologize for not calling you, we never said it would be more than sex between us anyways”

Her mouth falls open and tears begin to well up in her chocolate brown eyes. I sigh. This is the thing about women. They always expect so much more than you’re willing to give. I never planned on having a relationship with Sofia, and she knows that. But now, I’m the bad guy because she was all but thrown out of my house and I never called.

She lifts her eyes toward the ceiling above her, blinking back her tears before her eyes find mine again. “Well, good to know. Let me get those drinks for you guys.”

I let out a deep exhale, turning to face Topper and Kelce. They both have shit eating grins on their faces. “What?” I snap.

Topper chuckles. “Nothing. You better hope she doesn’t spit in your drinks all night” He jokes.

I run a hand down my face. Tonight was supposed to help me unwind, not cause more fucking unwanted stress. “I never fed her lines of false hope, so I don’t know why she’s freaking the fuck out.”

Kelce chuckles this time, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t they all freak the fuck out when it comes to you? I mean c’mon Rafe. You can’t ever sleep with a girl without her expecting more.. I just hope you’re prepared for the long list that’s going to come for your throat when this engagement is announced.”

I sigh for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. He’s right. I have never been serious about any of the girls I slept with. They all wanted more, but every single time I felt they were getting to attached, I stopped calling or texting them. It was better that way. I didn’t want anything serious, and now, I’m being forced into something super serious. Fuck, my life really sucks doesn’t it?

“Here. Drink up, you need it.” I hear Kelce say. I turn to face him and he has his left hand extended toward me, my glass of whiskey in hand. I quickly snatch it from his grip and throw it back, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. Turning to face the bar, I slide the glass back toward Sofia. “Another.”

Two hours and multiple glasses of whiskey later, I’m drunk. The room sways a bit, and I reach my hand out to grip the patio railing. I hear Topper laugh from the right of me. “Dude, you’re fucking wasted.” He laughs out, placing his hand on my shoulder to help keep me upright.

“I- I am not wasted, Top. I’m just… Buzzed” I lie.

He opens his mouth to speak but he quickly slams it shut, the sound of his teeth clashing together has me turning my full attention on him. His brows are raised and his eyes look like they’re going to pop from his skull as he stares intently behind us.

“What the fuck are you looking at? You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” I joke. But he doesn’t laugh, and that makes me nervous. Topper laughs at the dumbest shit, so for him to remain staring behind us with a look of pure shock in his eyes, it has me wondering what just happened.

My body sways to the side as I try to turn and face the direction he’s looking, but his hand on my shoulder has me stopping in place.

I narrow my blue — possibly bloodshot — eyes on him. “What the fuck, Top. Speak!”

He clears his throat. “I- Uh.. Y/N just walked in with some of her friends.”

That has my attention. I quickly turn my body, falling forward a bit but catching myself with the help of the railing again. She stands at the bar. And she looks fucking delicious right now. For a girl who has never taken it past kissing a man — if she’s even kissed a man — she sure knows how to dress the part of any other girl on this island. She wears a black, leather skirt that hugs her curves and ass nicely. A tight, white cropped top and a pair of black heels that add a few inches to her height. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and all I can think of is wrapping my hand in it and pulling her head back as I fuck her from behind.

What the fuck? Why am I thinking of her like this? I fucking hate her. My soon to be wife. She’s a fucking stuck up, prude bitch. My mind tells me to stop staring, reminds me that I can’t fucking stand her. But my cock is screaming the complete opposite.

Without thinking, my legs begin to carry me toward her. I come to a stop right behind her, clearing my throat, causing her head to whip in my direction. The moment her eyes find mine, she’s rolling them. The act alone is fucking sexy. I picture her eyes rolling into the back of her head while my face is buried between her legs, devouring her sweet cunt. Fuck. Stop thinking of her like this Rafe, you’re just drunk, and horny. Any girl would do, but for some fucking reason, my mind is consumed with her.

“What the fuck do you want, Rafe” She sighs.

I smirk at the anger that radiates from her. “Just coming to say- just coming to say hey to my future wifeeee.” I slur. She rolls her eyes as they find mine again.

“You said hey, now run along. We don’t need to pretend to like each other right now.”

Maybe it’s just because I’m drunk, but her words stung. She really hates me doesn’t she? I mean, I hate her too. Don’t I? Yes, Rafe. She’s a stuck up bitch who acts like she’s better than everyone. But my drunken mind has me sighing as I say, “You really don’t like me, baby?”

Her body stiffens, eyes wide as she stares back at me. “I- Don’t call me that.”

I smirk. I have her worked up. Reaching out my left hand, I push a few strands of hair behind her ear before I run my fingers down the side of her face. She sucks in a shaky breath and flinches away from my touch.

“Rafe… Please just let me have a night out with my friends. In two days, we’re announcing to the entire island that we’re getting married, and I’d like to live the last two days of my life without you around… Lord knows I’m about to be stuck with you.”

My eyes narrow and I take a step toward her. You’re drunk, Rafe. Keep your cool. My large hands reach for her face, cupping her cheeks as I lower my face closer to hers. I don’t miss the way her chest rises and falls rapidly from my close proximity. She’s nervous. It’s going to be so much fun having her all to myself. Even if I hate her, pussy is pussy. And this is pussy that’s never been touched. She’s all mine to play with. To fuck. To break. To train. She’ll be my own personal whore by the time I’m done with her.

My glassy, blue eyes search her face. I half expect her to shove me away, and I’m so drunk I wouldn’t be able to fight back on it. But she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes find mine. That’s it, be strong baby girl. I like the tough girl act.

“Baby, you’re going to be crawling on your hands and knees begging for me to touch you. To kiss you. To please you. You can act like you hate me now, Lord knows I can’t stand you. But even I can admit, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I know you find me somewhat attractive.” I pause, placing my lips on the sensitive skin of her neck and leaving soft kisses, making her hiss in a breath. “I know this isn’t what either one of us wanted, but we have no choice… Why not enjoy the game?”

Her beautiful eyes narrow into slits and her lips thin. She blinks a few times before slapping my hands from her face. I stumble back a little, but catch myself on the bar, giving her a slow smirk.

“Fuck you, Rafe!” She hisses before grabbing her purse and storming off to the locker rooms.

I smile to myself as I watch her storm off. She’s mad now, but I meant what I said. She’ll be begging for more after I finally touch her. She can pretend now, and I’m not saying I’m falling for her. But Topper was right. She’s hot. Might as well enjoy the game and the perks, right? Letting out a small laugh, I turn and make my way back toward my friends, adjusting my hard cock that’s straining against my pants in the process. This is going to be fun.

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princesssmars · 7 months ago

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sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

#rodeo!abby #buckle bunny!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby #tlou #abby x reader #tlou2 #tlou 2 #tlou smut #tlou x reader

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girlboypersonthingy · 7 months ago

Note

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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ceilidho · 5 months ago

Note

The catfish price things is giving me vibes of “I’ll make her pay for daring to play with me like that, I’m a god damn respected man” and then just stalking her for a few days until he finds the perfect opportunity to make the pretty little thing pay, maybe take *real* pictures of her, after he messed her up pretty cute, filled up holes.

"Oh, you're fine," John clucks, verging on dismissive when she tries to twist out of his grasp again. He yanks her back by her hips before she's managed to wriggle even an inch away, relishing in the sound of her ensuing yip.

She squeals from where she's bent over the back of the couch, little feet kicking out, her painted toes barely grazing the floor. Her pleas come out garbled, muffled by the ring gag in her mouth. It's more than fair after what she's put him through. As much as John enjoys the sound of her pleasure, he prefers this, only the squelching sound of her pussy every time he fills it up and her pathetic little mewls.

He likes the way she looks like this. Hands bound at the wrist, toes curling and flexing every time he bottoms out, still a bit too tight to take him to the root. She clenches deliciously around his length, tighter than sin, hotter than hell. Everything he'd imagined she'd be like in the weeks since they started chatting online. The only thing he's thought about since the first time she messaged him unprompted and he laid eyes on the sweet thing smiling back at him from the photo next to her name.

"Miserable little thing," he murmurs, fingers squeezing into her hips hard enough to bruise. He'll have to tend to those later when they bloom. "After everything I've done."

John likes to think that he's a good man, but even his patience has its limits. He can handle being blown off once or twice, but five times in a month? While still brazenly asking him to send her another month's worth of rent? If he's going to be taken for a sucker, then he thinks some taking of his own is well deserved. Earned, even. He's paid three times over for the wet peach between her legs.

No one would call him the most technologically adept, but what he lacks in know how, he makes up for in resources. It hadn't taken him long to find her - or, more accurately, it hadn't taken the intelligence analyst whose shoulders John had held in an ever intensifying grip long to find her. After that, all he'd had to do was put in for his leave and pack an overnight bag before plugging her coordinates into phone.

"C'mon, 'nough of that. Can't push a man this much without expecting him to snap."

She wails something unintelligible behind the gag, but he's long learned to tune her protests out. She'd been full of them when he'd barged into her apartment earlier, steamrolling past her. The display of innocence would've been more impressive if he weren't in such a foul mood, in no right mind to hear the woman that'd been bleeding him dry for weeks claim to have never so much as heard his name before.

He lets go of her hip just long enough to pull his phone from his back pocket, sliding the camera open and framing everything from the line of her back to the soft curve of her ass. The soft shutter of his camera is loud enough for her to crane her neck back, eyes going wide at the sight.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," John tuts, tossing his phone away and bearing down over her until he can run his nose down the sweaty line of her neck. She shakes when he widens his stance, seconds from letting his mind go blank while he thrusts into her like a rutting bull. "You'll get yours too."

#john price/reader #price/reader #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #ceil writing

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kjhbsies · 6 months ago

Text

The Disaster Zone

HELP PALESTINE • daily click • donation links • ways to help • why you should not buy/support TLOU2 remaster

Roomate!Abby Anderson x reader

Synopsis: Living with the hottest girl wasn't that bad, right? Except that she was completely straight and has a boyfriend you hate.

wordcount: 7, 758

note: this fiction contains (internal) homophobia and comphet as Abby explores her sexuality. if you were uncomfortable with these kinds of stories, then maybe this isn't for you. please refrain from commenting on any hate comments. thank you and happy reading!

Sweat prickled from your forehead, trickling down your face, and across your neck and you almost yelled in frustration at the feeling of getting overstimulated over everything. You sighed irritatingly, trudging your way outside of the apartment you just viewed.

One week before the class starts and you still haven’t got a place to live and stressful is such an understatement to say. No, it’s much more than that. You never thought that finding a decent place to stay for two semesters wasn’t hard but no — it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the needle was just a reasonably priced apartment with no angry roommates.

You grumbled, laying your head on the couch of your bedroom. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through the listings of the apartments available, feeling the stress building with each rejected option.

But to your luck, you stumbled upon someone’s ad. It was a nice, cozy place that was perfect in size for two people. Her name was Abby Anderson, her last name was quite familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you heard it. Her place looked promising enough, and the reason she was finding a roommate was that she couldn’t pay all the house bills by herself. Under that, there was a deadline — which was supposed to be today, so you mindlessly hit the ‘call’ button with no second thought.

“Hello?” Abby’s voice came through the other line, her voice was deep and businesslike.

“Hey, uh, I saw your ad for the apartment,” You replied while nibbling through your fingertips.

“Oh, great. Are you interested in visiting it?” She asked, her tone was still cool and detached.

“Yes, please, I need it so bad.” You bit your lips while nervousness came through.

“Alright. Let’s set up a time, then. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll send you the address.” She said before hanging up quickly.

You stared at your phone for a minute, finding the interaction a bit… awkward. A sense of relief washed over you as the thought of finally finding a place to stay for the whole academic year was done, but something about Abby made you feel anxious. Her coldness scared you for a second — even if you just talked to her for a couple of minutes.

But no, you promised yourself that this was the last time you’d reject a place because of a bad roommate. So you don’t have a choice but to go.

Arriving at the address, you knocked at the door thrice. Seconds later, you saw the Abby Anderson. You gulped, taking in her features. She was tall, stoic, and… unimpressed. She was wearing a simple black shirt that perfectly hugged her toned body, making you gawk mentally. Her eyes bore into yours, looking at you from head to toe. Something inside Abby’s mind twitched as she did not expect how good you looked. But she immediately strayed away from that thought, minding no attention to it.

“Thanks for coming. I apologize for my appearance — I just got off the gym.” She says in a neutral voice, opening the door wide open. “Come on in.”

“It’s fine.” You said before stepping inside.

The apartment was bigger than you expected — much bigger than the photos she uploaded. The furniture was complete and the choice of its design was very intricate and extravagant — you wondered if she bought it all with her money. Maybe she spent her money buying decorations which is why she couldn’t pay the house bills.

The huge windows perfectly let the sunlight in, casting a warm glow through the whole place. You admired how neat it was, and how everything was in place. Not even a small piece of trash in sight. As Abby showed you around, pointing out every amenities and quirks of this place, you couldn’t help but admire her silently.

“So what do you think?” She looked back at you suddenly, making you snap out of a trance.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I like it.” You shot her a smile. “This was much better than all of the places I’ve checked.”

Abby nodded, taking your answer without further comment or questions. You looked away, feeling nervous at the closeness between you two. With the whole three hours of you and her in just an enclosed space, Abby did not look at you. Something about your presence makes her uncomfortable and she did not know what that is.

But then she looked at you for the second time, taking a couple of minutes to stare at your features without you knowing. Abby did not know why it was so hard for her to accept that you were pretty. No, you were something more than that. And she did not know what that was, or what was doing to her that was making her heart churn.

“Damn it,” Abby looked away and cursed under her breath.

You snapped your neck to stare at her. “What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. It seems like you are interested. Are you open to discussing the other details?” She said, gesturing at the couch.

And just like that, the deal was done.

And oh, that was one month ago.

You and Abby are still living with each other. But all of your admiration for her was over.

She has a whole-ass boyfriend.

And she’s straight as hell.

Now, you hate each other to the core.

Turns out, Abby Anderson wasn’t renting because she was poor. Technically, at that time, she was. However, you found out that her family was crazy rich and could probably buy your entire bloodline.

The reason that she was finding a roommate to share the apartment with was that her father limited her expenses in the meantime as Abby spent a huge sum of money in the casino while on a summer break, causing her dad to deduct some money from her allowance.

Abby Anderson was the typically rich person you’d meet. She has a puppy she recently adopted one sunny day and she named Oreo — a St. Bernard. Ever since, there has been a new joy in the apartment, breaking the awkward tension between you and Abby that was lingering in the air. You learned how to love Oreo despite his unwavering energy.

Being an only child, Abby doesn’t have anyone to share things that her parents buy her, and developing a trait of being territorial over those she owns. However, seeing you play with her puppy, and how your face lit up every time Oreo cuddled with her, Abby could not put an end to your joy for whatever reason she couldn’t figure out. She just liked to think that she was just being a kind person and to not be an asshole for no apparent reason, and nothing else.

On the other side, you were grateful that Abby was letting you play with her dog. Because, truth be told, you were still getting tensed whenever she was around. And Oreo definitely warms up the place much more.

You didn’t know that being roommates with Abby Anderson could make everything so complicated. She was the top student in class, always ranking high in their department, and was considered one of the top notchers in the university already. Her dad was a famous surgeon in the city and was respected by many, and Abby definitely wanted to prove that she could be like her father — or better. She only has two friends — Nora and Mel, whom you only saw in the hallways of your university alongside her. Abby was a mysterious person, and even though you were now living for a month with her, you did not know much about her.

She wasn’t a talkative person, and you two never interacted with each other so much. You could definitely count the times she has spoken to you with your one finger. Her after school would be changing into gym clothes, making and eating a snack in the kitchen, and then leaving. She would go back at 7:00 PM and would go straight inside the bathroom and into her bed.

But let’s talk about the real issue here.

Her boyfriend.

Owen was a gym rat guy who sported short brown hair, brown eyes, and a small mustache around his chin. Abby introduced you to him when she first invited him over, and you found out that he was much older than Abby. At first, you weren’t bothered by her presence since he seemed okay and not much of a harm. However, as Abby was inviting him over and over again, something inside you grew uncomfortable.

Maybe it was because whenever he was around, you’d often see him giving you dirty looks that sent shivers up your spine, or that he liked to fully make out with Abby in different spots in the apartment outside of Abby’s room, or that every time Owen and Abby were cuddling or doing sweet things with each other, you’d caught her staring at you from time to time.

“Really?!” Dina exclaimed through the phone as you were narrating the last line to her.

“I really do want to know why.” You grabbed a bag of chips before walking away from the kitchen.

“Maybe she likes you?”

You stopped walking when you saw Abby and Owen cuddling in the living room, her head was placed on Owen’s shoulder as they both watched a silly movie. You sighed, “No, I think it’s actually the opposite of it.”

It was an exceptionally good day at Pinecrest University, one of the most prestigious schools in the U.S. which everyone dreamt of attending. From the picturesque sceneries of the landscapes where it was built, and to the educational qualities it provides, it was, in fact, no doubt one of the greatest universities in the world.

Abby did not know whether or not she would be happy that she was given an opportunity to take after her father's steps — follow his path and become like what he is — a great surgeon. In the first year, she was giddy to study, with full of hope and dreams. Everyone recognizes her for being Jerry Anderson’s only daughter, praising her for being intelligent like he was. Abby was every professor’s favorite student as she possesses exceptional skills in everything. While it was good at first, Abby did not like the pressure weighing up on her shoulders as time passed by. Being someone who everyone expects to be good at everything all the time, makes her become careful of her actions as she becomes afraid of making mistakes.

“What?” Leah snapped her neck in Abby’s direction.

“Nothing. Thought I heard something.” Abby shook her head.

“You know what I heard earlier?” Nora looked at Abby, eyes gleaming with mischief with a small smirk plastered on her face.

“What?” The blonde furrowed her brows before sitting on an empty spot at the library.

“Y/n Y/l/n. Your roommate.”

Leah’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, “You’re roommates with her?” She exclaimed in a hushed tone.

The lines on Abby’s face deepened as she looked at her friends, not knowing what the fuss was about. “What about her?”

Nora was about to say something when, as if on cue, you started to walk behind her, trudging away from their table but not without a quick glance at Abby, who, to your surprise, was already staring at you with curiosity.

You were not one to back down, so you held her gaze up until you sat beside Ellie who was finishing her homework that was due this afternoon.

“Who was that?” Dina asked, looking back.

“My roommate.”

“Oh! The one who–” Dina started gesturing and muttering words that you could only understand.

“What the fuck,” Ellie cursed loudly as she stared at you two with pure astonishment.

“She’s friends with Williams,” Abby uttered with a surprise.

“Yeah, everyone’s been suspecting that they’re more than that,” Nora said.

“Than what? They’re super best friends or something?” Abby folded her arms on her chest before taking a quick glance in your direction. She found you laughing along with your friends, but something inside her was stirring as she saw Ellie’s hands crawling at your torso, dangerously close to where your hips at.

Nora and Leah chuckled loudly.

“What the fuck? Super best friends?” Leah looked at her with pure amusement. “Oh I forgot, you don’t get it–” She turned to Nora. “She doesn’t get it.” She says, pointing her thumb at the blonde.

“Okay, in straight girl terms, Ellie and Y/n might be a couple,” Nora explained.

“But Ellie’s a girl,” Abby says, confused.

Nora and Leah exchanged glances. “You won’t ever get it, can you?”

“What?” Abby’s eyes widened. “Wait– Is Y/n… gay?”

“You say that word as if it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever muttered.” Nora glared at her. “Yes, she’s gay, Abs. Apparently, she’s a great kisser, too.”

“I can’t believe she’s gay.” Abby sighed, something inside her was growing uncomfortable.

“Abby, that’s a mean thing to say.” Nora frowned. “What if she was? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know! But I mean, I don’t know, it’s confusing.”

“It isn’t. Y/n likes a girl and that shouldn’t change the way you view her. It’s just a sexuality, she’s not gonna bite you.”

Abby stared in your direction, contemplating and thinking about everything. months of studying different kinds of textbooks every week couldn’t prepare her for the said subject. Sexuality was something that she was not well-informed about as the topic stirred something inside of her. Being raised in a conservative and religious family who has a well-known image to take care of made her realize that her world was much different than yours.

After a long day of work in the laboratory, doing research on different chemicals, monitoring their progress, and waiting for the results, Abby felt like she was going to collapse right when she stepped foot onto the hotel’s lobby where your shared apartment was located.

She sighed, forcing a fake smile to greet the receptionist.

“Hey, Liam, did you see Owen come in?” She asked, leaning at the desk.

“No, I don’t think so, Abby.” He says, offering an apologetic smile before attending to another elderly woman who is asking for something.

Being with Owen at such a young age means that Abby had experienced everything that is there to experience whenever you are in a relationship with a shitty person. Sure, she wouldn’t admit that Owen was a bad boyfriend to her, but she knew that he wasn’t a good person either.

Abby sighed before dragging her feet through the floors, growing very tired at each step. Now, if this was the first time that Owen had gone through the entire day without checking up on her, being with clubs with different girls dangling on both her arms, Abby would’ve been crying all her way to her room – just like what she did before. But being the person who became accustomed to this setup with her boyfriend, Abby could only grow numb, only feeling a faint sharp pain dragging through her heart, reminding her that she chose to be with him so she had to deal with it.

Besides, no one ever wants Owen for her.

Not her friends,

Not her dad,

And she won’t be surprised if you’ll tell her that you hate him, too.

“Where are you?” Abby hissed through the phone, feeling the rage consuming her as she listened to Owen stumble and slur through his words, finding great difficulty to even remember who was calling him.

“Abby baby! I’m uh- sorry, I was at a��” Owen’s voice was getting drowned by the loud music, along with different voices from his friends and a couple of giggles from different girls in the background.

“Bullshit.” Abby cursed him before ending the call. She wanted to just quickly disappear right there and then, feeling like an absolute shit so many times.

“Hey,” You greeted, placing a gentle hand around her shoulder.

Abby jolted, almost feeling like your touch was too hot for her skin. “Yeah? You scared me.”

“Oh! Sorry! Didn’t mean to do that,” You apologized profusely, “I thought you were sick.” You gestured to your face, and Abby mindlessly touched her forehead, feeling the cold sweat on the palms of her hand.

She cursed under her breath. Now that you’ve pointed it out, Abby felt her vision swirling as her breathing got labored. Even if she couldn’t look at her face, she could assume that she was pale already. But instead of saying that she was indeed not okay, she dismissed your question by saying, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Abby tried to walk, but then she almost tripped with her fifth step. Before she could kiss the tiled floor, you caught her body, wrapping a delicate arm around her hip to help her stabilize her stance.

“Quit being stubborn, okay?” You said, stopping her from even uttering a single protest when she opened her lips. You looked at her sternly, making her go silent.

As much as Abby hated to be close to you at the moment, she couldn’t move. Not when her mind had shut down the moment your warm fingertips touched her waist, not when your face inched closer to hers, and not when your smell lingered around the air and started to consume Abby whole.

You did not know which force on the entire earth had given you the energy to drag Abby all the way to your shared apartment. To be fair, Abby’s body was toned and muscular, given the time that she was working at the gym, and not only you could feel her weight leaning upon your much smaller figure, but you were also touching her well-earned biceps and abs.

“Okay, lean in there for a second and I’ll just open the door.” You commanded, carefully releasing your grip from Abby’s body as she leaned towards the cold wall while waiting for you to get your keys from the bag. Abby watched you silently with wandering eyes, feeling a sense of disappointment gushing through when you stopped touching her.

“Shit.” Abby cursed loudly while screwing her eyes shut.

“What?” You asked before lightly pushing the door, revealing a very excited Oreo who had been barking since he saw you.

“N-nothing.” Abby stammered when you enveloped her in your hands once again. Her heart thrummed inside her chest, reaching the vibrations to her ears and all she could think about at that moment was your name.

Y/n.

“Abby?” You asked, placing her on the sofa carefully. Y/n.

“Y/n.”

“Is there something I could help you with?” You waved your hand in front of her eyes, making Abby snap out of the trance. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her gaze on your eyes and your eyes only. But Abby found it so hard especially when your face were so much closer to her that she could feel your breath fanning over her lightly.

“What?” Abby asked.

“You were calling my name.”

Shit.

“Am I?”

“Look, just… lay there and make yourself comfortable, okay? I’m just going to cook for you.”

“Ah, there’s no need. I can order–” Abby opened her phone, face getting sour at seeing her wallpaper — Owen.

“This won’t take long. And I really am good at cooking so trust me.” You flashed her a sweet smile before rushing to the kitchen.

“For sure…” Abby whispers, watching how your skirt dances perfectly as you walk, hugging your curves. When she realized that she was staring at your ass, Abby shut her eyes tightly, pinching her nose bridge while telling herself to get a fucking grip.

True to your words, you were a great cook.

Abby found herself in a blanket-clad position as she sipped at the bowl slowly, not wanting to make it seem that she was so eager to taste the soup. Which, in her opinion, was probably the best one she had ever taken. She was almost thankful that you insisted on cooking for her, instead of buying a delivery from a fast food chain — something that she has always done whenever she was sick.

“Are you feeling better?” You asked, sitting at the loveseat in front of her while brushing Oreo’s fur with your fingers. The dog wags his tail joyfully, making Abby smile.

“Yes. Thank you.” She sighed. “I think I’m just over-fatigue.”

“You should probably rest. Ditch the school works, it’s Friday.”

“I know, I will.” Abby nods.

“Good.” You stood up. “I’ll clean up for a bit. Call my name if you need something.”

“Sure.” Abby put on a tight-lipped smile. You nod before making your way to your bedroom. “I enjoyed it.”

“What?” You turned around, looking at her.

“The soup. It was the best.” Abby bit the inside of her cheek, feeling her face heating up.

You smiled widely, heart swelling with pride and joy as you heard her compliment, “Thanks.” You said before entering your own bed, gently closing the door before you almost squeak in pure bliss.

But that was short-lived as you realized that she’s Abby Anderson.

And she’s way out of your league.

After lounging in her bedroom for a day while ignoring everyone’s texts and calls, Abby had never felt much alive.

Maybe it was due to the fact that she got enough sleep and rest, not seeing Owen, or maybe because of you. As much as Abby still never felt comfortable enough with your presence near her, she was thankful for being roommates with you.

It is true that you two weren’t friends, to begin with. Abby could count on her fingers how many times she talked to you ever since you moved into the apartment. There’s not to say that she wasn’t fond of you, truth be told is — you make her think of so many things that she couldn’t name, or make her feel something she never knew what that is.

However, as much as Abby wanted to go back to ignoring you while she was finally okay, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for helping her when she was sick. So, she decided to ask you out — and it’s just a friendly date just to repay your kindness.

Rays of sunlight pierced through the large windows of your apartment, perfectly illuminating your figure as you stood in front of the full-length mirror and examined your face. As Abby was descending down the stairs, she couldn’t help but stare at your back, trailing her gaze from the ribbons on your hair to the soft plush of your thighs. She immediately looked away, feeling a small sweat prickling down her forehead which she quickly wiped, not wanting to appear nervous or such.

Abby cleared her throat, making you look at her.

“You’re going somewhere?” She asked silently, busying herself with removing dog furs from her shirt.

“Yeah, uh, just going to visit this newly opened cafe. My friend says it’s good.”

Abby nodded, looking away. She tried to guess who that friend was. Was it the curly-haired girl you were talking to in the library? Or the tattooed one named Ellie?

“Are you going with someone?”

“Just me.” You smiled. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I would love to.”

Abby has never gone on a date with someone else other than Owen, Leah, Nora, and her father. So being alone with you ignited something within her.

You were sitting across from her, giving her a perfect view of your face. She probably looked at you many times that she couldn’t keep track of her fingers and it scared if you’d think that she was creepy as hell. It’s just that she couldn’t look away, or divert her attention to some other things when a gorgeous girl was in front of her.

You were chatty, telling her some stories from your first year in the University that Abby found so adorable that she couldn’t stop herself from eliciting a small smile on her lips. You liked to joke around, giving some playful banters that Abby found witty. She never thought that talking to you was the best thing she’d ever experienced. She admired how you were so smiley, radiating light and hopeful vibes, infecting her in the meantime, breaking her out of the cold and dark shell she was caged in.

It was fun.

So, so fun.

And she doesn’t know why your company scares her.

“Come on, babe, I’ll do everything you want,” Ellie whined through the phone and your eyes almost rolled off at the back of your head at her dramatic ass.

“Figure it out on your own, Ellie.”

“I’m gonna fail!” She says, shuffling across her room.

“You should’ve thought about that before skipping your classes.”

“Come on,” Ellie answers.

“Why are you so annoying?”

“You love me.” You can imagine Ellie’s smirk. “I’m bringing snacks.”

“You should be.” You rolled your eyes once again before hanging up the phone.

It was 8:00 in the evening, and you were already in your pajama-clad state as you made your way to the dining room with your laptop clutched around your chest. The whole apartment was dimly lit, with only the warm lampshades as the source of light. Oreo was already sleeping on his bed, filling the silence in the air and comforting you.

Abby was nowhere to be found ever since you got in here after school. You waited for her to appear, eating whatever she made in the kitchen which was usually at 7:00 PM, or to make her way to the bathroom, putting on an obnoxiously loud song that you could practically hear from across the room. But she wasn’t here.

You two aren’t exactly friends. For sure, you two got closer when she was sick, but after the date you two had, Abby was back again into ignoring your presence. You did not know what to feel because you thought you were on to a good start now. Truth be told, you wanted to get to know her even more but it seems like she doesn’t really want to.

She was a mysterious woman. You always hear things about her at school. They all say that she was a smart person, always on top of the class. Everyone adored Abby, and you couldn’t blame them for that. You liked her, too, even though she was like that.

Three consecutive knocks on the door put you out of a trance, lightly making you flinch. You screwed your eyes shut before standing up. Of course, it’s Ellie.

She smiled widely, flashing you a toothy grin before lifting the paper bags in both of her hands. You opened the door, letting her in at the apartment.

“Jesus, where’s all the lights? I can’t see shit.” Ellie whispered.

“Don’t be too loud,” You nudged her. “You’ll wake up the dog.” You flicked the switch, opening the big lights just like Ellie liked, revealing the well-decorated apartment. Ellie seemed to be in awe, scanning the whole house. To be fair, it really was pleasing in the eye so you can’t blame her. If there’s one thing you and Abby could agree on, it is the interior design of the place. It was a Mediterranean revival style, taking upon the beautiful Spanish architecture that you both loved. It was a very lovely house, something you didn’t expect to live in.

“Dude your apartment was great!” Ellie complimented, sitting down beside you. She opened her laptop before gathering pieces of paper in her bag.

“Yeah, well, thanks to my roommate.” You shrugged, grabbing a piece of fries that Ellie brought.

You two got working afterward, not wasting any time. You did not want to stay up too late, and on the contrary, Ellie did not want to sleep. She says she has to go to the club at 10:00 PM, hence, she was listening to your instructions carefully, nodding at every word you say, and working seriously. To be honest, Ellie was a smart person. She was just distracted by too many things — girls, clubs, and her guitar which made her have a hard time managing her time. Which was why she was always late in class, sometimes even skipping them unintentionally. It was the reason why her guardian, Joel, kept scolding her.

“You were smart, you know. You just don’t know how to properly execute it.” You said to her as you were cleaning up the mess at the kitchen table.

Ellie smirked while putting her bag on. “I’ll see myself out.” She says, ignoring your compliment.

You nodded, opening the door quietly. “Take care, El.”

“Thank you so much for helping me.” She says, grinning at you while pinching your cheek. You winced at her touch, immediately swatting her hand. Before you could slap her shoulder, Ellie was running through the elevator while giggling. “Bye!” You hear her say.

You laughed, shaking your head at how childish she was. As you were about to lock the doors, Abby’s tall figure appeared in front of you, making you flinch in shock.

“What the hell?” You cursed, placing your hand on your loud beating heart. “Where did you come from?”

Abby’s brows furrowed deeply as she scanned your face, and back to the elevator. “Who was that?” She asked, walking past you. You can sense her irritation as she sits on the couch, removing her pair of loafers.

“It’s… Ellie—”

“Your girlfriend?” Abby looked at you with a stoic face.

“What? No—”

“Well then, why she was here? What could you two be possibly doing late at night?”

“Woah, woah,” You raised your hands in surrender before walking in front of Abby. “Where was this coming from? Me and Ellie were just friends, and we’re not doing anything you’re thinking.”

“And how could I believe that?” Abby stood up, towering over you.

“And if we really were doing whatever you think we were, then it’s none of your fucking business, Abby.”

“It is my business because you are living with me. It is one thing to share a house with a woman who– who likes girls—”

“You can say lesbian. It wouldn’t burn your tongue.” You stopped her, feeling an internal rage boiling into your skin. You were clenching your jaw hard, stopping the urge to punch this woman in front of you.

“Then keep that to yourself. I am not uncomfortable with you doing that.”

Your brows furrowed. “Doing what? Being myself?”

The living room suddenly feels deafening as the silence consumes you two. Abby looked away, arms crossed as her eyes were fixed on the floor. You sighed, shoulders going slump before looking outside the window. Tears started brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill at any second.

“Abby you know I didn’t choose this. It’s who I am,” You say, voice trembling slightly as you gulp, silently wishing that the lump in your throat goes away. “Just like what you are. You did not choose to be straight, and I never got mad at you for that, didn’t I? No matter how uncomfortable it is to find you and your weird boyfriend doing unspeakable things every single week.” You looked and glared at her.

“What? Why are you turning this on me?” Abby’s voice boomed, face going red as anger silently consumed her.

“If you say something about my sexuality, it’s fine? But when I say it back to yours then you’re getting mad? For a very intelligent person, you’re such a fucking closed-minded, Anderson!” You yelled, storming through your room and slamming the door with a loud thud, making the dog wake up in its sleeping state.

Abby stood there for a long moment, staring at your closed door, the weight of her words settling in. She immediately wanted to knock on your door and take it all back. But she knew she couldn’t. The silence that followed her was deafening, a painful reminder of the distance that stretched before you two.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter, but at your table, the mood was tense. Dina almost spat the food she was eating as she looked at you with pure shock in her eyes as you recounted your fight with Abby last night.

“She seriously said that?” She exclaimed, fuming, as she stabbed her food with a fork. “I cannot believe she reacted like that.”

You shrugged, feeling dejected as you played with your food with a spoon, not feeling an ounce of hunger. “I know, I thought she’d understand – I mean, she should be, right? She’s smart.”

“Not smart enough for that kind of talk.” Dina sighed. “Seriously, I cannot believe it. It’s unfair to you, and you shouldn’t deserve to live with that kind of person. Who knows what she might do to you.”

“You’re right. I’m going to start to hunt for another place after the midterms. I just can’t fit in my schedule right now as loads of paperwork start coming and coming in.” You shut your eyes tightly while combing your hair in frustration. “I just thought we were starting to be friends, you know?”

Dina smiled at you sadly before rubbing your back. At that moment, Ellie walked in with a huge grin on her face. She spotted you and Dina at the table and she immediately started walking towards it, but not before playfully bumping and greeting all of the people she knew. She slid beside you before sitting on the empty chair next to you.

“Thanks for helping me with my homework. I got an A.” She threw playful punches in the air.

Dina slapped her. “Shut it.” She says before taking a glance at you.

You smiled at Ellie, the one where it doesn’t meet your eyes. “No worries.”

Ellie frowned, her smile immediately faded as she took in your expression. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” You sighed, feeling the weight of yesterday’s event pressing down on you again. “It’s Abby. We had a huge fight. She started accusing us of doing things at the apartment and she doesn’t seem to like that I was gay.”

Ellie’s eyes widened in anger. “That’s fucking bullshit! Out of all people, I thought she’d understand that.”

“What do you mean?” Dina asked.

“I mean, is she not gay?”

“Uhm… no. She has a boyfriend.”

“Well, this is now confusing.” Ellie looked at you with disbelief while leaning back in the chair. “I thought she was one of us!”

“Everyone else does. I mean, I do, too, when I first saw her.” You said, shrugging.

“That’s fucking ironic, then.” Ellie sighed. “But she fucking needs to grow up and get over herself.”

“Exactly. Our apartment is always open whenever you need it, okay?” Dina squeezed your hand.

You nodded, feeling a warmth gushing through your veins. You are thankful for your friends as they can ease your problems effectively. Abby’s words pierced right through your heart, but being with Ellie and Dina made it easier to bear.

Abby sat at one of the reserved seats for her at the rooftop of a fancy restaurant that her dad picked for them to have a meal after having time for a small break in his work. Wanting to reconcile and check in with his only daughter, he arranged this small meeting with her.

The place was elegant, with warm lighting from the big chandeliers illuminating the whole area. At the distance was a small band playing jazz music, and the gentle clicks of the silverware created a sophisticated aura. Abby sat across from her father, trying to focus on her meal. Jerry kept stealing glances at her daughter as he cut into his steak, trying to decipher what was wrong.

“Was the food not good?” He asked suddenly after a moment of silence consuming the two.

Abby’s gaze immediately flicked to meet his eyes. Her brows raised in confusion, trying to recall what her father said. “What? Uh… no.” Abby shook her head before sipping into her drink.

Jerry shrugged. “Just that you seemed tensed.”

“I’m not,” Abby responds. “The place is great.”

He hummed, nodding at what her daughter said. “So, how’s life in the apartment?” He asked, his tone casual but probing.

“It’s fine. You know, the usual. I was able to pay for all of my bills, since, well, I got a roommate.”

“And how was she?” He raised a brow. “What was her name, again?”

Abby said your name as she was pushing off her unfinished meal. She sighed, dabbing her lips with the handkerchief. “It’s fine… just a bit tense between us.”

Jerry looked at her with narrow eyes. “It’s fine but tense? What does that mean?”

Abby hesitated, not wanting to answer the question fully. She never knew what her dad would say if he found out that her roommate was gay. Besides, they never talked about that kind of stuff. All that she knew right now, was that she doesn’t want to tell anyone about your personal information.

“Personal stuff came up. I-it’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about it now.”

He sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair. “Personal stuff? Abby, if there’s a problem, you should fix it right away. You can’t just ignore it.”

“I know, Dad.” She answered; frustrations creeping up her voice as what happened that night started replaying in her mind. “It’s not that simple. But I don’t want her out of the apartment or anything… we’ll figure this out on our own.”

He studied her for a minute before nodding slowly, not wanting to press more on that matter. “Alright, but don’t let it become worse. Things like these can get ugly the more you avoid it.”

Abby exhaled a relieved sigh. “I know. I’ll handle it.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence before her father cleared his throat and changed the subject. “And what about Owen? How’s he doing?”

Abby’s face softened at the mention of his boyfriend — wait, she wasn’t even sure if she could still call him that, knowing what happened. She ignored his calls for days, not wanting to be in his presence to get a lot of time thinking about things. Abby thought it’d be best if she could calm down first, set aside her emotions, and be rational for once. She sighed heavily, keeping in her mind to talk to him once her father dropped her off after dinner.

“He's good. Busy with work, as usual, which was why we don’t see each other as often.” She lied, not wanting her father to pry on their relationship. You knew he was skeptical of him since the very beginning. He liked to say that Owen was up to no good and that he was just an older man who didn’t think about his future. As much as Abby tried to argue with him at first, Jerry already formed opinions about him — one that Abby couldn’t alter. But deep inside, she knew he was right. She just doesn’t want to admit it yet.

“I really hope he’s taking good care of you.” He says, eyeing her once again with glaring eyes. “If I ever got the news that he was being a bad influence on you, I’m going to cut all of your cards.” Jerry threatened her.

Oh, right, Owen was the one who insisted on gambling that night, making Abby almost lose all of her savings in her bank account. He also taught her to drink, smoke, and go into different kinds of clubs. You bet how mad Jerry was when he found out everything about it.

Abby only offered a tight-lipped smile, trying to change the subject to lighter topics. Throughout the whole dinner, Abby’s mind was always shifting into your unresolved fight as guilt starts to consume her whole. She knew her father’s advice was great, but she couldn’t bear to do it. Besides, it was easier said than done. For now, she decided to enjoy the meal in front of her, pushing away her worries at the back of her mind.

That night, Jerry decided to drop his daughter off before going into his office. She sat in the backseat of his car, staring out the window as the city lights they passed were blurred by with the speed of the vehicle. Abby tried to maintain her composure, as she tried calling Owen’s phone for the nth time but he wasn’t answering. Each unanswered notification on the screen made her anxiety slowly skyrocket.

When they finally reached their destination, the car came to a stop. Abby immediately opened the car door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Her father asked as he pulled up in front of Owen’s apartment.

Abby shook her head, “It’s fine, Dad.”

“Alright. Give me a call if you need anything.”

“I will,” She assured. “Take care.”

With that, Jerry nodded before uttering a small ‘good night’ to his daughter. Abby followed the car's gaze before deciding to head to Owen’s apartment with a heavy sigh.

Abby hated this feeling.

For someone who has been cheated on by the same guy, she did not know why she couldn’t turn numb. She hated the confrontation between her and Owen because she knew that it didn’t always end well. However, she did not know why she couldn’t just walk away from this relationship forever. It was like there’s some force between her that keeps on tangling herself with Owen — no matter how shitty he was. Abby hated how her father’s words, along with her friend’s advice kept on replaying in her mind right now. It made her feel like she was the dumbest person in the whole world.

“For a very intelligent person, you’re such a fucking closed-minded, Anderson!”

Your words rang in her ears repeatedly.

“Fuck it.” Abby cursed, trying to shake those thoughts before knocking on Owen’s door. She stood there for a couple of minutes before speaking once again. “I’m coming inside.” She notified him before fishing out his apartment’s key in her bag.

As Abby came inside, she noticed how the room was romantically lit up — where different pieces of scented candles and dimly lit lanterns were on, casting off a warm glow throughout the room. An unfamiliar woman’s perfume filled her nose, breaking her heart little by little as she strode through his room.

Abby pushed Owen’s bedroom door, revealing him with another woman in his bed.

“Owen?” She asked, voice tensed.

He scrambled to sit up, a mix of shock and fear written through his face. “Abby… I — I can explain.” He immediately grabbed his boxers, putting it in just a couple of seconds.

“Leave,” Abby commanded the girl who quickly complied. She grabbed her clothes before running past Abby, a pure horrified look was written on her face as she left the bedroom.

“I was checking in if you were still alive. And right now, I wish you were dead.” Abby’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t mean that,” Owen huffed, trying to grab Abby’s hand but she quickly moved away from his touch. He shrank, feeling dejected.

“How many times do you have to do this, Owen?” Abby snapped, tears brimming on the corners of her eyes. “What was something I don’t have for you to crave on another woman’s body?”

“It’s a mistake. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Abby sniffed, nodding at his words sarcastically. “Yeah, we’re done. It’s all done forever.” Abby started walking, but Owen was tailing her from behind.

“What? What do you mean?” He asked, completely alarmed.

“I can’t keep wasting my time with you. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.” His voice boomed, making the blonde face him with bloodshot eyes.

“I fucking do! I am so tired of putting up with your shit. Don’t ever come near me, alright? I am so disgusted at you.” She says before storming outside.

Owen tried calling her name, and a feeling of sudden fear washed inside of him. Of all the times you two broke up about this, he hadn’t seen Abby so mad that she fully said that they were finally done because he knew that she couldn’t bear to part ways with him for good. This was the reason why he was so confident to do those. But right now, she sounded determined, and Owen knew that it wasn’t good.

Abby’s thoughts were spiraling by the time she got back to the apartment. A mix of emotions started forming in her mind, making her heart clench as she stumbled inside. Tears started streaming down her face, making her barely notice that you were fully wide awake while staring at her in the kitchen with a curious stare.

“Are you okay?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Abby’s gaze flicked to your face, down to the food that you were cooking. Pasta. It was midnight and you were cooking pasta.

“W-what?” She asked, trying to focus, but her stomach started grumbling as the aroma of the food filled her nose. “I’m fine.”

You nodded, biting your tongue to ask further questions at her.

“What’s that?” Abby asked, making her way to the kitchen.

Your brows rose as you took a good look at her face. She looked like… a mess. And that’s not like her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Abby sighed heavily before shaking her head. “We broke up.”

“Oh…”

A short silence filled the air as Abby watched you put two plates on the island, filling it with the pasta you’d made. You pushed one in front of her, and Abby looked at you with wide eyes. “For me?”

“I know we’re not on good terms right now. But I don’t want you to sleep like that. Why don’t we eat past and watch movies in the living room? I can sit across from you in case you are uncomfortable and we don’t have to talk with each other.”

“I won’t be uncomfortable…” Abby said in a small voice while looking at the food.

Your brows rose at her comment. You hummed, not buying her words. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said before. It’s not right.”

You scanned her face, “I don’t know about that.”

“I want to make it up to you.”

“How?”

taglist: @gaptoothedlesbo @st4r-b3rries @ofalcaodacolinablue @sleepydrr @yurixxiii @seraphicsentences @bambishaven @k1ngpin42 @buglikean-angel @eringranola @sennagf

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x you #abby x reader #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby tlou

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pretty-little-mind33 · 28 days ago

Text

Drover x younger fem!reader

Summary: Drover doesn't take it too kindly when men disrespect your innocence.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: misogyny, fictional age gap (23/35), shy!reader, implied sexual feelings/actions, creepy men, asshole man implies sexual assault, sexual harassment, non-sexual and sexual innocence kink? fighting, blood, bruises, swearing, probably bad Australian slang bc i got confused looking it up…

~ i just want a hot man to absolutely beat the living crap out of someone over me…sigh ~

You haven't been in Australia for long, having just arrived from a small town in England, and you feel very homesick for the first days, missing your Mother and your home, but around a week later, you caught a glimpse of him tending your father's horses as you hung up the laundry. You fiddle with the material of your damp undergarments as you can't help but stare.

"Y'know, it really isn't proper to stare," Emily, one of your kitchen-maid pipes up from behind you. She wipes her hands on her apron but her sharp eyes also follow the man, who is now using his whip to round up the horses. He's too focused on the task at hand that he doesn't see the two pairs of eyes on him . "Although, Mr. Drover is quite good-lookin'."

Emily is a little younger than you, still merely a teenager, and she lets out an admiring sigh. "You shouldn't linger. He's trouble," she pauses and adds, "Isn't Rose supposed to finish with the laundry?"

You shake your head, still looking at Drover from the corner of your eye. Your father often spoke highly of a man with that name. "Rose looked exhausted so I sent her to bed," you reassure Emily and smile at her "I don't mind finishing up here."

Emily nods, looking at Drover again and when she understands what you want, she skips into the house one last look towards you and a grin.

You shake out one of your fancier dresses and go on your tip-toes to hang it on the line. You watch Drover from the corner of your eye but suddenly you jump when you hear a hoarse voice from right beside you. "Miss Y/n." You whip your head around, eyes round as your stomach drops.

It's Mr. Walker. He works for your father, as an advisor of some kind for his finances, and he has an annoying tendency to show up whenever you're alone.

"H-hello, Mr. Walker," you say, your voice more shaky than you'd intended as you back away from him. He's grinning at you like you're some flashy new toy for him to mess around with. You don't like it.

You glance around the yard. This time, you're truly alone. You begin to wonder if Emily or Rose could hear you from inside if you screamed—but you wouldn't want them near this man either.

"New dress?" Walker presses as he glances at you up and down, admiring how you look in your plain working dress. You hadn't even done your hair and Walker sends you a surprised look. "Such an interesting child, hanging her knickers outside," he drawls with a cruel smirk. You hate when he calls you that. You aren't a child. You'll be turning twenty-three in a few months and he's only around six years your senior. "Real wild one, hm? Such a sweet thing."

You back up even further as he moves closer, reaching up to touch you, and you frown. "Don't talk like that," you scold.

His expression shifts and he clutches your chin in his hand, causing a little gasp to escape your lips. "Don't you talk back to me, kid," he snarls. "Your father didn't teach you any manners, did he?"

"Oi!" Another man's voice interrupts and you hear the hooves of a horse against the dirt. "Remove your hand, let's not start somethin'." You turn your head, stomach flipping as Drover jumps down from his horse, his eyebrows knitted as he looks at you and Walker.

"Don't ya have some farm animals to play around with, old man? Hurry along now," Walker challenges him but he drops your chin and you stumble back, hiding behind some of your linen as you regain your bearings. Walker runs a hand through his dirty blond hair and adjusts his blazer.

You can tell Drover hates the comment by the way his fists clenches but with one look towards you, his shoulders untense. He takes a breath and turns his head back towards Walker. "Why don'tcha rack off," he warns, "I can guarantee the master of the house wouldn't be too happy to hear you've put your hands on his daughter."

Walker takes this as a threat and his jaw clenches. The tension becomes thicker and you hold your breath. Instead of anger, Walker smiles and it makes you sick. "See you around, Miss Y/n," he bows his head and then turns around, leaving you and Drover alone in the yard.

You let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" Drover's attention is only on you now as he rests a hand on his hip and you can't help but admire the way his bicep flexes. Seeing him up close, seeing the sweat that makes his tanned skin shimmer and the way his brown hair lays messily across his forehead is making you flustered.

He's beautiful.

"Hey, you alright?" he repeats, his eyes narrowing as he smirks.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, y-yes, thank you," you say, walking out from behind the linens. Your cheeks feel warm when you see Drover's eyes very obviously rake over your entire body. Your hands clench around your dress. "Thank you," you say again, your voice smaller this time.

Drover smirks. "You're welcome, sweetcheeks."

Immediately, you could faint. You desperately need a fan right now.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Drover asks, walking closer as he reaches up and his rough fingertips skim your skin where Walker had held onto you. "Crikey, he's such a dick."

You nod, eyes round like a school-girl with a crush and Drover makes eye contact with you again. He sees the look in your eyes and he pulls his hand away. He backs up and clears this throat, tipping his hat. "Glad I could help, Miss," Drover says, much more stand-of-ish than earlier, and as he walks away you're left on your own and wondering why he'd basically fled from you.

* * *

Drover's hand drums on the bar counter, a concentrated look in his eyes as he replays the interaction he had with you a few weeks prior in his head. He stares at his whiskey and finishes it in one quick gulp. Fuck, he shouldn't think these things. You're a lady. You're a precious little thing, too damn innocent for the likes of him. He'd break you.

"She's a looker, that's for sure." Drover overhears the loud drunken words and looks across the bar, his eyes narrowing. He sees Walker and a few of Walker's friends sitting at a table, drinking and smoking cigars as they laugh loudly. "Sweet pair of norks and a tight bum," Walker hums appreciatively, making a crude gesture with his hand, as if squeezing someone's breasts. Drover's mind races while simultaneously going blank with annoyance.

"I could make her fuckin' scream for me."

"Bet she's a prissy virgin too—ya'd have to loosen her up first," one of the men laughs and Drover stands, flexing his fingers as he walks closer to the group. He has a bad feeling.

"Nah, mate, she'll just have to learn to take it, I don' have time for all that crap—Daddy needs servicing." Walker grins, his cheeks flushed from the liquor as he gropes his dick, earning drunken laughs from the group.

"Oi, dickhead," Drover drawls, crossing his arms as he stands near the group. "Ain't no way to speak about a woman."

Walker turns to him, still feeling jaded from their last encounter and sniffs. He stands and laughs. "Ya don't even know who we're talkin' about, mate," he pauses and turns to his friends, "Could be a common molly," he laughs and then adds, "maybe she is one—"

"You work for her father too, Drover," a more drunken man pipes up, confirming his suspicions that they were talking about you. "How is she, huh? Bet you haven't resisted a feel."

"Excuse me?" Drover growls, glaring at the men.

"Bet she moans so fuckin' pretty," Walker adds.

"Shut up," Drover warns, his tone serious.

"Could just bend her right over this bar, use her until—" Walker's horrible rambling is stopped by Drover's fist connecting with his jaw, dislocating it with a loud crack. Walker is too drunk to fight back initially, stumbling back into the table and knocking over the drinks as the bar erupts into a fight.

Drover doesn't count how many times he hit Walker, or how many teeth he'd broken, but the dick had deserved every single hit—not only for you, but for every other vile thing that had left his mouth.

Frankly, he doesn't even care that his lip is split and he has a bleeding black eye when he's thrown out.

"Mr. Drover!!?"

He pauses in his tracks, adjusting his hat and turning towards the sweet voice. You're rushing up to him, dressed in your Sunday best as you pull up the skirt of your dress, to avoid the mud, and run to him. You look worried. "Mr. Drover! What's happened—I heard the fight from the dress shop and I- I knew it must have been you–"

Drover chuckles darkly and spits out some blood. "My reputation is that bad, sugar?"

You watch him with wide-eyes and he grins when he sees your panic. "N-no I-"

"Calm down. You were right, weren't you?" He jokes and dusts off his shirt. He smiles at you when he sees you're staring at his open wounds. "Just scratches, no need to make a fuss." He waves away your concern but it doesn't work.

"They look bad," you whisper, gently taking his arm and guiding him to a nearby bench. You sit him down, surprised by how pliant he's being but you ignore that and take the hem of your dress, tearing the ends.

"Miss–" Drover growls, reaching out to stop you. You shake your head and push his hands back into his lap.

"It's just a dress," you mumble, avoiding his gaze as you use the fabric to dab at his wounds. It's not much, but it's something and Drover finds that he likes it when you take care of him. You're exactly like he'd imagined; kind and gentle. You use the fabric to tie around the particular large gash on his bicep, from when he must have flung himself into something in the bar.

"Why did you start a fight?" you ask suddenly, tightening the knot.

"Who says I started it?" he retorts, seeing your eyebrows pinch.

Drover sighs, looking away from you as his jaw clenches. "I don' like when men have no respect for what's beautiful. What's pure," he looks at you again and catches your flustered expression. A small smile curls his lips. "Had to teach them a lesson," he sniffs, pulling his arm from your hands and rotating his shoulder. "Thanks for patching me up." He means it and you smile.

"Anytime, Drover." And you mean it too.

Drover's smile widens and he reaches out, his hand skimming the hair around your face. His touch is gentle, like he's treating you with care and adoration. You're frozen, enjoying his touch more than you should.

"You're so sweet," he whispers, smiling almost to himself. "Ain't supposed to be sweet like ya are," he hums, hand pressed against your cheek now. "Bad things could happen to you."

You frown, eyes darting across his features with confusion. Bad things? What does he mean by that? Drover sees your expression and laughs, "I won't let no bad things happen to ya, little bird. I promise. I was just talkin' to talk—" he finishes with a chuckle.

He leans in, his emotions getting the better of him as he kisses your forehead. You've never been kissed before, not by a man who isn't your father, and the gesture flusters you. However, you ache for more and you grip his sleeve, pulling him down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It's barely a kiss and more of a peck but Drover feels like he's on fire. He looks surprised. "What was that for?" he whispers roughly, looking around to make sure no one had just seen you kiss him like that. So innocently. As if you didn't know what you were doing.

You chew on your lip. "A thank you?"

You're so sweet and God he wants to devour you. Drover smiles softly, holding your cheek and caressing his thumb on your skin. "Crikey, you'll be the death of me, sweetcheeks."

He presses his lips to yours quickly, as if to indulge one last time, and then he pulls away, afraid he'll taint you. He bids you a good day, ignoring the small sound you make when his lips leave yours. If he stays with you any longer he won't be able to restrain himself. He is just a man after all, and you are the sweetest thing he's ever seen.

It's a goddamn tragedy.

#the drover x fem!reader #drover x fem!reader #the drover x y/n #drover x you #drover x y/n #the drover x you #the drover x reader #drover x reader #drover australia #drover #hugh jackman australia #australia #hugh jackman #hugh jackman the drover

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randombush3 · 8 months ago

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you're not sorry to go

ona batlle x reader

summary: ona and you are best friends, but it's a bit more complicated than that

words: 4.5k

notes: this one is based on true events x

also let's ignore the result of my poll because i want the next part to have smut and it wasn't fitting with the vibe of this part

oh and the title is a quote from 'this side of paradise' by f. scott fitzgerald

January, nine years ago.

Nothing about today has been out of the ordinary.

The weekend is starting, winter drags on, and Ona is all set to train later on in the evening, provided you confirm whether or not you are willing to accompany her to the local pitch.

Barcelona B usually allows for Fridays off, but Ona isn’t stupid. No one becomes the greatest footballer of all time by not playing more. School is beginning to bore Ona to death, and she knows that she wants what she always has: to go professional.

“I have a plan,” she tells you confidently, glad you don’t mind sitting on the uneven, grassy sideline as she sets up her cones with determination. You hold the ball between your hands, though Ona is amused by how foreign it looks to you, and you seem to be holding her prized possession hostage so that she spills. “It sounds simple and obvious out loud, but it’s that I am going to play for Barça while you go to the university. You can introduce me to your smart friends so I can meet my wife, and you’ll have all the boys after you anyway so–”

“Ona.” Her monologue has led her eyes to the ground, but your voice makes her head jerk upwards, not needing much authority to get her to look at you. “I’ve actually had a… realisation, of sorts,” you say with a bashful grin, chin jutting out the way it does when you are gearing up to tell her something that no one else will get to know. “Your cousin is really pretty.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.” It’s a nice thing to say, and you are partly aware that Ona’s cousin knows who you are because she doesn’t shut up about you ever, but you can’t help the frustration that begins to bubble up inside of you.

“No, Ona,” you try again, “she’s really pretty. Like, I would kiss her.”

Ona frowns, then. “Don’t be one of those.” She means the girls who experiment, who toe the line of liking girls but don’t, not really. She has been warned about them by her older teammates, the ones who go out for drinks and kiss girls in clubs. The budding footballer really admires them, because their advice is always good and she gets to explore her sexuality without feeling like a creep. No one in Vilassar de Mar cares much that Ona does like girls, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling judged all the same.

You are one of her best friends, but Ona isn’t sure she can forgive you if you become someone like that.

“I’m not! I wouldn’t do that.” Your offence is suspicious, and you have been so caught up in destroying her worries that the ball has been dropped and is now rolling towards Ona’s feet, where it is instinctively flicked upwards and caught. “I wouldn’t, Oni, because I know it’s unfair to you guys.”

“But you want to kiss my cousin? That makes you interested in girls in general too, you know.”

You bite your lip.

“Ona, I think I’m gay.”

The ball is dropped, along with her jaw, and you shift uncomfortably in your seated position, not enjoying how big of a deal she is making this out to be.

People realise that they’re gay all the time! Why should it be any different for you?

“Oh,” is all Ona can manage to breathe out, wondering what to do next. Although your friendship cracks the padlocks of most secrets, there is one that hasn’t ever been shared. One that now means substantially more than it did five minutes ago.

“Say something, please,” you groan in mock annoyance, moving aside your textbooks so that you can grab Ona’s hand and pull her down on top of you. She is much stronger – she trains every day – but something about your skin touching hers injects a surge of patheticness into her well-earned muscles, and she falls, of course she does, because she always falls for you.

…

A year passes.

You kiss Ona’s cousin, as intended, and Ona knows the breakup is going to be rough but nothing prepares her for when it comes.

She’s conflicted, and she’s older now. No longer left behind by her teammates, Ona gets to go out with them when they don’t have football; she gets to talk to the girls about their sex lives, she gets to be involved in it all. She has met Alexia Putellas and been treated like an equal, and she made out with her fourth ever girl last week, this time progressing past tongues and confidently letting her hands roam.

Ona would say that she has learnt a lot since you dropped your nuclear missile, and she has managed to forget the initial hope she had felt. The secret had been near-faded.

Until you are calling her, sending her a text when she doesn’t reach her phone quick enough.

‘Ona, I really need you.’

She hears nothing from her cousin – they were closer when they were younger – and that, she reasons, is why she is by your side in an instant, meeting you at the windy beach you go to when you are sad, hair damp from running and eyes a little wide as she tries to wake herself up.

“She said she can’t do it anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain your sobs had put on it. “She said that she really likes me but that it’s not enough, and she doesn’t want to break my heart but she knows she has to.”

Ona doesn’t get a chance to respond, because you have flung yourself into her chest before she can think of the right words to say.

Your shoulders shake as you cry, devastating howling joining the whistles of the wind and the thrash of the waves. The sand is unsteady beneath your feet and you stumble, but Ona holds you firmly, as though she has only ever trained to hold you up. Though you feel her biceps, hard and significantly larger than the last time she had held you this way, you are too caught up in your first heartbreak to acknowledge the tiny, tiny spark between you.

As you cry and cry and cry, Ona can’t help but feel a little bitter towards her cousin. Clearly, your affection wasn’t false and, though it was working towards the severance of your friendship, you actually cared quite a lot for her.

Ona chooses to abstain from her jealousy because she is embarrassed that it is possible.

She is there for you the next day, ensuring you have eaten and allowing you to sleep, but the sun soon sets and Ona vows one thing to herself: she will not take advantage of it.

“I’m going home,” you mumble when you wake from your restless nap, rolling over into the empty space in your best friend’s bed. The sheets there are cold and unused. Ona must not have moved a muscle since you fell asleep. “My parents must be a little confused, and we have people coming over for dinner. Thank you for looking after me.”

“No problem.” Ona nods and you awkwardly stand up. “I think I’m going out with the team tonight, but don’t hesitate to call me if… Well, if you feel sad again.”

“It’s going to feel shit with or without you.”

You are trying to distance her, to tell her that she can have fun. It might be an issue that your friendship only seems to work when the two of you discuss your recent conquests or latest flings, but it is not one that either of you wants to address for now.

“I’m just making sure you know I’m here,” she defends indignantly, rolling her eyes at the glimpse of your happier self making its return.

“Are you going to be drunk?” Your question is pointed and you should really cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently to match your tone. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?”

“Maybe, and not tomorrow, no. I��ve been asked to join the first team the day after so they’ve given me an alternative rest day.”

“Ona, if you get drunk, you won’t be there for me at all. You’ll have your tongue down some poor, poor girl’s throat and your phone will be dead.” You laugh from experience, having grown accustomed to how she behaves under the influence. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I swear that alcohol is what fuels your hormones. I’m not going to burden you with my fucking pathetic crying, and, well, you know me, I’ll just find a boy to talk to. I am going to be fine.”

No one in the room is convinced.

You swat the air between you two, telling her to get on with getting ready. “Now, enjoy your night, and tell me all about it tomorrow morning!”

Ona wonders if you are over-compensating by insisting to hear about whoever she has gotten off with, but you are practically flying out the door the minute you have said goodbye to her family and she is stumbling around her room trying to find a clean bra. Life goes on.

If time did not tick on its own, one of you would task yourselves with turning the hands of the clock manually.

You try to recover from how much it fucking kills to have a girl break your heart by reminding yourself of your worth in the best way possible: male attention. They hound you, but you enjoy it. You crave it, most of the time, even if the feelings are never quite believably reciprocated.

It annoys Ona to no end, the way you play with the boys chasing after you. She hates the push and pull, fed-up with the constant complaining from your end. Often, because Ona speaks her mind when she can, she tells you that it’s not fair on the ones who hand their hearts to you only to watch you pierce through them with sharp, I-was-never-a-lesbian nails.

You don’t talk about her cousin. At least, not to Ona because you have been informed by some other friend that blood is thicker than water.

Or maybe it’s because Ona begins to avoid you, begins to spend more time with her teammates, who don’t hide their sexuality and who like the things she likes. (Once, in a hateful frenzy, Ona thinks to herself that the only thing the two of you have in common nowadays is that she likes you and you like you too.)

“What happened to your best friend?” Laia Aleixandri asks thoughtfully once after training. Ona is helping her collect the water bottles the other girls had left lying around on the pitch. There have been more injuries than what’s comfortable within the first team, and maybe some of the reserves have forgotten that they are not yet professionals. “You’ve stopped talking about her.”

“We’ve fallen out,” Ona answers, settling on that because she doesn’t know how else to describe the shift in your relationship.

“Over what?” comes Laia’s obvious sequential question, more a due dalliance than genuine interest. Laia is one of those girls who plays to play and can sometimes be too busy to spend time with the team outside of training. Because of this, she is largely unaware of Ona’s growing reputation within the squad. As Ona has grown up, her confidence has increased. Girls like that, and they are in plentiful supply to her. She no longer needs to be drunk, but something almost certainly occurs if she is.

“She dated my cousin and, I don’t know, the way she acted in the fall-out was horrible. She likes girls, I know she likes girls, but I think she has been scarred and her ego has been bruised. No boy has ever made her cry like that, and I think she’s traumatised. And it’s valid! I understand, completely and totally, but she is acting as though she never had a thing with my cousin and it’s annoying. It’s as if being gay is a joke to her.”

Laia senses that Ona’s not done, and she is correct to think so.

The next wave is this: “Laia, I really don’t agree with it, and it is hurting me. It hurts to see my cousin be messed around by a straight girl, it hurts to see my best friend hate part of herself, and it hurts me because, well, it just– it just does! I can’t explain it.” She can; she doesn’t want to. Her secret is still heavily guarded and it is going to take more than Laia asking about you to get her to confess. “I just want peace for everyone involved,” she says after taking a deep, diplomatic breath.

“Peace,” Laia repeats with a giggle. “Ona, the things I have heard about you are the opposite of ‘peace’. Aita’s been keeping me in the loop, and she says that–”

“Okay, Laia, I don’t need a lecture.”

What probably would have been very helpful for Ona to know is lost to the devastating final blow of her eye-roll as she jogs to the water cooler to return the bottles and head home.

…

The reconciliation of a decade-old friendship is fast and natural. Things do not quite go back to normal, and the two of you are not as close as before, but your group of friends at school breathe out a collective sigh of relief when the ice thaws and Ona starts to turn up to their gatherings instead of the ones held by her beloved blaugranas.

It’s a camping trip.

Their first year of bach has ended, and someone – Ona doesn’t know who – has suggested a camping trip because her grandfather’s brother owns a farm and the farm has a field and the field is far-removed enough for the smell of cigarettes and red-label whiskey to dissolve before reaching the house.

“Are we really going?” Ona asks, making you all laugh as you haul your bags and tents along the tractor path.

“I do think we should’ve gotten in the tractor,” you agree. Ona nods at you, thanking you for your support.

Everyone else says it’s good fitness, and then hurls insults at Ona for the remainder of the trek because she should be the last to complain if she is going to become a professional athlete.

It’s not as far as it seems, and the tents are set up quickly, along with some chairs, a foldable table, and a hefty stash of various bottles of alcohol.

You start smoking the minute someone flashes their lighter, and Ona uses that as a reason to stay on the other side of the small campsite for a good hour or so.

She stays away from you no matter how much you stare, but you watch her all the same.

The boys you talk to are not satisfying. Some may have innocent intentions but the majority don’t, and you know that you are pretty but you are not shallow like that. You don’t even meet the boys half the time unless they corner you at school and demand a slot of your in-person attention.

The boys you talk to explain football and the gym and why they have to play FIFA until the sun rises because it will definitely help Barcelona win on the weekend. They take you for an idiot, and they hardly acknowledge that your best friend (sort of) plays for their darling club so of course you know the rules and the positions. You know that Ona is a defender, and that she is good at it. You don’t want to be patronised and you don’t care about this kind of thing unless it involves Ona.

Therein lies the issue, actually.

You don’t care about much unless it involves Ona. Ona, who sways to the music bursting out from the speakers just as stiffly as she always has, not exactly blessed with dancing talent but not for lack of trying. Ona, who declines alcohol tonight because she is following a summer strength and conditioning programme with the hopes of playing in the first team’s preseason matches. Ona, who looks beautiful. Always.

Smoke billows from your cigarette, right towards the point of your focus, and, suddenly, doe-like eyes are staring back at you with a small, small smirk. She waves, as if to say that she has caught you, and you lean back on the camping chair you are slouched in, pretending to laugh at whatever your friend has just said beside you.

Later, when everyone else is knocked out from the bad quality of the whiskey, snoring comfortably in the other tents, Ona and you kiss. And once you start kissing, you don’t stop.

Ona is good at this, you assume, because she knows exactly what to do. Contrary to popular belief, you are far more active in theory than in practice, and she surprises you a little bit. Or maybe she doesn’t, because it’s Ona and Ona is good at everything.

You strive to match her, and you do by the time you finish school.

Sporadic, non-committal, and in complete disregard for your friendship, the arrangement of hooking up when you feel like it sees you out of Catalonia, with Ona naturally in tow.

Madrid CFF is happy to have her, and you quite enjoy the challenge of the Spanish capital. It’s not Barcelona, it’s not ideal, but change is good and you need space to explore who you are without watchful eyes and nosy gossipers.

Homophobia isn’t quite a thing in your family. Your parents are not radically against gay people. In fact, you’d say they are relatively supportive. However, that doesn’t stop you from feeling some discomfort. You lived through Ona’s struggle to come out, and her parents are ever more care-free than yours.

Madrid is a brand-new place, and word about how you are doing is easily controlled. Updates come from either you or Ona, and that means there is a filter easily applied to all anecdotes.

Your friends know about the sex, more or less. They know, they don’t approve, but they let you guys sort it out yourselves because everyone agrees that that is just how you and Ona are. They won’t understand it and they have given up on trying to.

Both of you make half-hearted efforts to separate the arrangement from your friendship. You don’t talk much afterwards until the other has left the realm of I-am-in-love-with-you. It’s nice to be in Madrid together, but you find different social circles soon enough and then you are reaching out more for sex than friendly activities and… You stop sleeping with each other upon the footballer’s request. She wants to focus on her career, on her success. She tells you over the phone because she cannot bring herself to end whatever occurred over the last two years in person, knowing that she’d take back her decision in a heartbeat. Ona really, really likes football, and she knows that she has to become obsessed with it to get to the top; more obsessed than she is now. How can she do that if you are distracting her?

You’re disappointed, but you respect her wishes.

Girls in Madrid stop seeming as shiny. The world is a bit duller, because although there had been no exclusivity between you and your best friend, there had always been that guarantee that the other would be ready and waiting. Your growing misery makes studying boring, and you find answers for your emotions in a science textbook, desperately running away from the obvious truth. Less sex means that you are unhappier. It’s biology.

It’s not a crush.

Not on Ona.

No.

And it’s certainly not this not-realisation that flies you to Milan the minute a modelling agency inquires about whether you have ever thought of, well, modelling. They scout you someplace random, and your mother claims that she could have helped you start your career earlier if only you’d have been interested.

When you explain to your best friend what you are moving for, she is oddly unsurprised and uncaring. Her reaction is sickening, because you’d have rathered her get an ego boost from having slept with a model than be so fucking apathetic.

“I’m going to Milan, Ona,” you repeat, just in case she has not heard you. “I’m moving. We did the trial shoots last week, and they loved me. They want me to update my social media and work on building up a following, and they said that I should start learning English because I might end up in New York.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She doesn’t sound like she means it, and you grow annoyed about how she is not even trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Can’t you be happy for me? Or is it only acceptable for you to have dreams?”

“I am happy for you, I just said that.”

“The words left your mouth, but they definitely did not come from your heart.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Ona rolls her eyes and the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds until the bottle it has been shoved into can no longer withstand the pressure. You haven’t argued since you moved to Madrid, which makes no sense considering you literally broke up – even if it absolutely wasn’t dating. Neither of you has processed your broken heart, and you’re pretty sure you are still too traumatised from the first girl you fell in love with to be capable of revisiting those kinds of emotions.

Ona hasn’t had sex in weeks, and it is affecting her performance. She can’t sleep if she has the energy she does, and she can’t get through her workouts because not sleeping makes her lose her appetite and then she does not have the energy to complete them. Her coaches are worried, but they know that she is young and though almost idiotic, they mostly assume that she is repulsed by the idea of playing for a club in Madrid. They get that a lot with the Catalans that come over from La Masia, whose dreams have been delayed because the first team had thought it necessary that they gained more experience elsewhere.

Ona has wanted to shout and scream every minute of every day, and so have you. Therefore, everything explodes.

…

You inhale deeply, exhaling when it feels as though some of the stress has dissipated. This casting is one of the more important ones of the week. It’s odd to be judged on your appearance, to be paid for it, but it has been almost a year since you moved to Milan and you are enjoying yourself.

You don’t miss university, and you don’t miss your parents. Your friends visit you lots, loving the idea of your career, loving the excuse to escape their dreary weekends in where they have always been.

Milan is great. You make friends with a few other models, though they come and go depending on work, and the more experience you get, the more your following count goes up. Brands send you things, nice things, and events start extending invites to lure you into the glamour of the industry.

Milan is great, you tell yourself on repeat.

Milan is great, but it would be better if Ona were here.

Milan is great, but you regret the way you left things and want to take it all back.

Milan is great but–

“Your fitting is tomorrow,” says the assistant, reading off her iPad. You suppress your wandering thoughts, nodding. You need this job, you need the money to pay for a flight. The agency has given you some advancements – an impressive thing, apparently – but not enough to cover the cost of the ticket to New York for the start of Fashion Week. This show will fluff out your experience, and increase your chances of walking at one of the bigger shows.

You’ve been told that you are quite a good model; attractive, funny, with just the right amount of personality to be both a mannequin and an interesting figure.

The lifestyle is different but good, and you realise that you’d never wanted the mundanity of studying and then working and selling your soul to some kind of tall office building. Not everyone gets the concept of living away from home, especially not those from your tight-knit community who think the city is stretching the distance slightly (the train works, you can live with your parents and have a good job – you’ve been told that a few times), but you don’t mind. You can explain it as much as you want and they would still be confused.

You stay in touch, but you don’t stay present.

As your career snowballs over the next two years, you pull away from your home, always on a flight, always busy. You go to LA and Paris and London, and you rent your flat in Milan out as an Airbnb whenever you’re not there. You love the city, you start to think of it as yours, and slowly but surely, everything else fades into the background.

Apart from Ona, of course. Your friends still visit, or you meet up with them if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, and they continue to affirm just how proud they are of you. They talk about her a lot, too; about where she’s playing now, about injuries and fame and representing Spain. They know you are too stubborn to search it up for yourself, but these are the people who have grown up with you: they know you would like to be informed.

When you hear that Ona has moved to Manchester, you don’t quite think your actions through.

You have had enough. You miss her terribly.

Her number has changed, but someone passes it onto you.

You: I saw that you’re playing Arsenal next week. I’ll be in London then. Do you want to get a coffee?

Ona takes her time replying, but that is only because she wants to delay the inevitable.

Her eyes shine and her hair is damp, but the kick-off had been early and you don’t have anything to do today. You meet her in the carpark, picking her up in a black BMW that’s sleek and shiny and 100% not yours. Her laugh is light and free as she knocks on the driver’s window and juts her thumb out, instructing you to swap.

“I’m not getting in a car that you’re driving,” she declares seriously, though you know she has forgiven you because she would not have agreed to meet if she hadn’t. “Come on, I checked on Maps and there’s a place not too far from here that looks nice. And it’s empty, so don’t worry about the paparazzi.”

“The paparazzi are not after me,” you shut down quickly, not wanting her to think you are a bigger deal than what you are. Successful, yes. Famous? Not so much. “One day it’ll be you worrying about them, when you’re all grown up.”

“I’m twenty-one!”

It comes out so whiny and childish that you burst into a fit of giggles. Ona is proud to have made you laugh.

You don’t kiss her, but you’d like to. Then again, maybe it’s better to just be friends.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #barca femeni #randombush3 #pretend it's not all build up #but it is

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hysteria-things · 10 months ago

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SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic

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lanafofana · 6 months ago

Text

Instinct

Day uh, whatever, of HalsinTavWeek. I think this was supposed to be #6 Aphrodisiac/Rut/heat but it got away from me and now it's probably more breeding than anything. Oops! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Summary: Tav's ovulating triggers Halsin's own instincts. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tags: Smut, Porn with not a hint of plot, PnV Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal fingering, Breeding/Aphrodisiac/Scent Kink (if you squint!), A little aftercare No beta we die like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link for my kudos gluttony you, if you wish.

She should have realized it then and there when she woke that morning and her hips ached. A benign enough symptom she’d brushed it off as she’d rolled out of bed and groggily puttered through her morning routine. The second clue was her shorter than usual temper. Annoyance and impatience crawled under her skin waiting to break through and eviscerate someone who so much as looked at her funny but still she remained ignorant of the larger issue.

Comprehension only began to dawn when, much later, she was in her garden. Pulling weeds was proving to be a balm for her nervous energy and fractious temper. Though it didn’t stop the flash of irritation sparking through her veins like lightning when the sudden piercing scream of laughing children broke through her hard won placid tranquility. She turned, a sharp word on her tongue that withered and died when she saw him.

Halsin was always good looking. It was disgustingly elven of him but he couldn’t help it and generally Tav was never one to complain. But something about seeing him, bare chested, stalking through the meadow with a child under each arm while the rest tumbled after him with breathless laughter stirred something in her.

The sun was bright and hot that day and as the group got closer in their game of chase when the druid spun around to launch a counter attack Tav couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sweat damp hair that fanned out from his neck or the way his muscles flexed and bunched with each careful movement as he handled the children with utmost care.

It was the tenderness with which he held the children close, that did it she’s sure. The shot of white hot lust that skitters down her spine and bloomed into a toe curling desire between her legs. Oblivious, Halsin gave each child a turn tossing them into the air as easy as another man might throw blossoms. When he caught each one he held them close and gave them a soft kiss on the head, pinching noses or tweaking chins to soften the blow when he turned his attention to the next one in line.

He’d been gone for a couple days, roaming the border in bear form, and while she might have expected the joy of seeing him it didn’t explain how viscerally her body suddenly ached for him. The sound of his deep laughter crawled into her chest and burned. Each flex of muscle sucked the moisture from her tongue and left her practically panting.

The realization struck her in the same moment Halsin turned and finally noticed her there, sitting among her flower beds with cheeks flushed red and an unmistakable heat in her eyes. It was her ovulation. What started out as an irritating discomfort suddenly blossomed into insatiable desire.

She felt drunk with it, the way she traced the lines of his chest with her eyes, the curves of his lips when he smiled and started to raise a hand in greeting.

Her epiphany, while unleashing a suffocating wave of lust, was also threaded with embarrassment. There he was minding his own business playing with his charges and here she was unable to stop the exhale that verged on a whine when she pressed her thighs together for some measure of relief. She didn’t just want him, she needed him.

Needed to taste the sweat that clung to his skin. Needed to feel the solid weight of him bearing down on her, fucking her into the ground. Needed to run her hands over the warmth of his body, scoring that perfect skin with her nails while she lost herself in the pulse of their bodies moving together in a desperate tangle of limbs and teeth and tongues and–

She swallows heavily, tearing her gaze away. With shaking hands she gathers her garden supplies and tries to reign it all in, the feral beast that has taken control of her instincts and her mind. It’s a monumental struggle but she retreats.

In the house she washes the soil from her hands and tries very carefully to not think about anything Halsin shaped. Or about the slick wet heat between her thighs. Or the feeling of his thick heavy cock in her mouth, the warm salty taste on her tongue as she swallows his cum down her throat.

The mug in her hand slips through her fingers and smashes against the floor.

“Shit,” she mutters, bending down to collect the pieces and swearing again when a sharp edge slices through the skin of her finger.

A shadow appears in her peripheral.

“My heart?” Halsin’s voice is concerned but warm, so warm it curls around her like thick honey. Her thoughts tumble over each other, scattering under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m fine,” she dismisses. She sticks the pad of her finger into her mouth to suck at the wound while she finishes collecting the broken pieces of pottery.

When she stands he’s closer and what little composure she’s managed to grasp, begins to slip through her fingers.

“Y-you’re back, from patrol?” It’s an effort to keep her tone light, her eyes from hungrily trailing over every inch of his exposed skin. She throws away the broken mug and hesitates, gathering her flagging self-control before she turns to meet his eye.

He’s giving her a strange look. Cautious, almost, like she’s a spooked mare that might bolt if he moves too quickly. “I am,” he says in his low voice, advancing with a slow smile. “I’ve missed you.”

Affection bursts like a popping ember in her bosom. “And I, you.”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her softly. The dam breaks. Tav’s hands go to his chest first and the warmth of his bare skin pulls an inadvertent moan from her throat. Greedily she runs her palms up, up to his neck before finding purchase in his hair, fisting the sweat damp strands and pressing his lips more firmly against hers.

She opens her mouth and his tongue’s slick slide against hers nearly takes her out at the knees. His hands, heavy and hot, start at her waist before moving down to clutch her hips and then further to cup her ass.

When they break apart for air his eyes are dark and when his nostrils flare, understanding colors the look of hunger. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I cannot control myself when your scent is thick with fertility, say the word and I’ll go.”

“That’s the last thing I want but the children?”

“With Thaniel and Oliver.”

“Thank the gods.”

They collide, their desire for each other fanning into a wildfire. It was not often they got the chance to indulge in their baser instincts like this. Her fertile window was brief, a white hot spark that blazed for a few days before going out again and often he was away in the forest.

Like a bitch in heat her pheromones had the delicious effect of completely overriding his every thought. He was quite literally drunk on her, just as she was on him.

He presses her against the wall, the only stable surface likely to survive the ardor of their coupling, and tears her clothes from her body with purpose. Revealing her sex he kneels before, sliding one of her legs over his shoulder and wasting no time lapping hungrily at her wet cunt.

One hand on his head the other twisting her own nipple Tav feels not unlike a ship caught in the storm of their passion. The undulating of his head as his tongue swirls and flicks against her clit consumes her. He groans into her wet heat like he could break apart from chasing her orgasm alone. When he sinks a finger into her clenching body her head drops back, her mouth open in a wanton moan.

Her first orgasm is but one wave in a tempest. While she whines and whimpers, legs shaking, desperate pleas tumbling from her lips he wrings another from her body before he rises and chases the taste of her with a breathless kiss.

“More?” He chases the question with a hot open mouthed kiss to her neck, dedicating his attention to the pulse that hammers just under the flushed skin.

She gasps, dizzy and undone but still burning, still hungry. “Fuck yes, don’t stop.”

With one arm he lifts her and pins her to the wall, feasting himself on her sweat, the soft swell of her breasts, and plunging his fingers back into her pussy. She keens, head thrown back, hips jerking against his hand. The scent of sex and sweat are heavy in the air but over it all is the thick, potent scent of her , driving him wild with need.

He sucks on her tits until they’re sensitive and raw, he bites the silken softness of her flesh until she sobs with desperation. Pumping his fingers in her sex until, nails scraping his shoulders, she screams her release.

Their bodies crash together, over and over, each climax he drags from her sending both of them further along into a deeper, more precarious madness. When she can take no more and the tenuous hold he has on his control begins to slip he enters her at last. She mewls and clutches for purchase on his arms bracketing her, his neck above her, senseless to all but the joining of their bodies and the spiral of her final orgasm.

With her legs on his shoulders, his hips grinding into her messy slit, what dwindling control he has crumples as he bottoms out in her cunt. He snarls, animalistic in his hunger as he loses himself to the tempo of thrusting into her exhausted body. The feel of her orgasm around his cock unmakes him and with a final groan that vibrates through his chest like a growl he cums.

Too soon for her he pulls out but she’s too tired to do anything but let her limbs lie limp while his seed leaks out of her. He presses tender kisses to her ankle before he gently puts her legs down and crawls up her body. Soft kisses on her thighs, her stomach, the space between her breasts. He works his way up lazily, loving her with warm attention that has her smiling dopily.

The consuming lust is temporarily sated and it’s a relief to bask in the glow of his affection. He doesn’t let her linger on the floor for long though. Gathering her in his arms he takes her to their bedroom and draws her a warm bath with his druidic magic.

Her body still aches, a bone deep hunger that lives in her hips but it’s muted now by the ache of muscles well used. He washes her hair, runs the pads of his fingers over her abused muscles with quiet attentive care, and cares for her with such aching softness she never wants the moment to end.

Lying in bed, damp from her bath and snugly ensconced in his arms she tells herself, maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. Just this once.

That's All Folks!

#halsintavweek #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough #smut

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aewon · 5 months ago

Text

HEARTS ON FIRE - YANG JUNGWON

SYNOPSIS: you lived your life buried in your parent’s routine for you. a perfect princess with a perfect life…or so one would think. now you’re being married off to the prince of valdenia for a trade operation. problem is, he already has a girlfriend, and he is not happy.

pairing: prince!jungwon x princess!reader

genre: royalty au, arranged marriage, enemies2lovers, non-idol au

word count: 8.1k

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Here you are, a young woman with ambitions and dreams, being married off to some low-life prince.

Being a princess is not easy, fuck everyone who says it is.

From age 5, you have been taught, more like forced, to be a good princess.

Following every rule, never stepping a toe out of line.

You learned how to walk, how to talk, how to eat, how to be.

You were heavily reprimanded and punished if you ever appeared in a way your parents didn’t like.

You can only be yourself when you’re alone, in your room.

You are not allowed to indulge in your interests in front of your parents, who will shut you down immediately.

Your most immense love is art. You remember being ten years old and admiring the paintings your family kept in the palace. You pointed out every stroke, every color, every detail your eyes could find. When you told your parents you wanted to paint, they scolded you. They said art was a waste of time and that you had better things to do.

The following week, your parents had a professional painter come to do a family portrait.

You got scolded for not holding still because you wanted to watch the painter.

The only good part of your life was Estelle. She was the head maid, and you loved her.

She treated you as her own and let you indulge in every interest you had in secret.

One day, Estelle showed up in your room with paint and a canvas.

You were so thrilled you almost screamed.

You spent the rest of that day painting. Of course, you weren’t good, but that was okay.

As time passed, you garnered a collection of paintings you had done, inspired by the ones you saw in the castle. Eventually, you got good! As much as you wanted to show your parents, you knew they would disapprove. And you didn’t want Estelle to get in trouble either.

Here you are over ten years later, still hiding your paintings in your room. You’re not worried about your parents finding them because they never enter your room.

It’s almost time for dinner, and your parents said they had important news to share.

As you make your way down, a pit forms in your stomach. Something suddenly doesn’t feel right. You do your best to ignore it, entering the dining hall.

Your parents barely acknowledge your presence.

“Before we start dinner, you must know something, Y/N,” your father says.

“Does this have to do with the news you told me about?”

“Yes, you’re getting married.” Your mother responds.

What? Did they say married?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, and that pit inside your stomach grows.

“You’re getting married to the prince of Valdenia. This is an opportunity to do business with them, and they only offered if we gave them your hand in marriage.”

“Are you kidding? I'm being sold off for a business deal?”

Your father stands abruptly, slamming his hands on the table. “Don't speak to us that way! You have no choice in the matter!”

“This is my life we’re talking about. Who are you to give it away!” You can feel your eyes prick with tears.

You knew your parents didn't care for you the way they should've, but this was too far.

“We’re doing what's best for the kingdom!” Your mother argues.

“So, giving me away is what's best for the kingdom. I knew you didn't love me, but this is sickening!”

With that, you rush out of the dining area.

You can feel the tears rushing down your cheeks.

Slamming your door shut, you climb onto your bed, still sobbing.

After five minutes, you hear your door slowly open.

You figure it's your parents, and you're ready to tell them to get out until you hear a soft voice call your name.

You look up and make out Estelle’s figure through blurry eyes.

You spring up off your bed, running into her awaiting arms.

“Estelle, they're marrying me off,” you sob, burying your face into her dress.

“I heard, sweetheart. I hate to be the one to say this, but this could end up being a good thing.”

You sniffle, looking up at her, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe you’ll find love. A love who will cherish you and let you be yourself. Look at this situation with an open mind. You never know what’s in store for you.”

You stop crying, taking Estelle’s words in.

Could this be a benefit to you?

Could your life take a different turn?

You go to bed that night, a million thoughts racing in your mind.

The following day, you don't speak to your parents as they tell you that you’ll all be meeting with the king and queen of Valdenia, along with their son.

Of course, they're acting like nothing happened. That's what they always do.

You're in one of your best gowns, a beautiful blush pink ensemble.

Unfortunately, Valdenia is a long 3-hour carriage ride from your kingdom.

The only thing you have to cure your boredom is a book.

As you read, no one speaks. You're surprised your parents aren't whispering to each other as they usually do.

Time passes slowly. When you finally look up from your book, it’s mid-day.

Looking outside the carriage for the first time, the once dull gray that was painted in the sky turned brilliant blue.

The kingdom of Valdenia comes into view. As your carriage rolls through, you see people all along the streets. Kids, vendors.

Every person you see has a smile on their face.

Compared to the people of your kingdom, this looks like paradise.

Outside the palace doors, the king and queen stand alongside their son.

Your parents step out first, and you follow.

Coming face to face with their son, he looks away from you, not meeting your eyes.

You scoff, looking down at your heel-clad feet.

You're broken out of your trance by the queen's loud voice.

The queen cups your face, squishing your cheeks together.

“Look how beautiful you are! Isn't she perfect, dear?”

She turns to her husband, who smiles, gracing his features.

They both usher you and your parents inside.

The prince follows you grudgingly.

As you enter the palace, you are welcomed into their charming dining room, where tea and finger foods have been prepared for your enjoyment.

You end up sitting across from the prince as your parents make small talk.

You can feel him glaring at you.

It’s so obvious, yet everyone seems to be ignoring it.

You look up, finally meeting his eyes.

He doesn’t look away or soften up. He continues to glare.

You haven’t even introduced yourself, and he’s already looking at you with hatred.

You won’t stand for that, so you quickly slip him your middle finger.

His expression finally changes from anger to surprise before he’s frowning.

Jungwon’s never hated someone so much.

You’ve done nothing to him, but your existence already hinders his life.

And here you are, flipping him off.

How rude!

Yes, he was glaring at you, but even so, that doesn’t mean he deserved that!

He’s about to say something, hoping to get you in trouble, but he’s interrupted.

“We’ve set your wedding for next week,” his mother says.

“Next week!” You both say simultaneously.

Your parents send you a ferocious glare, making you shut your mouth.

“Yes, next week. Y/N will be moving in as well. We’ve already arranged for your things to be packed and brought here for tomorrow.” Jungwon’s mother gives you a genuine smile, and you almost feel a twinge of relief for a second.

You can't remember the last time you had a genuine smile directed your way by your parents.

Maybe moving here won't be so bad?

“Can I say something?” You ask out into the open.

Your parents send you another glare, but the king of Valdenia nods, signaling you to speak.

“I’m honored that you're opening up your home to me. Can I ask that I bring someone with me?”

“And who would that be, dear?” The queen asks, looking at you with warm eyes.

“Our head maid, Estelle. She’s someone I rely on very much, and I'd hate to be without her,” you respond.

You look at your parents for approval, as do Jungwon’s parents.

“If you are okay with it, then we are as well,” your father says, gesturing to the king and queen.

“Then it’s settled!” The queen claps; she’s delighted.

As both families continue discussing arrangements and wedding planning, you zone out.

This could either go good or bad.

You'll have to wait and see.

All your belongings had been moved into Yang’s palace by the next day.

Your room is enormous, more extensive than your own at home.

Or should you say, your former home?

Your parents didn't even say goodbye to you; although you expected it, it still stung.

Luckily, you had Estelle.

She, with her belongings, arrived in Valdenia that morning.

You rushed out to meet her, squeezing her tightly.

“Thank god you're here. I don't know if I could do this without you.”

The Yangs (minus Jungwon) welcome Estelle with open arms. She helps you unpack, hanging up your dresses, blouses, and pants in your closet.

Meanwhile, you rant to her while sitting on your freshly made bed.

“He didn't even let me introduce myself! He left the second the meeting ended, even when his parents told him not to!”

“Maybe he's shy, darling.”

You huff dramatically, “He’s not. He was glaring at me with such hatred in his eyes. If looks could kill, I'd be buried 6 feet under!”

Estelle sighs, “Maybe he just needs time to adjust. This is probably sudden for him, too.”

You take a deep breath and nod your head. Still a workaholic, Estelle leaves for the kitchen to see if there’s any work she can do.

Boredom finds you quickly, so you leave your room to tour the castle.

You hear hushed whispers as you reach the end of a long corridor.

You lean in, straining your ears to hear the conversation.

“I know this is upsetting, my love, but we’ll figure it out.”

You immediately recognize the prince’s voice, but who’s he talking to?

“I just want us to be together like we promised, and now you’re being taken away from me.”

That’s definitely a girl’s voice.

It’s easy to piece two-and-two together. This is the reason why Jungwon hates you.

He has a girlfriend.

Jungwon speaks again.

“She’s not gonna come in between us. She’s nothing compared to you, Maylee.”

You can’t help but scoff. It’s not like you’re hurt, but he doesn’t even know you.

“It’s not like you can tell your parents no…just marry her. We can still be together. It’s not like you love her.” Maylee chuckles, and you roll your eyes, silently mocking her.

As soon as you hear the sound of lips smacking, you rush out of there and go back the way you came.

You return to your room, staring at the paintings leaning on your desk. You managed to smuggle them out of your old room without your parents noticing. Maybe now you’ll be able to indulge yourself in your art.

There's a knock at your door.

“Come in!” You shout.

The open door reveals Mrs.Yang, and she smiles at you warmly.

“I came to see how you're settling in.”

She spots your paintings and is immediately intrigued.

“Did you paint these?” She asks, taking one into her hands and admiring it.

“Yes. I've loved painting since I was little. My parents never allowed me to indulge, so I had to do it secretly.”

“They're amazing.” The Queen gawks, and you feel a twinge of pride.

“You must keep painting!” She says, “I'd love to hang up your paintings in the palace.”

Your eyes widen at her suggestion, “Oh no, I’m not that good. I’m nothing compared to the professionals.”

“Nonsense.” She waves her hand, “You must allow me to display these. You deserve to be praised. And please allow me to buy you more supplies.”

You try to decline, but she insists, and you don't have the heart to tell her no.

By the following day, you see your paintings hung in multiple areas of the palace.

You decide to explore outside the castle, finding yourself in its large outdoor area.

There's a beautiful garden in front of you, and you take your time smelling every flower.

There's a bench in the center, and you sit down and take a deep breath.

“You can't be here,” a voice behind you says.

Turning, you look Jungwon directly in the eyes, “Says who?”

“Says me, you're not welcome here.”

You bring your finger to your chin, pretending to look up in question.

“Hmm, according to your parents, I’m welcome anywhere and everywhere in and outside this castle. You wouldn't wanna go against their authority, would you?”

You see his jaw clench, “Can you just leave? This place is reserved.”

You gasp, “Ah! This is you and your girlfriend's little spot, right?”

His eyes widen as he starts to sputter.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me…or is it?”

With that, you get up making your way back inside the castle.

It takes a few seconds before you hear his footsteps rushing to catch up with you.

He grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him.

“You’re not gonna say a word about her to my parents, or else.”

You pout playfully, tilting your head, “Or else what?”

He can't help but chuckle in disbelief. He’s never been faced with this kind of attitude.

“I will make your life a living hell.”

It's your turn to chuckle, “I'd love to see you try.”

You take his silence as your cue to leave.

That night at dinner, Jungwon eats his food roughly, pissed off.

How dare you speak to him the way you did! I mean, are you crazy?

Now, he can't help but keep his eyes on you, praying you don't expose his relationship.

“What did you do today, Y/n?” Mrs. Yang asks.

“I spent some time outside today, in the garden. I ran into Jungwon, and we had…a lovely conversation.”

Jungwon can feel his heart speed up. This is it. You're going to expose him.

“Oh? What did you talk about?”

You smirk at him from across the table, “Just how excited we are for the wedding!” Only five days to go!”

Jungwon visibly relaxes, and you catch his eye, sending a wink.

He glares at you, sucking his teeth.

The eye contact is broken once his mother squeals, clapping her hands excitedly.

“I’m so happy you're both excited! It’ll be beautiful. We’ve made sure of it.”

“It will truly be magnificent,” his father adds, patting Jungwon on the back.

He smiles, trying to hide his anguish behind his wine glass.

Dinner continues with Jungwon’s mother raving about the wedding: cake, decorations, guests.

“Mrs. Sim said she’s ecstatic to see you get married!”

Wait…the Sim’s? Jungwon suddenly starts to panic inside his head.

“The Sim’s are coming?” He asks, looking at his mother.

“Of course they’re coming, dear! You, Maylee and Jake were the best of friends growing up!”

A lightbulb suddenly goes off in your head.

Maylee? Of course, his girlfriend was his childhood friend. This new information sets a fire ablaze in your mind.

You smirk to yourself, shaking your head at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling, honey?” Mrs. Yang asks.

“Nothing! Just thinking about my dress. I know you said it comes from the best in the world.”

“Oh absolutely!” And she starts a long tangent of how renowned the maker of your dress is. She tells you small details so as not to ruin the surprise. Maybe it’s weird you haven’t seen your wedding dress, but you trust her word.

Your eyes meet Jungwon’s again, and you blow him a kiss, chuckling as he looks at you in pure disgust.

5 DAYS LATER

When you wake up, your ladies-in-waiting immediately rush you into your bathing chambers. Your hair and body are thoroughly washed and scrubbed, your teeth are brushed, and your skin is prepped.

They bring you to Mrs. Yang’s room where you’ll be getting ready.

She smiles at you, ushering you forward.

“Are you ready to see your dress?”

You nod, and your nerves are playing with you for some reason. Why are you nervous?

She unveils it, and you gasp in disbelief.

It’s beautiful. The neckline dips into a beautiful bodice with a butterfly in the middle. The design continues into the middle of the dress and its sides, with another butterfly at the bottom.

The sleeves are loose and flowy, and the skirt shines.

“Mrs. Yang…it’s stunning.”

“Only the best for a stunning girl,” she says, “I noticed that you paint a lot of butterflies, which is why I requested they be incorporated into your dress.”

It’s true. You do love butterflies. You loved trying to catch them when you were younger.

Your mind begins to wander a bit. You remember imagining the day you’d get married. You didn’t expect it to be arranged, but the one thing you always hoped for was for your mother to be the one to see you in your wedding dress.

She wasn’t here, yet Mrs. Yang was, and that’s more than you could ask for.

Mrs. Yang brings in the stylists. They sit you down and begin to dote on you.

You see Estelle out of the corner of your eye and smile at her, giggling as she responds with two thumbs up.

Once your hair is dried and styled, they move onto your makeup. You decided on a light style, not wanting your makeup to outshine your dress.

Once it’s finished, they get you into your dress.

It fits you perfectly, and you almost squeal at how beautiful you look. Not to brag, but you think you look amazing. Once they place the veil on your head, you look complete—a perfect bride.

The wedding is being held in the palace courtyard, with friends and family of the Yang’s filling up both sides of the seating.

You’re not surprised to learn your parents didn’t come.

But you have Estelle, and that’s all that matters to you.

You make your way to the palace doors, knowing it has begun when the music starts to play.

Estelle stands by your side, ready to walk you down the aisle.

“You look beautiful. I never thought I’d see this day.”

“You’re all I need, Estelle. Thank you.”

As the doors open, you see everyone standing and looking your way.

You keep your gaze forward, walking one step at a time.

Jungwon looks handsome. You can’t deny it. His suit is white to match your dress, and his black hair contrasts beautifully with it.

As Jungwon stares you down, he can’t deny you look beautiful.

You hear gasps and whispers as you make your way past the crowds.

“She looks stunning.”

“What a beautiful girl.”

“Jungwon is a lucky man.”

You chuckle to yourself if only they knew.

Once you reach the end of the aisle, you stand across from Jungwon as Estelle takes her seat up front at your request.

Jungwon carefully lifts the veil, putting it behind you.

As you look into each other's eyes, you see something in his, an emotion you can’t put your finger on.

The minister clears his throat, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to witness the union of Y/N and Jungwon. Two souls brought together to become one. One soul, one body, one heart, and one mind. If anything should object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

No one says a word. The silence is almost deafening.

“Let’s begin. Marriage is a partnership of trust and dependence to one another while walking life’s long path. Marriage is about communication and commitment, sacrifice when needed, and love in the best and worst times.

It takes time to build a good marriage, and we hope for nothing but the best for our bride and groom.”

The minister turns to you.

“Y/N, do you take Jungwon to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love and cherish him; trust and commit to him, through joy and pain, in sickness and health, for as long as you both shall live?”

You take a deep breath, “I do.”

“Jungwon, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife. Will you love and cherish her; trust and commit to her, through joy and pain, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” he says, and as he smiles at you for a second, you almost think it’s genuine.

“Then, with the power invested in me, I pronounce you, huband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”

Kiss? Nobody mentioned a kiss.

Jungwon knows what his parents expect, so he takes your face into his hands with a heavy heart, pulling you forward and molding his lips to yours.

You want to feel disgusted, but you can’t. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The cheers in the background drown out as your lips move passionately.

What’s happening? Are you and Jungwon not supposed to hate each other?

As you pull away, you notice your lipgloss has transferred onto Jungwon’s lips.

Instinctively, you raise your hand to wipe the lipgloss off, making the crowd chuckle.

Jungwon takes your hand as you turn to the crowd, waving as pictures are taken every second.

You walk back down the aisle, entering the castle for the reception in the grand hall room.

There’s food, drinks, music and most importantly the cake.

Everyone sits to eat. There’s a large selection on the menu.

You decide on a crab-based dish, putting on a bib to avoid getting anything on your dress.

Jungwon sits beside you, eating his food and being quiet.

Once everyone has finished eating, people start chanting for you to cut the cake.

You and Jungwon, along with everyone else, gather around it, and you cut the cake together.

Cheers erupt, and without thinking, you put some frosting on your finger before smearing it on Jungwon’s cheek.

Laughter fills the air as Jungwon looks at you in shock.

He doesn’t hesitate to fire back, targeting your cheek.

You laugh as he kisses your cheek, smearing the frosting.

After enjoying the cake, a delicious vanilla custard that you adored, you make small talk with all of Jungwon’s family and relatives.

“Where are Jungwon, Jake, and Maylee?” Mrs. Yang asks.

“Those three are always doing something secretive. Y/N, would you be a dear and go find them?” Mrs. Sim asks you, and you nod, getting up and leaving the room.

You don’t care to find them, so you wander the halls aimlessly until you hear shouting coming from an empty corridor.

“What the hell was that?” That voice definitely doesn’t belong to Jungwon so it must be Jake.

“What are you talking about?” Jungwon asks, confused as to why he’s being yelled at.

“You were practically all over her!” Jake yells.

“You looked so in love,” a feminine voice says, that must be Maylee.

“I’m not in love with her. We hate each other!” Jungwon insists, looking between the Sim siblings.

“Well, it didn’t look that way to me!” Jake retaliates.

“I just watched you marry and kiss another girl. Don’t you realize how terrible I feel?” Maylee asks.

“I get it,” Jungwon says, “But I had to look convincing to my parents!”

“That bitch certainly didn’t seem to mind having you to herself,” Maylee says.

You clear your throat, smirking as the three look at you like deer caught in headlights.

“The next time you wanna argue and talk shit about somebody, maybe don’t yell and cause a commotion about it.”

You walk forward, standing in front of Maylee, who’s between Jungwon and Jake.

“And next time… come say it to my face. Don’t be a pussy.” You throw the bouquet in her face, turn around, and walk back.

“You may need that,” you say as you leave the three dumbfounded.

You devise some weak excuse about how you couldn’t find them, but within a minute, they all come shuffling back into the grand hall.

The night ends with everyone congratulating you and Jungwon as you hang off his arm. You catch Maylee’s eye as the Sim’s are leaving. You can’t help but be petty, shooting a wink and waving her way. She glares ferociously before being ushered out by her mother.

You yawn, the day's events catching up to you.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” Mrs. Yang asks, cooing at you as you nod sleepily.

“You’re in luck. We just had your bedroom cleaned and prepared for you both,” Mr. Yang says.

“Wait,” Jungwon interrupts, “What do you mean for us both?”

“Well, now that you’re married, it only makes sense to share a bedroom!”

You and Jungwon look at each other and then back to his parents.

“I understand your point, but we still barely know each other. Isn’t it a bit soon?” you ask, Jungwon nodding in agreement.

“Nonsense! If anything, this will help you get closer!” Mr. Yang responds.

Before you can argue any further, they bid you both goodnight.

You both stand there for a few seconds, taking in this absolute setup.

“We could just not sleep in the same room? They don’t have to know,” you suggest.

Jungwon shakes his head, “They’ll know. They’re parents, they know everything.”

“So you wanna sleep in the same room?”

“I don’t want to,” Jungwon says exasperated, “But we’ll have to.”

It turns out that the bedroom is the second-best in the castle, only after the king and queen’s.

“We can move all our stuff in here tomorrow. Let’s just wash up, get changed, and go to bed,” Jungwon says before making his way to his now-old room.

“Wait!” You call out.

He turns around, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you unzip me? I can’t reach it.”

Jungwon doesn’t think anything of it, reaching to unzip your dress.

That is until he sees the expanse of your smooth skin. Before he can stop himself, he’s gently running his hand down the middle of your back.

You freeze, not expecting his touch.

He snaps out of it and, before you can say anything, runs, leaving you in the corridor.

You turn to your room, undressing and wearing comfortable sleepwear.

You enter the bath chambers and wash off your makeup, putting your hair into a protective style.

You return to the bedroom, finding Jungwon hasn’t arrived yet.

The room is even bigger than yours. When you check out the closet, it expands even farther than yours.

The bath chamber has a tub, a separate shower, and two sinks. On one side of the room, there’s even a couch.

It’s perfect for two people.

You hear the door close behind you, and Jungwon clears his throat.

“I can sleep on the couch so that you can sleep in the bed,” he says, already making his way to it.

“No, I’ll sleep on the couch!” You protest, grabbing an extra blanket from the closet.

“I can’t allow that. As much as we don’t like each other, I can’t let a lady be uncomfortable.”

You sigh, “Then we’ll both sleep in the bed, just keep some space between us.”

Jungwon nods, and you both make your way to the bed.

You get in first, making yourself comfortable, and Jungwon follows suit.

Neither of you say anything, nor do you say goodnight.

Sleep overtakes you quickly.

When you wake up, you notice an arm around your waist.

Looking beside you, Jungwon is still fast asleep.

You carefully remove his arm around you and leave the bed.

Heading to the bath chambers, you quickly shower, brush your teeth, and wash your face.

Jungwon is still asleep when you return, so you head down to breakfast without him.

The king and queen are nowhere to be found, but breakfast is still laid out, ready to be eaten.

You sit down, preparing your napkin before digging in.

About ten minutes later, Jungwon enters the dining hall, hair disheveled and pajamas slightly unbuttoned.

He says nothing as he sits next to you and starts to eat.

He looks cute, you hate to admit.

His eyes are puffy from sleep and his cheeks are slightly bloated.

“What are you staring at?” He asks.

“Nothing!” You respond, quickly turning back to your food.

It’s quiet for a few minutes before you speak again, “You must’ve slept well last night, considering I woke up with your arm around me.”

Jungwon freezes beside you, side-eyeing as you try to hold in your chuckle.

“I normally hold a pillow when I sleep. It must’ve been an accident.”

You hum, not believing him for a second.

“I ran into my parents before coming here. They said we’re having dinner with the Sim’s tonight.”

You sigh, “Do I have to deal with your girlfriend and her brother again?”

“No, but maybe don’t provoke her either?”

“But it’s fun,” you pout playfully.

“Not for me. I get all the backlash!”

“Well, maybe tell them to knock it off!”

With that, you get up and finish your breakfast.

You go to your old room where all your clothes reside and bring them into the new room.

Jungwon had the decency to take up only one side of the closet with his things.

Next is moving your paintings. The room has enough space to line them up nicely by the large window.

You prepare for the rest of the day, taking a long, hot shower and getting dressed in one of your gowns.

You head to the garden, sitting on the bench with your paints and canvas.

The sky is still shedding its orange rays.

So you sit, and you paint.

You paint until your hands become numb from holding your palette and brush.

By the time you’ve finished, the sky has shed its previous colors and welcomed a beautiful blue.

You paint that as well, blending the colors seamlessly.

You paint the clouds, their shadows, and the scenery before you.

Each flower is painted with details someone else might never see.

But you see everything.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind you, and Jungwon’s voice graces your ears, “The Sim’s are here. I was sent to get you.”

Your eyes widen. How rude of you not to be there when guests arrive.

You quickly gather up your paints, brushes, and palette.

Finding your hands full, you look to Jungwon for help.

He takes note and carefully takes your painting into one hand, his other occupied by your easel.

You take numerous fast-paced steps ahead of him, rushing to get inside.

“Calm down, they’re not upset.”

You send him a glare as you walk even faster.

When you reach the bedroom, you put everything away, Jungwon carefully setting down your easel and painting.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror beside the closet door and fix your appearance.

Rushing wasn’t a good idea as your hair is now disheveled, strands flying everywhere.

You brush your fingers through it, calming any flyaways and loose hair.

Turning around, you see Jungwon still there, staring you down.

“What?” You ask. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, you look fine. Let’s go.”

He holds out his arm, looking for you to interlock yours.

You do as such, putting your other hand over his.

When you arrive in the dining hall, the Sim’s, minus the siblings, look at you both warmly.

Jungwon pulls your chair out, and you thank him quietly before he sits beside you.

Everyone begins to eat while the parents start a quiet conversation.

You can feel eyes on you, but you don’t look up to catch them.

“So,” Mrs. Sim says, “How’s married life treating you both?”

You put on your “fake but real” smile. “Well, it’s only been a day. I don’t think we’ve experienced any real marriage life yet.”

Mrs. Yang interrupts you, “Nonsense. I heard them having a couples spat the other day. Of course, I don't know what it was about, but it’s not my business. They’re both adults. They can keep it between themselves.”

The Sim’s laugh, and the Yang’s as you and Jungwon smile awkwardly.

“Oh, and they don’t know this, but I went into their room to check on them this morning. It was so cute how Jungwon wrapped his arm around you while you slept,” Mrs. Yang says, turning to you.

Jungwon suddenly chokes on his food, coughing violently as you hit his back.

Mrs. Yang looks at Jungwon, “Careful, sweetie. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn't help it! My baby boy is embarrassed,” she coos.

“Mom,” Jungwon grumbles as he finally stops choking.

He looks at Maylee to find her glaring straight at him, and he gulps heavily.

“Excuse me, I have to use the restroom,” Maylee says, quickly ushering herself out of the dining hall.

After five minutes, her parents question her whereabouts, and Jungwon takes this as his chance.

“I’ll go look for her!”

He rushes off, running through the corridors looking for her.

Suddenly, he hears a crash coming from the bedroom.

He darts to it and finds himself in the middle of Maylee destroying your paintings.

“What the hell are you doing!” He yells, dragging her away from the now slashed canvases.

His yell alerts everyone still at the table, and they’re rushing in within seconds.

You get one look at your destroyed paintings before you collapse on your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What did you do?” you ask, looking at Maylee and Jungwon.

“This is what you get for stealing my man, bitch!”

The Sim’s and Yang’s look between you and Maylee before Mrs. Sim speaks up, “Sim Maylee, what on earth are you talking about!”

“You wanna know the truth,” she starts, “Jungwon and I have been dating for three years. 3! And all of a sudden, this bitch makes her grand entrance as his soon-to-be wife? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s been cuddling up to him this whole time, and I’m sick of it!”

You get up, and before anyone can blink, you slap Maylee across the face, “How dare you. You’re mad about our arranged marriage, so you destroy my life’s work?”

She holds her now red cheek, staring at you in disbelief.

You turn to Jungwon, “I know you hate me, but this is too far.”

With that, you turn and leave the room, running through the corridor and leaving the castle.

You run and run as far as your feet will take you.

Jungwon turns to Maylee, “This…this was too much Maylee.”

“So it’s true?” Mrs. Yang interjects

“Yes, mother, it’s true. I said nothing because I knew we’d be forced to break up if you found out. We planned to keep our relationship a secret even after my marriage.”

He turns back to Maylee, “How could you do this?”

“Why are you defending her?” she shouts. “I’m your girlfriend; you should be on my side.”

“But you’ve crossed the line, Maylee, and dragged me into your mess, too!”

Mrs. Sim crosses the room and yanks her daughter by the arm. “Let’s go! Say goodbye because, as far as I’m concerned, you two will not see each other anymore.”

She drags Maylee out as she struggles in her mother’s hold while Mr. Sim puts his hand on Jake’s shoulder, dragging him out as well.

The Yang’s are left in the room, glaring at their son.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” his father says.

Jungwon hangs his head in shame, “I know. I just… didn’t want to end my relationship with Maylee. We fell in love over time and never had the guts to tell any of you. But I don’t condone this! I would’ve never done something like this!”

“You need to find Y/N and apologize to her immediately. You should’ve stopped Maylee’s actions when she first showed hostility.”

Jungwon nods, and with that, he begins his search for you.

He passes some maids, asking where you went, and they tell him you ran outside the castle.

As he makes his way outside, a guard rushes up to him. “Prince Jungwon, the princess ran out here in a frenzy. We tried to go after her but were ordered not to leave our post. She ran into the woods outside the castle!”

Jungwon books it, running as fast as he can, shouting your name. He runs through trees, swatting branches out of his way.

Then, he hears it. Soft sniffles came from in front of him.

He approaches you carefully, not wanting to startle you or make you run away.

“Y/N?”

You turn around, glaring once you see it’s him.

Standing up, you begin to walk away from him, but he’s faster and grabs your arm.

“Wait! Please let me explain! I had nothing to do with Maylee destroying your paintings. I didn’t tell her to do it. I didn’t participate. I don’t hate you. I’ve been in the wrong this whole time. I treated you terribly when you did nothing wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Those paintings were priceless to me, Jungwon. What am I supposed to do now?”

He takes your hand, “Make new ones and new memories?”

You bite your lip, “You’re right, and I’m sorry, too. I was hostile towards you when you were also in a shitty situation.”

He waves his hand, “Let bygones be bygones and regarding Maylee, I think it’s fair to consider her my ex now.”

Jungwon holds out his hand, “Let’s go home?”

You take his hand, and the both of you make your way back to the castle.

Mr. and Mrs. Yang welcome you back with open arms, literally holding you in their arms. For the first time in forever, you feel like you’re with family.

Estelle helps you and Jungwon clean up the destroyed paintings. You decide to throw everything away, wanting to make new memories like Jungwon said.

That night, you and Jungwon get into bed with a newfound friendship.

The morning light shines through the curtains, and it makes you squint.

You look beside you and see Jungwon is gone.

Sitting up, you stretch before preparing to get out of bed.

“Hold it right there! Breakfast in bed for the lady.” Jungwon comes in with a whole tray of food. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast, with a glass of orange juice.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to do nice things for me. We’ve forgiven each other for past mistakes. There’s no need for this,” you say, smiling at him.

“I want to do this. I want to make up for my wrongdoings, so please, just let me,” he pleads.

He sets the tray down in front of you.

You pick up your fork and knife, cutting into the pancakes. You hold out your fork for Jungwon, “Say ah!”

A light blush dusts Jungwon’s cheeks, but he accepts the food graciously.

You gesture for him to sit next to you in bed, “Let’s talk.”

He complies, “Talk about what?”

“Anything,” you say, “What are your plans for today?”

“I didn’t have any plans for today. I thought maybe we could go out and paint! I’ve never done it before, but it looks fun!”

You smile as you eat, “I think that’s a great idea.”

When you (and Jungwon) have finished breakfast, you gather all your art supplies again and make your way outside the castle, this time with Jungwon in tow.

“So, first things first. There are no rules when it comes to art. You can do whatever you want, as long as you like it.”

You’re facing the woods, so you tell Jungwon to paint that. He begins, and within half an hour, he’s finished. He presents his final product to you like a shy kid, and you can’t help but coo.

Surprisingly, it’s not bad for a complete beginner.

“So right off the bat, I can tell you understand color. What you’re missing is lighting and shading. Notice how some are lighter when the sun hits the trees while the branches in the back are darker?”

As you ramble on and on, Jungwon can’t help but think you look beautiful. You’re talking passionately, and he can’t stop staring in awe.

He doesn’t even realize you're calling his name until you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“Are you listening? This is important!”

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I can just tell how much you love art, and I think it’s cool.”

You hum, “Well, thank you. What about you? What’s your favorite thing?”

Jungwon contemplates momentarily before looking down at the grass, “I don’t have one.”

You frown, sitting next to him on the bench.

“That’s okay!” you say. “We can find your favorite thing; we just have to experiment!”

Painting class for the day officially ends there, as you’re now determined to help Jungwon.

As you walk the corridor castles, you ask, “So, what do you like to do?”

“I like sports. The guys and I usually play rugby when we’re all free.”

You recall being introduced to 5 other boys who Jungwon said he grew up with, Jake included.

“I don’t think you can teach me that.” You laugh as Jungwon smiles shyly beside you.

“What else?” You ask.

“Well, I like to sing.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised.

Jungwon nods, “I always loved putting on performances for my parents when I was younger.”

“Well, sing for me!”

“But I’m shy,” he says, looking down as his cheeks become red.

“Come on,” you whine, dragging out the n, “I’m your wife. You don’t need to be shy in front of me.”

“Not you pulling the wife card.” He laughs.

“Please.” You pout, putting on your best puppy eyes.

Jungwon takes a deep breath before he starts to sing, and you’re immediately captivated.

His voice is like honey. It’s smooth but slightly raspy, and it’s like an angel singing in your ears.

When he finishes, you clap excitedly.

“Jungwon, you’re so good!”

He gives a small thanks while you keep walking.

You think you’ve found a new obsession.

Jungwon sits on the picnic blanket beside you, singing quietly to you as you watch the sky.

You sit up abruptly, causing Jungwon to stop.

“Do you think in a different universe, we would’ve been friends first before anything?”

Jungwon ponders for a moment, “I don’t see why not. Let me ask you something: do you think we could make our marriage work?”

You turn to Jungwon, eyebrow raised, “You mean, like, romantically? I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You smirk, causing Jungwon to turn away quickly.

“I mean, you’re beautiful. I can’t help but think, now that things are good between us, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. The last thing I want is to be in a loveless marriage.”

“Sure, we can try.” You turn yourself towards Jungwon, touching his cheek to make him face you.

“Kiss me,” you say.

Jungwon’s eyes widened. They dart to your lips quickly before finding your eyes, “So suddenly?”

You figure he’s not going to do it, so you do.

Leaning forward, you capture his lips with yours.

He kisses you back, pulling you closer with a hand behind your head.

His lips are soft, and he tastes like the strawberries and chocolate you had.

It’s passionate. It feels like sparks are going off. This kiss is different from the one you shared on your wedding day. This one feels natural like it’s a kiss with love and not for show.

Before it can go any further, you pull away, giggling as Jungwon chases your lips.

He whines, “Don’t tease me!”

“I’m sorry! You’re just too cute.”

“Don’t wanna be cute to you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t wanna be cute? Do you wanna be more than that? Like what?”

“Handsome, hot, sexy?”

“Who said I don't find you hot, handsome, and sexy?”

Jungwon smirks, “Do you?”

You push Jungwon’s shoulder back, throwing your leg over his, straddling his lap.

He brings his hands to your waist, holding it tightly.

“What if I said I think you’re the sexiest, hottest, most handsome man I’ve ever seen?”

He rubs circles into your waist, “I'd say you're the sexiest, hottest, most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

You lean in for another kiss, nipping Jungwon’s bottom lip.

God knows how long you spent there. After coming inside, you sit down for dinner with the Yang's.

“So, what did you two do today?” Mrs. Yang asks.

“We had a picnic!” You respond. “Jungwon prepared everything, and it was amazing.”

Mrs. Yang asks for details, and the two women talk excitedly while Jungwon looks at you with fondness.

As you lay in bed that night, you think about how drastically your relationship with Jungwon has changed.

You dreaded this marriage, being forced to be with someone you didn't love. And now? Your perspective has completely changed.

Jungwon is a fantastic person. You wish you had seen it earlier.

Do you think you could fall in love with Jungwon? You believe you already have. While the thought almost scares you, your feelings for Jungwon overcome that.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jungwon comes out of the bathroom, having thoroughly washed up.

He joins you in bed, turning to face you as you smile at him.

“What?” He asks, smiling back at you.

You raise your hand, stroking the area above his eyebrow, moving the hair in the way.

“I think I love you, Jungwon.”

Jungwon's eyes widen, and then they soften.

“I think I love you too, Y/N.”

You don't say anything else as you lean in, kissing him.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

2 WEEKS LATER

Jungwon plays with your hair as your head lays in his lap. His nimble fingers find their way to your cheek, grazing over it.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes.

Puckering your lips, he laughs, bringing his to yours in a sweet kiss.

“There's a festival in the town tonight. Do you wanna go?” He asks.

“What’s it gonna be like?”

“Games, music, food, the works.”

“Sounds fun, I'd love to go!”

Night comes quickly, and you've just finished preparing for the festival.

Jungwon comes out of the bathroom, ready as well.

“You look beautiful, my love,” he says, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you.

“And you look dashing.”

The festival is in full swing by the time you and Jungwon arrive.

People greet you as you pass, giving you gifts and free things.

You take them all graciously, thanking them for their generosity.

You and Jungwon find a private spot, taking time to admire the view of the town ahead.

“I got you something,” he says.

You turn to him, eyebrows furrowing when he pulls out a small box.

“I know we had a rocky start, but I have to say that these past few weeks with you have been some of the best I've ever had. I know our vows weren't exactly the most genuine, but now, I mean those words genuinely. You are an amazing, passionate, loving, caring woman, and I love everything about you. I truly promise the rest of my life to you.”

With that, he opens the box, presenting a beautiful gold necklace. You gasp in surprise as he shows it to you.

“Jungwon, it's stunning.”

“I got our initials engraved on it, so we're always together no matter what.”

As he puts it on you, you think to yourself, maybe this life was meant for you.

In the end, you got your fairytale ending.

note: this took me entirely too long but it's done!! i hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @jiamini @dokidokior @26796i

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 7 months ago

Text

Having them as best friend's:

Multiple X Reader

Contains: Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Charlie, Lucifer, Vox, Velvette, Rosie, Adam, Lute, and Valentino

ALASTOR

You're gonna have to hear me out with this one: he's down for the gossip 24/7!!!

He will listen and talk shit with you 100% and I'm not arguing on the matter.

Someone says some wack ass shit to you in public? "I beg your fucking pardon?" With like the scariest grin that fucker can muster.

You start talking to someone? He interrogates them! If they're not strong enough to survive one little interrogation with THE Radio Demon, they're not good enough to date you. Sorry not sorry.

The friendship would be violent, but in almost a sibling type relationship. If he said something absolutely out of line, you'd smack him or kick him in the back of his knees. He'd always get payback, whether it was immediately or a few days/weeks later.

You called him a 'radio faced cunt' once in front of everyone and they all mentally started planning your funeral.

Until he clapped back with something equally as interesting.

He only accepted affection from you and Rosie. And Charlie that one time.

If you had a bad day, he'd know immediately by the look on your face and wouldn't let anyone talk to you until he knew exactly what had made one of his two favorite people upset.

He'd kill them if you told him to. Just supportive bestie shit!

Angel Dust

Let's be real, if you're best friends with Angel, you're probably equally as close with Cherri.

But just you and Angel Dust as best friend's? Shit, he's awesome.

Had a bad day? Go to his room and cuddle Fat Nuggets while you cry/rant about the days woes.

Spontaneous sleepovers BECAUSE YOU CAN!

Platonically flirting to the point that everyone thinks you're together. Neither of you deny the claims, just to keep everyone on their toes.

The words 'love you' followed by something like 'slut' or 'bitch' are common occurrences.

When it comes to dating, Angel just wants you to be happy.

But if someone breaks your heart? He'll come out with guns blazing with no hesitation. NO ONE hurts his bestie.

Platonic cuddles because you love his floof.

Would probably form some sort of marriage pact with you for fun one night when you're both wasted. "Yeah, I'd marry you if we're both still single in 100 years, Toots."

Husk

The banter would be unmatched. You call him a furry and he'll clap back with something that makes your jaw drop before you burst out into laughter.

He'd tell you how it is, regardless of whether you asked or not.

Sure, you're his best friend, and he cares about you. . . But it's because he cares about you that he won't sugarcoat something, even if it's not something you wanna hear.

He would listen to your problems, like any good friend.

He wouldn't trust anyone you had romantic interest in, especially since the ones you always went for had some serious issues.

He'd say something like: "Don't cry to me when that bastard breaks your heart."

And you wouldn't cry to him when it happened, but he'd make you a drink and silently take care of the problem once he had one of the other hotel residents hoist you up to your room.

The next morning you'd tell him he was right and he'd smirk as he wiped down the bar, but wouldn't say anything.

He was never good with affection, so he respects your space and you respect his.

He literally always has your back, even if you don't know it. You do.

Charlie

Honestly, you probably grew up together and that's how the two of you became best friends. (But even if you didn't, everything is still the same.)

She's the friend that's too trusting of everyone, so you easily filled the place of being the friend that questioned everyone's intentions.

You even heavily questioned Vaggie's intentions when Charlie insisted on bringing her around after finding her.

You only warmed up to Vaggie when Charlie admitted her feeling for her, to you one late evening. She was a nervous wreck, but you were always the level-headed friend.

Being best friends with the princess of Hell had some lesser known perks — invitations to high class parties, special access at LuLu World, and the most eventful sleepovers known to Hell.

Whenever you mentioned interest in someone, Charlie was the first to push you to go for it.

If it went wrong, she was always there first, telling you it would be completely fine. If it went good, she was the first to congratulate you.

She's 100% the mom friend. Thirsty? Here's something to drink. Cut your finger? "Here's a bandaid, be more careful."

A relationship similar to siblings, bit without any malice or envy. Just happy to be in each other's presence.

She literally documented everything the two of you did, since the very first time you called her your friend. She's not going anywhere.

Lucifer

Yeah, so, everyone thinks you're dating. Even Charlie is a bit suspicious. You're not, but you had been there by his side for as long as he could remember.

When Lilith left, you filled some part of the void, not allowing Lucifer to go hungry when he spent long days in his office.

On his good days, he's absolutely there for all the tea, especially if it's PIPING HOT. "That bitch said WHAT!?"

He has no filter and will unintentionally intentionally hurt someone's feelings when it comes to you.

He protects you as fiercely as he protects Charlie, despite knowing that you're capable of protecting yourself.

The two of you argue like an old married couple, which only fueled the dating rumors. . . Until you mentioned someone you had interest in.

Bro interrogated everyone you ever liked. Can't handle five minutes with the king of Hell? Not good enough for his bestie. Keep it movin' pal.

No one is allowed to call you a bitch, but him. Anyone else tries, they'll be met with absolute SASS.

Not even joking, Lucifer would be so sassy towards people, to the point that you picked it up.

So the two of you just went around unintentionally terrorizing demons!

Vox

You hate someone? Bet. He'll have someone spy on them and give you the real tea.

Brings you as the plus one for many major events, but bullies you the entire time. You thought you'd get five minutes of peace on your best friends arm? WRONG!

Literally throws toddler meltdown style temper tantrums when it comes to Alastor. You're usually the one who has to reboot him or just smack some sense into him.

You're both pretty level-headed most of the time, but one of you probably has a couple of screws loose. (It's definitely him.)

No one is good enough to date you. Not sorry.

If anyone looks at you wrong, they've signed their second death to double Hell.

You and Vox talk shit about everyone, especially if you've had a hard day.

If it was bad enough, he'd offer to kill the demon who dared make your day shit. He'd still listen to you though.

"Fuck that. You're not going alone." And then you have to wait 15 minutes for him to look 'good enough' to go out, even if you were powerful and just wanted to go on little walk down the street.

Body doubling. Different tasks, silence, but the comfort of having someone else in the room. Absolutely.

Velvette

She likes you slightly more than Vox and Valentino, which is fabulous.

Weekly designated sleepover nights where the both of you unload from the week.

Someone is rude to you? Cue Vel lecturing them on how they fucked up and their career is over, but make it musical.

You went on a date with someone and didn't tell her? "I want details, Lovey! Are they an overlord too? Tell. Me. Everything."

Prepare for Hell's greatest gossip sessions, especially around the topic of Hell's cutthroat fashion industry.

She might not seem like it, but she's a good listener.

You're leaving the tower to run a small errand? Surprise Surprise, she's coming with you and turning it into a whole day, complete with lunch and shopping!

She uses you as a model sometimes, purely because she can.

Will call you a sweet name and insult you in the same breath.

Gets worried if you don't text back within five minutes. She will literally show up to make sure you're alive. You're probably taking a nap.

Rosie

Literally the best to spend the day with. She loves walking with you or just having tea.

Much like Alastor, she would be down for the gossip, but she wouldn't go very far with it.

In terms of relationships, she'd want you to be happy, but would also threaten to eat your partner if they hurt you.

She'd be such a good listener when you came to talk about your day.

She'd even offer advice and just casually drop something like: "Listen to your intuition, darling. It'll tell you others intentions."

At some point or another, everyone questions whether you're dating or not, which both of you laugh at frequently.

She enjoys her privacy, but she also would love having you around more than others.

She would love giving platonic affection, just to make you feel loved.

Sometimes Alastor pops up and Rosie gushes about how the two of you would get along — and immediately you're just thinking how this trio would be iconic.

She doesn't care about your past, you don't care that she's a Cannibal. . . Well, she cares, but she would NEVER hold it against you!

Adam

He literally goes out of his way to piss you off.

There's a lot of threatening and him calling you stuff like 'Sugar Tits'.

Adam annoys you to the point of you WANTING to just jump to Hell, but you never do, because he's your best friend, and you wouldn't want to emotionally traumatize him by making him think that he lost his best friend to Lucifer, AFTER losing his wives to him.

He says "Suck my dick, Bitch" AT LEAST A DOZEN TIMES A DAY. It irritates you to no end.

The banter is unmatched. He wants to get sassy? You're the SASS MASTER.

You pushed him down the stairs for fun and he didn't talk to you for two days.

He doesn't give a fuck who you date, but if they hurt you, he's taking care of them and not telling you SHIT to avoid all of that mushy feelings crap.

The two of you argue too much for anyone to think you're together.

There's NEVER a moment of silence when you're out. He's always singing, talking, laughing, or mimicking the sound of some instrument.

Lute

She's annoyed 24/7 and you're one of the two main causes.

But she wouldn't replace you because who else would put up with her attitude and listen to her rants like you?

If you had a hard day, she'd probably make some offhand comment and then subtly try to make it better by like getting you ice cream with rainbow sprinkles or something.

She hates physical touch, so the only time she touches you is to smack you, probably for saying something very Adam-ish. "Say that shit again and it'll be worse."

She hates everyone you have romantic interest in, but let's you learn your own lessons the hard way.

Nobody could ever picture the two of you as friends, let alone dating.

She's like the sister that has it all but claims she's the black sheep of the family.

Her job comes before everything else in her life, that including you, but when she has time for you, there's usually food and shit talking involved.

She makes sure you drink water every day. She'd kick your ass if you passed out because of dehydration.

She'd give you the key to her place, but you'd never use it unless she told you to. (Like in the event she forgot her set or something)

(I've reached the 10 media limit, so just imagine a gif right here)

Valentino

He offers you a job almost weekly. You hold off on kicking his ass every single time because that's your best friend.

Derives great pleasure from pissing you off.

You don't agree with the manner he treats his employees, so you undermine him every chance you get, just to make sure they get the best treatment possible.

It pisses him off to no end, but he let's it go. He wouldn't hurt you. He couldn't, not without a whole bunch of backlash from quite literally everyone.

Whenever you start liking someone, he warns you to be careful because he knows the industry. He is the industry.

He's gossip central. Talks super exaggerated with his hands and his voice changes whenever he remembers another detail.

He's a touchy feller, that much is evident. He's always touching you in some way, but it's not sexual/romantic or violent, it's more reassurance for both of you. It's a safe middle ground.

You have to leave for some reason? "The limo will take you, but don't touch anything."

He throws tantrums on the regular and you've learned to just let them go on until he eventually shuts the fuck up and let's you speak.

He'll call you a slut and then ask if you want to get food. It's extremely clear that you're not dating lmao.

A/N: I hope this is okay! I've never written for a bunch of these characters, as I just stared writing Hazbin stuff last week, and even then, it was a small Vox one-shot and a Lucifer one-shot.

Requests are open, if anyone would wanna request something for one of these characters? I'd pull through to the best of my ability.

Part Two

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #charlie morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #valentino hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel imagine

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potlattice · 9 months ago

Text

Moth To A Flame

Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: mentioned underage drinking, toxic!Rafe, implied drug-use, manipulation

Rafe gets Topper's girl under control...

"Get your bitch under control." Rafe snapped at his friend, rolling his eyes at your sorry state.

Topper kept quiet, trying to get you to drink the cup of water he held to your lips but you slapped his hand away.

"Fuck you, Rafe." You slurred, eyes blurry as you stared up at the tall figure that stood behind your boyfriend.

He took a threatening step towards you but Topper quickly intervened by placing a hand on his chest.

"Don't touch her bro."

"He already has." You scoffed, leaning your head against the wall behind you and closing your eyes with a painful sigh.

Your head was pounding and your legs weren't working, so the cold floor felt harsh against your thighs. You had been sat, propped up against the brick wall outside the Cameron mansion for about ten minutes now while the boys argued.

"The fuck?" Topper asked aloud at your mumbled words. "What does she mean, Rafe?"

"She's wasted. She doesn't even know what she's saying." Rafe reassured him with a shake of his head. "Just get her out of here. She's ruining my party."

"Yeah, whatever." Topper nodded, running a stressed hand through his gelled hair.

"Put her in my room." Rafe said, looking down at you like you were gum on the floor. "Then come join the party again."

"I can't just leave her there alone. Someone might...find her." Topper frowned.

"Dude, my door locks from the outside too." Rafe rolled his eyes at his friend's hesitance. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and passed them to his friend.

"You want me to lock her in?" He asked doubtfully. "What if she needs help? Wha-

"Fuck sake! Enough with the questions." Rafe groaned out, taking a step back from the both of you. "You're ruining my high. I'm going back inside."

He headed for the patio door but just before he went through he turned back to look at Topper.

"And bro, if you start feeling guilty, just remember that she put herself in this position...and deserves to be punished, okay?"

Topper just sighed and stared down at the keys in his hands.

You were laid out on the soft cotton sheets, lightly singing to the music that played a floor below you.

Although your body hadn't sobered up yet, your mind was coming around.

You felt awful for your boyfriend. Even though you were slightly mad that he'd abandoned you in Rafe's room with nothing but a lamp on and a glass of water, you knew that you'd ruined his night. Again.

What was wrong with you? For the last few weeks, every time you went to a party with your boyfriend and his friends, you lost control and took it too far.

Last time, you said it wouldn't happen again but you knew it wasn't true.

Rafe knew it too.

You closed your eyes at the thought. Shame pommeled your stomach and you clutched it as you felt nauseous.

You were starting to believe he wanted you and Topper to break up now. If you so much as put a toe out of line, he was the first to notice, and the first to tell Topper to 'sort it out'.

At the thought, you scoffed and looked around the room that had become very familiar to you.

He was a very possessive person. It was obvious even through his belongings. The room was bland, but Topper had mentioned one time that Rafe kept most of his possessions locked away in his wardrobe or under his bed.

That's why you'd been pleasantly surprised when he had barely reacted after you started dating Topper.

A year ago, you had met Rafe first. It was for a birthday party at some frat house off the island but he'd also been there because you shared a mutual friend.

You had kissed a couple times and split a cigarette but after you caught him talking to another girl later in the night, you had stormed up to him and demanded he give your number back. Rafe refused but you were good at hiding.

Until your boyfriend introduced you to him 'for the first time' six months later...

"Well, well, well."

You barely had the energy to lift your head, but you recognised the deep voice and didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention as he locked the door behind him.

"Look at you." He mused, standing over you with his hands buried in his pockets, a grin pressed to his face. "Comfy?" He asked with a snicker.

You frowned at him. "Where's Topper?"

"Don't worry. My sister's keeping him entertained."

Your heart clenched at his words and you licked your lips. "He'll come get me soon."

"No..." Rafe drawled out, taking a seat beside you. "I think we'll be alone for a long time."

"Get away from me." You gritted out, shifting your body away but your head spun as you lifted it from the pillow.

"You should relax. It must really be kicking in now."

You frowned at his words but reached a hand out, trying to grab your phone from the nightstand. Rafe saw your actions and tutted loudly. He leaned over your body, uncaring that he squashed you below his heavy frame, and snatched it from your weak grasp.

"You can stop panicking. I won't do anything tonight. I've taken too many drugs." He rolled his eyes and started to scroll through the contents of your phone, already knowing your password. "You got any good pics on here?"

"Fuck you." You muttered with a deep exhale.

"Is this supposed to be me?" He laughed, turning the phone screen to you and you squinted at the bright blue light before your eyes managed to focus on the contact name:

X DO NOT ANSWER X

You would have blocked him but as your boyfriend's companion, it was handy to have his number when Topper wasn't answering.

Your eyes began to get heavy as he took up a relaxed position beside you, resting against the headboard as he had fun on your phone with no regard for your privacy.

His face was lit up by the glow of the screen and your eyelids finally fell shut just as his expression changed to one of elation.

"Bingo." He said lowly and you hoped he hadn't forced his way into your hidden photos.

back from holidayyyyy, just dropping an idea for a series i had in mind...

#obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x y/n #toxic #toxic relationship #manipulation #dark rafe x reader #dark rafe cameron

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tootiecakes234 · 1 year ago

Text

The Bet (Part 3)

Warnings: smut, MDNI

Katsuki’s POV

Day 2:

When I fell asleep last night she was on one side of the bed and I was on the other. I did that on purpose cuz it sucks waking up with my dick hard and pressed against her. Having to peel myself away with no satisfaction.

So imagine my surprise when I wake up in the exact position I was trying to avoid. I think i might’ve been rutting against her before I woke cuz I’m leaking precum and tucked between her thighs. Fuck me.

I have patrol early this morning, so I force myself to get up take a very long, very cold shower. This bet was kicking my ass. The fact that I couldn’t fuck her only made me want to do it more.

I was so thankful for work today because at least it gave me a distraction.

I got dressed, made myself a quick breakfast and headed out.

I was on patrol with one of my sidekicks this morning. She was really capable and I trusted her so it was more so that I was supervising and teaching instead of taking lead. It was pretty slow for a Sunday actually.

Everything was going so smoothly until I suddenly get a text on my personal phone. I knew it was from Y/N before I even pulled it out because she had taken my phone and given herself her own special ringtone.

I open the message and almost drop and shatter my goddamn phone.

“Mr. Bakugo, are you ok??”, my side kick was looking at me like I was crazy. I could feel the flush from my toes up to the top of my damn head.

“ ‘m fine. Stay sharp and holler if you need me. I gotta make a call”, I said starting to walk away.

I heard her call out a “yessir”

The phone rang one time before she answered my call.

“Hey Katsuki. What’s up?”, she had the nerve to ask that like she didn’t know why I was calling her!

“Y/N…. You’ve lost your goddamn mind. I’m at work! Saving lives! And you’re sending me nudes!!”, I was scream yelling because there were people walking by.

“Are you saying you don’t like them? I got all dolled up for you and it took a lot of work to get an angle where you could see…. Everything.”, her voice had dropped down to this sultry tone.

My cock was starting to harden. She’s stepped up her game.

“Ha you’re good. You caught me off guard with this. And yea I like the picture… any angle that shows that pretty pussy of mine is a good angle.”

“Mmmm I’m glad you like it. I wanted to brighten up your day.”

“You think you’re so smart huh? You’re playing with fire sweet girl. You’re gonna end up with a burn mark on your ass”, my voice had dropped a few octaves.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Kats.”

“Not a fucking threat princess, it’s a promise… coming. Hey I’ve gotta go. Don’t forget about that reservation tonight. Love ya.” Then I cut the line. I had to get back to work.

I can’t let her win. I won’t let her distract me any further. I can’t believe she had the nerve to call me the devil. She was in for it whenever I got home.

The rest of my day at work flew by. I was there later than I expected because I was catching up on paperwork, so I was rushing to get home in time to change before our reservations.

I got home and Y/N wasn’t in the front room. I just know this woman isn’t still getting ready. I was already rushing and she’s had all day to be prepared for this. I pushed open the door to our room and before me was picture out of a fucking wet dream.

If I died and this was the last thing I saw, I’d die happy. It took her calling my name rather loudly maybe more than once before I snapped out of it.

“What?? What did you say?”

“I said you’ve gotta hurry and change or we are going to be late”, she said and she was sporting the cockiest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

“That’s what you’re wearing?”, I asked her just to clarify.

This woman had on a red dress, my favorite color. Her boobs were perched high in her chest and that dress looked like it was made just for her. She also had on these strappy, black heels that wrapped up her calves. Her hair was pinned up and she had on this red lipstick that matched that dress perfectly.

Fuck me. I think she was trying to kill me.

“This old thing…. I figured I’d finally pull it out of the closet.”

“Y/N I know all your clothes. This dress is new.”

“Whoops, you’ve caught me in a lie…I hung out with Mina today and we stumbled across this. I thought you might like it”, the shit eating grin on her face was the only thing keeping me from sinking to my knees right then and there. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of caving now.

“Yea it looks nice enough”, I huffed at her, “I’m gonna hurry up and get ready so we can leave.”

I walked past her and smelled her. She was also wearing my favorite sent of hers. She pulled out all the big guns. She thinks tonight going to be the night she gets me.

Well she’s got another thing coming.

But first… another cold shower. I’m only human.

While I was getting ready, I remembered that she loves seeing me in a button up and apparently white brings out my eyes or some shit. So I put on a white button up, black jeans and a pair of black tennis shoes she’d bought me for my birthday. I threw on my gold chain and a couple rings on my fingers. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be the only one foaming at the mouth.

I walk out of the room and she’s sitting at the bar with her back to me.

“You ready to go?”

She turned around to look at me and she thought I didn’t see the way her eyes glossed a little and her breath hitched. She tried to hurry and cover it with a small smile on her lips. She hopped down out of her seat and grabbed her purse, which must go with her outfit because lord knows she doesn’t need it.

“Yup let’s hit it hot stuff”

“Wait”, I walked over to her and wrapped one of my arms around her waist and my other hand reached to tip her face up toward me. “Wanna kiss you, don’t wanna fuck up your makeup.”

“One kiss won’t ruin my makeup”, she said all soft and breathy.

“Mmmm it will the way I want to do it.”, I pulled away from her enough to grab her hand and bring her knuckles up to my lips. I kissed each individual knuckle before kissing her wrist and pressing a few more up the length of her forearm. I locked eyes with her once more, “ let’s go princess, we are running late.”

I interlocked our fingers and guided her out to the car. I opened her door and help her buckle up before walking to the other side and hopping in.

Payback time.

For some reason I don’t understand, y/n told me she thinks it’s so hot when I turn my whole body around when I back up. I have a back up camera but you bet your sweet ass tonight, I was turning around and flexing slightly while doing so.

On the drive there a slid my hand over her thigh, which I always did, but tonight I might’ve placed it a little higher than usual.

“Katsuki, can you cut it out?”, she said as she placed her hand over mine and stopped the slow circles I was drawing with my thumb.

“Cut what out baby,” I said glancing over at her.

“We both know what you’re doing.”, she was clenching her jaw as well as slightly squeezing her thighs. She glanced down at my hand like she was trying to send me a message.

Oblivious was the best way to go here, “is my hand bothering you? You’ve never complained about it before.”

“Yea probably cuz it wasn’t resting 2 cm away from my vagina.”

“Haha, yea I am kinda close aren’t I? I can feel the heat coming off of it and I’m sure if I slid those 2 cm I could feel how wet you are too.” Right after I finish saying it I slid my hand up and let me pinky rub lightly over her panties and look there. Drenched. She winced like she was in pain.

“Kat!” She said my voice on a moan. Fuck, she was so sensitive.

“Sorry, my hand slipped cuz of that pothole”, I whispered.

“There was no freaking pothole. You’re such an ass”, she tried to grab my hand and take it off her thigh, but this only made me dig a little deeper and press a little harder up against her.

By this point we were pulling up to the restaurant. Lucky her.

When we got out of the car, her panties were soaked and I had to rearrange myself to even be able to walk inside this place.

By this point we were both miserable and unsatisfied. This bet is such bullshit. Whose bright idea was it to do this?

We were at one of our favorite restaurants. When I made the reservation I made it for a booth in the back because this place tended to be really crowded and I didn’t want to be spotted.

We got seated and the conversation started to flow.

“Mina said that she thinks Sero has a secret girlfriend. Has he said anything to you about it?”

“No and even if he did why would I tell you. It’d be a secret for a reason. The two of you are the biggest goss-” I almost fucking choked on my own spit.

“Are you ok Kat? What’s wrong?”, she looked at me like she was genuinely concerned for my well being and not like she just almost caused my death.

She had taken off one of her shoes and her foot was now pressed up against my inner thigh. Before I have time to respond, our waiter is back at our table taking our orders.

The entire time he’s there, she’s gently stroking her foot up and down and at what point it brushes up against my cock and I fumble over my words.

The waiter just laughs it off like I’m just some idiot having a stroke and when I look over at y/n she has the nerve to be laughing too.

When he finally leaves she takes her foot back and continues on like nothing happened.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Brb.” She said as she started getting up.

I just nodded my head at her. I needed time to get my shit together. This is not going well. I have to get a handle on this situation and fast, but she came back to fast. I didn’t have time to prepare anything.

The rest of dinner went off without any problems though. Maybe she was struggling just as bad as me. Maybe we were going to call it for tonight.

Wishful thinking.

While we are outside, waiting for the valet to pull the car up, y/n comes up real close to me slides something into my pants pocket. When she pulls back there’s a smirk on her lips.

“What the fuck is that?” And all she does is shrug at me.

When I reach down and start pulling it out, I realize very quickly that it’s her panties. Her damp panties.

“ Y/n when did you take these off?”, my voice came out like I was growling. My self restraint is hanging on by a thread.

“When I went to the bathroom earlier.” She then came up to me wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.

My hands automatically grab at her ass because that’s what they’ve been wanting to do all night.

She could be a siren. I could actually know for a fact that she is a siren and at this point I’d happily walk my dumbass into the ocean and let her drown me.

I feel like I’m in a trance and the only thing that breaks it is the valet driver clearing his throat to get our attention.

The drive home is quiet. I don’t attempt to tease her any further because if I put my hands on her again I know I won’t stop. I’ve gotta try and get home. Lock myself in my office. That’s my game plan.

Tell her I have some work to do and just stay in there until she’s asleep because I’m at my breaking point.

Initially the plans going great. We get in the house, I hurry up and change, and then head to my office.

Done. Easy. I survived another day and tomorrow she’ll have work so it can’t possibly be this bad.

That is until I hear a little knock on my office door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, how long are you going to be working?”, she asked.

She’d changed too, into an oversized tshirt and she had her little fuzzy slippers on. Fucking adorable.

“‘M not sure. I’ve got a few things I need to get done tonight. Why are you still up?”

She walks over to me looks at me expectantly. I push my chair back from my desk enough for her to slide into my lap.

“Kats”

“Hmm?”

“Are you miserable too? This bet is stupid and I’ve been hot and bothered all day.”, she was mumbling against the side of my head.

“You went out of your way today to make sure I was miserable you heathen. My dick has been at least half hard since I woke and blue balls doesn’t even begin to describe the shit I’m going through.”

She has the nerve to chuckle at that but it wasn’t a damn joke.

“Is that why you’re in here pretending to work? Cuz you don’t wanna come to bed with me?”

“Y/n I-“ her lips cut me off. She moved so fast. She went from sitting on one leg to straddling me. I could feel her tits pressed up against and with the way her pussy was radiating heat against my sweats, I could tell she had no panties on.

She was grinding down against me and her tongue was in my mouth.

The next thing I know one of my hands has slipped past her shirt in the back and is rubbing her wetness around. And do I fucking mean wet. I’m sure there’s a big ass spot on the front of my pants. The other hand is tweaking her nipples. She’s a whimpering mess now and I’m panting like I just finished running a marathon.

“K-kit Kat…we have to stop”

“Say it… say it and let me fuck you. You know you want it.”, I started pressing sloppy kisses all up and down her neck and I was running slow circles around her clit, “say it.”

She’s right there, on the brink. I can tell it’s on the tip of her tongue and right when I think she’s going to actually do it, shes jumping off my lap like I’m on fire.

“What? Where the hell are you going?”, I was so sure this was it. I could taste the victory on my tongue.

“I-I’m g-going to bed.” She was trying to get her breathing under control just like I was.

She started making her way out of this office. She was really going to leave like this.

What the actual fuck?

“Please” I didnt comprehend until after I said it that I had already sunk to my knees. The word flew out of my mouth as soon as I saw her hand on the door handle.

I’d fucking lost.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

*my first trying to write in someone else’s pov… so don’t be mean.

Also I got carried away and I know this is super duper long.

There will be a part 4 with the smut. It will be be back to readers POV.

Enjoy.

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou drabble #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut #bnha smut

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